#me? updating in less than a month? more likely than you'd think | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myzticbean · 4 months ago

Text

Sex pollen made me do it

When I saw the Misty Invasion card about the protocores (and how they can seduce you into feeling...other things), I was immediately inspired. The sex pollen trope makes me chuckle, and I thought if anyone would take advantage of it, it would be our cutie Xavier.

If you'd like to read my fic on A03, you can find Part 1 here. I always appreciate feedback! Update: Part 2 live now!

Title: On The Job Work Hazards | Part 1

Pairing: Shen Xinghui | Xavier/You (fem! reader) Tags: Mildly dubious consent, blow jobs, semi-public sex, sex pollen

It wasn’t a hard battle, but the constant dodging was definitely wearing down my stamina as Xavier and I fought to break through the Wanderers’ shields. This one looked like a giant flower, with purple petals glimmering in the strange twilight of the protofield. If one could ignore the giant gaping maw of sharp teeth, and the violent spray of pollen puffing around its body, it would almost look beautiful.

Finally nearing the end, I briefly glanced down at my hunter watch interface to gauge its remaining health. In that split second, it charged at me, shaking its stems as the razored edge of the petals slashed forward. Xavier dashed in front of me, the slice of his blade light throwing the Wanderer into sharp relief as it fell backwards away from them.

“Xavier!” I cried out, watching as he stumbled, a haze of yellow pollen coating his face and chest. I reached out to grab him, cradling him in my arms. His blue eyes appeared dazed and dreamy - not unusual during his downtime, but he had never appeared anything less than laser focused during our missions together.

“Let’s do it now,” he gasped, choking as he inhaled more of the powder. I coughed as well, the yellow dust sticking to my lips. When I swallowed, there was a strangely sweet though gritty taste in my mouth.

Holstering my gun and removing my sword, we both raced forward, striking with expert precision. The Wanderer’s garbled cry faded as it soon disintegrated into a puff of black and blue matter.

Xavier immediately slumped to the ground, groaning. I rushed over, falling to my knees beside him.

“Xavier? What’s wrong? Where are you hurt?” I patted his shoulders and arms as gently as I could, looking for broken bones or blood. I moved down his chest to his legs, squinting as I shifted closer. The navy uniform was good at disguising bloodstains.

“Not. Hurt.” He panted, mouth open as he tilted his head back. He leaned back on his palms, his legs quivering under my touch.

“I don’t believe you,” I answered bluntly, hands moving more swiftly. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

This time his groan sounded more like a moan, his hips giving an aborted thrust when I stroked my hands once more down his thighs. I paused, looking down to see his arousal tenting the slim, tight fit of his pants.

He watched me, his eyes hooded and hazy, desire turning his eyes into a dark, watery blue. I felt like I was being sucked into a whirlpool.

“Xavier?” I asked hesitantly. “Is…is it what I think it is?”

Watching his face flush, whether it was desire or embarrassment, I couldn’t tell, but I felt my own cheeks turning red. That sweet and salty flavor once again assaulted my senses.

“Was it the pollen?” I asked worriedly, and he shrugged. His head bobs as if he’s drunk. My hands have stopped their wandering, and he whines a little at the loss.

“Touch me,” he gasps, his breathing turning labored. “I need you.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, and desire seemed to melt through my bloodstream at his words. It wasn’t like we hadn’t danced around each other for the last few months working together. After grandma and Caleb…Xavier was just there, working the same long hours I had. It wasn’t quite so lonely in my almost devastating grief.

My hands hovered unconsciously above his lap, but I didn’t press down.

“You’re not in any condition to give me consent, Xavier,” I said quietly. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital?”

He was starting to sweat, small beads at his hairline, and he roughly opened the neck clasp of his jacket. A glimmer of his skin peeked through the unbuttoned collar. I pressed my thighs together, trying not to notice my own uncomfortably warm reaction. While I hadn’t been exposed to nearly the same level of pollen that Xavier had, I could feel my own body starting to heat up.

He caught the hint of my movement, licking his bottom lip in pleasure. He reached for me, pulling me closer and into his lap. I gasped softly, feeling the hot, hard length of him pressed against my backside. I unconsciously rocked back before abruptly stilling the movement, even as he tried to press me down even more firmly against him.

“Honey, please” he pleaded, a term of endearment I had never heard him use before today. Usually he called me by my name (or my full name when he was very irritated).

“Xav, don’t,” I whispered, my hands coming up to clutch at his shoulders, a little desperate now. “I can’t do this while you’re not in your right mind.”

“No,” he said abruptly, his glassy eyes staring straight into mine. “I know what I want, I know what’ll make us both feel better.” He cupped his hand over my pussy, and I whimpered at the heated press of his palm even through my pants.

He lowered his eyes to watch his hand rubbing slowly against me. I shuddered in pleasure, giving into a small rocking motion against him. With his hot, hard cock now pressing eagerly in the crease of my butt, and his hand expertly fondling me, I wouldn’t need much encouragement to come right then and there.

“I’m…I’m already…” I was a little dazed by how quickly I could feel myself starting to lose myself in the sensation of his hand and warm body pressed under me.

“You wanna come?” he asked roughly, his thumb now pressing with expert accuracy against the seam of my pants right over my clit. I shuddered and moaned, pressing my face into his neck.

“Oh, gods,” I whispered, trying not to grind too hard into him, but I could hardly stop the movement. I took a deep, panting breath. His natural scent and the sweet, powdery wisps of the pollen hit me hard. I wondered how damp my panties and trousers had become, and from his swallowed curse, I was guessing it was undeniable now.

He held me even tighter against him, removing one arm around me to brace behind him. Using the leverage, he thrust up more firmly against me. Even now, I could feel the sweet ache building, and he wasn’t even inside of me. I hadn’t dry humped with a boyfriend since I was in highschool. I chuckled a little breathlessly at the thought, before groaning against the sensitive skin of his neck.

He muttered something unintelligible, I couldn’t hear it over the rushing of blood and the sizzle on my skin. I lifted up, shifting around as I lowered my hand between our bodies, rubbing a little roughly over his cock still trapped in his pants, and it was like a spark of electricity went off between us.

I could feel him, pulsing quickly under my hand, and I knew it wouldn’t take much to send him over the edge. His strokes, previously methodical, were now erratic against my pussy. It helped clear my head, just a little, enough so I could back off his legs a bit.

“No, don’t,” he said desperately, his hands once again reaching for me, but this time I moved determinedly away from him.

“Shh,” I whispered, glancing at him beneath lowered lashes. “Let me take care of you first. Just to take off the edge.” I took another look around, but we were in a deserted no-entry zone with no other nearby teams. I would need to call into headquarters soon, though - we shouldn’t be quiet on the coms too long.

He hissed quietly when my hands went to the myriad of belt buckles across his jacket and finally around his waist, loosening just enough I could gingerly tug the zipper down. He was so hard, he strained against the barrier, and I didn’t watch to catch any skin. He sucked in a breath, watching my hands at work. Xavier braced one arm back to support his weight, while he lifted his other hand to play with strands of my hair.

“Lift up a little, sweetheart,” I said, tugging a little at his waistband, but I missed the dark flare in his eyes at the unconscious endearment. I wanted to pull down his briefs enough to free him without the band sliding back up. He shifted and without much effort, I watched as he pulled his cock free, his normally pale skin now flushed.

The soft skin over his belly, with sparse blonde hairs trailing down to his cock, was pink with his arousal. The tip flushed an angry red, quivering between us. A small bead of clear fluid seeped from the tip, and without any teasing, I took him into my hand.

I gave a slow, easy pump, and I thought he was going to tumble to the ground, the sound of his pleasure rumbling in his chest. I didn’t have much time to linger. I flicked my gaze upwards, my hand still steadily moving. He covered my hand with his own, hot and a little damp, his gaze dark and wild as he watched our fingers moving up and down together.

“It feels so good,” he murmured, his face lax and sex-drunk. He tipped his head back, eyes closing, lost in the feeling of our hands on his taut, warm flesh.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” I ask, low and sweet, my hand getting damp and a little sticky from his precum. I leaned over, not really thinking, and opened my mouth, letting a little dribble of spit wet his cock.

He gasped, clenching his hand tightly around mine. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart,” I cautioned, seeing how the red - almost purple - head of his cock swelled. He caught his breath on another gasp, moving my hand a little faster, up and down, twisting a little over the tip before circling down back to the root.

“What do you want?” I asked again. I knew he was getting close already. I lowered one of my hands between my legs, rubbing lightly over the seam of my pants. I could feel how damp I was even through the thick fabric.

“Yeah, touch yourself,” he begged, his eyes now locked on my hands. “Or let me do it.”

“Just focus on yourself,” I ordered. “Is it okay if I use my mouth?”

I didn’t pause my movements, guided by his hands, but there was a stutter as his hips thrust into our grip, another bead of precum leaking down over our fingertips.

“Yes,” Xavier hissed, his tousled blonde hair falling forward over his eyes as he curled forward. “Please, please.”

I didn’t draw it out, crouching down over his lap, my knees digging uncomfortably into the rocky dirt. I lapped at the tip, the slightly bitter, salty taste spreading over my tongue as I gently swiped up the moisture.

“Fuck, yes,” he whispered, finally falling back and laying flat on the ground underneath me. His hips gave an aborted buck before stilling as he tried to catch his breath. Powdery streaks of pollen dotted his uniform, the gritty texture dusting his cheeks.

Without teasing him further, I swallowed down as our hands pumped down on his shaft, opening my mouth wide to take him in slowly. I tried to pool a little saliva in my mouth, letting it wet his dick as I inched down his length. I tucked my lips closer and twitched my tongue as I tried to widen around him, avoiding pressure with my teeth.

“Take it, yeah, just like that,” he murmured, his eyes locked on me. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head, tugging me closer. I inhaled through my nose, trying to breathe normally while I swallowed a little around his cock, taking it in further until it bumped the back of my throat.

I swallowed again against the pool of saliva flooding my mouth, trying not to gag. He didn’t press me any further, letting me adjust, the warmth of my mouth sending little quivers of pleasure through him. I could feel his thighs tremble slightly under me.

After a moment to adjust, I slowly bobbed my head, my hand pumping up to follow my mouth as I sucked on him, dragging my tongue in a slow wave against the sensitive underside of the head. His sucked in breath told me he liked it, so I rubbed my tongue there again before swallowing him back down.

He moaned, his fingers tightening their grip as he cradled my head in his hand. I made little bobs, suckling as I settled into a smooth rhythm. My fingers massaged his cock as my mouth wetted it with each languid slide up and down, my tongue fluttering over the head with each pass.

“Honey, please,” he whispered, voice strained. I liked the pet name, liked the tiny shiver of excitement that shot through me when I heard his voice wrecked with pleasure.

I sucked more strongly, beginning to pump a little faster and bobbing my head into a shorter, faster dip. While I didn’t bottom out quite as much, I could feel him beginning to pulse and flex in my hands.

His hips started to thrust in time to meet my mouth, pressing a little deeper when I sucked down, my nose brushing the soft, sparse blonde hairs at the base of his cock. I moaned, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure rippling through him. I could hear his fast, breathless pants, his hand fisting in my ponytail as he guided me a little more roughly.

I choked, my throat tightening and spasming around him, and he grunted. “Yeah, baby, let me, just like that.”

His voice wasn’t soft and sweet anymore, a low growl humming underneath the usually breathless quality of his voice. I shuddered, feeling caught in his grip, trying to breath as he thrust a little more deeply, bumping the back of my throat. I whimpered and swallowed, releasing his cock with my hand so I could brace myself on his thighs. He took over, fisting his cock as he pressed forward between my lips.

I could feel saliva draining, my mouth gleaming, the corners of my mouth leaking down and pooling down on his flesh. The wet fap of his hand and my mouth made me blush furiously, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure.

I was so turned on even as I remained untouched. My nails dug into the rough, thick fabric of his pants, scritching a little at the stretch and burn in my lips and jaw. I mewed just a little, trying to keep a steady rhythm.

“Don’t stop, I’m close,” he warned, his voice tight. I could feel his balls tighten when my chin brushed them, my lips dragging as I bobbed my head, throat working on each swallow. His precum spread over the roof of my mouth, coating my tongue, and the scent of his arousal blocked out everything else.

His thrusts became deeper, more powerful as he let go of some of that tight control he always had, his cock fucking my mouth as he threw his head back, his guttural moans like dark music in the deserted space. Finally, his entire body tightened, taut like a bowstring as he arched, his muffled “fuck” echoing as he spurted into my mouth.

He thrust a few times, erratic now, as a hot, warm gush of his come flooded my mouth, bitter and salty and thick on my tongue. I wanted desperately to pull away and spit it out, but he held my head tight in his hand, still pushing me down a little on his cock as he gave a few final jerks into my mouth.

“Yeah, honey, so good, you did so good,” he murmured, finally releasing my hair and letting me pull back, releasing his cock with a small pop . “Can you swallow for me?"

I grimaced but did as he asked, swallowing down his release before sighing, and settled back on my heels next to him.

“Are you okay?” I asked tentatively as his breathing finally calmed, and he slipped his pants back over his hips though left the belt unbuckled. He looked a little lazy, his eyes hazy with pleasure and a slight sheen of sweat dampening his neckline. He looked tousled and ruffled, and I wanted to jump on top of him and pin him down to the ground.

When he looked at me and met my gaze, I wondered just how much I had revealed, because his lip curled in amusement as he watched the expressions flit across my face.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he answered slowly, his voice back the usual soft, breathy puff. But his heavy-lidded eyes were dark, passion-filled, and I wondered just what he was thinking.

I felt a little awkward, not sure what I should be doing now that the initial burst of desire had passed. I quickly swiped my hands over my face, blushing at the damp saliva and traces of his come still dotting my chin and cheeks, swallowing the taste of him in my mouth. He watched my hands, and I could see he was semi-hard through the tight fit of his slacks.

I shifted backwards, getting ready to stand, but he grabbed me and lifted me onto his lap. I squealed a little as he settled me down, bending his knees a little to cuddle me closer, his arms looping around me.

Xavier leaned forward a little, pressing his face into the bend between my neck and shoulder, breathing deeply. He nosed my collar out of the way, a soft kiss lightly fluttering over the sensitive skin.

“Xa…vier…” I whispered, trembling a little in his arms. I was a little confused, and a little unsure of what to do. He could swing hot or cold depending on the day and our mutual stress level and workload. We had never been this intimate before, always dancing on the edge of something more but neither willing to commit to it.

“Come home with me,” he murmured, lips peppering kisses up my neck, cheek, my chin, before sweeping over my lips in a gentle caress. “I want to make you feel good.”

I lifted a hand, cupping his cheek. “Is this from the pollen?” I asked warily. “To be honest, I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”

He opened his mouth, getting ready to speak, when a sudden beep from my hunter watch interrupted us. I answered, pressing the interface button. “Hunter, we detected some anomalies in your area. Have you completed your mission?”

“Yes, we defeated the wanderer and closed the protofield. However, we were both sprayed with an unidentified powder, and will be initializing Decontamination Protocol 3.”

“Understood. Report back after decontamination protocol has been completed. HQ out.”

“Hunter out.”

I turned off the watch as Xavier stared back at me, cradling me in his arms. He didn’t clutch me tightly, but soothingly rubbed up and down my spine, which I could feel despite the thick leather vest I wore. It felt surprisingly natural. I wondered if the pollen was also affecting me, especially when I leaned forward in his arms and brushed my lips over his cheek. I drifted across his soft skin, nibbling at his earlobe. It flushed red beneath my lips and tongue, and his breath caught in a light gasp before he spoke.

“Will you come home with me?” he asked, his voice quiet and subdued. He knew there was a chance I’d say no, and that he couldn’t argue with me.

“I…” I hesitated, before sighing and saying, “yes. I want to. But it really might not be a good idea.”

He cupped my chin, silently requesting that I raise my eyes to his. I glanced up, a little shy, and unconsciously lifted my hands to cover my mouth.

He pulled the hand away, kissing me deeply. There was no way he couldn’t taste himself on my lips and tongue. He hungrily sipped at my mouth, slicking open my lips so that our tongues could playfully curl together. He rubbed the roof of my mouth before retracting his tongue and gently pulling away.

He rested his forehead against mine, and I could feel his slowly hardening arousal pressed between us. I unconsciously rocked forward in his lap, enjoying the slow released huff of his breath.

“You feel so good,” he said, voice a little rough. He swallowed hard. “I’ll do whatever you want. Even if you just want me to take you home. To your home,” he clarified.

“I want you,” I answered softly. I felt a little embarrassed, but made myself meet his eyes. “I want a shower, and I want you…to…” I gulped. “I want you to fuck me. And then make love to me.”

He groaned, peppering little kisses on her face. “Yes,” he said, his voice quiet and a desperate tinge to the agreement. “Wrap your legs around me.”

I did as he asked, sliding my arms over his shoulders, and he boosted himself to his feet, holding me steady with one palm cupping my butt. I heard the clank of his belt rustling as he held me up against his belly.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured. And with a dazzling flash of light, we were swept away.

#love and deepspace #lads xavier #fanfiction #xavier love and deepspace #sex pollen #smut #xavier x mc #xavier x reader #misty invasion

157 notes · View notes

holybibly · 10 months ago

Note

girl i really dunno how to ask but ummm i...i mean WE need more preacher/saint/priest content....oh i just thought priest yunho with some cnc and bdsm........and maybe some watersports....oh. my. god. i died. my eyes are only seeing some whips, punishment and a lot of sin. bye.

Hi, honey, how are you? I really spoiled you, didn't I? But it seems that everyone is just as crazy about hot priests/pasors,preachers, and nuns as I am. Woo was hotter than hell when he was a priest, don't you think, bunnies?

I've already mentioned that I'll be doing a sequel for each member, but I'll tell you more so you can look forward to my updates.

Below I mention religious, hierophilia and church related topics. Bunnies, please refrain from reading if such content makes you uncomfortable. You have been warned!

Beware of False Prophets Demon San x Reader

Everyone in your town has been talking about the arrival of a new priest. The parishioners have been on their knees in praise of Pastor Choi San ever since he walked through the doors of your little church. He was devout, quiet, and, for a priest, incredibly handsome. He quickly became the object of admiration and wet dreams.

And you were not left out. The way his cat-like eyes would sometimes linger on you during Mass, or the way your name would roll off his tongue when he addressed you, made you blush with shame, not only at the dirty thoughts in your head but also at the fact that your panties were getting too wet just by looking at San.

But little did you know that Pastor Choi San had much more forbidden and depraved intentions towards you than that. Not all that glitters is gold, and not everyone is a saint who wears a holy robe.

It is said that one should beware of false prophets, for good intentions lead to hell. Or maybe the demon San will disguise himself as the new pastor of your church and try to tempt you into committing a sin.

Are you callin' me a sinner? Priest Yunho x Widow Reader

It was never in your wildest dreams that you'd be a widow at such a young age. Less than three months had passed since you got married when your husband tragically died, and this became the talk of your small town.

People walked past you, looked at you with disgust, closed their doors in front of you, and pointedly ignored you as if you had committed some mortal sin, which is probably what they thought you had done. You were so young and too beautiful, and your husband... Your husband was a man much older than you. You loved him; you really did, and losing him destroyed you. Your husband left you a huge fortune to inherit, and people whispered that you killed him to get money and to take a lover. Some even said you made a pact with the devil by killing your husband in return for your unearthly beauty and money. They said that you were a sinful brat.

Your only comfort at that time was faith, and you spent all your evenings in prayer and penance. One day, your housekeeper advised you to contact the priest, Jeong Yunho, describing him as a pious, compassionate, and gentle person who always showed mercy to everyone and granted the desired forgiveness of sins to all the troubled hearts. But she neglected to mention that Yunho was also an incredibly handsome young man who was more likely to tempt you to sin than to help you atone for it.

"I will help you get rid of your sins, my child." His hoarse voice whispered in your ear as he let the dress fall from your shoulders and down your back.

"I am going to cleanse you of the sin and the impurity of this world." Yunho said as he put a blindfold over your eyes and tied your hands behind your back.

"The only way you will be able to atone for your sins is through pain, and I will help you with that, my dear." He said this, accompanying his words with a lash of his whip across your bare skin.

Say yes to Heaven Pastor Yeosang x Libertine Reader

You never wanted to have anything as much as you wanted to have Kang Yeosang. He was handsome. He looked like an angel. He was everything that you ever wanted to sink your teeth into. He was your church's pastor. And that was what drove the hell out of you.

Yeosang was a simple man—an incredibly sweet and gentle man—who always helped his parishioners find the right path and to find God in their hearts. You, however, could brag about an endless list of sins and vices that you proudly displayed, like your favourite red lipstick. If given the chance, you would paint the whole town red, but mostly you wanted to see it smeared around Pastor Yeosang's handsome cock while you deepthroated him. The two of you came from completely different worlds—a saint and a sinner—but you had always believed that opposites attract.

Every mass was a game of seduction for you, and you wondered how far you could go before the angelic halo over Yeosang's head would crack and he would fuck you senseless. Although you had doubts that he could do it, you had a feeling that he was a virgin and would probably faint at the sight of a pink, wet pussy in front of his pretty angelic face. God, the boy was so holy and inexperienced about sex.

But how wrong you were about him! There are always two sides to every coin, and you will learn from experience that there are some desires that are better left as fantasies. Or the one where Pastor Yeosang fucks you to the last inch of your life and teaches you the concept of out-of-body experiences through orgasm.

Me and the Devil Lucifer Seonghwa x Reader Nun

From the day your parents took you to church for the first time, you knew that your life would be one of devotion to God. Of course, this was not the destiny your family wanted for you, but they still supported you on your way to becoming a virgin bride.

The convent where you lived to prepare for your vows was far from home and did not have the best reputation. But the priest of your parish convinced you that it was there, and nowhere else, that you could know God. And he was right; you did know God, but it was not the God to whom you prayed every night of your life.

It all began with dreams. Dark and unholy dreams came to you more and more often. The cold hands of a stranger sliding over your skin, a hot tongue exploring your body and lips as if sin itself were branding you with kisses, all ending with the first rays of dawn. Then this strange cat appeared and would not leave your side for a minute. But what frightened you most was the disappearance of the other nuns. One after the other, they vanished without a trace, until there were only a few novices left in the convent.

The night you took your vows was dark and moonless. So were the eyes of the dark-winged angel who appeared before you. It was as if he were woven of pure sin, depravity, and rage, oozing from his skin like ichor, and the rustle of his wings was the very sound you would hear before your death. But Angel, Lucifer, Seonghwa—call him what you like—came here with one goal: to finally get his bride.

"Do you have faith that your God will be the answer to your prayers, my beautiful bride? Do you believe that he is going to save you?" Seonghwa's lips touched your cheek, and his burning breath flowed across your skin. "You belong to me. Your soul, your faith, your body—all of it belongs to me. And you will accept me as your husband, dear child. Or you will say goodbye to your life at dawn."

There will be a separate post for Mingi, Jongho and Hongjoong. I am going to leave you in suspense, my little bunnies.

There's no harm in a bit of intrigue, is there?

321 notes · View notes

a-aexotic · 2 years ago

Note

Could you do soft Rafe being in love and having a secret relationship with someone opposite him like she’s so sweet and shy. She’s a kook but she’s friends with the pogues. Maybe some fluff and implied smut and he’s giving her aftercare? And also he’s just admiring her and being totally obsessed with her. Reader is blushing when he compliments her and tells her how much he is in love. How she understands him and is always there for him at his worst times.

I got carried away. Sorry 😭

ren's notes hi! ofc i can, omggg and don't worry ab it, the more descriptive, the better! i hope u enjoy! i love rafe's buzzcut sm

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader requested? yes no

warnings. fluff!, lowkey childhood enemies to lovers??, secret relationship, ooc rafe/sarah, a mention of a fight with ward, a few kisses and illusions to smut

summary. you've always lived next to the cameron's, what happens when you start getting closer to the older cameron?

➜ missing out on updates? ❪ navigation. masterlist. taglist. ❫

The Camerons have lived across the street from you for as long as you could remember. Morning brunches, summer yacht parties and Christmas's were always spent at the other's house. Ward was your father's best friend since they were children and they wanted you and Rafe to be the same.

But, time and time again, forcing your children to be friends proves to be not the best idea. Rafe started to dislike your presence more and more each time.

You weren't the problem. His father was. He would always compare you to him. "Why can't you be more like Y/N?" He'd heard this all his life so it was only natural that he'd start to dislike you despite the absolute angel you were.

You never held anything he said against him. You knew how complex his relationship with Ward was and you knew it wasn't his fault he didn't like you.

Rafe tried to hate you, he really did. But he just couldn't. You were the most caring person he'd ever. He'd only ever treated you with disrespect and unkindness but you still looked out for him.

Rafe was a softie at heart; so he started to like you more than a friend. And after you both shared a small kiss under the mistletoe on Christmas Eve at the L/N's, you started to date.

In secret, of course. Rafe didn't want to give his father the satisfaction of knowing he set you both up.

You and Rafe's relationship was only known by your best friend, Kie and his sisters and best friend, Wheezie, Sarah and Topper. Topper wasn't mean to find out, it just slipped from Sarah. They were all sworn to secrecy.

Rafe was delicate with you, always. He loved how caring you were and he always made sure to be just as caring with you as you were him.

You and Rafe sat at the beach, talking. This was how you two spent your nights; outside, in the back of his pickup truck watching the waves and the bright stars.

"I kind like how no one knows about us." You confessed with a small giggle as he nodded, putting his arm around you and pulling you close to him.

"Yeah, me too. It makes it more intimate." Rafe whispered as you both stared out to the ocean. "But sometimes, I want to make sure everyone knows you're mine."

"Me, too." You replied. It was mostly Rafe's wish to keep it private, it's best for both of you. He didn't want the island to have more to gossip about, he felt like it would be less of a strain on your relationship. He knew his father would make it difficult as well.

Rafe's relationship with his father was the one thing you and Rafe argue about. You think he should make more of effort to be nicer and he just wants to cut him off.

You considered yourself pretty close with Ward until Rafe's 18th birthday. You made it your mission to make sure everything was in place and perfect for Rafe. And it was perfect until Ward decided he needed to have a talk with Rafe.

This talk turned into a big fight almost immediately and Ward essentially had ruined Rafe's birthday and your hard work. You'd been with Rafe for about 2 months at that point, and you've known Rafe your entire life and you'd never seen him so distressed and angry.

He was in your room after the party and he was silent. He wasn't crying or screaming in anger - he was just silently laying in your bed. Your heart broke in two seeing Rafe so defeated. He was so strong (both mentally and physically), that's one of the reasons you admired him so much. But tonight, his will to fix his relationship with his father broke.

You had just taken a shower to give Rafe some space and you came back to see Rafe still hadn't moved from his spot. His father's words always had an effect on him, more than he wanted. He wanted to hate Ward but he truly couldn't - all he ever wanted was his validation.

You walked up to Rafe and embraced him tightly, quietly. You stayed like that for a couple minutes, Rafe basking in your presence. He moved his head upwards so he could look at you.

He couldn't help but break a small smile as he examined your gorgeous face. He was grateful that you were his - just his. That he had one person in this entire world who loved him for him, not for anything else.

"Thank you." Rafe whispered.

Your expression changed to a confused one. "For what?"

"Everything, baby." He paused. "The party, the cake, the effort you put in... and for loving me regardless of what everyone says about me."

You put your hand on his face, rubbing it slightly, comfortably. "None of it matters. I'm going to love no matter what they say because they don't know you like I do, okay?"

He hadn't heard anyone say that before. He's never been loved unconditionally since his mother and it felt so good to be loved again. He leaned up to kiss you.

It was a hard but passionate kiss. He pulled you in closer by the waist, then put his hands on your face to deepen the kiss. You pulled away from the kiss and you put your forehead on his, taking a few breathes.

You and Rafe locked eyes and he put his fingers in your hair, pulling you in for another kiss. He pulled away and looked deep in your eyes. "I wanna show you..." he paused. "How grateful I am, for you."

You nodded and he kissed you again, moving backwards into the bed so that you could get on the bed with him. He laid you down and you began to kiss again, this time with more fervor and desire than before.

That entire night Rafe was showing you how much he loved you. He loved being inside of you; he loved how close you were and that how it felt like there was no one else in the world but you two. He didn't do it for pleasure, that part was just a plus. The idea of combining with you in such a sensitive and soft way made Rafe love you even more, if that was even possible.

When you were done, Rafe wouldn't let you move. You were tired from not only the previous activities, but that entire day. Rafe got up to go get you water and after that, you both laid in comfortable silence.

You laid your head on his chest as you both drifted into a calm state of sleep.

"I love you." Rafe said for what seemed like the millionth time that night. You brought your hands to his, holding them.

"I love you, too."

2K notes · View notes

loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

Text

Rigor Mortis (prologue)

College roommate Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 1

summary: Relationships end. People die. You move on, and Miguel does too. (roommate! Miguel O'Hara x reader, college-ish au).

warnings: no warnings, just angsty asf

a/n: this is the culmination of lots and lots of planning and me writing non-stop for a good few weeks. the next part will be much longer, and updates will be wednesdays until further notice. thank you for all your support! If you'd like to be tagged, see this post.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys :D

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 1.1k

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

rigor mortis,

You're sitting at a diner, the one on 57th. At almost 11pm, it's… quiet. The gentle bustle of a waitress behind the counter, coffee mugs and sizzling pans. To your side, a little old woman tucked into the booth. Bright red lipstick and bold eyeliner against tan skin, wrists heavy with bangles against the counter. It's animated: feather boa, green leather jacket - and you think you spy the padding of some slippers from underneath the table. She clinks and clanks, and it makes you smile in spite of yourself. Peeling walls, cramped booths. Warm. Steady. Pam's Diner, on the corner, but you've got to use the side entrance, 'cuz the front's been bolted shut since the 50s. Don't ask questions.

"Mags, honey… I just want to… can you get your mom for me?" She's squinting into her phone now, nose pressed to the screen. You can only imagine the view from there; a facetime call with a smudge of eyebrow taking up most of the little box.

It's odd, but you like to sit near the door. Some pancakes, a milkshake, or a bitter cup of coffee now that you're older: people watching, as you've always called it. Okay, maybe it's more than odd . Maybe even serial killer adjacent - people-watching, like the night stalkers in cheesy slashers. But it's fun, looking for a story in everyone that walks in.

In your hometown, you had your first date in a booth just like this one. Back pressed against once-bright cushions, tight skirt digging into your back, and at 15 you had sat and waited with wide eyes. Waited, and watched. The woman with a blue hair-tie at the counter: a new mom, definitely. She looks tired, a mystery stain on the cotton of her joggers and deep rims around her eyes. A jitter in her hands, and she's probably got a piece of shit boyfriend on the couch; wringing his hands at looking after the little one, at being a fucking dad, for once, and… oh. The bell of the front entrance rings, and another woman walks in, and catches the eye of Blue Hair Tie. A warm smile, a tight arm around her waist. You watch as she takes up the other's jittery hand in her own. Partner? Fling? You know now; it doesn't matter, not really. Hands still, the shaking slows, and they are loved.

Your date had been late, of course. But what had been your first in a line of disappointing men is long forgotten in the haze of adulthood.

"I know, sweetheart-" the older woman in the booth next to you almost shouts, making you jump. "...those are very pretty shoes… but, could you… Hand the phone over to mom, okay?“

Someone answers with cooing and soft babbling, and then there's raspy laughter from the woman near you. It rings off the tiles: sonorous and full-bodied, wraps around you like a warm hug. It makes you feel a little less lonely, for now.

As of exactly 9.42pm, you are single. A four year relationship, over in the space of less than 20 minutes. A cup of watery decaf, and it's all over before you can finish it. I'll stay at my sister's, and you move out by the end of the month. No theatrics, not a trace of tears. You had wanted to cry, to kick and scream and beg, but more than anything, you were numb. Crystalline and still with shock, at how clinical it all felt. Sitting in your favourite diner, the humdrum of the city just past the glass; it still felt… lonely. And when he left; placed money on the counter, took his copy of keys off the table, and didn't look back ; it was cold.

You remember what he had said so many nights ago, God, years back, when he was studying for undergrad, and would crack open anatomy textbooks on the little desk in your dorm. He'd trace the lines of your arm, poke the flesh as you'd giggle and recite his notes into your skin.

that… tickles! what are y-you… ohh my God-

Stay still! This is.. important…

… I swear, I'll start screaming if you-

Pallidity, cooling, stiffness-

that's it, I'm screaming… I'm gonna do it-

It's not gonna learn itself, baby. Pallor, algor…

and rigor, right?

…

I listen. Sometimes.

…rigor, livor mortis and decay. The stages of death.

I thought you wanted to be a surgeon, baby, not the grim reaper.

Very funny. It's still important to know about these things, no?

I guess? But if you're gonna be saving lives…

That's not how it works. I'm not God. I make mistakes, people die. I do everything right-

People die.

Right. Above all, I'm in the business of people. Whilst they're alive and when they're gone, what they leave behind…

…but that's not really your job, is it? And don't give me all that, it's a vocation crap-

I don't know what to tell you. It is. It's bigger than me.

…it's long and hard and killing you slowly.

…

Shit. Jamie, I didn't mean to-

Rigor mortis. Post-mortem 'stiffness' or rigidity, which occurs one to two hours after death.

I'm sorry, I wasn't th-

The summation of unraveling: a temporary stasis, which could be described as 'frozen' in time or place, often mirroring the cause of death-

Jesus, I'm not trying to fight-

..where a body becomes a dead body. Colloquially, referred to as Alius Mortem, or; another death.

The phrase stuck, acting as a cruel count for the eventual decay of your relationship. Resentment, on both ends, had burned out that flame long before the breakup. Jamie was cruel, in some ways. You were cruel in others.

"Alice! Just wanted to say hi, cupcake; missed your voice… oh yeah… mhmm… she's just like you, can talk for the trees…" With the rasp of laughter in the booth next to you, it spreads the kind of warmth that stings.

There's a spark of self awareness at the back of your throat; the bitter taste of realisation. It's not meant to feel like this, is it? The end of almost a half-decade of your life, an era, the culmination of decisions good and bad and gray that have led you up to this moment. There should be… passion. Fighting, maybe. Tears. Instead of a supernova, you find yourself floating in the empty vacuum of space: an acrid taste left in your mouth.

"Oh God, have you and the girls been eating well? Let me come over tomorrow, drop you off some stuff…I don't trust half the crap in that cupboard of yours-" There is love and light in her voice, despite groans from the tinny speakers of her phone. Your chest is hot; something leaden and heavy that sits in the crook of ribcage. Bittersweet, like rotting fruit in the cradle of a tree trunk.

Maybe it's the coffee. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Over the past few years, a thousand cuts. And now, in the yellow lights of the little diner on the corner of 57th; another death.

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #angst #eventual smut #kat_writes😼

1K notes · View notes

chirpsythismorning · 6 months ago

Text

WSQK Update

The Twitter account for WSQK Radio has reached 100(ish) songs! And while it's currently unknown whether or not this account is in any shape or form associated with Stranger Things, I still want to give a breakdown about it as well as some reasons why this account intrigues me so much, because there are actually quite a few.

For some context about when and how this started, it might be helpful to know that the first (un)official leak regarding the existence of the WSQK filming location occurred on January 18th, the day prior to WSQK making their first post.

That same Friday when WSQK made their first post, fans also got official 'Week 2' BTS from Ross, which more openly acknowledged the existence of the radio station location in comparison to his previous posts for s5.

What then followed was a rocky start in terms of this Twitter account’s approach at making posts. Initially, they only made posts consisting of lyrics, followed by another post with a short clip of the song those previous lyrics came from.

After less than a week of the account being sporadically active, they became very consistent and continued their roll-out of lyrics + video, and then adding in + dialogue, every single day. There are a few outliers, with them not making a post on March 14th and March 20th, but the first time they had a big break in between posts was from March 22nd-March 24th, notably with their March 21st's post being related to Will's birthday:

After the March 21st post, and with their return on the 25th, they officially switched it up from posting every day, to every other day, and more recently with a consistency of every 2-3ish days.

But still, over 5 months later (roughly 156 days), they remain active.

When it comes to the type of posts this account interacts with, they stick to strictly liking and sometimes retweeting/replying vaguely to posts regarding the WSQK location, along with liking the posts of anyone that replies to their posts.

After some time though, I noticed they began posting songs that they already posted before, just with different lyrics and lines from the show along with them. This actually makes sense given that they are acting as a radio station, where songs are known for playing and replaying numerous times.

Which brings me to the most interesting aspect about WSQK, which is that while a good chunk of the songs posted have featured on the show at some point, there are also a decent amount that have not.

Here is a playlist of the songs for reference:

Here are some songs specifically that pique my interest. Some I will elaborate on, while others I might just share and let you figure out for yourself why I think they're worth mentioning.

This song was originally the third song they posted, though it was removed about a week later. Hard to tell why exactly they removed it. Maybe since it was still early on. they mixed something up and decided to get rid of it? Regardless, lyrically there could be some significance to this song choice.

Since we've obviously heard Kate featured on the show already, I don't think it would be too hard for a fan to include this. Though, it being added this early on is an interesting choice to me. Lyrically a song like many on this playlist that I think have a specific meaning which could fit quite well with a potential storyline in s5. It is also one of quite a few songs that have been posted at least twice.

While this song did feature in s3 and s4, this song is one of many that are unlisted for the show. It doesn't feature on any official soundtrack or playlist and so you'd have to already know it to recognize it or go out of your way to search it for yourself. And the meaning is also ummmm... yeah.

I actually got barely any results when looking into this song and its lyrics. Though I did discover that it is most known for featuring in an episode of Miami Vice in 1986.

I could only share 10 songs here, so if you want to look at more or even all of them, I highly recommend taking a look, even if it's only out of mere curiosity. I do plan on going through and confirming all the songs one by one again because I probably mixed up or missed one or two (or more). Scrolling down a Twitter account until their first tweet is not exactly fun, but this should be accurate for the most part!

Something else I want to mention is that @erikiara80, who also keeps an eye on the account, noticed a while ago that they have always followed 11 people, some fans and some connected to the show. There was one time they unfollowed some accounts and then instantly followed some others, keeping them at 11 follows, which means the number could be an intentional choice.

A while ago, it hit me that, if this is a hypothetical radio station, wouldn't they also take requests? So Erika helped me with that by requesting two for them to post, getting this reply:

And they did in fact eventually post those two songs requested... I'll let you guess which ones :)

Basically, I felt the need to bring this whole ordeal back to the conversation now, not because I am convinced that it is run by someone connected to the show, but because the eeriness around it persists.

Keeping something going on this long would not only require someone to be very consistent, but to also have the willpower to not go over the top interacting with fans (which I don't think most fans have the self control to not take advantage of). This account doesn't seem to have any bias towards anything. In fact they remain completely impartial, sticking to their script. They seem fine with remaining in the shadows with fans assuming they are insignificant or otherwise, all while keeping the act going almost a half a year later.

With s5 getting no promotion outside of Ross's (sometimes) weekly BTS photo-dumps, this season's roll-out has been almost non-existent. Usually we would get phone numbers to call and obsess over, even 1-2 years out from release, and yet nothing.

I find this approach interesting because it does honestly resemble something I could picture the show doing to hype up s5. If the radio station is going to be a prominent location, then it offers up a really creative way to interact with fans as a way to promote the show.

Them humbly leaving hints about the final season through songs via a ‘radio station’, could parallel similarly to easter egg like approaches they've presented in the past. Only this time (the last time) it would have existed and built up for months with most not knowing about it, offering up a sleuth different songs fans could dig into if it was ever revealed to be promotion for s5.

With their being whispers that we could get something revealed in regards to s5 very soon, and with this playlist finally reaching 100 songs, I thought I would celebrate and remind ya'll it still exists in case you need an excuse to overanalyze something new.

#byler #stranger things #stranger things 5 #wsqk #st music #st5 promotion #st5 predictions #can you guess which two songs i requested?#and no i did not request smalltown boy

69 notes · View notes

colibrie · 5 months ago

Text

Mosaic Moments

Prompt 3, Leo: Not made of stone.

Art by @trilobitepunch

3. Not made of stone (Leo, Casey Jr, brief Donnie cameo)

"Woooowe! Now that was a great run!" Leo exclaimed, chest heaving gently as he skidded to a stop. His muscles throbbed with a pleasant burn, chest gently heaving with the welcome effort of exertion. A thin veneer of sweat cleansed his skin, gently pulling at the slight breeze that blew by the roof.

"Hah yeah," Casy huffed as he came up from behind, face flushed and hair stuck to his face. The humans thin shoulders jumped as he folded over, hands braced on his knees as he sucked in deep breaths of air.

"You good bro?" Leo asked, only half teasing as he stretched his arms above his head, casually nudging Casey Jr with the side of his foot. "Way you're sucking wind someone would think you were the one stuck in bed for over a month and a half."

"Hey, not all of us get to be freaky strong mutants," Casey shot back, a broad grin taking any away any heat that may of existed as he pushed himself upright. "You definitely don't run like someone whose been bed ridden. Then again, you always did heal fast. It was useful for the resistance but it drove uncle Tello and Master Michelangelo crazy trying to keep Sensei in bed long enough to meet minimum rest standards."

The shift was barely perceptible. If he hadn't been raised by older versions of the turtle he was sure he would have missed it. The suble tightness that crept into the corners of Leo's smile, forcing them wider in a way that was to plastic to be genuine. The way the light in his eyes dimmed ever so slightly, even as he let out the perfectly light chuckle to cover.

"Yeah, future me is like six kinds of amazing. Must have been a crazy time."

"It was the apocalypse," Casey replied slowly, mentally trying to make sense of these shifts.

Had it been mentioning sensei? In the aftermath of the Krang invasion Leo had initially had a hard time hearing Casey mention his future counterpart. But they had worked through that. They had talked, under the cover of night when the rest of the lair had been at rest. He'd apologised to the younger turtle for putting so much pressure on him. Leo had accepted with apologies of his own, and had eventually coaxed him to give more details about his life with sensei, stories both good and bad. They'd laughed, they'd cried. They were good...weren't they?

"Must all seem pretty tame now in comparison," Leo said casually as he leaned into his stretch.

"Yes and no," Casey responded, watching carefully as he pushed his hair away from his face. "There's certainly less explosions, and the lack of zombie krang chasing us on our morning run is nice. But other things are crazy. Like how rich everyone is. Uncle Tello used to tell me stories about it, and he had a million folders of ideas and inventions that he'd imagined but lacked the materials to make. Seeing how easy it is to get things here, I get it now. He'd be over the moon, and probably lock himself in the lab for a whole year!"

There. A slight flinch, shoulders hiking a few centimeters up towards his tympanum.

"Heh, once an egghead always an egghead I guess. Anyway, we should-"

"Leo, what's wrong?"

"Uh...Nothing?" Leo replied questioningly. "I mean, I'm kinda hungry. Wanna swing by Run of the Mill on the way back? We can-"

"I thought we were past lying to each other," Casey challenged, a tiny bud of frustration building beneath his ribs as he pinned the turtle with a look.

"I'm not lying Cas, everything is fine now, right? Apocalypse averted, city is in repairs, everyone is healing, and Donnie finally paused updating the security system long enough to eat something other than caffeine and applesauce. Everyone is happy."

"You're avoiding my question. Master Michelangelo said you'd..."

He did not even need to look for the flinch this time. Leo turned away.

There was something here he was missing. Something in his words. But what? It wasn't like he'd never told red eared slider about the future. About the family he'd lost.

About Master Michelangelo.

About Uncle Tello.

About how...

"They all die!"

His heart hit the floor, stomach doing flips as he stared at the mosaic of barely healed pain spiderwebbed across Leonardo's shell. They had talked about a lot of things in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but they had never discussed what had happened in the tunnels beneath the tower. About the fate he'd revealed.

"They all die!"

"Every single one of them."

"The world needs Master Leonardo, and all we have is this guy."

"Leo, I... I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what man? Everything is fine." Leo replied, voice smoothly polished. He did not turn around.

"I've been talking about the future this whole time and..and we never really talked about it like that."

"Sure we have. You were telling me about it yesterday."

"I was talking about Sensei yesterday," Casey corrected, "we've only discussed the...others... once."

A falling pin could have sounded like a gun shot in the quiet that followed.

"There's nothing to talk about there," Leo said eventually.

Gone was the polish, the glitz and the glamorous glow of humor. Leo's tone was flat, a blank slate for this single fact to be engraved.

"I think there is," Casey replied carefully, biting his lower lip hard as he sought the for words that would fix the situation. "The way I told you about what happened to them was... not ideal..."

"Hey, you did what you needed to do to get the message through my thick skull. I don't hold it against you Casey. "

"Yeah, that's partially why I did it. But...I think I also did it because I was mad at you."

The atmosphere between them felt tense enough to explode, and Casey found himself tripping over his words in the haste to get them our before the fireworks could begin.

"I was angry at you for not being Sensei, and I was scared that I was going to fail the mission he and Master Michelangelo sacrificed everything to give me. The mission that could make uncle Tello and Raphel's death mean something. I threw their deaths in your face, and it was...I didn't mean to... I didn't think it would still be effecting you this badly..."

"You didn't think learning my whole family died because of my stupidity would effect me? Jeez Casey, I know I'm an self-centered idiot sometimes, but I'm not made of stone either. "

The words were light, but underneath them was brittleness, fine cracks poised to shatter at the next misstep.

"No!" Casey panicked, desperately backpedaling for the a way to sooth the hurts he'd intentionally and unintentionally afflicted. "I just meant that-"

The soft beeping of Leo's com cut him off mid sentance, and the young terrapin answered it before he could regather his scrambled thoughts.

"What's good Dee?"

"I need to go to the junkyard for some parts, but Raph won't let me go alone incase Repomantis "shows up for a showdown". To appease him I volunteered you for the buddy system. Tell Junior to head home and meet me there in ten minutes," Donatello replied, his voice that perfectly painful bend of familiar irritation, excitement, and affected disinterest.

There was something else there too. Something Casey had never had a name for beyond donnieandleo. He'd grown up hearing donnieandleo in good times and in bad. In the early hours when Sensei would grumble and drag the soft shell into his own bed to ensure he got at least four hours of uninterrupted rest. In the curses that had flown from his uncles lips when he'd fought to keep Sensei from bleeding out after amputating his arm. It was like a secrect code that only they could speak, one that remained uncracked up until the day his uncle had died.

Whatever Donnie was saying now, Leo read loud and clear.

"Fine, but you owe me a smoothie after. Extra large."

"Says the guy who still owes me pizza for that bet from last week."

"Uuuugg fine, but I'm gonna need some serious food to make up for this. On my way."

"Leo, we need to-"

"Sorry Case, duty calls," Leo cut in, never looking back as he walked towards the edge of the roof. "You head back and get some lunch. I know Mikey has a new recipe for you."

"Leo stop! Just let me explain."

"No need. Heard it loud and clear, I promise."

#rottmnt #rottmnt leo #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt casey jr #mosaic moments #angst fairy writes #should I continue this one?#leo angst

69 notes · View notes

running-with-kn1ves · 6 months ago

Note

You reblogging that werecat gf getting dommed post makes me drool thinking of werewolf edira fucking her werecat gf/employee/darling to submission

If you have time, could you write it out for the sapphics who need more female yanderes on tumblr🥺

I physically couldn't NOT write this!! I've been having trouble writing lately so it's pretty self-indulgent but I hope it's good enough for my edira lovers 🙏 everybody thank @werecreature-addicted for the werecat/werewolf inspo juice

CW: NSFW, fem! Werecat reader, werewolf Edira, sexual content literally just a nsfw gay drabble

Hm, Oh look-- The pretty kitty's nose got stuck where it doesn't belong."

Her flat tone lacked any surprise- almost sounding pleasantly expected.

Snooping into your bosses locked file drawers was never something you thought you'd do. It's too bad she stole your phone for "insubordination", claiming you could have it back at the end of the day if you kept your attitude as her obedient secretary. Not the mouthy employee who cares about trivial things such as "privacy," and "the right to communicate with coworkers on things besides work."

It only took you 20 minutes after your lunch break to start the undercover search for what she had stolen. You didn't trust your obsessive, erratic predator of a boss to not go through your belongings.

It was like she resented you, the "cat stench" you wafted in along with her coffee, or the pieces of fur and hair she found on the occasional set of new copies. As if she didn't shed enough for two, her office needing to be lint-rolled every Tuesday and vacuumed from top to bottom by the end of Friday. Her stress made her that much more irritated and finicky, leaving your allergies to fester and her anger at your small mistakes increase tenfold.

You should've known her lunch break wouldn't be an entire hour like scheduled; workaholics and possessive bosses don't let their underlings rest for too long.

Maybe this would've happened whether or not you were snooping, maybe she would've reprimanded you no matter where she found you... but her glare, the harshness in her claws and the way her usually alert, pointed ears were flat-- it made her look all the more menacing.

"Such a dutiful mouth, from an insignificant creature... so weak, barely able to lift your head."

She snarled with a rough, guttural growl echoing from the back of her throat.

"Ed..ir..thag--"

You choked out broken sobs from behind sensitive cuspids, two fingers rhythmically pulsing against your tongue, two more from your bosses opposite hand, inside of you. How many orgasms, how many screams did you bite down on her fingers to silence?

Did it matter, now that the building was empty and her office door was wide open? These were the consequences, apparently, for trying to text back a friend or a family member... you couldn't remember anymore. Maybe you were just trying to see the update your favorite influencer threw out. But it never mattered, not when edira nipped at your ears, leaning deeper from behind as her fingers worked magic in defiling your mouth and pretty pussy.

"I knew werecats were a devious breed...hm, not very resilient though--are you?" She pulled two fingers out of your cunt, tugging at the base of your wildly flicking tail.

Yowling from behind her digits in your mouth, you gripped at the slippery layer of wood beneath you. She pulled your tail forward, your ass sticking up as your mouth was suddenly sucking on air, missing her fingers as they slide back to hold your thigh.

"You should know better than to come to work in your heat, sneaking into my office, shoving your chest up against my desk--ngh, less composed than the wolves I know. "

Your heat? You hadn't felt thar burning sensation in your lower stomach for months. It wasn't season quite yet-- but for werewolves...

Over shedding, her irritation, calling you into her office every 5 minutes, continuously out of breath-- who's heat was happening again?

You didn't have time to contemplate any further, claws once ripping at your tail now digging into your stomach as her free hand was pulling your hands back. They were your only source at staying somewhat stable on the mahogany desk. She ripped the short, but cutthroat nails of your stubby fingers backwards as one hand held two of your wrists together, your head falling to hit against forgotten paperwork. Across from you, her laptop remained open, an email draft sitting as the computer timer counted to shut down from lack of use.

"Please, miss Edir-ah--!" You clench around her fingers as they slide back in, playing with your slick as she grinds against the corner of the desk. the way your tail tries to cover up your sensitive hole makes her laugh, giving a small pinch to your ass.

"Pet pet... mph, you're making me burn-- it's all your fault... I have to take you home,"

A small kiss to your cunt made your walls flitter. You can't help but arch your back involuntarily, imagining yourself in your bosses home, in her bed-- her fangs pressed deep into your neck and her fuzzy tail wagging with delight.

You could feel her drool down against her fingers, pushing inside of you with a playful rhythm.

"Werecats deserve to be used like the weaklings they are-- and you, my darling are no different." You felt the shake of the desk as she rutted against it, a long tongue reaching where Ediras fingers couldn't. "Need me to help you through your heat, huh? Gonna take your punishment like a good kitty?"

If you weren't going through your heat, you were facing something akin to it now. But between the two of you-- your hot-headed boss was far more worked up, salivating at the smell of you, nearly finishing on her desk at the sensation of you on her fingers.

The lights by your cubicle were beginning to shut off, one by one. You prayed the janitorial crew would avoid this side of the office, for now. Hopefully, they won't question the mystery mess left upon Edira's desk...

#kn1ves rants #knives rants #writing #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #self insert #yandere imagines #Kn1ves edira #female love interest #Werewolf x werecat #Werecat reader #werewolf smut #werewolf #monster #monsterfucker

78 notes · View notes

damagedintellect · 8 months ago

Text

ADA Dazai x Reader

💌Obligatory sex pollen fic I guess?? chapter 2💌

Summary: Certain abilities Dazai can dispel outright without touching the user. This has always confused the brunette greatly where the technical line was drawn. During Q's apocalypse, he couldn't bring individuals back to their senses but with Shiwabusa's fog he could prevent Chuuya’s ability from manifesting. Apparently this “Sex pollen” ability was more like the former example. Which left Dazai the only one conscious of their actions as everyone fucked like rabbits.

Notes: Based on a dream I had a few nights ago....This chapter is shorter because I started waking up once I realized it was THAT DREAM, I'm literally crying it got a second chapter some one help😭

Contains: sex pollen, dubcon, pregnancy, mpreg, pregnant Fyodor, Fyodor being painfully religious, 🍋 in chapter 1

💌 Wordcount 1,971 💌 Chapter 2 of ?? [If I have another dream I am obligated to update this] <= Previous chapter

Just like that for a few weeks everything was back to some semblance of normalcy. Out of sight out of mind you guess. Once you stopped feeling sick all the time you could hardly tell you were pregnant at all. You were still confined to the office since it would take anywhere from 3 to 6 months to fully heal from your injuries but that was fine with you. Honestly you don’t understand how Dazai does it. You've been pampered by Yosano's ability. It didn't even occur to you that you'd still have to have some sort of physical therapy afterwards either. Meanwhile Dazai gets shot and stabbed all the goddamn time and he takes it like a champ. Just one more reason to like him you guess.

Dazai looked up to catch you staring. You didn’t look away but your face did start to feel warm. You hadn’t really sat down and talked about it in depth yet. That night or about the child and honestly no one in the office has really tried to bring it up either. Although you still don't know what to say, sooner or later someone has to say something and hopefully it won't have to be you. Unfortunately you have a feeling it's going to be you.

Dazai glanced at the door and frowned. He's been trying to avoid any meaningful confrontation but judging from the sounds outside he swallowed. He knew those footsteps better than anyone and it was only a matter of time before “he” showed up. This might as well be happening today. Without warning Chuuya emerged from the doorway looking annoyed.

“Okay, which one of you is the weretiger!”

Atsushi hesitantly raised his hand. You raised an eyebrow at the exchange. What was the mafia executive doing looking for Atsushi? Dazai sighed and rose to his feet, putting an arm around Atsushi as Chuuya approached the two.

“Why Chuuya, what brings you out to our domain! I almost didn't see you there, have you gotten shorter?” He smiles cheerfully. You swear you could see flowers and sparkles surrounding him.

Chuuya crossed his arms “Go to hell and wait your turn. I have a bone to pick with you after I square away business with the tiger boy.” He glared at Atsushi, sizing him up. “And you, my boy Akutagawa hasn't been the same since your guy's little rescue operation. Mind telling me why that is?” It was surprisingly less threatening and more of a genuine question.

Atsushi’s face flushed a few shades darker “Why don't you ask him! He's the one who-” He stopped mid sentence, groaning. He figured Akutagawa wouldn't talk about it to anyone either but being asked directly because Akutagawa was out of sorts was insulting. How did he think Atsushi felt? “You know what, the bottom line is I'm pregnant and it's his fault he used his stupid ability like that. If anything I should be the one who's traumatized!”

Chuuya hummed, putting his hand under his chin as he thought about an earlier encounter. “Oh so that's why he was muttering about being bound to the weretiger. He was saying something about not even holding hands yet and having to marry you. Guess that makes me the godfather for two babies then.” the redhead shrugged like this conversation was an everyday occurrence.

Atsushi slouched, was this karma for trying to suggest that Fyodor and Nikolai should get married?

“Don’t tell me Akutagawa is religious too.”

Chuuya furrowed his eyebrows. “What? No listen kid, this is about stepping up to responsibilities. Raising a kid's a big deal.” He looked over at Dazai with a smirk about to add one more thing but Dazai interjected, flicking the brim of Chuuya's hat.

He continued to wave his hand in the other's face. “Who said you were the godfather? I don't remember calling you.” Both of their expressions went flat for a moment as they glared at each other passively.

“You should have, it would have been better to hear the news from you than from Mori.” He huffed “Why didn't you? It's not like you to go back on your word. What happened too, I wouldn't lie about something like this.” He mocked in a Dazai like fashion.

“I thought you were too drunk to remember that!” Dazai whined.

“Yeah well I also remember promising to be your best man if you ever lived long enough to find someone.” Chuuya leaned back into his hip “So?” the redhead crossed his arms, waiting.

“So what?” Dazai said matter of factly. As the two stared back at each other, Atsushi finally sat down. Why did they have to do this at his desk?

“So what? You're not even going to introduce me!”

Dazai rolled his eyes. Is that really what Chuuya came here for? When Chuuya walked in you had gotten up from your desk to make tea. As you brought the cups over Dazai walked around you and put his hand on your shoulder “(Y/N), Chuuya, Chuuya, (Y/N). There, you happy?”

“Wait (Y/N)? You mean your-” Dazai cut him off but Chuuya looked surprised. You wonder what he was going to say. It sounded important.

Dazai pankicked and grabbed the other from behind covering his mouth as he dragged him out into the hallway. “Nope that's it you overstayed your welcome.”

Once the door shut Ranpo pouted “I'm pregnant too ya know. I wouldn't mind Mr. Fancy hat being the godfather.” He puffed out his cheeks.

Atsushi rolled his eyes. “That's all you got from that!”

Ranpo sighed “No, I also got the image of Akutagawa tying you up so thanks for that.”

Atsushi stood up so fast his chair nearly fell over. “How can everybody speak about it so casually!”

He looked over to you with pleading eyes. Atsushi was probably hoping you'd back him up. Instead you laughed, handing him the disregarded tea.

“Well for starters only the adults are here today and the more you talk about it the less power it has.” You handed the detective another cup. “Although instead of putting you on the spot Ranpo should have asked if you wanted to talk about it first or at least opened up about his experience.”

He took a sip of tea before shrugging. Ranpo didn't mind sharing at all in fact he’s glad someone asked about it. “Not much to say really. Poe hugged me from behind and by the time I realized he wasn't doing it to be cute I just kinda went with it.” Ranpo shrugged with a smile on his face. “I'm more curious what happened with Kunikida!”

The blonde tensed as you set the last cup down in front of him. He had stopped his typing as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of his face. “Do I have too?” Out of everyone in the office Kunikida had been the one trying the hardest to skirt around the conversations. He wanted to forget it ever happened. It was bad enough that Dazai would tease him about it whenever they were alone.

Ranpo hummed “Akiko's really careful because she could never give up drinking for that long, so since you're not forced into being a dad, dealer's choice?” You all nodded in agreement, it only seemed fair since you were putting him on the spot.

Kunikida pushed up his glasses. You assume he probably doesn't want to share. Instead he turns to address you. “Which reminds me, I thought Yosano gave you a contraceptive too?”

“I was so exhausted I forgot it was in my pocket and never took it.” You frowned. It didn't feel like a priority in the moment but like most of them you were out of it. “But forced parenting aside, right now this is about sexual trauma.”

Kunikida cleared his throat “I wouldn't know what to share. I turned to look at Yosano and the next thing I know we're kissing in a passionate manner.” He paused wondering if he should say something about the elephant in the room. “Also this should go without saying, but no one is forcing you to be a parent. Ranpo and Atsushi might not have a choice but there's still plenty of time for you to think it over. No one would stop you if you decided you're not ready to be a mother.” This was true but your mind was already made up.

Somehow only Ranpo knew of your crush? You thought it was fairly obvious. Had it been anyone else you probably would have gotten rid of it by now.

Ranpo laughed before you could answer, sharing his two cents. “Who said I don't have a choice? I'm choosing to have this little munchkin! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity to see what me and Poe create. Besides, I've always wanted a mini me!” He patted his stomach proudly.

Atsushi sipped on his tea “That's true. So in a weird way it kind of worked out for you and Poe huh. At least one of us lucked out.” He’s been avoiding Akutagawa as much as possible ever since that night.

Ranpo snickered, “I would say two of us lucked out.” He draped one around your shoulder opening his eyes to give you a smug look. “Well you care to share with the class? This was your idea after all.”

So that’s why he bothered to bring all of this up. You sighed in defeat. “Lucked out my ass!” Your cheeks were red as Atsushi and Kunikida gave you incredulous looks “Keep in mind Dazai was fully conscious of his actions. He kind of just let me get it out of my system in hope that I would eventually snap out of it,” You groaned hiding your face in your hands “and yes, apparently I was begging him to fuck a baby into me. Is that what you wanted to hear, Ranpo!”

Ranpo blinked a few times “You didn't have to go that far but yeah I was just trying to get you to mention your crush on Dazai.”

“You have a crush on Dazai?!” Both Atsushi and Kunikida shouted. Kunikida nearly spat out his tea. You groaned “That’s why I was planning on keeping the child but I feel like I'd be baby trapping him.”

“It’s not baby trapping if you decide to keep the child, it's your body. I already told you that you have the final say.”

Everyone slowly turned their heads back to see Dazai coming back into the office. You swallowed “How much of that did you hear?”

“Not much but you already told me your reason for wanting to keep the kid.” He shrugged nonchalantly and everyone wiped their heads back to you.

Atsushi was dumbfounded. “Wait a second, let me get this straight. He knows that you-”

Dazai spoke over him. “-Always wanted kids, it's not that big of a deal. Unless that's not what we're talking about?” He tilted his head to the side. Did he miss something? It took a lot out of him to turn Chuuya away especially after the stupid slug made his own revelations about the situation.

You released the breath you were holding. Everyone else understood Dazai was just as oblivious to your feelings as always. Eventually you would have to tell him but it was still early enough in the process to figure that out. At least everyone else in the office knew why you’ve been acting weird since that night.

Kunikida groaned at the realization. “I don't know if I can handle a mini Ranpo running around, let alone a mini Dazai.” He went back to his work. “It’s bad enough having to work with Dazai as is.”

You laughed as the two tried to defend themselves.

#bsd imagines #bsd fanfic #bsd dazai #bsd x reader #dazai x reader #dazai osamu x reader #my bsd brainrot is showing #x reader #based on a dream i had #i can't believe this got a chapter 2

79 notes · View notes

infamous-if · 2 years ago

Text

Infamous Update (04 - 25 - 2023)

I've never done these before! (so pls excuse this not very organized wall of text) But I did get a few asks on 'schedules' and stuff so I thought I'd update you guys on what I'm doing Infamous-wise.

I am working on the free drabbles. It's taking a bit because Orion's is becoming so long. Like!! It's looking like a chapter at this rate (lol) and that's really a product of my tendency to overwrite. It's coming, though, and I did start working on Maya's, which is fun. That should be up any day now!

I'm also working on the playable POV chapters for patreon. If anyone is wondering what that's going to look like: I explained it a bit here. I have a lot of POVs I want to do, but that also includes coding so it's taking me a bit. Once I have about two done I'll get it out and then add more as I go!

Chapter 2! A lot of people are asking about chapter 2. I have the whole thing outlined. I said on my personal that once I have something outlined I can write it pretty fast, which is true! But since I'm also fixing all the errors in the demo code and polishing the demo, it's going to take a bit longer to get it out. Truthfully, I don't think it'll be too long, though. It took me about two months to write the demo and chapter 2 is a little less intensive than that, so maybe about a month? I won't give any specific dates since I don't know but I'm confident it won't be too long!

That's really all. Basically, it won't be too long of a wait and I'm always working on it. I do have other life responsibilities but I'm lucky to be working a job where it's not too much for me and I can work on Infamous without feeling exhausted, so I do get a lot done! Thank you for your interest as always :) and if there's anything you'd like to suggest, I'm all ears (as always).

Also!! Some lovely people created a discord chat for Infamous! I'll be making a formal post on that soon! (FUN)

#update #other stuff #infamous update

427 notes · View notes

y-rhywbeth2 · 3 months ago

Text

Illithid: Biology

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess you can almost always find something that argues against [x]. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. Frankly these posts may get updated now and then. etc]

Biology | Elder Brains | Culture | Variants WIP

I need a break from elves.

Frankly I think most of this info is on the wiki, but whatever; a compilation of three sourcebooks and some errata.

Life cycle: From tadpole to squid to Elder Brain food; how ceremorphosis is a joy (and also a manageable condition that need not end in tentacles if you stay on top of it)

Psychology: Propaganda hours and one-sided relationships for the tentacled academics; and why the undead make them flip their shit.

Physiology: Internal organs, lifespan, senses and what do you suppose being able to feel with your stomach lining is like?

Habitat: 'On today's agenda: kill the sun.'

Diet: You don't have to live on human brains, asshole.

Reproduction: So how are half-illithid made? WotC, once again, show me the forbidden mind flayer courtship lore.

It all begins when a mind flayer lays eggs in the brine pool that houses the elder brain. A clutch of mind flayer eggs consists of a pile of clear eggs, one-sixth of an inch in diameter, bound together by sticky garlic-scented mucus, which float at the top of the nursery (usually around the edges).

After a month these hatch into tiny mauve tadpoles less than an inch long (the tentacles are deceiving, they're not cephalopods, they're amphibians) which live in the brine pool as room mates with the colony Elder Brain. Most will be eaten by the Brain, leaving a handful of survivors (1 in a 1000 are spared).

Without the Elder Brain these tadpoles would begin cannibalising each other, until only one survived, developing enough to leave the pool and become a giant wormy horror that's about as intelligent as a dog that I'll talk about later. Nature is beautiful.

But moving onto the average tadpole who grows up with the Brain: Tadpoles take a decade to mature, feeding on mashed organs fed to them by 'nursery attendants.' Once they're about 3 inches long they're ready to get shoved up somebody's nose. The 'sucker' on the underside of its body which served as a mouth has developed a spiny rim, and four tentacles and webbed growths have spouted from it like a tail. By the time they're mature they look like elongated tiny octopi.

Tadpoles are implanted into the orifice of a humanoid being of appropriate size. Eye, nostril, ear canal, you decide.

Hosts must be mammalian, between 5'4"-6'2" tall and weigh between 130-270 pounds. This means candidates for ceremorphosis are humans, elves, gith, gnolls and large goblinoids. Worry not, the rest of you may still be of service to our glorious mucus covered masters as slaves and food, and advancements in illithid science now allows gnomes to become tiny squid people.

A tadpole in its natural state is about as intelligent as a frog. It proceeds to consume its host's brain, growing in size and intellect and melding itself to the brain stem, replacing that brain as the body's control centre.

The length of the process varies by host, depending on both their strength of mind and physical health and can take from an hour to a tenday or more. Translating mechanics to narrative: as the brain damage develops the infected loses motor control and balance, memory, personality, intellectual capability, emotional regulation and probably emotions in general, and so on so forth begin to go as the person is slowly and utterly destroyed. A restoration spell cast upon them will reverse the damage done, delaying ceremorphosis - in theory indefinitely, but it will not destroy the tadpole. The tadpole is easy to kill, but incredibly difficult to locate as you'd have to go rooting through the brain looking for it which will almost definitely kill the host. Apparently a heal spell is required to cure the condition. Of course if you kill the host and the tadpole pre-ceremorphosis then resurrecting them will bring them back right as rain, tadpole free.

Assuming that doesn't happen: once the brain is gone, the host is dead, '[their] spirit seeks its fate in the Outer Planes' and the body is left to the parasite.

The illithid begins to rewrite the nervous system and physically edit the exterior of its new body (though not the interior organs). Interior function remains largely the same, but soft tissue is overwritten on a fundamental level to the point where it doesn't really count as humanoid tissue any longer. Within seven days you have the finished product. The skin turns mauve and begins to secrete mucus, the eyes sink into the skull and turn solid white throughout, fingers begin to meld together, webbing increases between digits, the human mouth is replaced with that of a lamprey's, and four tentacles are acquired.

Once the host is destroyed the only way to bring them back is the miracle spell: in other words you need to track down a very powerful cleric and convince them to give their god a call and ask for direct divine intervention to rewrite reality so that the ceremorphosis didn't happen. Mind flayers, being sapient beings with a patron deity, presumably have souls. Most illithid believe they don't have souls (or at least not ones beholden to a deity), and insist that Ilsensine and Maanzecorian are just 'ideals,' but the hubris ridden squids are hardly unbiased. The Illithiad talks about it like they do have souls.

The illithid may have picked up some residual memory from the host, a psionic echo of neurons now gone, though considering illithid and humanoid neurology and emotions are incompatible as hardware and programming these memories are going to mean little to them if anything, and mind flayers have no sentimental attachment to the host identity as a result.

You now have a neophyte: a newborn illithid is little more than a tentacled frog that suddenly gained a lot of processing power and a shiny new sapience. It has no innate knowledge of its needs or culture and hasn't fully developed its abilities or adjusted to its form and will need the guidance of its colony as it learns and 'grows up.'

At 21 years old they should be adult ilithid with fully mature psionic abilities and control of their bodies.

An illithid lives for about 135 years, at the end of which it has its brain removed and is thrown into the spawning pool from whence it came where its brain is eaten by the colony Elder Brain. Illithid believe that they will live on forever as part of a union of those who came before them. In truth the Brain just treats them exactly as they once treated their host and victims; by killing of their individuality and personality and stealing their memories and intelligence to empower itself. But kinda worse, because at least the tadpoles aren't intelligent enough to have morals.

Psychology:

It's often believed due to their lack of facial expressions and unfamiliar body language, as well as the flat effect of their 'voice' when communicating telepathically, that mind flayers have no emotions.

It's actually the exact opposite: mind flayers have all-consuming, overwhelming feelings at all times, carefully internalised.

A mind flayer's emotions are not directly equivalent to those of a humanoid in 'feel' (possibly due to a lack of brain and hormones?), though some can be compared for an idea of what they're like. From an outsider perspective the majority of these emotions would be viewed as 'negative.'

A mind flayer experiences fulfilment and positive emotion from a) eating brains and b) pursuing and satisfying their curiosities and taking pride in positive outcomes. Curiosity itself being a powerful drive for their kind, they're all usually studying something. Outside of those two activities nothing gives mind flayers 'happiness'/whatever their version of serotonin is. 'Fear,' 'envy,' and 'hate' are other manifestations of aggression, the same as with most sentient beings.

Another other primary mind flayer emotion is aggression, usually frustration. They are a very easily pissed off people, and the belief that they are the superior beings who should be guiding the world into a Lawful utopia of master (mind flayer) and thrall (everyone else) often leads them to be very grumpy when the world, most bizarrely, does not seem to be in step with their outlook.

Whether it's innate or conditioned (and at what stage the conditioning began, tadpole or illithid) is not clear, but it's described as an 'instinct' for illithid to believe they are inherently superior and all others are thralls and good. Oh boy, the hubris. On the plus side it can be overcome and unlearned.

Mind flayers need socialisation, in a sense. Being telepathic, hive mind-oriented beings they're known to panic when alone in their own heads (such as when being outside the range of their colony).

'Dominion is life' is a key philosophy; 'only through the domination of others can [one] actualise their inner desires, needs, and future goals.' Mind flayers on a base psychological level need a thrall as a kind of mirror and anchor of their identity, not so much for care of the person they're connected to but in order to project themselves onto a being they feel 'intimately' connected to. Being without thralls is traumatic, and mind flayers will usually drop everything to acquire more when they have none. Without thralls the mind flayer's emotional health is destroyed and they just downward spiral into depression and insanity. They will often 'die quietly' in this situation.

Creating a thrall is 'no small matter' and requires the efforts of the entire colony lending their psionic abilities to the one performing the process in order to bring them into the hive mind. The intended thrall is branded with their master's ID and conditioned with layers of psionic brainwashing in repeat sessions, completely erasing their personality and individuality and then reprograming them to suit their master's needs.

While we 'cattle' consider this horrific, mind flayers see this as an act of altruism. They genuinely believe that the 'lesser races' require their dominance for guidance to thrive. Those who are consumed are appreciated; an illithid grants the lesser races a boon by consuming them and briefly experiencing their existence, and the thrall race grants them their 'gifts.'

'Oh, most delicious morsel, perceive my appreciation of your unique gifts...' - A mind flayer, addressing its 'donor'

(Mind flayers that question any of these doctrines of how it's good for the 'lesser races' are subject to immediate execution.)

Illithid do not typically have such 'intimate' bonds with each other. While they are cooperative, mind flayers are highly individualistic and very competitive. While they're known to experience grief at the passing of their people, tentacled academics don't like to share their personal research with the other mad scientists.

They aren't incapable of being decent people.

'...there are some benevolent illithids, though these tend to be reclusive and well-hidden, or magically disguised into other shapes they “wear” almost all the time, just to avoid constant attacks or hostility from others who see their mind flayer bodies and react accordingly. At least one longterm-in-print “human” NPC of the Realms is actually one of these disguised illithids. - Ed Greenwood (I'm not sure who it is, NPCs aren't my forte)

'Rogue' illithid are those who - somehow - break free of an Elder Brain's borderline omnipotent dominion and reclaim their individuality. Some of them, often those with open minds who've lived long and experience many things, come to see mind flayer supremacy propaganda as nonsense and come to respect non-illithid as their equals on par with fellow illithid rather than thralls in the great plan of the universe.

Aside from the gith, the undead are the illithid's least favourite group of people in the universe. This has been downplayed as editions proceeded, but as walking corpses the undead have neither body temperature nor brain activity; This makes them effectively invisible to mind flayers who struggle to sense their presence, and worse, means that they cannot be controlled throwing a wrench in the 'we are the supreme beings' paradigm that informs the entire mind flayer propoganda machine. Mind flayers are absolutely fucking terrified of the undead to the point of psychological trauma, to quote the book, and when informed of undead sightings near their colonies the community will drop all activity to focus on getting rid of them. Preferably by organising a group of thralls trained to hunt them and sending them off to deal with the problem.

'To an illithid’s way of viewing things, it appears as if undead were created long, long ago just to thwart illithid dominance.'

To add insult to injury they're not edible, and if you tried to eat their brain it would be 'like eating a frozen pizza that's still frozen. Not the most uplifting experience.' Or so says Christopher Perkins. Ghouls and zombies on the other hand are probably fine eating their brains.

Physiology:

Mind flayers are warm blooded.

Tall, emaciated looking figures; While they're extremely powerful natural psionicists, in terms of physical prowess they're usually nothing to write home about.

Their tentacles range from 2-4 feet in full length, usually appearing shorter at rest. An illithid's tentacles are very responsive, almost always in motion in response to their inner thoughts and moods. They double as an extra set of arms, and possess the full strength of arms too.

Most internal anatomy, with the exception of the sex organs and any mammary glands, remains and functions much the same as it always has, save that each organ is now wired into the nervous system to a greater degree. Every single organ effectively becomes an auxillary brain - likely because a mind flayer doesn't have a true brain of its own - allowing an illithid greater information storage and processing capabilities. It also allows them an awareness of their internal anatomy rather like everybody else is aware of their external sensory anatomy.

Mind flayer skin is a vibrant mauve; The glands of the dermis are altered to secrete a lot of mucus in order to lock in moisture and keep that delicate amphibious skin covered in a film of slime - which smells of vanilla, onion and garlic. Without this protective covering, for example if lost to the drying effects of the sun or from disease, the mind flayer dehydrates and is at risk of death if not replenished. The mucus also does something unexplained that amplifies a mind flayer's psionic abilities and offers protection against harmful magic.

There's also been something about moulting that wasn't expanded on.

The index finger is lost, for some reason, leaving a mind flayer with three fingers and a thumb. These are tipped with long black 'claws' of cartilage, but despite looking threatening they're harmless. On the feet all but two toes are lost as webbing stretches between them to form flippers. Unsurprisingly for semi-aquatic beings, mind flayers are adept swimmers, though they can't breathe underwater and must surface for air.

Due to the shape of their mouth and the loss of a tongue and use of vocal chords due to ceremorphosis, illithid technically cannot verbalise and communicate exclusively via telepathy and body language (via tentacles). If forced they can shove one of their own tentacles down their throat and force it to function as a voice box and tongue (usually for spellcasting purposes). The sensation is horrible for the illithid and the sound is godawful for those listening to it, so everybody suffers together!

Senses:

The primary sense of an illithid is, naturally, their psionic abilities: primarily detect thoughts which they can use to track living beings around them and communicate.

The exterior remodelling has several effects. The nostrils are lost in favour of tentacles, meaning that an illithid must breathe through its mouth and has no olfactory sense.

Sight: Illithid eyes are covered in a pale film which screens out the light spectrum visible to human eyes, but does give allow them to see in infrared and track heat signatures. Or in 3.5e-onwards parlance due to jettisoning infravision as a concept: they can see perfectly in the dark, but struggle in lighted conditions and see not at all in full sunlight. Due to this lack of vision, illithid 'write' things using a psionic method called Qualith. While it is inscribed, the actual information it contains isn't in the writing it just beams into your brain at a touch.

Hearing: The outer ear is reduced to a barely noticeable ridge around the ear canal over the process of ceremorphosis, which reduces the illithid's auditory capabilities. They're reasonably good at telling what direction a sound is coming from, but struggle to tell sounds apart or pick apart various components within a sound.

Habitat:

As the sun blinds them and dries them out - which is greatly uncomfortable and a serious health risk - illithid absolutely despise the thing. A popular mind flayer rhetoric is that the damn thing should be blotted out. Not just the sun of Toril; the sun of every world across the planes.

They need dark, cool, damp moisture in their surroundings to survive and thrive.

For the time being mind flayers live the subterranean lifestyle, seeking out damp briny caves to make their homes in. Mind flayer collonies are often most at home in the very deepest levels of the Underdark.

Diet:

The downside of this reconstruction of the stolen host body is that the body loses its ability to produce hormones and enzymes - in order for a mind flayer's neurons and organs to function, it must take them from living beings (preferably humanoids). While they're infamous for eating brains, and the largest portion of their diet is brains - from which they can gain most of what they need - an illithid must actually consume a balanced diet of all organs found in the human body. The psionic energies within brains gives a boost to metabolism that allows illithid to effectively go without standard nutrition for the most part. A brain a month holds them over fine.

The brain doesn't need to be humanoid, it just needs to be 'nourishing' enough. Felids and canids and octopi should make a good meals.

However part of the pleasure of consuming a brain is in experiencing the memories of the victim, a sensation often shared with the rest of the colony, and animals rarely provide the same entertainment value. While illithid can get by on a brain a month, and can find more ethical options, the s majority wouldn't do that and eat far more than they need to simply for the pleasure it brings them. They also eat animal brains for snacks in between humanoid meals.

That said apparently 'many illithids over the years have forsaken eating human brains in favour of other diets, and working with human thoughts and memories in other ways.' The details of these diets have been written up somewhere but are currently behind NDAs (can't be given 'yet' was the phrasing).

While most find an illithid mouth scary, rest assured that mind flayers do not bite. Their mouths are too weak to break skin, let alone chew through flesh and bone: No, their tentacles secrete enzymes that dissolve through organic matter, allowing them to expose the organs (the illithid's own mucus protects their own flesh). The lamprey-like structure of the mouth allows them to latch onto the flesh and then they shove their tentacles into the cavity, move the dissolving organ mush into their mouth and eat it.

Reproduction:

Ceremorphosis also edits the reproductive organs. The host's mammalian sexual characteristics disappear as they are altered for illithid use.

Illithid are hermaphrodites and oviparous, every illithid will - on two or three occasions in its life - lay eggs in the colony brine pool. Lore does not go into mind flayer mating practices, so how these eggs are fertilised is not covered. Possibly they self-fertilise. It's also possible that it takes two to tadpole: it could be done in the style of fish, where one lays the eggs and another fertilises them, but considering they're amphibians with a mammalian base structure it's not out of the question that mind flayers fuck. Especially on Toril. It's also not explained why two/three times; if they have a libido at all, or if they go into heat three times in their life, or if the colony simply has a roster that decides who is on breeding duties and when...

Their reproductive system, for those found on Toril, is also apparently compatible with humanoid systems and can produce half-illithid. It's the Forgotten Realms. Everything in this setting turns out to be horny when you dig deep enough.

Underdark assures us that 'most often' mind flayers impregnate humanoids with mad science rather than by 'direct mating.' 'Most often,' not accounting for the minority who decided to go at it the 'direct' way. I have no idea what illithid society thinks of mind flayers with these inclinations (I strongly suspect it's not approved of), nor do I have any hints as to how direct mating with illithid works.

#Honestly I'm surprised nobody's asked Ed Greenwood about mind flayer sex yet #What *are* the tentacle fetishists doing?#calamari hours #long post #edgelord hours

26 notes · View notes

the-kipsabian · 1 year ago

Text

wrestling fic writers!!

i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months

if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found

and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom

and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways

a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜

nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you

and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)

as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!

101 comment starters

ao3 floating comment box

kudos html

dont know how to comment? easy solutions

a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)

an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers

and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place

i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together

happy sharing and commenting 💜💜

#wrestling fanfiction #wrestling fic #aew fanfic #aew fanfiction #wwe fanfiction #wwe fanfic #i hope this make some sort of coherent sense #despite being a writer im really bad at words lmao #i also dont know what to tag this with without clogging main tags so im going to trust moots to get this going first #just. this is a topic im passionate about. i love writing i love writers and having seen the wrestling fandom as of late really struggling #with this. we need to do something. even a little bit helps. actually get people leaving feedback and commenting again #supporting each other. we can do this together #dont let dreams be dreams lets fucking do this #just be nice and help each other out #im gonna stop now before i get overly emotional. if theres any questions let me know tho i think i got the main parts pretty clear here #again moots. im trusting you to get this started. im not gonna add my own shit here immediately this isnt about me #this is about the community as a whole #i also hope nobody is afraid of adding themselves here. you are all valid and worth the attention no matter what #just remember to also give if you leave something here. look at the previous links. look in the notes to find more people #okay thats it i need to make dinner now #lets just be kind and support one another. promise me that 💜#night is an absolute mess on main

135 notes · View notes

jeonqkooks · 2 years ago

Text

our beloved summer (05) | jjk

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol

rating: PG-15

word count: 9.5k

note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night You'd hate me less and make it alright Just wish that we could fight now I'd hold you on the comedown

Rockland - Gracie Abrams

One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.

After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.

Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.

It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home.

Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.

That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.

Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.

As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.

When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.

“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too.

You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones.

Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”

You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.

Yoongi could be the good change you need.

Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”

Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”

“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.

“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yoongi…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.

In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”

“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”

“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”

Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”

He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.

Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.

“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.

“Come with you where?”

“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”

“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”

“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”

You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”

When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate. He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.

“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.

“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.

You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.

“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”

One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.

You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!

That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.

Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”

“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”

You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”

“Why?”

“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”

You frown. “Tae’s sick?”

“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”

You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.

You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.

Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.

It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other?

You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.

You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”

Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”

“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”

Park Jimin…

Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”

“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”

“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”

You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.

You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.

“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.

“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.

You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.

“No,” comes his simple reply.

“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”

Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”

You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher.

Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.

But then again, you were tricked into coming.

Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.

“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”

“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel.

“About Yoongi and… all that.”

“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung.

He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.

It all sounds so easy in theory.

Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”

Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.

You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.

One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.

“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.

He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”

You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.

With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.

You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”

You feel him exhale. “Of course.”

Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content.

You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all.

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?

It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.

You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.

The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.

But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.

And then he stopped.

You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.

You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.

“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”

“Should I order us fried chicken then?”

“And soju. Get some soju too.”

Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.

After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.

Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.

Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.

Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop.

You’re such a fucking hypocrite.

You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.

He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”

“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”

Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”

Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”

Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.

“Yoongi– what?”

Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.

“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”

Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”

Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?

Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.

Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”

Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know.

“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”

“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”

Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”

Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”

“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”

“Don’t go to Tae about this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.

“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”

“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”

“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”

Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”

He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”

Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”

Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do.

But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?

Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces.

Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.

It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.

“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”

[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.

[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday

You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he?

You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.

[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me

[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)

[10:58] You: the fits look good

[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits

[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway

[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?

[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?

[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?

[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy

[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(

You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?

Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.

[11:22] You: the model looks good too

You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?

It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.

“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”

Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.

“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”

“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”

It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.

“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”

You shrug, saying nothing.

“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”

“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”

“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”

Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.

“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”

“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”

You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.

What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.

You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.

“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”

Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?

You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”

You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.

Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.

Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.

Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does.

You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.

“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”

It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.

“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”

Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.

Fuck. You’re letting him win again.

“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”

“W–what?”

“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”

If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do.

“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”

It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.

He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?

Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.

He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.

He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.

There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?

He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?

But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.

Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?

Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.

You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.

Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.

Because you’re still holding onto something.

Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.

The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.

What a world this is.

Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?

Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.

You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here.

“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”

You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.

“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean.

“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”

Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.

It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.

“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do.

You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment.

When he speaks next, you want the world to end.

“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”

659 notes · View notes

biisexualemma · 1 year ago

Text

happier (pt.6). rafe cameron

word count: 3.8k

warnings: unwanted passes, bit of angst, mostly fluff

requested: i guess soo

plot: you and rafe are figuring out this dating thing

a/n: it has literally been 6 months since i last updated series… whoops… i have some much written for this series but it’s all in bits and pieces and i’m trying to rewrite bits / put stuff together and it’s taking a minute lol but anyway enjoy the 2 people who will read this lol

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / masterlist

texting

bold = rafe

italics = y/n

hey

very ominous first text rafe

all i said was hey

exactly

and it's you so

what else am i supposed to say?

idk

'hey y/n'

'hi how are you?'

''sup what you up to?'

you'd rather me start the conversation with 'sup'

it's less serial killer-y so maybe

alright next topic please

YOU texted me rafe

yeah and you said i sounded like a serial killer so excuse me if i'm a little wounded

didn't think that was even possible mr big-shot kook prince

please never call me that again

because it's too on the nose?

you always this annoying?

nah i just like making things difficult for you

cuz your life is too easy as it is

you think you're so funny

i know you do too :)

you're still hanging around sooo

your eyes dragged away from your phone screen, and away from where rafe was currently typing out his response, when you heard a honk from outside your house. you peeped out the window and saw the twinkie pulled up outside, lights still on and engine running as they waited for you.

you grabbed your shoes and jacket, still holding onto your phone when another message popped up as you were making your way out of your house to meet your friends.

yeah yeah

just tell me what you're not doing tonight so i can come pick you up

you rolled your eyes at his presumptuousness, a small smile on your lips as you grabbed your keys and closed the door behind you. you texted back as you walked to the twinkie, hardly looking where you were going.

believe it or not i have plans

i don't sit around waiting for you to text me you know

> why not? >:(

you let out a snort, shaking your head as you typed out a response just as you approached the beat up van where sarah and john b were waiting for you. you clumsily climbed into the back, sarah watching you fumble as your fingers and eyes remained glued to your phone screen.

my life does not revolve around you rafe cameron

as much as i'm sure you want it to

yeah i do actually

guess we don't always get what we want

this is a valuable lesson that you're long overdue to learn little trust fund baby

wow

you're actually so mean and for what

yeah i'm not very good at this flirting thing tbh

yeah i got that

yeah? did the serial killer comment tip you off?

amongst other things

ok well maybe i'll just remind you that i think about you more than i care to elaborate on right now

that was better...

you're learning

thank you

i'm trying my best

we'll circle back to that comment at some point though

don't think i'll forget that one

yeah you think about that while you're home alone tonight

wow

wait not like that

don't take it back now that was good

it's not what i meant!!

"what is she grinning about?" sarah quirked an eyebrow, muttering to john b as she watched you trying to buckle up with one hand while you texted with the other.

john b watched you in the rearview mirror, his eyebrows furrowed together slightly. neither of them could recall a time they'd seen you look so giddy, you were always misplacing your phone and now you couldn't tear your eyes away.

sarah gasped softly and john b's eyes quickly darted over to his girlfriend, wide and wondering what she suddenly knew that he didn't.

sarah grabbed john b's arm and shook it a little, all giddy herself now but john b still looked just as confused. "what? what? tell me!" he whined.

"she asked me and kie for advice the other night," she clarified, lowering her voice a little, though you were entirely consumed in your own conversation. john b's eyes were still full of confusion. he didn't understand girls at the best of times but this was beyond his comprehension all together. sarah rolled her eyes playfully. "about a boy."

john b glanced at you for a second before moving back to his girlfriend, shaking his head. "i didn't think y/n was even interested in guys."

"oh just because she didn't fall at your feet john b doesn't mean she doesn't like guys," sarah scoffed, hitting his chest lightly. john b went to defend himself but quickly stopped because he thought she might be onto something.

you suddenly grew aware of your surroundings, realising the twinkie was still stationary. your eyes lifted up from your phone for a second to see sarah biting back a grin and john b staring you out in the rearview mirror.

"uh," you looked around like something was wrong. "are we waiting for something or what? why are we still sitting here?"

"nope," sarah narrowed her eyes at you and you frowned at her, mouth opening slightly in confusion. she looked like she knew things. "c'mon get going, john b."

weird you thought, shaking your head when another message appeared on your phone.

i know what you meant don't worry ;)

no you don't

you'll know what i mean when i actually mean it

tease

shut up

i gotta go rick

who tf is rick

you

i'm rick?

yeah you're rick

i don’t understand

that's your name from now on

at least via text

so if anyone sees these messages they don't get suspicious

that's crazy

i lose my phone a lot it's not that crazy

that's not the crazy part

just play along please?

i'm not ready for people to find out about this yet

whatever this is

what is this again?

that's a question for another time

see you around

- rick

you fell back against the blanket you'd laid out on the grass, eyes immediately falling upon the stars above you. you sighed contentedly, oblivious to the curious eyes that were watching you from beside you.

"you seem happy," jj spoke up from where he was sitting next to you. "what's that about?"

you snorted, your head rolling to the side so you could glance up at him. "what? i can't just be happy?"

he made a face at you, his hand nudging your arm. "you know what i mean," he shook his head. "you've been so tired and grumpy lately, no offence," he said the last part quickly when he saw your face contort into one that looked offended. "you just seemed like normal today. it was nice."

you propped yourself up on your elbows, watching the rest of the gang who'd gone for a quick swim. kie had launched herself onto pope, dunking him under the water and laughing hysterically when he came back up for air looking bewildered. sarah was floating on her back, eyes up at the stars while john b held his hands underneath her so she wouldn't sink down. you didn't feel like swimming after the amount of food you'd eaten so jj decided to sit with you and keep you company.

you shrugged. "i don't know," you could feel jj's eyes watching you. "i just feel more like myself i guess. i don't know why."

it was a bit of a lie. with everything out of the open between you and rafe, you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. you thought it'd be hard to lie to your friends about it, but none of them really asked you outright so you didn't find yourself having to lie at all. everything just seemed to be going better for now.

"well i'm glad anyway," he gave you a soft smile. jj was a good friend, and most of the time he played into the reputation he had, but every now and again he would show the other side of him. he was loyal to his core and just wanted to see his friends happy. "you feel like swimming yet?" his lips stretched into a wide grin, nudging your shoulder as he tried to encourage you.

you couldn't help but smile back, he was infectious. you let your head roll back before sitting yourself upright. "fine, c'mon," you lifted your shirt over your head, throwing it at his face. "race you," you quickly jumped up, undoing your shorts as you ran towards the water, only stopping when you got to the edge to pull your shorts off the rest of the way.

jj was racing behind you, not bothering to remove anything other than his shirt as he whizzed past you and threw himself into the water, shoes and all. "cannon ball!" he screamed and pope, kie, john b and sarah all tried to clear out as quickly as they could but he didn't give them much notice before a crashing wave of water soaked them all even more. a chorus of angry jj's followed but you couldn't help but laugh before throwing yourself in after him.

—

texting

you awake pretty girl?

hey

y/n

rafe it's late

you asleep?

fast asleep yeah

that's why i'm txting you right now

come to the party

rafe it's 1 am i'm with my friends

still?

haven't they had enough of you

rude

i mean they're hogging you

how old are you?

ditch em c'mon

i'm more fun anyway

i'm gonna bet you're drunk

or high

and?

doesn't change anything

still wanna see you

you always this clingy with girls?

mmm funny

you know it's just you

you think i'd be texting you at this party if it wasn't just you

maybe no ones caught your eye yet

yeah you have

so get your ass over here or i'm coming to get you

relentless

you love it

hmmm

just come and get me

everyone will be asleep by the time you get here

on my way

can you drive?

'course i can

ok but are you sober enough?

don't worry about it

rafe

i'm good i promise

swear?

swear

half an hour later and you'd sneaked out of john b's house unnoticed and were sitting in the passenger seat of rafe's car. last time you were in this seat he was driving you home from a party, and now you were going to a party... with him.

"hey," he mumbled as you secured your seatbelt, his eyes raking over you, smile on his lips.

"hey yourself," you chirped, still pretty awake considering the late hour, you were used to running off no sleep most of the time. you noticed him staring at you instead of starting the car and driving. "what?"

"you look really pretty right now."

you glanced away from him, feeling your cheeks grow warm from the compliment. "shut up and drive, rafe," you mumbled, meeting his eyes quickly as he shook his head and breathed out a laugh.

"yes ma'am," he did as you said, driving you to the other side of town, to a house you didn't recognise but was probably four times bigger than your own. you felt a wave of anxiety all of a sudden when rafe parked the car and got out. he appeared again on the passengers side where you still sat, seatbelt on.

he opened the door, leaning on the frame of the car and ducking down to see you sat still. "c'mon," he urged but you quickly shook your head.

"this is a bad idea," you blurted out, eyes shifting to meet rafes. "i don't think i should go in there— definitely not with you."

rafe, for a split second, looked wounded but he quickly played it off. "you're overthinking it."

"rafe, your friends hate me," your lip involuntarily slipped into a small pout, your eyes not moving from his. "i can't just go to a kook party, when i hate kooks and they hate me."

your eyes moved down to your thigh where rafe had moved his hand to sit against your skin. you gulped. "i'm a kook and i don't hate you," he reassured, giving your thigh a squeeze before shifting his hand. "if anyone has a problem with you being here they can take it up with me."

"rafe," your voice came out smaller than you had intended. your mind was pretty focused on his hand and where it was moving, until you heard a click and your seatbelt was retracting. "i don't want you messing things up with your friends over me."

he shook his head, his hand latching onto yours and tugging you out of the passenger seat. he closed the car door and guided you towards the house. "'told you they're not my friends."

"still— won't it make things awkward—"

"oh my god," he turned around, smile on his lips when he came to halt, you nearly bumping into his chest. "i told you i don't care what people think, and i really don't care what my friends think."

he let go of your hand, moving his hands to either side of your face. your breath caught in your throat when he moved his face directly in front of yours. he squished your cheeks together, his stomach churning when you looked up at him with your big, nervous eyes.

"c'mon," he urged again. "you'll be fine s'long as you're with me," he offered you a reassuring smile, hands slipping from your face, his arm moving to sit on your shoulders, pulling you close into him. "you're good, ok?"

you took his word for it, trusting him in that moment that everything would be fine as long as you stayed with rafe.

—

"do you want another drink?" rafe hummed the question to you, his fingertips grazing the skin of your arm, before moving back down to sit snug on your waist. his eyes were looking up at you from where you sat on his lap.

you had relaxed somewhat since you got here, making yourself comfortable on rafes lap after he insisted that no one was watching, nor cared. you took his word for it and he wasn't wrong, the people at this party were too high or drunk to care who's lap you were sitting on.

you shrugged, glancing at your empty cup. you hadn't drank much, it was already late and you didn't feel like having a hangover tomorrow so you didn't push it. "i could do a water."

"water? sure, i got you," he nodded, repositioning you so you sat back on the sofa while he went on the hunt for water.

you propped your head up with your hand, resting your elbow on the arm of the sofa. you peered out the corner of your eye when you felt someone sit next to you.

"hey you're y/n, right?" you turned to face the guy that had sat himself beside you, he wore a small smile on his face, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. you recognised him from around town but not enough to know his name.

"uh, yeah," you gave him a polite, albeit uncomfortable smile before turning away from him, hoping to discourage him continuing to talk to you.

"i think i've seen you around the club," he carried on, not picking up on anything. you nodded, pursing your lips. "i'm alex."

he held out his hand for you to shake, you looked down at it in almost disbelief but shook it still to be polite. "cool," you said with a twinge of sarcasm.

"sorry if this is forward— i just think you're really pretty— i've been watching you for a while—"

"you've been watching me?" you repeated his words, your brows furrowing slightly.

he let out an awkward laugh. "not in a stalker-y way— i just noticed you is what i meant."

"sure," you nodded. "i'm kinda here with someone else though. sorry," you tried to let him down easy, with another small smile despite your discomfort.

"ok well you're sitting here alone," he breathed out a laugh, as if he'd caught you in a lie.

your smile drooped a little. "he's getting me a drink. not that i need to explain myself."

he huffed, seeming to grow agitated with you. "you could just say you're not interested instead of coming up with a lame excuse."

your mouth hung open slightly. "the truth actually— not that i even owe you that but sure whatever."

"last time i try talking to a fucking pogue," he muttered under his breath before picking himself up and walking away. "not even that pretty," he muttered under his breath.

you sat for a couple minutes in silent disbelief, blinking a few times before pushing yourself up off the sofa and beginning your search for rafe. you'd had enough of this party and he was your ride home.

you finally found him in the kitchen on the other side of this humongous house, filling up a cup with some water. you approached from behind him, feeling his body stiffen when he felt your hands snake around his torso.

"hey," you felt him relax slightly when you spoke, realising it was you holding onto him. he turned to face you, your hands gripping the shirt he was wearing as he looked down at you.

"oh hey," he mumbled, you were standing pretty close but your eyes shifted about the room. "what's up? i was just coming to bring you—"

"can we go now, please?" you cut him off quickly, eyes moving back to his pleadingly. his brows furrowed a little when he saw your anxiety-ridden expression again.

"you're good here," he spoke in a hushed voice, setting aside the cup in his hand so he could move his hands to your waist. "we're good."

he tried to reassure you but it wasn't enough, you wanted to go home, you didn't want to see another self-entitled kook tonight (excluding the one in front of you).

you shook your head, adamant, "no— rafe— i want to leave."

his grip on you tightened a little. "did something happen?" his brows knitted together slightly, standing up a little straighter.

"no," you shook your head quickly. "i just want to go— rafe— please—"

"ok, ok," he rooted for his car keys in his pocket, his free hand grabbing yours and pulling you out of the kitchen. "we'll go, c'mon."

you followed him out of the party, trailing behind him, he helped you into the passenger seat, even trying to buckle you in until you insisted that you got it and that you were fine.

"i'm sorry," you mumbled after a while of sitting in silence, reflecting on your actions. rafe driving on the quiet roads, not saying a word or looking in your direction. "i didn't mean to ruin your night."

"you didn't," he spoke quietly.

you eyed him up, his hands tight on the steering wheel, eyes locked on the road, lips pulled into a tight line. "i feel like you're mad at me."

"now you wanna talk?"

"you're mad at me."

"i'm not mad at you."

"rafe—"

"i'm not mad at you," he repeated, a little shorter than before. "i just want you to talk to me."

"i am talking to you—"

"you know what i mean," he cut you off again. "i can't help if you don't talk to me."

you were quiet for a second before speaking again. "this guy was rude to me at the party, that's all," you felt his eyes move over to you for a split second. "i felt out of place and wanted to leave."

he thought on it for a minute. "rude to you how?"

you chewed on your bottom lip, not wanting to answer him, partly because you were still mad but mainly because you were kind of embarrassed.

you huffed. "he was trying to hit on me and when i told him no he got all hurt and mean."

rafe was quiet for a minute, he was picking his words and his tone carefully, trying not to let his imagination run wild. "he was mean to you?"

"it's just guys, they get like that— bruised egos you know, kooks are the worst for it," you shrugged. "i didn't want to tell you back then because i didn't want to make it into a big thing or cause a scene. i just wanted to leave, with you."

"ok, but you're fine? did he try anything?" his knuckles were turning white at this point, you found it hard to look away.

you shook your head, but when he looked over at you for a second for confirmation you spoke, "i'm fine. it was just weird and awkward."

he nodded and you were both quiet for a while after that.

you knew rafe was a hot head, you knew he didn't always think before he acted, and maybe you should've just told him what happened straight away but part of you was glad you didn't.

"where am i dropping you off?"

"john b's is fine."

"won't your dad wonder where you are?"

your eyes focused on the road ahead still but you could feel him stealing glances at you. "i already told him i'd be at john b's tonight."

"you sure?" you nodded and so he dropped you back off at the house he'd picked you up from a few hours ago. the sun was just starting to rise, creating just enough light so that you could see his face. he still looked pissed.

you were looking at him with big, tired, bloodshot eyes when he turned his head towards you. your eyelids drooping slightly the longer you focused on him.

"y'promise you're good?" he mumbled.

you nodded. "do you promise you're not angry at me?"

he rolled his eyes, glancing away for a second, the corner of his lip curling upwards softly. "could never be angry at you when you look like that."

"like what? exhausted?"

he hissed softly, shaking his head. he reached his hand out, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, guiding you closer to him. "you're always so fucking pretty," his eyes raked over your face one last time, kissing your forehead before immediately shoving your face away with the palm of his hand. "now get outta' my sight, you're turning me on looking like that."

you snorted, ignoring the way your stomach fluttered at his actions. "you're such a boy," you joked before saying goodnight and hopping out of his car.

you walked up to the house with a small smile on your face, despite the bump in the night, you felt good about where this was going with rafe. you felt positive, giddy and your head was kinda foggy thinking about him.

"y/n?" you stopped in your tracks when you heard your name from his mouth. "was that rafe's car?"

shit.

taglist:

@lail1010

@julielightwood

@dudenhaaa27

@swiftsgirlfriend

@mad-die45

@mk15x

@spicykimchiiii

@777flora

@hey-sunrisee

118 notes · View notes

adnauseum11 · 7 months ago

Text

SITREP (John Price x Reader)

Dinner continues after you get a hold of your emotions.

3.6 k words

CW: mention of deceased parents.

Hopefully I slalomed through this dinner without adding too many personal details so the reader remains as much of a blank slate as possible while retaining some interesting backstory.

This work is part of the SNAFU series - most of which has been posted here and the Masterlist is pinned to my page. Due to threats from apps like lore.fm and Ai data scraping, I'm feeling less and less secure posting my work to Tumblr. I'm toying with the idea of taking it all down, although that feels a bit like closing the barn doors after the horses got out.

This will be the last chapter I post in its entirety here on Tumblr for the time being. Partial chapter updates only going forward. If you want to continue, please consider asking for an invitation from Ao3 to make an account. It's free, and then you can read anything, even the locked fics, like mine. It's worth the little bit of a wait.

link to the chapter over on Ao3

feedback welcome, let me know if you primarily read here on Tumblr or over on Ao3. I asked earlier and the responses seemed to favour Ao3. Not the case? Let me know!

sorry for folks on the taglist - let me know if this upcoming change works for you or if you'd rather not be tagged if it's not the full chapter. I'm trying some stuff out, love to have your thoughts.

You take a few long moments in front of a large gilded mirror to breathe deeply, shaking off the lingering pall of grief, occupying your hands by checking your hair and make-up. John had been out of the country when your parents had been killed, unreachable for long months while you struggled to keep your ship afloat amongst the ensuing chaos. The situation had left you de-stabilized for longer than you cared to admit, John more familiar with the aftermath – the constant fighting with David and wild emotional dysregulation that he had weathered with equanimity. You can’t help but wonder what your parents would think about you dating the man you’d been fast friends with for all these years. Would your mother think it inevitable or inconceivable that you would see John in a new light after everything you had been through? You’re touching up your lipstick when Michelle’s face appears over your shoulder in the reflection.

“Are you ok? I’m sorry if Kate upset you. She’s prone to prying and forgets herself sometimes.”

“It’s fine, the emotion takes me by surprise every now and then. Needed a minute to get my head on straight, as John would say.”

You answer as you square your shoulders, turning to face the other woman. Michelle nods sympathetically, twisting her fingers together in front of herself.

“I’m sorry for your loss. John is pretty concerned; I think he would have come in after you himself if I hadn’t offered to come check on you.”

You give the other woman a reassuring smile, gently rolling your eyes at the unsurprising news of John’s overprotective streak. She carries on before you can make a weak joke about his hovering.

“You guys are pretty serious, hm? He didn’t call you his girlfriend when he took Kate to task about being too intrusive, he said you were his partner.”

A warmth blooms from the pit of your stomach, and you have to fight to keep your smile from growing into an inappropriately triumphant grin. John was listening after all bouncing around in your mind. Michelle follows you out of the bathroom, chatting easily.

“It’s nice to see him with someone that loosens him up. I can’t remember the last time we did something like this. There was a time where I didn’t think he would ever relax. I swear his shoulders were habitually around his ears most of the time I saw him. I’m rooting for you two.”

“Thank you, we’ve had our challenges so far but have come out the other side stronger I think.”

You squeeze John’s shoulder again as you step around his seat, his hand coming up to rest on your side protectively before you sit, his attention zeroing in on you.

“It’s alright, I was just caught off guard. Everything is fine.”

You reassure him, squeezing his wrist before his hand slips away again. Kate is contrite.

“I apologize, it was tactless to ask such a personal question.”

With a smile and a wave of your hand you try to place her at ease, not wanting dinner to grind to an uncomfortable halt.

“No, no, you couldn’t have known. Quite alright. I’m usually better behaved, I blame the red wine on an empty stomach for making me emotional.”

John huffs, having seen you far worse for wear but satisfied all is well if you still have a sense of humour. Kate’s face also relaxes into one of relief, and they both sag back into their chairs slightly.

“Are you a cigar aficionado as well, Kate? John’s been wanting to come here since it opened.”

“Only when we’re playing poker. The ‘lil missus doesn’t like the smoke.”

Michelle takes a half-hearted swat at her wife who smiles in return, shrugging slightly as if the truth would come out regardless.

“No more smoking inside if everything works out, sorry John.”

Michelle adds with a small smile in John’s direction. He nods, as if he was expecting the news.

“Fair enough. I’m not smoking as much as I used to these days. Although I am interested to pop downstairs and see what their selection is like. I was gifted a beautiful lighter for Christmas, would be a shame to not use it a little more.”

The look John sends your way makes your skin prickle again. Not just with the desire that’s been simmering between you two all night but backed with the warmth of genuine deep-seated affection. It makes you want to crawl on to his lap and mess up his perfect tie despite all the onlookers. He reads the look on your face and the corner of his mouth quirks up. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he reaches into his inner jacket pocket, finally breaking eye contact to hand over the vintage lighter to Kate’s curious reach.

Your eyes follow it as she turns it over, examining the silver rectangle. It has a unique arm mechanism for lighting, effectively stamping out the flame when shut. It’s all hand wrought, the screws on the bottom for refilling the chambers individually made. There’s a delicate filigree up the corners, leaving the worn space in the middle empty for the engraving you had commissioned with John’s initials. John had been thrilled with your small gift, it had immediately joined his wallet and watch as an essential item he carried around every day.

“It’s a 1928 Kickstarter from Colibri. No idea where she found one in such good shape, it works like a dream.”

Kate tries the lighting arm and it swings upwards easily, a flame springing forth almost instantly. She snaps it shut again with a satisfying click and offers it to Michelle to inspect. You take a sip of your wine to avoid John’s intent gaze on the side of your face, certain that if you look over, you’ll give in to the overwhelming urge to reach out and touch him. You can practically feel him willing you to turn and he only relents when Michelle hands the lighter back, a knowing smile hovering at the corners of her mouth.

“Looks like she’s got a homerun here. That’s a lovely piece, John.”

“I had to look for a while to find one in good working order.”

You supply, pleased these women who seem to know John so well are impressed with your gift.

“You know who else would appreciate that? Simon.”

Kate gestures to the lighter in John’s hand, raising her eyebrow at him in an expression you don’t understand. Michelle turns to face her wife immediately, concerned.

“Kate, no. No work stuff.”

“What? John will want to know.”

Kate’s tone is innocent, but her wife’s posture tells another story.

“Know what?”

John is cautious, returning the lighter to his inner pocket slowly, his eyes tracking from Michelle to Kate.

“He’s asked for the paperwork to be discharged; he’s going to retire. Making noise about moving back to this neck of the woods.”

John hums and his hand settles on your forearm, making you glance over at him in surprise. You’re fairly certain he’s unaware he’s reached out and grabbed you, his focus solely on Kate’s face. Kate notices the knee-jerk reaction though, and you watch her face rapidly go through a series of complicated emotions you couldn’t name even if pressed.

“You’re right, I do want to know.”

John’s tone of voice has a measured calmness to it that belies the grip his hand has on your forearm.

“Well, this is all very cryptic. Who is Simon?”

You don’t dislodge his hand, raising an eyebrow at him when he slowly turns away from Kate to explain.

“Simon was my Lieutenant. He’s had a… rough go lately. Not surprised he’s wanting out but did he say what he plans to do?”

John answers your question broadly before directing another question back towards Kate. Michelle sighs, and you get the impression that this hi-jacking of the conversation happens more often than she condones.

“No, not to me. Nor anyone else as far as I know. I was hoping maybe you could check in on him.”

“Hm. Yeah, could do – “

John is interrupted by dinner arriving. Everything is laid out still steaming and fragrant, fresh from the kitchen. Michelle shakes her head at the platter that is set before Kate, disbelief written across her face. John’s plate isn’t much better, the thick slab of meat before him making your eyebrows raise.

“Is this a military thing?”

You ask Michelle in a stage whisper, John letting go of your arm to attend to his enormous meal. He’s got a baked potato and lightly roasted green beans to get through as well, never mind the huge cut of meat. Kate’s lobster tail and steak take up most of the plate before her, with a potato of her own nestled beside a garden salad.

“No, it’s an excellent food thing.”

John answers, his eyes crinkling in good humour. Kate makes a sound of agreement before adding with a smile.

“And it’s a John’s paying kind of thing.”

“Kate!”

Michelle’s back to scolding her wife but John just smiles, not offended in the least.

“She’s earned it, Michelle. Don’t worry.”

“Lord help us, don’t encourage her John. I haven’t decided yet how I feel about you two not working together anymore.”

Kate smirks at that and clinks her glass against John’s, and in a flash the depth of their friendship becomes clear. You refocus on your own food, wondering again at this part of John’s life you’ve heretofore been excluded from. You soothe your slightly wounded ego by reminding yourself that John’s trying at least to bridge the formidable gap between his work life and what you consider to be his ‘real’ life. His enjoyment of the company across the table is evident to you though, giving you pause. Michelle picks up on your thoughtful turn and catches your eye as you cut into the tender side of the filet mignon in front of you.

“They’re always having side conversations, it’s insanely annoying. It was worth putting up with it to know someone out there had her back when they were working. Now, it’s just taking the piss, as you say over here.”

She narrows her eyes at John who has the good grace to look slightly chastised. Kate ignores her wife, digging into the lobster with gusto.

“John doesn’t talk to me about his work much. It’s all classified, apparently. I just found out that you two existed the other day.”

You try to gently joke with her, brushing off the fact that you know next to nothing about John’s work other than the broadest strokes. Michelle sends you a kind look and nods in understanding while Kate stares down John over her buttered lobster.

“Field work is difficult - Kate you know that. It’s safer for everyone if there’s nothing to leverage. As recently proved.”

You barely understand the context of John’s words, leverage striking you as an odd phrase when talking about relationships. You gather he’s talking about the break-in and subsequent shit show only just recently put behind you. Kate understands his meaning straight away though and shrugs, arching a brow across the table at John who’s paused in eating his meal.

“God love ya John, you always pick the hardest possible path forward. I get where you’re coming from, just not sure on the execution in reality.”

“Could you two speak English, please?”

Michelle interjects, her eyes on your face as you quietly puzzle over the layered conversation going on. If you knew her better you would say the look on her face was sympathetic. Kate explains herself for your benefit, her eyes flicking between you and John.

“I worked with John for years and if it makes you feel any better, he didn’t tell me that you existed until recently either. He seemed to be under the impression that keeping the spheres of his life from overlapping was the safest way to operate. The idea being that it would keep you from becoming a target. I’d say forewarned is forearmed, myself. But I understand his logic. His work was dangerous.”

John’s face is suddenly serious, his hands still, waiting for your reaction. You’re trying to piece together what little you know of his work and the events of the last few months. The idea that he’d been living what amounts to a dual life is jarring for some reason. You like to think you know John well, and this night is reminding you there’s a lot you are unaware of. Kate’s revelation that she didn’t know him as well as she thought either is cold consolation.

“So, keeping everyone separate in their own little box was about safety?”

“It’s always about your safety.”

John answers and you get the impression there’s more to be said but he’s holding his tongue. You decide to leverage it out of him later. What possible danger could there be in meeting these women now that wasn’t there when he was working? You exchange a long, silent look with him that must convey your skepticism because he only physically relaxes when you eat another bite of dinner, seemingly letting it go for the moment. Kate watches the tense exchange between you with rapt interest as she polishes off the rest of her lobster and salad.

“I don’t know about anyone else, but my dinner is simply delicious.”

Michelle breaks the silence, reaching across her wife’s arm to snag her gin and tonic and take a delicate sip. You smile in appreciation at her attempt to break the newest layer of tension, Kate’s chagrined face only making your grin wider. You exchange an amused look with Michelle as she hands the gin and tonic back to her annoyed wife.

“The food is really delectable. I’m getting full but it tastes so good! I’m going to risk popping my dress.”

Michelle laughs and Kate smiles over a bite of steak.

“I know John can put away a lot of food, but these portions are massive you guys. I’m impressed.”

You continue, a hint of awe entering your tone as you watch Kate’s methodical approach to her plate.

“I suspect they don’t half-ass things around here.”

Kate supplies, looking pointedly at the rich appointments around the big dining room. From the chandeliers to the floor length window dressings, the restaurant screams sumptuousness. John is just as regimented about his food as Kate, most of his steak gone and half of the side dishes remaining. He huffs in acknowledgment of Kate’s words, amused.

“They haven’t half-assed their prices so I would hope not.”

You smile into your last bite of filet mignon, relaxing into the gentle banter again. You take a moment while finishing what you can of your dinner to observe the way the group easily pivots from topic to topic, and the familiarity of it is striking to you. John is himself with them, there is no pretence in his conduct and you puzzle over his insistence on keeping you separated from people he gets along with so well. If what he says is to be believed, John spent his career being concerned about your safety such that he went to extreme lengths to keep you protected from its dangers. That’s not the behavior of a man who has only recently decided he wanted more from your friendship. His admission about the dress you're wearing turning him on years before he asked you out rattles around in your brain like a marble you can’t stop rolling around. His hand on your forearm draws you back to the present, and you look at him, his vibrant blue eyes taking in your dazed expression.

“Do you want more wine? I’m having coffee. Kate’s having another gin and Michelle is going to have a decaf.”

He asks, filling you in quickly once he clocks that you were lost in thought.

“Yes, that would be lovely. Please.”

The return of your manners earns you a warm smile and John turns to the waiter to relay your order. The dishes are cleared and you spend the next three quarters of an hour forcing yourself to stay present in the moment and not withdraw to puzzle over all you’ve learned. You find yourself naturally drawn to Michelle, her dry wit cutting and more than a match for her formidable and straightforward wife. Kate and John seem to be able to have a conversation within a conversation, and you quickly learn what Michelle means about it being annoying. It especially grates on your nerves as it’s typically you and John with a litany of inside jokes scattered through any conversation. Having the shoe on the other foot is less fun than you imagined. John excuses himself to the bathroom, which you know is code for paying the bill and you steel yourself to spend the next few moments alone with his friends.

“You’ve had a lot of change over the last few months, what with starting to date John and then moving in so quickly after the break in. How are you finding living with him?”

Kate’s got the question out as soon as John’s big frame leaves the general vicinity of the table.

“It’s like anything, a bit of an adjustment but it’s been good. He’s far neater than me, maybe you should ask him what living with me is like instead.”

You laugh before you continue, mentally acknowledging your vastly different decorating styles. John’s a minimalist where you love fun and funky tchotchkes. Your flat had been crammed to the rafters with knick-knacks. Moving in with John had necessitated parting ways with a lot of your less sentimental pieces. The lowkey dispute about the Christmas decorations had hardly been a solitary event.

“So far it's been lovely, he lets me have my way most of the time and pairs the most delicious wines with dinner. I have no complaints or salacious details, sorry ladies.”

You keep your most recent fight to yourself, unwilling to expose John or yourself to the scrutiny of these women, even if they mean well. In the end, you had gotten what you wanted there too, which was to be heard and considered in matters that concerned you. Which by all accounts, seems to have landed for John.

“He plays it pretty close to the vest too, as previously established. Was hoping you would be a bit more forthcoming.”

Kate smiles, not unkindly, but her rampant curiosity might as well be a neon sign flashing over her face. Her wife elbows her arm with all the subtlety of a gunshot and the dirty blonde schools her face back into something more restrained. You offer a smile and swirl the dregs of your wine, unsure what the other woman was hoping to learn.

“He snores when he’s been drinking?”

Kate gives a startled laugh and shakes her head quickly.

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

“I suspect the John you know and the John I know are the same, we just see him in different scenarios.”

“True enough to a point. He doesn’t let me have my way as often, I'm going to guess.”

You can feel heat creeping over your cheeks at the suggestive tone and she carries on before you can speak.

“I’m more interested in you, than how he behaves when he’s with you, to clarify what I meant. You went to university?”

You nod dumbly, the wine doing nothing to help your mind focus. Kate rolls along with more questions, to her wife’s open annoyance.

“Kate, leave her alone. Seriously.”

“Where do you work? Have you been there long?”

“Uh, I quit, before Christmas. After the break-in John and I talked and I’m going to find something else. I wasn’t happy there. So, technically working nowhere right now.”

“Were you using your degree?”

“No, it was customer service essentially with some data entry. Soul sucking. Awful.”

“What would you prefer to do?”

“I’m not sure. I think being a docent would be fun but those positions can be quite hard to get.”

Michelle’s distracted from trying to back Kate off this line of questioning by this tidbit of information, and her attention swings to you.

“Oh! Like at the Tower of London? They were phenomenal! That would be a fun job.”

“Yes, exactly. Having new faces to chat to every day and all that history around would be – “

“What does John think?”

Kate interrupts, the curiosity on her face in full force. The wine answers before you can corral your thoughts into something more even-tempered.

“I haven't mentioned it yet, besides, why would he care? He won’t be the one working there.”

Michelle tilts her head backs and laughs, John’s quizzical face popping into view at the end of the table eventually subduing her mirth.

“Hate to interrupt but everyone ready?”

You exchange a smile with Michelle and nod at John, standing and linking you hand with his outstretched one. He leads you back through the restaurant to collect your coats from the coat check. Afterwards you stand on the chilly sidewalk to exchange hugs and goodbyes, a whispered good luck sent in to Michelle’s ear that she acknowledges with an extra squeeze before letting you go. Kate bundles her wife into a waiting cab with a final wave out the window, and John convinces you to go peruse the cigars downstairs before heading home yourselves. If things work out for the two women, he reasons Kate will need a celebratory cigar to herald in their newest adventure. You can’t say no to his sentimental reasoning and find yourself an hour later, back in the same place on the sidewalk, John’s newest purchases tucked into your clutch to protect against the damp while you wait for the valet.

Taglist: @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms

@itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @h0n3y-l3m0n05

@chickennn-soupp @fruitymoonbeams-blog @redwites @glitterypirateduck

@tf141gloryhole @bespectacledhuman

#john price x reader #fanfic #john price #john price x f!reader #friends to lovers #john price cod #captain price #captain john price #john price x you #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x female reader

48 notes · View notes