#my little philosophy now is that if I’m tired of writing the sex then my dudes are probably tired of having it

[daydadahlias]

i have to mention! 'for him' wasnt mentioned (i think) and we need to discuss her too! shes a beaut and i love rereading ashton pining for michael and thirsting over cal!!!

coming in at top 5 fics I completely forgot I wrote

[folkloreguk]

an angel for a demon (2)

A/N: Part one came out like two years ago lmao but I’ve always wanted to write another part, and here it finally is! I’m always open to feedback of any kind! x

genre: smut, optional bias (male), demon!bias, angel!reader, reader’s first time, unprotected sex bc we pretend angels and demons can’t have babies or STDs apparently

words: ~ 3.4 k

PART 1

PART 3

Three days had passed since you had begun to live with him. It had taken you some time to get used to your new surroundings and to realize this is where you would spend most of your time from now on. His place was not what angels called beautiful. Had it been yours, it would have been filled with antique statues of heavenly beings, light, soft colors and comfortable pillows and blankets. But his taste differed gravely from yours. He had a love for black marble and accents of red. Not the beautiful, bright red of strawberries in summer. It was dark crimson, like deoxygenated blood fresh out of a wound. You felt like you had entered a side wing of hell itself, sometimes. But you knew hell had to be much, much worse.

On the second day, you had set yourself the challenge of making the place feel at least slightly homier. No one who entered this apartment would, even in their wildest dreams, assume that an angel lived there. Although you weren’t sure you could call yourself that, anymore. Your trip to the grocery store was the most humane thing you had ever done on earth, but surely wouldn’t stay the last. You wondered, while you had strolled around the isles, whether one day you could find yourself working a job on earth, now that you couldn’t call heaven home no more. You still had the desire to help the humans, and maybe you could earn a living whilst doing so.

On that note, you had pondered countless times how a demon could afford the luxury he lived in. But he wasn’t one to tell you about his day when he returned home after being out all night. He called it ‘demon business’ and ‘nothing that should concern a little angel’. One day, you would winkle it out of him. Although maybe you really would be better off not knowing. But you knew, as always that sooner or later your curiosity would get the best of you.

When he came home on the second day and laid eyes on the cotton candy-colored flowers on the table, he couldn’t help but smirk at how proud you were. The contrast was stark against the dark ebony table and seemed like an accurate representation of how you had felt in his home.

“If you wanted me to bring you flowers you could have just said so,” he said.

“I like going out to the store myself sometimes,” you replied. He was always so stern when he returned home. Sometimes he had tired eyes, and often he seemed physically exhausted. But the moment he laid eyes on you, his strained expression softened. Then, he’d stroke away a strand of your hair and gaze at you with utmost admiration. He had offered to buy you whatever your heart desired, but your angel life had never required you to have possessions. There was no greed or yearning for luxury, and you liked it that way.

One thing, however, you never seemed to get enough of on earth. No matter how many books you opened and got lost in, you always wanted more. And he knew of your wish to learn more about the world. He had gifted you books of philosophy, biology and physics, and yet he had no idea it wasn’t science that interested you the most.

Every night you lay awake for too long, reflecting on what he had said to you that one night. That there was more for you to learn. Before him, you never knew what real pleasure felt like – you weren’t supposed to, even now – but now that you understood, you only wanted to feel it again and again. A few times you had contemplated asking him to show you more. To let you feel the pure bliss of what heaven called sinning again. But he seemed tired when he returned home, and when he didn’t you were too scared to approach him with such a topic. Plus, you didn’t even know how to. Too new was the idea of you – an angel – even thinking of doing such unholy things.

So you spent your days pacing around the apartment, sitting by the window, looking out at the city and waiting for him to come home. One night, you couldn’t fall asleep, as on many other occasions. He wasn’t there next to you, and the bed felt too big for just one lonely angel in it. There was an almost burning sensation between your legs. Once again, you squeezed your eyes shut and thought of other things – floating on clouds, watching older angels’ wings flatter, inspecting your little village you used to guard from above. But nothing helped. It all led back to black eyes, razor teeth, a sharp tongue and hands so hellish in their actions, you should have wished he had never touched you. And yet you never did.

Your eyes shot open when you heard the shower turn on. The alarm clock on the table read 1:57 am. Not so patiently, you waited a few minutes until the sound of the water died down. Then, you tip-toed out of the room and down the hall.

The sight of him made your cheeks heat up. He was sat, in the dark, on the sofa. A towel was around his waist, a few drops of water glistening on his bare chest as he lifted the glass of alcohol to his lips.

“What are you doing standing and staring, little angel? Why don’t you come join me?” he suddenly asked. Your heart skipped a beat at his voice. Heaven help me now, you thought.

“I thought you didn’t…,” you started, slowly moving across the room as if you were floating.

“I didn’t notice you?” he finished your sentence. You hummed a quiet yes. “Your glow is hard to miss.”

You weren’t sure what he meant by that. Was he saying, that just as he had a dark aura around him, you radiated a bright one? It made sense to you. You stopped in your tracks when you stood in front of him.

“You’re wearing your angel dress again,” he pointed out. He had brought you clothes, but nothing felt as right on your body as your white dress you had always worn.

“I always sleep in it,” you said. “You never see it, since you’re never here.”

“Does my little angel miss me?” he said. His dark eyes watched you intently, but they softened when he realized you had meant your words. “Come here, let me make it up to you.”

Not knowing what he meant by those words, you plopped down next to him.

“I meant come here,” he repeated, tapping his lap. Oh. Obediently, you swung one of your legs over his waist. Suddenly, you were hyperaware of the fact that his towel was the only thing between your center and his bare skin. Carefully, you watched his eyes for instructions or assurance. You kept your hands tightly by your sides, not daring to touch his skin that shined so beautifully in the moonlight. It was almost ironic, how ethereal his perfectly sculpted muscles appeared to you.

“Tell me, angel, do you sometimes think about what we did three days ago?” he asked, softly brushing his fingers along your arm. You should have felt ashamed to admit it. But with the way he watched you, he seemed to already guess your answer.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it,” you said, the words spilling out after keeping them in for too long. “I want to know more.”

He smirked, hooded black eyes watching your every breath while his head remained on the backrest of the sofa.

“Is that so?” he almost teased. “Why don’t you kiss me, then? Go ahead.”

Hesitantly, you bent forward until your forehead was almost touching his. Now, you didn’t look into his intimidating gaze anymore, but instead the closeness only made you more nervous. But more prominent than your nerves was your curiosity and your desire you hadn’t been able to shut out for the past days. You smelled a faint note of alcohol before you softly pressed your lips against his. Your kiss was the tender flutter of butterfly wings, like a singular snowflake landing on warm skin, as careful as a little bird in a lion’s cage.

But he kissed back, so overwhelmingly and suddenly, it robbed your breath in an instant. His body straightened up now, arms pulling you closer to his chest. Humming contently, he took your lifeless hands from your sides and placed them on his shoulders. His warm skin was inviting, making it easy for you to melt into his touch. Still, you weren’t used to this feeling. Maybe you would never get used to it. Perhaps it was supposed to be this exciting every single time. He breathed against your mouth heavily and his tongue swiped across your lips. The sensation was enticing and combined with his coaxing hands digging into your waist, your guilt washed away far too quickly. But there had been no redemption after the previous time and there wouldn’t be one now. Or ever. For a moment, you pulled away, needing air.

“Too much? Too fast?” he asked, cradling your face in his hands. A rush of comfort overcame you.

“No, I’m fine. It just feels – really good,” you said.

“Of course it does,” he bragged, smirking infamously.

“Can you…I want you to touch me…like you did last time,” you said. Even you were surprised at yourself. You could have just waited for him and he surely would have made you feel amazing. But now that you knew what it could feel like, you weren’t able to swallow your impatience.

“Such a sinful confession from such holy lips,” he said, voice dripping honey while he brushed two of his fingers across those very lips. “I wonder what other things those could do.”

What could he possibly be talking about? How much was there for you to try out? Whatever it was, you wanted to do it all. You had no idea what had come over you. Was there a secret demon that had taken possession of your body without notice? Or maybe you were simply an angel tired of acting like one.

Slowly, his hands dropped from your sides and to your hips. All while he watched your face like it was his favorite meantime to make you squirm under his touch. When he progressed to your thighs, something dropped in your stomach. Again, your body reacted before your mind did and you wanted to press your legs together. It felt familiar, but just as thrilling as the first time. His head tilted slightly as if to ask ‘do you like this?’ as he lifted the hem of your satin dress. And how you liked it.

You were very aware of being bare in front of him. So, in order to avoid feeling his eyes on your body, you bent forward again to kiss him. Bad idea – because the lack of oxygen and the loss of your sight when you closed your eyes only intensified the need. His fingertips were fleeting, rather non-demon-like, but you knew how fast he could flip his actions, had he wanted to.

They ghosted over your slit, collecting your wetness that had been pooling there. At even the slightest contact of his finger on your clit, you let out a quiet noise. He had been biting his lip, but when he heard you, his eyes met yours in an instant and he smirked.

“Let me hear you, little angel,” he said, before placing a kiss on your neck. While he continued to suck purple marks into your skin, his fingers toyed around your center, figuring out what made you react in the best way. And as the angel you were, always eager to please, you made sure you didn’t keep your mouth shut anymore. It felt weird, noticing the sounds he produced from you so involuntarily, but the more you concentrated on the feeling of his hand between your legs, the easier it was to ignore them.

Maybe you were easy to please, or perhaps you were completely see-through for him. It occurred to you he had you figured out head to toe. How did he know exactly which spots to touch to have you clinging to him, as if you would have fallen had he not held you? He drew random figures on your clit, variating the pace just to keep you on edge right where he wanted you. Now and then, his digits slid further down to your core, almost entering you but not quite yet. Your moans came out in a muffled manner as you had your face buried where his neck and shoulder met.

“Look at me, angel,” he said. So you did. No matter what sort of menace could have possibly lay behind his black orbs, the sound of his voice made you want to give him everything. And judging by the way your hips were moving and pushing against his hands by themselves you had already given your body to him. Against all odds, after all the horror stories you had been told to ensure an angel like you would stay far away from hellish beings, you trusted him.

“What a disgrace…They kept you locked up in heaven all this time,” he spoke. “I should have had you all along. You should have had me.”

It had never occurred to you that you could have looked at it this way. You had been happy in heaven. But then again, you hadn’t known what you had been missing. That’s when he slowly inserted one of his fingers into you. The sensation was unusual, but then he curled his digit and you understood.

“Oh god,” you let out when he touched a certain spot inside of you. It felt so right, you wondered why when you were able to feel this way, you should have been abstinent all along.

“Not exactly a good time to bring up god, huh?” he said, teeth nibbling on your neck. You laughed before you could have stopped yourself, and he looked stunned. But then, his lips curled into a malicious and content grin. At the same time, he added another finger into your core. His thumb remained rubbing against your clit, and like last time, you could feel a knot tying in your stomach as time went on. A string of whines and whimpers fell from your lips and your eyes shut tightly. But he decided you’d have to wait longer for your release.

“Do you think you can handle more?” he asked. You sighed when he retracted his hand from your core and watched as he brought his fingers up to his lips to taste you. His gaze didn’t let you decide whether he eyed you like prey or his most treasured thing in the world.

“Yes, I want you to show me,” you said quietly, almost breathless from the sight in front of you.

“Let’s go to the bedroom, then,” he announced. “It’ll be more comfortable for you.”

Your legs felt like jelly as you walked with him. This time, you didn’t hesitate to get onto his black bedsheets. It had become one of your favorite places to be in his apartment by now and the familiarity of it took away some of your nerves.

“I might be a demon, but I promise I can be gentle,” he said. His eyes were probably the most mellow they had ever been since you had met him. Carefully, he helped you slip out of your dress. “So don’t be scared, little angel.”

You had to admit, when he removed his towel from his waist and your eyes fell on his hard member, you weren’t sure if you would be okay. But then he bent down to you and kissed you. His hands softly stroked your cheeks, making it a hard contrast from his devilish image.

“Still sure?” he asked between kisses. It was like he was sucking the fear out of you, although he should have terrified you all along. You nodded and hummed but then changed your voice to a small whimper when he used his hand to run his cock over your slick center. Ever so carefully, he pushed himself inside of you. The stretch was uncomfortable, at first. He must had noticed by reading your face, because his eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“It’ll feel better in a bit, I promise,” he said. You relaxed your muscles the moment he kissed you again, his plan of distracting you surely working. When he had completely filled you up, he stayed in place while your tongues touched and you moaned at the feeling. It felt like he had always meant to be there, on top of you, inside of you.

“If you need me to stop or slow down, you’ll tell me, right?” he asked.

“Yes,” you answered. Once again you debated how you ended up this way. In bed with a demon. And said demon had his hooded black eyes on you, while he thrusted into you ever so slowly, and you couldn’t believe how out-of-this-world-perfect he looked. Although you would surely need more time to get used to the feeling, there was a hint of pleasure you felt every time he dragged his cock against your walls and that once special spot he had touched before.

Upon hearing how he moaned for the first time, you realized it wasn’t just touch that could make your stomach clench in a deep desire to be close to him. It sounded animalistic and you kept your eyes on the way his sharp teeth dug into his bottom lip. You sucked in a breath when he caressed your breasts, fingertips toying with your nipples.

“This is the closest to heaven I’ll ever get, right, little angel?” he spoke, and his gloating smile was so wicked, but handsome, right at that moment. You could only hum a ‘yes’. His lips on your neck were gentle, but your head spun whenever his teeth grazed your angel skin.

“You wouldn’t like it there, either way,” you said. His hand snaked down your body, between your legs where you had been missing them. He let out a growl-like moan when you clenched around his cock from the sudden added pleasure. In no time, he found your clit and used his skilled fingers, and he was right, this should have been the definition of heaven.

“And why is that?” he asked. “Because I couldn’t have you this way, in heaven?”

“Exactly,” you whimpered. “Oh- my-“

The desire to close your legs around him became bigger with each second, the knot in your belly tightening and your mind clouding with nothing but bliss.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re my own personal heaven,” he said. His free hand brushed away your hair delicately. “Are you gonna let go for me, sweet angel?”

You weren’t sure how to let go, exactly. But if by that he meant for you to close your eyes and just let the feeling wash over you, you would - without a choice - do so. Your high made your back arch against his chest and a small cry escaped your lips. He pushed his digits down on your center, slower now, but making sure to draw out every last second of your orgasm.

He had been speeding up his thrusts but then he pulled out, not wanting to cause you discomfort due to overstimulation. With his hand around his cock and quick movements of his wrist, he managed to bring on his own release, letting his cum spill out onto your thighs. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until you finally opened your eyes again, blinking tiredly and wetting your dry lips. He lowered his head until your foreheads touched. The more you looked into his black eyes, the more at home they made you feel.

“How was that, angel?” he asked, his breathing still unsteady.

“Heavenly,” you replied, pulling him in for a kiss. Even against his lips, you recognized his devilish smirk. And up to that point, you had believed ‘heaven on earth’ was just some silly little human saying. Until he proved you wrong.

[softyoongiionly]

BlackHeart Bakery

Who says Halloween can’t be romantic?

Pairing: Emo! Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Genre: fluff

A/N: HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS IS LATE. I love you, I hope you like it. I’m sorry it isn’t longer but, I still can’t wait for you to read it.

-you never imagined that the quirky lil bakery down the street from your university would change your life  

-But it did

-“Omg shut up, you’re so dumb.”

-“Rawr xD”

-“Did you just say rawr xD out loud??? That totally defeats the purpose of its existence...”

-“Don’t cite the deep magic to me witch, I was there when it was written.”

-“And now you’re quoting the chronicles of narnia- alright just go back to sleep you big dummy...”

-“Mmm but you married a big dummy so what does that say about you”

-“Jungkook don't spoil it oh my god!”

-“Like they don’t know what’s coming already- spoiler alert losers! I get the girl.”

-“I hate you...”

-“Mm yeah- I love it when you talk dirty to me baby. The last time you said that- we ended up fuc-“

-“Ok! That’s enough! Our story begins...”

-Jungkook’s bakery was quite famous around your city

-If people didn’t come for the gaudy Halloween decorations  

-They came for the music  

-Exclusively pop punk, if you’re wondering

-It was like 2009 everyday  

-Which was comforting, considering the world has gotten a little

-Tricky

-Since then

-But anyways

-If they didn’t come for the music or the decorations

-They came for the AMAZING espresso  

-And the spooky themed treats

-But if you’re being honest

-You think the main thing that keeps them coming back

-Is Jungkook  

-If his sweeping black hair didn’t get you

-Or the adorable cheeky twinkle in his eyes

-It was the tattoos and the piercings  

-He looked like he walked right off of a black veil brides music video set  

-He was hot

-This was obvious

-But he didn’t seem to think so

-You had come to the conclusion that he was oblivious  

-he shoved his feet into his big black doc martens every morning  

-Slipped on his beaded bracelets and studded chokers

-Pulled his fall out boy t-shirt over his

-Massive

-Tattooed

-Biceps

-And just thought hm

-I’m pretty average I guess (lol)

-That’s a direct quote from him btw

-Men truly are hopeless

-Jungkook opened the bakery two years ago

-He had mentioned to you that he had saved up money from his 3 part time jobs to put a down payment on the building  

-Which was wedged between a sex shop

-And a thrift store

-And honestly his bakery

-Blackheart Bakery, if you’re being specific  

-Fits right in

-Jungkook refuses to hire new staff

-“They won’t do it right.” He whined to you one day

-“One time I tried to hire this guy and he put the sugared googly eyes on the cookie skeletons ALL WRONG”

-“How do you put googly eyes on wrong?” You had giggled

-“you just do- i- See? This is exactly why I can’t hire anyone...”

-You had started chewing on the end of your pencil in the midst of your laughter

-It was an unconscious habit

-And it makes Jungkook shift uncomfortably, his hands moving off of the top of your table

-“Don’t do that...” he had muttered, smirking to himself as he walked back behind the counter  

-he did that a lot

-He’d mutter something  

-Mildly flirtatious under his breath and then  

-Just walk away

-It was quite confusing

-But honestly you had a feeling he was just a filrty person  

-You certainly weren’t the only girl he smirked at

-Not that you pay attention

-Ok  

-Maybe you do  

-Kinda  

-Pay attention  

-but it’s not your fault!!!!  

-You just  

-Can’t help but feel a little jealous

-You kiiiiiinda have a little thing for him

-Ok

-Maybe it’s a big thing  

-Maybe it’s a massive

-Gigantic

-Towering  

-Crush  

-But look at him!!!

-You simply couldn’t be blamed

-It was his fault  

-Yep

-That’s what you’re going with

-It was Jungkook

-And his tight t shirts

-His ripped jeans

-His dangly earrings

-His tattoos

-His big

-Stupid boots

-Ugh ok

-Focus  

-You have work to do

-The whole reason you began coming to Jungkook's cafe was so you -could find a consistent place to study for your exams

-You were in school to become a teacher :)  

-And teachers have to study very very hard  

-Educating the youth is no easy feat  

-Jungkook had asked what you were studying during the first week you arrived at his spooky house of baked goods

-“Oh I’m an education major”

-“Ahh so you’re getting an education about...education.” He concludes

-“I love it.”

-“So meta.”

-“Are they educating you on the disparities between impoverished children and wealthier children?”

-His wide eyes were brimming with genuine curiosity  

-You kind of got a kick out of how candid he was about such heavy conversation topics

-“Not as much as they should be but, I’m actually writing a paper on a similar topic right now...”

-This caused a brilliant grin to come over his face

-It was almost blinding really

-And it made your heartbeat all wonky  

-“Of course you are. You look smart like that...”

-He had backed away from your table then, seemingly satisfied

-Had you passed the vibe check?

-“I’ll leave you to your paper.” He nodded to your laptop but as he walked away, he pivoted back towards you on and the heel of his combat boot, “welcome to Blackheart Bakery by the way, let me know if I can get you anything.”

-Another brilliant smile is sent your way  

-“Thank you.” You had smiled back, sending a tiny wave his way

-Which in turn, made HIS heartbeat all wonky  

-You’re cute

-Like really cute

-And despite how often it may seem like his eyes are elsewhere

-They are ALWAYS on you

-Every chance he gets he is glancing your way

-Smirking to himself at how endearing you are

-Brow furrowed

-Lips pouted in concentration  

-Completely oblivious to his gaze

-He has to remind himself to look away  

-He doesn’t want to be a creep

-“Creepy men deserved to get kicked in the teeth...”

-He’s said this to you before when another patron had made you uncomfortable

-Jungkook kicked him out immediately  

-“If you don’t leave, I’ll have no choice but to kick you in the teeth. One, because I can’t compromise my personal philosophy and two because you’re making my favorite customer uncomfortable.”

-Oh look there goes your heartbeat again

-WONKY

-The guy leaves in an angry rush, flipping Jungkook off in the process

-Saying something about leaving a bad Yelp review  

-He doesn’t care tho

-He definitely doesn’t want to be a creep

-You’re just so  

-Pretty

-Ugh

-He rolls his eyes at himself behind the espresso bar

-The latte in front of him neglected  

-In need of a bit of foam

-“Focus Jeon, she’s just a chick...”

No wait

-“She’s just a woman. A woman who I respect, like I respect all women...”

-He’s been watching a lot of feminist theory on YouTube

-He likes staying educated  

-And also fuck the patriarchy

-The man waiting for his drink has arched a brow at this point, wondering if his barista has lost his mind

-“Uhhh medium...” he checks the cup for his awful hand writing, “ghostly toasted marshmallow latte!”

-“Thanks.” The guy mutters, throwing a judging look Jungkook's way  

-He gives him a lazy salute as the guy struts away with a briefcase in tow

-“Thaaanks.” Jungkook mocks him, his face scrunching up in annoyance  

-Stupid man

-With his stupid briefcase  

-As Jungkook is pulling out a batch of cream cheese frosting stuffed pumpkin muffins  

-Or as Jungkook calls them

-PUNK-in Muffins

-Movement at the counter catches his eye

-is that

-”oh shit...” He grunts, hastily wiping his hands on his apron and rushing over to the counter

-normally he would meander

-stroll

-or even slump to greet any new guests at this hour

-and by this hour

-he means 45 minutes before closing

-Jungkook’s bakery is open til midnight on weeknights

-9pm on Sundays

-and 3am on Saturdays (for the culture of course, gotta keep it spooky)

-tonight happens to be a Friday night and the person awaiting his assistance is

-you

-”You’re still here?” He gawks, the black polish on his nails glimmering as he punches in a few keys on the register

-You offer him a tired and slightly amused smile, “No. Y/N died around 4:30, you’re speaking to her ghost. Please leave your message after the tone.”

-Jungkook cracks a smile, his palms resting on flat on the counter, “Do ghosts check their voicemails?”

-“Oh of course not but, I will be checking yours because you have access to caffeine.”

-Jungkook laughs

-no...he giggles  

-and it’s fucking cute

-but you digress

-“I feel like I should cut you off...this is your 4th latte; I’m pretty sure you’re 80% caffeine at this point...”

-“Noooo, don’t do that.” You whine slumping against the counter, “I just need to finish this one page...”

-He quirks a brow as he scribbles something on your cup, unimpressed with your statement, “You said that three hours ago. I’ll make you another one but I’m not putting an extra shot in.”

-Your face turns up in protest but he click his tongue against his teeth , shaking a manicured finger at you

-“Ah ah- nope. I don’t want to hear it. You either take that or I’m making you a hot chocolate and shutting the buildings power off.”

-With a dramatic sigh, you concede

-“Ugh fine. Here-” You go to hand him your debit card but he shakes his head

-“Put that away.”

-You want to protest but given the fact that he’s made the rules thus far during this interaction, you doubt you’d be able to stop him.

-A smile appears on your face then, appreciative of his generosity

-“Thank you.”

-He merely grins, waving you off before rolling up the sleeves of his black Blink 182 shirt

-as soon as his tattoos are out

-all the moisture leaves your mouth

-you try your hardest not to stare at him

-expertly, he eases the espresso shots into the milk, tongue poking between his lips in concentration

-and you

-being sleep-deprived

-and a little loopy

-decide to  

-flirt????????

-if you could even call it that

-which you could but you shouldn’t

-“For the record, when I finally dig my way out of this of mountain of death I’m stuck in, I will definitely take you up on that hot chocolate...”

-Jungkook’s brow quirks at the tone of your voice, his hands suddenly itching with nerves

-was that

-was that flirty?

-should he flirt back?

-“My hot chocolate is legendary. You won’t be disappointed.” His lips display a small grin as he places the lid atop your finished latte, “Also mountain of death is a great name and I WILL be stealing it.”

-You giggle

-again

-“and I WILL be suing you for copyright.”

-He laughs now, wiping up the bit of milk he spilled

-the sinewy muscles in his forearm tensing and untensing

“Good luck getting me to show up to court.”

-and that’s kinda how it was between you and Jungkook

-for like six months

-it was a little bit flirty but never anything to push either over you over the edge.

-and speaking of being on edge

-recently, you had gone from vacationing in your timeshare on the edge

-to signing a 35 year mortgage contract  

-4 bedrooms

-2.5 bathrooms

-of pure

-unrelenting

-stress

-you could feel it in the middle of your back

-shoving itself up between your shoulder blades

-your body seemed to ache with it

-the worst part being

-it was Halloween

-You should be out with your friends, having fun

-wearing itchy costumes and drinking sugary drinks

-but instead, your headed towards the bakery to work

-Jungkook was behind the counter, smiling happily at a family dressed like the cast of scooby doo

-from what you could see he was wearing a skeleton onesie

-his jet black hair tousled perfectly above his head

-he looked adorable

-(and hot)

-He notices you instantly, his face turning up in surprise

-you offer up a small wave and head over to your table

-you know he’s going to say something about you being there but

-you don’t really have much of a choice

-this work has to be done

-it takes him a second to spot you but when he does

-he seems to perk up

-his smile brightening as he looks back towards his customer

-as you’re setting everything up, you feel a presence (not the spooky kind) at the end of your table

-it’s Jungkook and he has your regular order in one hand, along with something wrapped in skeleton-patterned parchment paper

-“I know, I know.” You acknowledge before he’s even able to chide you for being here

-He smirks “What are you doing studying on the holiest day of the year??”

-You giggle

-“The holiest day of the year huh?”

-“Of course. Halloween is the one night a year that the homies can dress like total -sluts and no one can say anything about it.”

-This makes you giggle again

-“And you went with slutty skeleton huh? I love it- it’s like as naked as you can possibly get.”

-He chuckles, gesturing to his costume

-His floppy black hair getting in his face

-“Damn right baby.”

-The way he grins tells you the pet name is a joke

-But the deepening of his voice gets to you anyway

-“Thank you for this. I promise I’ll get out of your hair early tonight.”

-“The only thing I’m worried about getting out of my hair is this white spray paint. You’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

-He’s put a streak of white spray paint in his raven locks

-Why? You’re not certain

-Does it look good on him, like everything else does?

-Absolutely

-Its been a few hours since your night of studying began

-Jungkook’s dropped off two free lattes since you’ve arrived  

-As well as a slice of his ‘I write cinnamon not tragedies’ bread

-Which was equally hilarious and delicious

-You caught him glancing over at your table a few times but you didn’t think anything of it

-He’s probably just checking to make sure that no one needs your table

-His bakery is packed most nights but Halloween is a special night at Blackheart Bakery

-He has a trick or treat counter set up with free (homemade) candy

-A photo op complete with a fake haunted house backdrop

-A Halloween playlist

-And a bunch of discounts on his signature lattes and food

-you watch him amongst the chaos

-He is completely unfazed

-He seems elated at the amount of customers he has

-he grins and laughs at something a man dressed like Thor says at his counter

-he seems entirely in his element

-you realize that the denial tactics you’ve been trying out haven’t been working

-because this floppy haired, tattooed, slutty skeleton/baker kind of has a hold on your heart

-you’ve been friends for a long time now

-he always makes sure you’re taken care of

-he always asks if you’re ok

-he always gives you this little grin

-it feels like a secret sometimes

-but maybe it’s been his way of letting you know where he stands

-he’s been bringing you lattes and pastries for months now

-he never charges you full-price

-he always reminds you not to work too hard

-he

-fuck

-he likes you doesn’t he?

-you look back over at the counter to see him bending over and handing a skeleton cookie to a little girl dressed like Captain Marvel

-he laughs at something she says

-his eyes focused entirely on her and whatever she seems to be proclaiming to him  

-your heart goes wonky again

-alright

-enough is enough

-you’re doing this  

-Jungkook’s done so much of the work thus far

-it’s time for you to seal the deal

-and if he rejects you, well…

-you can just crawl into a hole and never come out again

-easy peasy

-You can feel his eyes on you as you get up to take your place in line

-luckily there isn’t anyone else behind you

-rejection with an audience would certainly be worse

-Jungkook has his witty comment ready for you as you approach the register

-“I know for a fact you haven’t finished your third latte and I’m not making you another one until-“

-“I’m not here for another latte.” You laugh, trying to ignore the thrashing of your heartbeat

-“No? Well, are you finally going to try my Welcome to the Blackened Chicken Parade Burger then? I’ve been asking you for like three weeks…”

-god he’s fucking cute

-“I’m here to ask you out.”

-Jungkook swears he feels his heart stop

-“You’re here to…”

-He repeats the first part of your response as his he didn’t hear you

-his black fingernails anxiously tapping against the countertop

-“I’m here to ask you out- on a date.”

-Jungkooks face seems to go through various stages of confusion before a shy smirk presents itself on his pretty mouth

-“Me? You’re asking me-“ He places a hand on his chest, “-out on a date?”

-“Yes!” You laugh, slapping the counter a bit too hard, your nerves getting the best of you, “Are you down?”

-He shakes his head but his answer contradicts his movements

-“So down, beyond down. There is no one on Earth who is more DOWN than I am. Yes. My answer is yes. 50000% yes.”

-you can’t help the smile on your lips

-“great. So are you free next Friday then?”

-He grins with his teeth this time, nodding emphatically  

-“Consider the shop closed.”

-and so it was

-you returned to your table moments later  

-feeling on top of the world

-you did it

-you asked Jungkook out

-and he said yes

-and now you

-NOW YOU HAVE A DATE WITH JUNGKOOK

-LOOK AT YOU GO

-TAKING CHARGE

-you try your best to engage with your studies but with Jungkook on your mind

-its really hard

-roughly two hours later, things at the bakery have finally started to slow down

-“Hey uh- Y/N?”

-Jungkook's voice that pulls you out of your studying trance

-he’s standing at the entrance of his back room, waving you over with his hand

-and who are you to deny him?

-you make your way over there, annoyed at the instant increase in your heartrate

-he stands awkwardly to the side and gestures to the boxes on the metal rack

-“I just remembered that I’ve never given you a tour of the place. I give all my regulars a tour of the stockroom and my office and uh-”

-he cuts himself off and clumsily cups your cheek

-he pulls you into a kiss

-a really good kiss

-his lips are so warm

-he smells like cinnamon

-you could literally die happy

-The ridiculous nature of his first attempt to kiss you, makes you giggle into his mouth

-you feel him smile, his hands smushing your cheeks together as he pulls away

-“Ok I lied. There is no tour. I’ve just been watching you focus on your computer for the last two hours and you’re just really fucking cute and-”

-this time, it’s you who cuts him off

-“You better give me an actual tour next time. How else am I going to steal your secret recipes?”

-he scoffs in mock offense

-“Ah ha! So that’s the only reason you asked me out huh? Should I be calling you Plankton instead of Y/N? Ew no wait- that would make me Mr. Krabs and he’s a dirty capitalist...”

-You laugh, “Oooh good point. Guess you’ll just have to be Karen, my computer wife.”

-This makes him laugh now and the sound warms your soul

-“I could live with that- I like your last name better anyways.”

-with another kiss, your adventure with the emo baker of your dreams begins

-It may have been Halloween but it sure felt like Christmas to you

[everything-laito]

hey,,, i've seen this controversial opinion about laito not being sexually assaulted by cordelia. . .as the only opinion of laito that matters, what are your thoughts on it? i know you've made some posts in the past about cordelia and laito's relationship, but i think that now would be a good time to i guess, remake a post or clarify your thoughts so people could follow along?? i hope you enjoy your day.

*proceeds to crack all my knuckles at once*

This isn't really my own "response" cuz oh boy I'm sick of this petty ass drama lmao. To begin, SKLDJF I'm very flattered that you hold my opinion in that high of regard! I'd say there's others that have interesting interpretations of him too though :) but again, thank you :') glad you enjoy what I have to say!

I know I've already kinda responded to this via a screenshot here, just to hold you––and others reading this––over. As much as this is a great time to talk about a how-to-analysis, I’ll still put that as a separate post eventually, but I still will go over the philosophy of truth and writings etc. But anyways, to answer your initial questions, they’re under the cut!

And no, I’m not specifically calling anyone out here. These are just issues with the fandom that I find as a whole, along with some extremists. Thus, I’m not going to be putting tags for people to easily find this post because I don’t want to be wound up in this drama––once again this is just more commentary on the fandom as a whole, which hopefully you can apply to people you find!

I have a lot of my own thoughts about Cordelia and Laito’s relationship here (just in case if people need it):

1. Goes over potential grooming of Laito, facts about Cordelia and what happened before she did stuff to Laito, and when did she rape Laito for the first time?

2. Stuff about incest and how any relationship out of a parental/child relationship is abuse even if it’s not penetrative sex, more incest stuff, and just more thoughts on their relationship

3. Neuroplasticity, trauma, Karlheinz, and isolation

4. What does sexual trauma look like? And some stuff on Laito’s facade

5. More stuff on his facade, and projection on Yui

6. My thoughts on Laito’s dark fate vampire ending + Conclusion

7. Answering some inbox stuff relating to Cordelia

Sure I realize I might be missing some stuff but that’s just my whole analysis on them. I’ll probably make some follow up posts eventually but I’m not sure when that will be.

But as for this analysis/ramble, I’ll divide it up into sections:

The issue of hypocrisy in the Dialovers fandom:

I- oh dear god. Ok, just saying, there’s a lot of people being like “oh I hate Cordelia because she was abusive” then ??? yo??? Why do you like the boys?? They’re abusive and we see more of them than Cordelia??? I just personally hate hypocrisy. However, it’s okay to hate Cordelia! It’s okay to love Cordelia! It’s okay to hate the boys and it’s okay to love the boys too. But recognizing that you don’t like one or the other just because “they’re abusive” is a fallacy at that point.

The reason why so many people hate Karlheinz/Cordelia/Beatrix/Christa/Richter (or at least start off hating them) is because they are written as the villains of the story! Karl’s the main villain, and the rest (including the diaboys and Yui) are kinda just tragically wound up in his plans. You sympathize more with the boys because you spend more time with them and watch them grow! It’s a whole “us vs them” situation. Since those people were awful to the boys/the boys hate them, you’re like “yeah they’re bad!” But the issue with the whole “us vs them” situation (as in real life) is that people tend to excuse the actions done by the “us” party.

Same thing goes with extreme Karl/Cordelia/Richter fans (I’ve never seen a hardcore Beatrix/Christa fan but they’re probably out there). Some hate the diaboys but love the people in that party. They’ve also done some shitty stuff too! Bro, even Yui has done some terrible stuff! But that’s because she was a product of the events she was thrown into––and same with everyone else.

Karl has been the mastermind of all this, and for me I don’t have any sympathy for him, mainly because we’re not shown anything to sympathize with (except that he just is tired of living but idk why he wants to create a whole new race like lmao science nerd ig, I feel that king). A lot of people like him for his looks, and I’m not saying that’s a bad thing––he’s a fictional character, objectify these characters however you want. This is more of a personal opinion of mine though. And maybe people do just sympathize with his outlook on life, that’s totally fine.

But since these characters are all attractive in their own regard, they all get the treatment of “pretty-boy” syndrome (Idek if that’s the exact name for it). Which is just the privilege pretty people get. But again, this is fictional, so it’s not necessarily important in this case. Bro I got into DL cuz of “ooga booga hot vampires” and stayed for the complex lore and characters (especially one complex character, wonder who that could be). I imagine most people got into DL because of that, or out of sheer curiosity.

Ok, I’m throwing out a lot of points but not really connecting them. Lemme give you an example: I don’t like Reiji. His character doesn’t vibe with me most of the time aside from the fact that he’s hilarious. But I just am very neutral/neutral-negative on his character. But I’m not like “oh cuz he’s mean/abusive” cuz LOL EVERYONES MEAN IN THIS GAME. Sure you can still say that, it’s just not a very strong claim. Hypocritical claims tend to be like that. Same with a lot of Yui haters. In this case, they’re more jealous that she’s there and not them, which I’ve explained a lot in this post about toxic femininity and Yui in the fandom etc. But it’s ok to just not like a character! It’s alright! I know someone who just doesn’t vibe with Subaru. She doesn’t know why, she just doesn’t vibe with him. There’s no need to defend it either. But the use of hypocrisy is my main issue, and I’ll get to that in the next section.

(There’s a really good post explaining this too but I cannot find it for the life of me. I think it was made by @/abottleofkarlheinz or @/the-madame21)

How opinions of fictional universes left unchecked can effect real life:

I’ve said this a little bit in that Dialover PSA post I’ve made about Yui that I linked a couple paragraphs ago. But the reasons why people say they hate Yui is concerning. If you don’t like Yui, that’s totally fine! Again you don’t need reasons to hate on a character or defend it. But if you do choose to defend those characters, make sure what you’re saying isn’t out of some other place in your heart. Let me explain.

In that “Yui PSA” post I made, I say how your attitudes in being critical of a fictional universe usually does reflect on who you are as a person, at least when you’re making certain claims. In that Yui post, I say that the hatred on Yui is a result of the “other girl” mentality. On top of that, it erases her experience as a survivor. Yes, this is a fictional character, but bringing that into real life can have some dire consequences if you don’t differentiate them. If you have the same attitude of Yui with other survivors if the “abuser is hot” then thaaaaaat’s so fucked up.

For example, there’s people who have crushes on real life serial killers! That- that’s absolutely disgusting! Those real people killed living people and effected so many lives and families. Dude I have fictional crushes on fictional serial killers, and that’s different, because it is a removed universe. It’s why I can still call myself a lesbian but still have crushes on fictional male characters, for a further example (and vice versa! I have straight friends who crush on fictional characters of their same gender! But that doesn’t make them any less straight. And no, I’m not erasing bi people here either, just clarifying in case if you needed that).

Not being able to differentiate your opinions of a fictional universe can get very toxic. Like I love Laito, but I’m not like “omg I wish he was real so he could do that stuff to me uwu” like no!!! UH!!! I wouldn’t want to date anyone like him in real life! That’s literal abuse! And if Laito was here in real life it’s not a controlled environment, he’d literally be able to do anything with you, etc. That’s what makes a fantasy, a fantasy. They’re controlled.

Also vice versa, some people get really triggered by Dialovers, specifically Laito’s route. A lot of non-consensual acts that he does have been experienced by people in real life in any extent, myself included. For me, it’s a personal escape from that, because it is an environment where I am prepared for those events and can control my exposure to it. For some, they are reminded of the reality they had to experience. Fictional universes are inspired by real life, no matter what way you look at it. Real life people are making it, after all.

I feel like I’m going in so many circles, but trust me, I’m getting to the point.

I- I can’t explain this enough but it is most definitely implied that Cordelia had raped and sexually abused Laito. If it was explicit, DL would be an 18+ game, but they cannot do that in Japan. I’m not going to like defend this point because so many people (myself included) have defended this point. It’s implications carry over into Laito’s character and why he’s like this. He’s a textbook sexual abuse survivor. I just,,,, cannot explain this enough. Same thing with overwriting the abuse of Yui. They get jealous of Yui. Sure I’d say a good chunk of people have ravishment fantasies here. At least the 18+ people in the fandom who are into that stuff. But oh my dear god, ravishment fantasies are super super dangerous to enact in real life. It’s possible to do them, but it would take years of building up to that point in kink. That’s a whole other discussion though and I’m not incredibly comfortable talking about it knowing that minors read my blog (I’ll also have to say here: no minors in kink--its alright to educate yourself but pleaaaaaaaaaase don’t enact on any of those activities until you are of age, and even so that still can be dangerous right as you turn 18).

But anyways, saying that Yui should enjoy this because she’s experienced the ravishment fantasy you’ve dreamed of? Oh fucking hell, if you leave that opinion and mentality unchecked and it goes into real life, that’s incredibly awful. Abuse apologists are absolutely terrible people, almost as much as the abusers themselves.

If you twist the narrative that Laito loves Cordelia or Yui loves the boys at the end of the first game, that’s still––ughhhhhhhh. Especially when it’s so obvious that Laito has so many mental issues with Cordelia. His whole monologue and breakdown at the end of Dark Fate definitely tells us that he has had such an issue with Cordelia. And MB+ Laito is still Laito. As for Yui, dude she literally goes through stockholm syndrome in the first game like it is so goddamn apparent idek how to explain this at this point.

Ok dear god lmao wow, uh I think that’s answering the first couple of questions?

The philosophy of truth:

“Truth” has been an incredibly debated topic in philosophy for years. Truth is more of a subjective item rather than objective. Sure you can have personal objective truths, but they may not be the same truths for others. For example, a tomato is red. However, that tomato is red to me, because I am not color blind. A red-green color blind person may see the tomato as being brown or more muted in color. That’s their truth. They can’t really imagine what red is (ok depending on severity of their color blindness), considering they have not experienced the color red in the same way people who don’t have color blindness do. God uh, here’s a whole ass essay about truth, I’m cherry picking some of the things in there that are relevant to this.

Basically what I’m saying is, truth is very subjective. However, there are philosophers arguing a more objective truth. But that’s a whole other discussion. Also, this isn’t to support any political opinion, but I can use that as an example. Let’s go for well... The death penalty. I’m in America, we have the death penalty in some states. Yes, this is a very controversial topic, and no I’m not arguing the ethics of it here. Just hear me out.

If you live in Europe for example (except in Belarus and Russia––ok when I looked it up they consider Russia in Europe and technically it is but also there’s the whole chunk that is not- lmao even the truth of geography can be subjective), you might be like “yeah what the fuck are Americans doing?” (a common sentiment that I also share lmao). But yeah, what the fuck are we doing? Why is the death penalty still in existence? Yes, there’s statistics that prove that it doesn’t deter crime, but even crime rates is caused by a lot of different things too. Even statistics aren’t always accurate, because of many different factors. They’re not objective either, although good statisticians try their best to get good results and not skew the data. (please try to see where your data is coming from and who it is sponsored by––it matters a TON)

I’d say the closest thing we have as an objective truth to argue the death penalty or not is money. Money, although the concept is subjective, is a very objective currency. It’s why artists hate “exposure” compared to “money” as sole currency. The death penalty is very expensive, and not even used that often.

So, although money is currency made by us, and is technically 75% linen and 25% cotton (in America at least) with some funky dudes n numbers printed on it, it doesn’t sound that special. However, it would be considered as a baseline of some type of “objective truth” in ~society~ because people are typically on the same page of what money’s worth. Even so, this baseline of truth is still subjective! If Bill Gates accidentally has a $20 bill fall out of his pocket, that’s nothing to him! But if someone who’s working very hard to make ends meet loses that same amount of money, it could deal a lot of financial damage to that person.

Ok, hopefully you guys kind of get my drift. There are a lot of theories of truth, I’m just explaining one (honestly I forget the name of this theory) because it is the closest to the types of truth we are dealing with. And in this case, it’s called “canon.”

What the fuck is analysis:

The concept of “canon” is the objective truth that we have when analyzing universes. They’re our bread and butter of interpretation and extrapolation. The art of analysis clings to this notion of an objective truth. It needs a baseline. I’m going off of Aristotle’s rhetorical triangle, because that type of analysis I have the most experience with.

This is called rhetorical analysis. Rhetoric is the use of words in a persuasive fashion, and the analysis part is a breakdown of how words are used in order to achieve persuasiveness. I don’t typically use a lot of explicit rhetorical analysis in my personal writings, but I guess a version of it. Which typically has to deal with intention and execution. A lot of analysis on language has to do with this. Language is incredibly subjective. Certain words carry individual meanings to people. I have gone over the difference between real and lexical definitions before, and I’ll do it again.

I’ll just copy and paste what I’ve said before here from this analysis:

To put it simply, lexical definitions are the definitions you find in the dictionary. This is an “official” and “agreed upon” definition. Real definitions (quite a misleading name in my opinion) is the definition that’s more kind of “felt” in a way and how you internally interpret the word in context (these can be through individuals or any niche group). What I mean by this is that when you say a word (for example) to convey a feeling, you usually won’t know the dictionary definition off the top of your head. You say that something’s “savage” for example when you want to describe something violent or gruesomely awesome (it depends if it’s in a slang context or not) but there’s many lexical definitions (and outdated lexical definitions) of the term. But the first definition that usually comes up is “adj (of an animal or force of nature) fierce, violent, and uncontrolled.”

But people typically don’t think of the lexical definition when they learn what a word means; they usually learn the context of it and apply it as such. And that’s what a “real” definition is. Laito has a differing definition of what affection and love is, and that’s his own meaning and what it means to him.

I’ll even add another example to that too. The word “cunt” in english refers to a vagina. That’s just it. It’s lexically synonymous with “vagina,” “pussy,” etc. However, “cunt” has a subjective meaning to it. This is where “real” definitions also come into play. Many people view the word as vulgar and dirty. And that’s cuz we live in a ~society~ lmao. Our use of language has shaped what this word means in a context outside of the dictionary. I’ll do you one more. The Japanese word マンコ (manko) is also vulgar slang that’s kind of like our word “cunt/pussy.” Sometimes I say “cunt” for jokes, but I don’t use it that often to begin with since it’s just a very strong word to most (albeit it’s not that strong of a word for me). However, マンコ is a strong word to many Japanese people, but if I hear it even though I’ve been learning Japanese, it doesn’t have that same effect as hearing “cunt” for me is (which still, idc if I really hear it depending on context) because I haven’t been shaped in a culture that uses Japanese.

Even so, tone, intention, and context is HUGE in this. If someone called me a “useless fucking cunt” when they’re angry at me, I’d be close to crying. If someone told that to me as a joke, I’d be like “lol yeah you right, bitchass” and if someone said that in a consensual sexual context, it would certainly tickle my masochistic heart.

DSLKFJ also sorry if you don’t like hearing that word, I just had to utilize a strong example for this. But anyways, now let’s change the lens to Dialovers.

No, it never explicitly says that Cordelia rapes Laito. It doesn’t. However, there’s this WACKY thing called being able to infer, reading between the lines, and identifying implications. Those are kind of all the same things. However, indirect exposition is used a lot in effective creative writing. The utilization of this type of exposition is more preferred when writing a story, because direct exposition is kind of referred to as “info-dumping” when used excessively. Forgive my jargon: this is just showing vs telling as we’re taught in every writing class. I’m personally very bad at it, which is why I stick to writing these, and stick to reading creative fiction. (NOT SAYING IF YOU’RE NOT GOOD AT THIS TO NOT CONTINUE TO PRACTICE CREATIVE FICTION, I JUST DONT HAVE THE CURRENT MOTIVATION TO GET GOOD AT IT)

Dialovers uses a LOOOOOT of showing. And even so, its “showing” ability is very minimal considering the Japanese language can be vague on its own, it’s medium (visual novel) does not show a lot of things explicitly most of the time (and even when it is shown it doesn’t convey a lot). There’s several CGs of Laito and Yui where it doesn’t show the amount of pain or the dire situation Yui’s in, compared to what she’s saying she’s going through.

When I made my whole breakdown on Laito’s HDB route from Yui’s perspective, I got several comments about how they didn’t realize how bad his route really was. That’s either because people might not have experience with verbal abuse themselves, can’t exactly see Yui’s body language except her head (and even so, her expressions are limited), or don’t know a lot of gaslighting/verbal abuse techniques/have done research into it. Honestly verbal abuse is kind of hard to realize, so I’m not calling anyone dumb here. Despite me knowing a lot of the signs, I didn’t know I went through it––and even so I’ve denied it. And that’s what is so effective about this game though! Especially Laito’s route! Because you’re also sucked in with limited knowledge because you’re seeing this through Yui’s perspective, and on top of that it’s isolating. You can only make so many choices, and I feel like Dialovers is perfect as a visual novel. You get caught up with a lot of shock value things that Laito says, which serves as a perfect distraction for your first time through. But anyways, I’m getting off track.

For example, many people found his Maniac 07 chapter to be very confusing. I broke that one down here as well, and even so I was confused at first (also I was like 14/15, dear god). It tells you SO little, but you know that Laito’s incredibly upset at Richter for some reason, and even so, Yui comments on it a little too. Laito is shown to still hate Richter in DF, but he talks about it a tad more.

Here’s a further example from my writings in that first part of the Cordelia/Laito analysis series but I have bolded the terms I use to convey this rhetoric:

There hasn’t been any flashbacks that specifically show us the first time that happened. However, I believe that there was a flashback in HDB that shows one of the first times. Here’s a scene from Laito’s Dark Epilogue:

Cordelia: ー Laito…Laito… Laito: …Hm? Is something the matter? Cordelia: I have a favor to ask. It just isn’t enough. You can do it, right Laito? Laito: You really are something…So that’s why you came to me again? Cordelia: Fufufu…That’s right, Laito. Come on, quickly… Laito: …Guess it can’t be helped. I’ll love you plenty. Cordelia: Aah…My cute Laito~ I love you. I really do. Laito: I can do it…right? Cordelia: Of course, Laito. Now, quickly…

First of all, ew. Second of all, Laito’s diction implies that this was maybe the second or third time this occurred. He asks a question, and ends it with “again.” We know by this that it is not the first time, but the question also means that Laito might not have expected to occur again. His tone also implies some surprise to it, at least in my ears. His other question, “I can do it, right?” screams hesitance to me. If this scene took place down the line, or after many times he did this with Cordelia, I don’t believe he’d be some level of surprised or hesitance.

That’s what rhetorical analysis is. You take the contextual meaning of the words, the tone they use, and extrapolate what they imply. On top of this, we know that the term “love” here is sexual, implying that they did something sexual. We are not given the details of this, but considering we know that Laito uses “love” before he rapes Yui in the game, we can infer that’s what happened (or something similar) to himself with Cordelia, considering he projects on Yui quite a bit.

I was going to go over what is good/bad analysis, but I think I’ve implied it anyways here. Utilizing separate information from different sources of canon in order to make sense of something is good analysis. That’s our objective truth: canon. I’m not saying I’m the best at analysis, but I am fairly confident in it. It’s how I’m able to attempt to answer some of your “how would Laito react” questions without it being specifically hinted in the game. You cannot cherry pick specific sentences and go off of that alone for analysis. It’s context. It’s reading tone. It’s knowing the characters attitudes towards things, how they speak, etc. There’s a lot going into analysis in general. I know I didn’t elaborate on Aristotle’s rhetorical triangle right now, but that’s for another date I suppose.

Oh dear god I hope I didn’t lose you guys, I know this is a lot of information, but if you have any questions/comments/clarifications, as always, please let me know!

Hope you enjoyed! -Corn

[joheun-saram]

To Make A Power Couple (knj) | 05

Chapter 5: 30 under 30

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Summary- After a bout of long distance our couple reunites for a weekend where they are both invited to the Forbes 30 under 30 celebration.

word count- 13k 😅

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, slow burn, fluff, smut, strangers2lovers, angst (😱)

warnings- alcohol consumption, softdom!Joon, oral sex (f. receiving), orgasm denial, explicit sex, hints towards depressive mindset, overworking

a.n- new chapter? NEW CHAPTER! AND THERE’S ANGST?! I would like to point out that the Namjoon’s struggles in this chapter are in no way meant to reflect the real Namjoon’s thoughts. This is a fictional character. I use writing as an outlet to work through my own issues so the only headspace they accurately reflect is my own at times. If you relate, or need someone to talk to you, my messages are open - I’m here for you!

Thank you so much for the love you all have given this series so far! I’m loving writing this! Also, I’m still simping for this couple and writing the last two scenes was heartbreaking.

s/o to @moccahobi​ for beta reading! ily!

Feedback much appreciated! 💕

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach​, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii​, @jinjccns, @joyful-jimin @sideblogger​ @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

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“So how much do I have to bribe Sejin to let us be in the same room for the Forbes thing?” You settled in bed, wearing one of your boyfriend’s t-shirts, as you Facetimed him a few countries away, his scent making you feel closer to him. To say his comeback had him busy was an understatement. Since the night you two had agreed on labeling your relationship, you only had a few weeks together to cuddle, visit your favorite places, and argue philosophies of the books you were reading, before being thrown into a long-distance relationship. First, your investor meetings had you traveling from San Francisco to Seoul every few weeks and then he set out on the Asian leg of his promotions and mini-tour. The days that you were in the same city were spent staying in bed and ordering take-out (mostly jjajangmyeon to satisfy Namjoon’s cravings), alternating between his apartment and yours.

“Literally nothing? Obviously we’re in the same room! He’s not gonna stop me from staying with my girlfriend who I haven’t seen in like two months.” He looked tired, his brows creased as he massaged his shoulder. Your heart panged wishing you could be there to massage it for him.

“Oh. But what if we get caught?” This was not a new concern. Since day one, you had to ensure that all your dates were private, pretending you both were single at events you were obligated to attend. He had an image to portray and although it sometimes weighed on you that you always had a group of friends with you whenever you went out in public and that you couldn’t hold hands during your outings, you respected him too much to tarnish his career.

“By who? The room service guy?” He rolled his eyes as he now started to punch his shoulders.

“Yes, or fans who hack the security system. I remember some One Direction fans doing that.” You pretended as if some of those fans were not your old university friends. You don’t talk to them anymore, but you have to admit it was hilarious seeing a group of coders hunched over their computers to get access to grainy pictures of Harry Styles walking in the hallways.

“You are so paranoid. We’ll be fine, baby. Trust me.” He dismissed you with a huff as he finally let go of his shoulders and moved on to removing his makeup.

“Also, I didn’t know you told your company.” You both had decided to wait to tell BigHit about your relationship until you were done with this long-distance leg, opting to go in together to announce it. Neither of you wanted to go public so you assumed the meeting was going to be quick and painless.

“I told people who needed to know. Hyung included.” He shrugged.

“Aww, I was looking forward to sneaking around some more!” You joked as he carried his phone to the bathroom to wash his face.

“You’re annoying.” He whined as he put on copious amounts of skincare before dropping on his hotel bed like a brick. Looking at his bare face, his dark circles and tired eyes were much more evident. Tonight’s show must have been really hard on him.

“Aw, do you miss me, baby?” You cooed, hoping to make him laugh. You wanted to hug him, cuddle with him as the little spoon as you usually did when he had a hard day, but all you could do at the moment was make jokes and hope that was enough. Shit, you missed him.

“I always miss you. Phone sex sucks.” He sighed, making himself comfortable among the pillows.

“I knew it! You only like me for the sex.” Just give me one laugh Namjoon, come on. A chuckle, anything!

“Yes and your sexy brain, pretty girl.” He laughed lightly as he stared at you through the screen, the longing in his eyes mirroring yours.

“Hey! That’s my line!” You giggled, relieved to see the crease between his brows finally disappear.

“Fuck! Three more days!” He said excitedly, shaking the phone in his hand making him look more like a crazed anime character with his new pink hair and lopsided glasses than your boyfriend.

“Three more days!” you squealed.

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Your body ached from the thirteen-hour flight as you walked through the lobby of the Metropolitan Detroit hotel with Siwon. Grateful for how organized Namjoon’s company was, you seamlessly checked in and made your way to your suite, dropping off your stuff before meeting Siwon at his to go over the weekend itinerary. Even though you knew he was still in the air since the boys and his flight wasn’t due to land for another five hours, you texted him your safe arrival.

Over the past four months since the gala, Jiyoung’s hard work had started to pay off. You were no longer an unknown entity controlling a company; you were now an “influencer entrepreneur”. Your personal social media, now closely tied to the company, showcasing not only usual photos of you at museums and galleries (courtesy of Namjoon’s camera) but photos of you in boardrooms and speaking at events (courtesy of Siwon’s camera). You had significantly surpassed your corporate accounts in followers over a month ago, with a steady stream coming in after your interview in a fashion magazine of all things (apparently your “street style” was deemed a breath of fresh air for businesswomen) and another stream coming in when you were invited to this year’s class of Forbes 30 under 30. 

Although you usually didn’t care for flashy awards such as this, Jiyoung had worked overtime on your nomination and the fact that you were one of the ten people invited from Korea made you pretty happy. The coverage and clout that came with your invite had made you a role model for young female entrepreneurs and that was something you were actually proud of. When you started out there were barely any female mentors and you wanted to change that, give back to other young women running their own ventures. You were excited to meet women around your age who you could relate to this weekend. This was one of the first years that there were this many women invited, making up almost 40%, and your extroverted self was buzzing. Of course, an added bonus was that out of the ten winners from Korea, one was your boyfriend and six were his bandmates, who were slowly but surely becoming your close friends as well. You had been looking forward to this weekend since it was announced a month ago.

Arriving at Siwon’s room you ordered some lunch and planned out the weekend. Tonight was a free night where you could explore the city and the pre-festival activities, although to be honest after almost two months apart, the only thing you’d be exploring tonight was your boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a brunch meet for all the winners followed by a gala in the evening filled with dancing, dinner, and drinks. Then the next day was the festival, which you were still undecided about wanting to attend or not.

“Honestly, it’s up to you. It seems pretty useless to attend if you want to hang out with Namjoon instead.” Siwon offered as you both started on a pro-con list for reasons to attend.

“I don’t know. What if there are some big clients we could get?” Although you missed him dearly, there was no way you could forgive yourself if you let your heart cloud your judgment.

“Yes, we can definitely teach Detroit some English.” Siwon rolled his eyes. “Most of the companies here are tech companies, too small for our caliber. Take a break. This month’s been tough.”

As much as you wanted to disagree with Siwon, he wasn’t wrong. This past month has probably been the toughest month for you in terms of deadlines and stress in the past two years. With the added pressure of maintaining a public persona, your days at the office had stretched from the usual ten hours to sixteen. Most of the time you would be holed up at your desk going through proposals or stuck in meetings with your board as you planned strategies after strategies for expansion into Japan only to get shut down and asked to reassess by one or multiple of them. On top of that, your evenings were booked with conferences where you were invited to speak, given your new spotlight. Most times when you reached home you barely had the energy to change as you fell into bed, falling asleep under ten minutes, usually with Namjoon on the phone as he went through similar motions. You were stressed. Even this short trip was cutting into your time and although you had made good use of the plane’s wifi to work, there was still one proposal that you would have to finish sometime this weekend. Suddenly, the idea of not going to the festival was looking better, so you relent to Siwon as you bid him goodbye and make your way back to your room.

After a quick shower, you decided to work on the proposal before Namjoon arrived but soon as you sat on the desk typing away, the exhaustion of the day caught up with you, and with your head on the table, you drifted to a dreamless sleep.           

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Namjoon hadn’t been this excited in a long while. He could barely focus on the conversation in the car as he followed the little blue dot on his phone that was showing the way to the hotel. He had texted you as soon as he landed but you hadn’t responded and he was getting a bit antsy.

“Namjoon! Are you paying attention? Hey! I’m talking to you!” He begrudgingly looked up from his phone to see Jin pouting at him annoyed that he missed his comment. He rolled his eyes at him as he launched into a rant about him never listening to his stories. How Jin had this much energy after a twelve-hour flight was lost on him.  

“Let him be. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Yoongi spoke, not even bothering to open his eyes. Although Namjoon was glad that Yoongi had his back, he wished he hadn’t said anything because suddenly everyone forgot about their long flight and started cooing. He felt himself get annoyed as their teasing increased but he couldn’t help the goofy grin that made its way to his face. He couldn’t be mad at them, they all had people at home they were missing, and he was lucky that unlike them he could get a break from missing you and actually hold you in his arms. He wouldn’t tell you but initially, his company had decided to send in their regrets for this event but he may or may not have convinced them to move the shoot for their new music video that was taking place in Los Angeles to next week so they could be here this weekend. If he had to just see you through his screen for another month he was going to go crazy. If it was up to him he would not leave your side at all the next three days.

Namjoon had to restrain himself from sprinting to his room as soon as he was handed the key card. He barely noticed a few of his members following him as he opened the door to spy you hunched over the desk in the corner of the large room, your laptop displaying multiple pictures of your friends and the both of you together. He figured you were asleep but he couldn’t wait to gently wake you up as he usually did, instead opting for screaming a loud “baby” and running to hug your sleeping form.

What he didn’t expect was for you to wake up so startled that you scream and elbow him in the ribs making him stumble backward till his butt met the floor, much to the entertainment of Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook who were cackling in the background.

“Oh my god! Joon?” He could see your face go from confusion to recognition and then into one of the most beautiful smiles he had seen as your puffy eyes go wide. “Joonie!”

You launched yourself from your chair into his arms as you collapsed on top of him in something between a hug and a cuddle as both of you fell to the floor erupting in giggles. Your scent enveloped him and he could feel himself getting delirious. He didn’t know whether it was the long flight or the long-distance but his heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest. He hadn’t been this happy in a long while.

“I missed you!” He exclaimed as he peppered aggressive pecks on top of your head, his arms around your shoulders tightening, making you squirm and laugh. Above you the maknaes squealed a chorus of “cute!”, cooing loudly.

“I missed you more!” You countered, grinning into his chest, before attempting to get up only to be pulled in tighter after Namjoon’s whine. “Babe, we have the whole weekend!”

“Hey! We missed her too! I want a hug!” Jimin mock yelled at Namjoon, who was now sitting up with you on his lap, still not letting you go.

“No. Get your own Y/N.” He pouts, placing a kiss to your shoulder as you giggle. You hadn’t seen this cute clingy side before and you were sure you had heart eyes. Ignoring his whining you managed to wriggle yourself out of his grip and stood up, greeting the boys. You barely talked for five minutes before Namjoon got impatient again and suggested “as their leader” they go rest after the long flight. You all made plans to meet up for dinner and drinks later that night to properly catch up.

You waved bye to the boys as Namjoon pushed them out the door, ignoring their groans. As soon as the door was closed, he grabbed you by the waist, his lips crashing into yours. The kiss was hungry, all tongues, teeth, and desperation. Your arms went around his neck, fingers pulling at his hair as his hands moved lower, groping your ass in an attempt to pull you even closer, grinding against you and making you moan into the kiss. Soon Namjoon was pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming all over your body as yours do on his.

“Missed my pretty girl,” Namjoon says after a few minutes, beaming and panting, his forehead against yours, his hand caressing your sides. Hearing your favorite nickname makes you melt. Even though his heart is beating a mile a minute, heat encasing his body, he hasn’t felt this relaxed in months. Just being in your presence puts him at ease.

“I really missed you.” You reach up to kiss him again, slower this time allowing yourself to relish him after being deprived for so long. He returns the kiss just as tenderly, making your heart melt in your chest as he cups your face, thumbs running over your cheeks. Even though things had started heated, this is what you truly missed, just being in each other's presence.

When you break the kiss, he lifts you up bridal style as you squeal, your arms automatically going around his neck. He grins at you, making you feel the same butterflies you had when you first met him as you poke his dimples, and he carries you to the bed, gently placing you among the pillows before kissing you again.

He was on top of you as you kissed, and you had almost forgotten what it felt to have him there with you as your tongues wrestled, his weight cushioning you to the mattress. Your hands reached the hem of his shirt, pulling it upwards till he sat on his knees to remove it, looking at you with his signature smirk as you ran your hands up his body, feeling the contours of his muscles, enjoying the way his chest flexed under them. That is until his smirk turned into one of the biggest yawns you had ever witnessed.

“Am I boring you, Joonie?” You saw his face flush as he looked at you sheepishly before leaning back over you and kissing your lips before moving on to your jaw.

“I read somewhere that yawns are just your brain's way of getting more oxygen” He whispered while gently kissing your neck, making you moan, as his hands moved under your shirt, roaming over your chest. “And all my blood’s somewhere else now so it makes sense” He kissed your ear, making you giggle.

“Wow your dirty talk sure has gotten scientific.” You couldn’t hold back your laughter as you processed what he had just said, your moans turning into cackles. He nipped at your ear as he leaned up to look at you, a goofy grin on his face.

“I’m out of practice!” He shrugged and pretended to glare at you but it only lasted a few seconds before he started laughing again because this time it was you who was yawning. Somehow the earlier sexual tension fades into comfort as you both get caught into a yawn loop.

“Maybe we should just nap first” you suggest pulling him back to you as you peck his lips.

“I do feel like I do better when I’m well-rested.” He lays on his side pulling you into him, one arm under your head and one around your waist. You hum in approval as you cozy up into him. You kiss as you slowly doze off, the adrenaline of your reunion wearing off into a soft glow of contentment.

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“Y/N! You have to call me oppa. We’re close enough! Stop calling me Mr. Seokjin!” You rolled your eyes as Jin yelled from the couch across from you. You had hung out with him quite a few times and every time he got drunk he insisted on making you call him by the term of endearment. You didn’t mind the term, in fact you called all your older male friends by it since moving to Korea, but riling up Jin till he started rapping was too funny an opportunity to pass up. 

“I can just call you Jin instead if you hate Mr Seokjin?” you smirked as the room around you burst into giggles. You were sitting on the couch in Hoseok’s room, leaning into Namjoon, his arm around your shoulders as he sipped his beer, shaking his head at your antics. After you and Namjoon had become official, you had made it a goal of yours to get to know most of his friends, as he had with yours. Before being separated, you would go out for dinners with your combined friends, and hearing them say they missed you warmed your heart. 

The first time you had had drinks together you had introduced them to King’s cup, one of your favorite drinking games from university, and their penchant for petty competitiveness and gross punishments made the game and you a regular occurrence whenever a few of you had free time together. In fact, Jungkook was so into it that he brought a deck of cards on tour to carry on the tradition, even though you had shown him multiple apps that could do the same. The same deck of cards was the one sprawled around the cup filled with Taehyung’s strawberry daiquiri, Siwon’s IPA, and Yoongi’s whiskey on the coffee table. No one was looking forward to pulling the next king card. 

The room was a bit crowded, filled with people. Although dinner was just you and the boys catching up, everyone had decided to invite the boys’ stylists and managers, as well as Siwon, for drinks. Hoseok had lost the game of rock, paper, scissors so he was made the begrudging host. 

“I’m older than you. You can’t call me just Jin!” he pouted, red cheeks puffed and arms crossed across his chest.

“Yeah by five months!” This is how this argument always went. It was pretty much scripted at this point, as evident by Taehyung who was gleefully mouthing the words before they even came out of your mouths. He’ll argue that Yoongi still called him hyung, you’d retort that’s because Jin forced him and that he was dumb for following through, Yoongi would then interrupt saying that he was still one month older than you and you’d rile up Jin more by calling Yoongi oppa the rest of the night while he would complain about you disrespecting Korean culture and you’d annoy him by telling him that he was disrespecting Canadian culture by not letting you use just his first name. You’d finally relent after seeing him stew only to pick up the same argument the next time you all drank together.

“Stop arguing and pick a card!” Hoseok whined, his sweet demeanor slowly phasing into his zombie persona with each sip of his drink. You loved hanging out with him but the man could not handle his alcohol. Namjoon kind of felt bad that Hobi was the host. He would normally offer him his bed once he inevitably passed out but Namjoon had other plans for his bed once this party was over.

Jin obliged as he picked up a card, careful not to break the circle lest he was forced to down his concoction of mini bar liquor and fruit punch. He picks up a jack, requiring him to start a game of Never Have I Ever.

“Alright, never have I ever disrespected Kim Seokjin.” He said smugly, looking straight at you egging you on to drink. You oblige by raising your glass to him before sipping your drink. To Jin’s annoyance, almost everyone else did that same thing, causing him to grumble.

“Okay that was a boring waste of a question,” Jimin states, rolling his eyes, already drunk sitting on the couch’s arm next to Namjoon. “Let’s make the couples here uncomfortable. Never have I ever had sex in public.”

Surprisingly, Namjoon, you and a stylist are the only ones that drink, making Jimin scream a loud “Kinky!” and prompting Sejin to start his lecture on being careful in the public eye since you were pretty known now and the press would have a field day. Before he can get into the full swing of his chiding, you decide to save you and Namjoon by protesting that you didn’t even hold his hand in public, let alone do anything else, and suddenly the whole atmosphere in the room changed. All eyes went from Namjoon to the stylist, with him glaring at Jimin and her awkwardly downing her drink before leaving. Confused and drunk, you don’t hesitate to ask what’s wrong in the silence that ensues, till it finally dawns on you. That’s the ex he worked with. Oh.

Namjoon could see the gears turning in your head as you put two and two together. He was going to kill Jimin and then himself. Why didn’t he think before taking a sip? He wanted tonight to end with you in his arms, not with you mad at him over something that happened two years ago. However, before he could think of how to make it up to you - maybe he could get you flowers or that whiskey you really like - you laugh, breaking the tension in the room.

“It’s okay guys, everyone has exes!” Still giggling you sip your drink while Jimin apologizes, waving him off. “Why would I get mad at this?”

That caused the room to return back to normal, people resuming the game and enjoying their drinks, but Namjoon was still confused. He knew you were a pretty rational person, but he had just told the whole room of your friends that he fucked his ex in public when you confirmed that he wouldn’t even hold your hand. Surely, he wasn’t wrong to assume that you would be at least a little peeved, but here you were laughing along at Jungkook’s stupid jokes without batting an eyelid. Before he could dwell too long on it, it was your turn to pull a card - pulling a king and effectively ending the game.

“Ewwww. I hate this. Ugh. Is this punishment for introducing you all to this game?” You scrunch your nose sniffing the liquid in the cup as the whole group chants “chug!”. Before you can put it to your lips, Namjoon grabs the cup from you.

“Allow me.” He says as he chugs the drink, almost in one shot, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and barely concealing the shiver that runs through him at the disgusting taste. Half the crowd boos as the other half coos at the chivalrous gesture. You can’t help smiling sweetly at him as he grimaces, and putting your arms around his waist pulling him in an embrace, exclaiming an overly exaggerated “My hero!”.

“Anything for my girl!” He says as he returns your hug and cups your face. “But you gotta suffer the taste with me!”

You’re not one for public displays of affection but you let him pull you into a sloppy kiss, almost forgetting your surroundings as he deepens it, his hand gripping your waist, his tongue tasting mostly of fake strawberry flavoring. Before you can get too carried away, you are interrupted by Yoongi, poking you both and wedging himself between you when you separate.

“Stop being gross! Some of us are single!” He says, making himself comfortable with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Awww hyung! They are so cute! Let them be gross!” A drunk Taehyung exclaims, clapping gleefully from the floor where he’s laying in Jungkook’s lap.

“Yeah! Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona are OTP!” Jungkook says as he sips his wine, almost dribbling it down his chin.

“Nobody says OTP anymore, kid.” Yoongi drawls but refuses to move from his position. “Plus I’m the one responsible for this okay? Your OTP would be nothing without me.” He looks smug as he finishes his sentence, sipping his drink and shrugging his shoulders. Namjoon and you exchange a smirk at his remark and proceed to hug your grumpy friend tightly from both sides much to his over the top protests. Namjoon was truly grateful Yoongi had given him the courage to speak to you that night. He can’t even begin to explain the impact you have made on his life. As he looked at you tipsy and giggling, now arguing with Yoongi over which Kanye album was the best, he felt his heart blossom. You were beautiful and he was in love with you. He was sure you weren’t there yet but he promised himself that before this trip was over he was going to tell you without chickening out at the last moment like the last four times. 

The party comes to an end soon after. Hoseok almost passes out after his third nursed drink and Sejin has the right mind to kick everyone out while Namjoon and Jimin help Hoseok to his bed, your heart warming as your equally drunk boyfriend forces him to brush his teeth and get into bed. Once Hoseok is firmly tucked in, Namjoon turns to you and squats.

“Get on!” He smiles looking at your direction.

“Joon we’re like two doors down. Get up!” You giggle tipsily at his offer to piggyback you.

“I wanna carry you!” He pouts against your protests, finally giving up on the piggyback after asking three times and instead draping you over his shoulder as you squeal. 

“You’re gonna hurt your shoulder!” You scream but your protests go unheard, even as you take the opportunity to smack his butt from your position, a smack that he returns with a warning to behave, but you’re feeling drunk and cheeky as you continue to smack him, even going so far to rap to the beat that you’re making as he unlocks the door to your room.

He tosses you on the bed, pinning your arms above your head before you can wrap them around him and smirks at you, his eyes full of mischief.

“See, I was going to apologize for my ex but you had to go and be a brat.” He kisses you breathless as he takes both your hands in one of his while the other moves under your shirt, raising goosebumps where it caresses your stomach.

“Apologize for what?” You pant as he breaks the kiss, and he can see the confusion on your face.

“You’re not mad?” Now it’s his turn to be confused. He was sure you were mad. He would’ve been mad. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still thinking about it since the awkward incident.

“That you had sex with your ex-girlfriend while you were dating her?” You do a dramatic gasp as you giggle at his dumbfounded expression.

“Yeah… and told our friends about it.” He looks at you sheepishly, his earlier dominant persona fading into your soft boyfriend. His hand loosens its grip on yours as he searches your eyes for any signs of hurt, his eyebrows scrunched.

“Joon you fuck too good to have been a virgin when we met.” You lift one hand to poke at the crease between his brows as you laugh and he holds your wrist, still gauging your expression.

“You’re not mad? Or… jealous?”

“Pfft. I know I fucking rock your world better than she ever did.” You try your best to do a hair flip from where you lay under him, failing miserably and making him laugh, his head coming to rest on your shoulder.

“That you do, baby. That you do.” He pecks your shoulder as he moves to your neck, kissing up to your jaw before crashing his lips onto yours. As your hands go to his hair, he brings them back over your head, breaking your kiss but not before pulling your lower lip with his teeth, coaxing a moan from you. “But you’re still getting spanked for being a brat.”

You feel his deep voice reverberate through to your core as you look at the lust in his eyes and feel yourself getting wetter. He kisses you again, his arm hooking under your waist as he sits up pulling you with him, making you gasp at the sudden movement, your arms going around his neck. Your heart’s beating a mile a minute as you make out in his lap, grinding slowly. Even after months of being together you still can’t get used to how easily his switch to this persona turns you to putty. You whimper as his hands find your ass, his fingers groping the muscle hard enough to bruise.

“Get naked.” If you were wet before, you’re dripping now as he moves you off his lap, sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs spread and leaning on his elbows. You decide to make a show of it, jumping off the bed and slowly peeling off the layers. You smile over your shoulder as you rid yourself of your bra, watching him smile, eyes hooded, from where he watches relaxed. Your hands find the waistband of your jeans, slowly unbuttoning them and shimmying out of them, swaying your hips as you do. You’re sure you would find this strip tease embarrassing if it weren’t for how his hungry eyes drink in every expanse of new skin exposed. You bend down to give him a view of your ass as you pull your panties off, a thread of your slick following them as they reach the floor, making him groan loudly. “Fuck. I love your ass.”

You drape yourself on his lap, the material of his jeans on your bare skin making you shiver in excitement as he gently caresses your behind. “Since you love rapping so much, how about you rap that song from earlier, hmm?” he says as he lands a loud smack without warning making you jump at the contact. The sharp pain quickly ebbs into pleasure as he soothes the heated skin under his big palm. “What’s your safeword?”

“Rap monster.” That is not your safeword, but your drunk self thinks it’s the funniest joke as you giggle looking up at him to see his face crack into the smallest of smiles before reverting back to a stern look as he glares at you.

“Seems like someone doesn’t want to cum tonight.” He smacks you again, harder this time making you gasp before you’re apologizing at his threat. Namjoon watches your skin bloom red as he tries to maintain his composure. Trust you to make jokes even when he’s spanking you, and trust him for finding it funny.

“Sunflower! It’s sunflower!” you yell as his hand lands yet again on your ass.

“Good girl. Let’s hear that rap then.” You’re not even sure what song you’re mumbling as his hand rains on your behind, each spank making you wetter till you’re dripping down your thighs and whimpering in his hold.

“Fuck so wet for me.” He hisses as his fingers trace your swollen folds making you jump and mewl as he lightly caresses your throbbing clit. He leans down to kiss your red cheeks as he guides you off his lap and on to the bed and lies on top of you, smiling brightly as he cups your face to kiss you, slow and deep. “You did so well, baby. You’re really into ASAP nowadays aren’t you?”

“You really need some variation in the playlists you send me.” You quip, chuckling as you gently guide his face back to yours, kissing him again, his tongue intertwining with yours. As he leans on one elbow, his other hand makes its way down your body, stopping briefly to tweak each nipple and making you moan before he reaches the apex of your thighs. His fingers dip in you slightly gathering your arousal before starting to circle your clit as he starts kissing your neck, suckling the spot he knows makes you go crazy. It’s like your whole body’s on fire as he finds a rhythm, driving you quickly towards the edge, your mind turning blank as eyes squeeze shut and your lips moan his name. You’re so close and he can feel it by how your nails dig into his shoulders, making him hiss, but before you can cum he moves his hand away, bringing his fingers to his lips to clean them as he watches you glare at him with a whine.

“You really think I’ll forget your little joke earlier?” He whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than usual, as he nips on it before sitting up between your legs and unceremoniously stripping himself of his shirt and jeans. The sight of the bulge in his boxers makes your walls clench around nothing as you stare at him open-mouthed. Enjoying your reaction, he places one of your legs on his shoulders, the back of your knee fitting perfectly next to his neck as he moves back towards you, his clothed length pressing against your core as he kisses you again roughly, making you whimper as his hands dig into your sides. Your leg burns as he licks and kisses down your jaw towards your chest, his lips taking a nipple and rolling it around with his tongue. You’re sure he can feel your wetness seep through his boxers as he grinds into you agonizingly slow. He nips at your chest and you moan as your back arches off the bed into him.

He continues his slow kisses down your body turning you into a writhing mess under him. You think you’re going to lose your mind by the time he gets past your hip bone and places a chaste kiss on the top of your mound before moving on to your thigh, nibbling at the sensitive skin and paying no attention to your dripping core making a mess of the sheets.

“Joon please…” you beg, rolling your hips to entice him as he pays you no mind, placing an arm over your hips to halt your motion and continues to mark your other thigh. When he’s fully satisfied by his work, he places his forearms under your thighs and pulls to close to his face, licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted; your earlier orgasm picking back up as your back arches off the bed, the moan emitting from you barely sounding like yourself. You clasp a hand over your mouth in shock as he continues licking you, his tongue expertly flicking at your clit before he adds two fingers inside you, the digits slipping in easily, making your walls clench around them. He hooks his fingers and you try to grind against him to no success as his arm pushes your hips into the bed. He relishes your moans as your hand moves from your mouth to grasp at the sheets, the sensation too overwhelming as your eyes close shut. 

“Are you close baby? You’re not allowed to cum till I tell you.” He feels your walls tighten around his fingers as he thrusts faster and a chant of please rolls off your tongue, your hand twisting in your hair. It’s like every cell in your body is alight from your toes to your scalp, tingling as you get closer, your eyes welling up with pleasure. But once again before you can come undone, his fingers slow down to a snail’s pace, his mouth moving away. The frustration builds in you as a few tears escape and your fists punch the mattress.

He chuckles lightly as he sees you pout under him as, your hair a mess, your lips swollen and red from where you’ve bitten them. God, even glaring at him like you’re gonna kill him, you look adorable. Deciding he’s taught you a lesson, he pulls his dick out of his boxers, his tip swollen and weeping with precum, and lines it towards your entrance, teasing you further and gathering your juices.

Your eyes roll back with pleasure as he replaces his fingers with his cock, filling you to the hilt in one swift motion. The stretch combined with his teasing makes your head hazy and you can hear him groan above you as he puts both your legs in the air together, holding them against his chest with one arm as he thrusts into you slow and hard. You feel so much tighter in this position and he has to bite his lip to ensure he doesn’t cum immediately. You can feel every vein and ridge as he moves slowly and deliberately and even at this pace you are getting close.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Joonie… please can I cum? Please I’m so close!” You don’t care that you’re yelling, you’re desperate for release, the earlier tension returning tenfold. You vow to break up with him if he denies you one more time. Fortunately for your relationship, he increases his pace, making you see stars.

“Hold it just a little bit longer baby.” His pace doesn’t falter and you’re writhing against him, a babble of incoherent pleas escaping your lips as your hands try to grab on to his forearm. Your legs are shaking and he can feel your walls tighten harder around him. He increases his speed as your pleas get louder.

“Okay baby. Cum for me.” At his command, your vision goes black and it’s like your body is one big nerve ending, pleasure zipping through you making you cry out his name as you spasm in his hold. He fucks you through your orgasm, pace not faltering, till you go limp, your breath coming out in loud pants as he praises you. “That’s my girl. Good job, baby.”

Without changing his speed, he releases your legs, pushing them to your chest as he leans down and kisses you. The new angle hitting your g-spot as you whine in his mouth at the oversensitivity, but instead of slowing down, he picks up his pace yet again, his fingers coming to trace your sensitive clit, making your head buzz with the overwhelming sensation.

“I can’t… Joon,” you whine as he fucks you hard, panting above you and you can tell he’s close.

“Do you want to use your safeword?” He looks at you with concern, slowing down and closely reading your expression. As you tell him no his hips snap into you again, his fingers working faster on your clit as the pain morphs to pleasure. He’s chasing his release, his movements becoming sloppy.

“Cum again baby. I know you can do it. Come on, that’s it” And soon you’re cumming again, screaming as tears fall down your face and your walls clench around him coaxing him to orgasm. He grunts loudly, moaning your name multiple times, as he cums, painting your walls with his seed. His breath is heavy as he pulls out and watches his cum dribble out of you, using two fingers to push it back in before he collapses on the bed next to you.

He brings his fingers up to your lips and you happily suck on them before he pulls them out and kisses you gently, his hand smoothing your hair. He then puts his arm under your head as he cuddles you into his chest, his other arm pulling your waist into him and his legs over yours. You’ve never felt safer or more comfortable than you do tangled up in him.

“Are you okay?” He asks as he gently caresses your cheek, wiping your runny mascara with his thumb, kissing you once again.

“Holy fuck. That was-” Your voice is hoarse from your screaming and you have to clear your throat a couple of times before you can speak clearly. “That was amazing.”

“Phew! The suspense was killing me!” He laughs as you playfully swat at his chest before pulling his lips on yours again. “Shower?”

“Yes. But this time you really have to carry me.” You raise your hands grabbing at the air as he stands up.

“I got you, pretty girl.” He grins widely, his eyes scrunched together, as he kisses your forehead, picking you off the bed and carrying you to the bathroom. 

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

Namjoon looked at you from across the room as you chatted with a group of women with a cup of coffee, your breakfast untouched, totally distracted from the guy who was telling him about some app he had made for producers to make it easier to find samples. He rarely got to see you in your professional element. In fact, the only time he had seen you was during the gala and he felt an unparalleled surge of pride. The way you carried yourself was so different than when you were with him. It wasn’t that you weren’t relaxed, it was just effortless - the way you seemed to answer each question with confident authority, the way you gave advice to people who were probably much older than you, and especially the way you tried to engage the quieter people of the group in conversations. It reminded him of why you had caught his eye the first time he met you, and why he was so unbelievably whipped for you. Your duality of being goofy and sexy when you were alone to being this serious vat of knowledge and experience when networking made him weak in the knees.

“So do you think you would use it?” The founder of the sampling app, Lee Seungmin, asked Namjoon. Seungmin was one of the other people invited from Korea, and seemed pretty adamant on selling his product to Namjoon. It took all of his energy to rip his gaze away from you.

“I’m sorry I missed that. What did you ask?” Namjoon asked politely, looking at the shorter, much chubbier man dressed in slacks and a shirt with his company logo on it.

“Wouldn’t blame you. She’s really hot, eh?” Seungmin jokes, making Namjoon choke on his coffee. Although he knows that this guy isn’t privy to your relationship, it makes him a little annoyed at his comment. Who was he to dare objectify you?

“Yes, but I don’t think they invite people here for their looks.” He couldn’t help how curt his tone was effectively shutting him up and making him move away to talk to someone else at the table. Namjoon would feel bad if he didn’t overhear him start the conversation about you with the next guy. Rolling his eyes, he went back to his lunch, talking to Hoseok and Yoongi instead, wishing this brunch went by faster than it did. He was getting sick of people trying to suck up to him or sell him something. Someone even had the audacity to ask him to pose with their product so they could put it on their website. He politely declined, but the thinly veiled attempts at using him and his members for clout were starting to get on his nerves. He could feel himself getting stressed, much like he did when he had to pretend to be perfect for the media, and falling back into the headspace of last month - cloudy, annoyed, and frustrated.

He was relieved when you both arrived back at the room. You held his arm for support as you leaned down to take off your heels, sighing in relief as your feet met the flat ground.

“God, I hate heels!” You exclaimed as you walked over, dropping your blazer on the ground and plopped on the couch, stretching your feet. Namjoon picked your jacket off the floor, draping it on one of the chairs as he situated himself on the other end of the sofa, putting your legs on his lap.

“Since when do you wear heels?” He asks, as he gently runs his hands over your legs, covered with a pair of navy pants.

“Too often nowadays.” You sigh with your eyes closed, and he can’t help frowning at how tired you looked, even though it’s barely past 2 pm.

“You okay, babe? Want a foot massage?” He doesn’t wait for your answer as he starts massaging your feet, smiling as you relax further into the couch.

“Shit. That feels good!” You moan as you relax. “You know they don’t give Grammys for best boyfriends, right?”

“I’m offended you think I’m doing this for something as dumb as a Grammy.” He chuckles, but he knows you well enough to know that you’re avoiding the topic. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s nothing. I’m just stressed about work. Don’t worry about it.” At that you pull your legs from under his hands, walking over to grab your laptop before sitting on the couch again to start working, eyebrows furrowed as soon as you open the your laptop. Namjoon knows he shouldn’t take your dismissal to heart, but he can’t help be taken aback by your lack of openness. You always told him what was on your mind and he felt his heart ache that you didn’t want to share what was wrong. He couldn’t fully blame you. He hadn’t told you about his stresses this past month either, but unlike him, you hadn’t even noticed he was stressed. It made him a little wary, bringing his thoughts back to last night and your reaction, or lack thereof, to meeting his ex. As much as it hurt him, maybe he was right after all. You didn’t love him yet. He sighed as he got up to grab his book, hoping that he could change that before leaving you tomorrow night.

After a few hours of work, you started to feel bad for ignoring Namjoon. He had been nothing but doting this whole trip and you hated yourself for having to finish this proposal this weekend. Feeling your brain turn to mush anyways, you stretched as you walked over to your suitcase, watching your boyfriend who seemed to be engrossed in his book. You felt guilty for avoiding his questions earlier but you could see how stressed he had been from work - in fact, Jungkook had told you as much over text last week when he shared that Namjoon had collapsed during rehearsals. You knew how empathetic he was, he would do everything in his power to make sure you were feeling good, so how could you burden him with your stresses when he had so many of his own. Sure this last month had been hell and you were barely functioning but if you told him that, you know he would worry about you, and you would rather bottle everything up than have him worry.

Reaching into your suitcase, you took out his favorite packet of ramen, hiding it behind your back as you moved over to stand in front of him.

“I got you a present.” You bent down till you were face to face as he looked up at you with a smile and kissed him gently.

“I think you’ve already given me this present.” He said as he cupped your face and kissed you again, lingering longer.

You laugh as you straighten up and pull the ramen from behind your back, watching his eyes go wide in excitement as he grabs it, his dimples poking his cheeks as he hugs you. You knew he always missed home when on tour even if it was just an Asian tour, and his ramen cravings were the top priority when he arrived back to Korea. You hoped this would cheer him up as you grabbed the packet and walked over to the kettle, starting the water.

“Speaking of presents, I was saving this for tomorrow, but now I’m excited.” He says before grabbing the slim velvet box from his bag and walking over to you, wrapping you in a back hug as you pour the seasoning from the packet into the cup of dry ramen. He puts the box in front you and opens it, making it now your turn to go wide-eyed.

Inside the box is a necklace with the most delicate gold chain holding a pendant shaped like a gold slice of pizza with pepperoni made of small rubies. It would seem tacky if it didn’t look so intricate. No one had given you a gift that was so you, and it made you speechless.

“I know it’s cheesy but I saw it in Tokyo and it reminded me of our first date, but if you don’t like it I can take it back and I’m sure I can return it, I mean they gave me a gift receipt and everything.” Namjoon knew he was rambling but you were eerily quiet and the fact that he couldn’t see your face made him uneasy. 

“It’s perfect,” you whisper as you turn around, your eyes glistening as you wrap your arms around his neck. He was alarmed. You never got emotional, even when you both watched Up together you barely showed any signs of being moved while he was sobbing. 

“It was meant to be for our 100 day anniversary next week but I thought I’d give it early.” He pressed his forehead to yours, drinking in your smile as he held you tighter.

“I’m literally the worst girlfriend. I forgot about that.” You frowned as you looked away before you looked back at him, your eyes wide. “Oh my god! I only got you ramen! What the fuck is wrong with me?!”

“Y/N… Relax. I didn’t get you a present for you to get me one. Plus I know you’re nothing without your calendar app. I swear you’d forget to eat without it.” He laughed trying to reassure you as he kissed your frown away. “If anything it’s Siwon’s fault for not programming it in there.”

“I don’t deserve you.” You sigh as you hug him tightly, making Namjoon’s heart swoon as you ask him to put the necklace on you. He does so, kissing the nape of your neck where he clasps it and telling you that you deserve the world. You wanted to tell him you loved him before you chickened out again but before the words could make it out of your lips his were against them.

Later that night, he feels even happier as he sees you wear it to the gala. Even though he knows he can’t hold your hand, the fact that you have a symbol of his love for you around your neck makes him giddy.

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

“Joon, seriously. I have to get this done.” You giggle as he kisses your neck, moving the strap of your tank to the side as he continues lavishing you in kisses. Namjoon was impatient. He had spent the whole night watching you from afar. He’d be damned if he had to wait any longer to have you in his arms. Work can go to hell.

To say that Namjoon hated the gala would be an understatement. First, you and Yoongi ended up unintentionally matching, and he found himself irrationally jealous at the fact that his stylist didn’t choose the Louis Vitton outfit for him so he could match with you. Second, even though all the attendees were placed on tables according to country, you had decided to sit next to none other than Lee Seungmin, the creep checking you out at brunch, who wasted no opportunity to shamelessly flirt with you, even going so far as to put his hand on your thigh a couple of times. The number of times you politely rejected him for him not to get the hint made Namjoon’s blood boil, so much so that Jin had to poke him to relax his face lest the photographers captured his reaction. And lastly, when he had to watch you dance with some old men as you were too polite to refuse, while they leered at you. Through it all, Namjoon could just watch helplessly as you seemed more uncomfortable. Now that you were both back to your room and in your pajamas, he just wanted to hold you before all the jealousy and insecurity of the night caught up with him. He knew if he kissed your neck enough, you’d soon comply.

“Do it later. We only have till tomorrow. Let’s watch a movie together?” He gives you another kiss that makes your breath hitch, a soft moan escaping your lips. Before you can get too carried away, you move his head away from you, sighing and gathering all your self-control. If you didn’t finish this proposal today you’d be in big trouble - like losing a multimillion-dollar contract big trouble. As much as you wanted to just forget work existed, you had to take a two-hour reality check on this trip.

“I can’t do that. Please understand.” You looked at him softly, but Namjoon couldn’t help getting annoyed. Didn’t you yearn for him like he did at that gala? Were you happy to be hit on by those creeps?

“Are you seriously being like this right now?” He scoffed, pulling away from you, eyebrows knitted together. Namjoon couldn’t understand why you had to work right now. You had been apart for so long, didn’t you want to spend as much time with him as he wanted to with you?

“Like what? I told you I need to have this done by tomorrow.” He could hear the familiar edge in your voice. You were starting to get annoyed.

“Do you know how much groveling I had to do to get this weekend together and you’re going to waste it on stupid work?” He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. You didn’t know he “groveled”, as far as you were aware this was part of his schedule. Why was he being so difficult all of a sudden? It’s not like you had a choice. Does he think you would seriously spend time away from him if you didn’t have to?

“Are you seriously mad at me for taking two hours, two hours, out of three days to finish some work?”

“Yes because these three days are all we get together for the next month.” Namjoon knew he was being stupid, two hours were not a big deal, but at the moment he couldn’t help but feel abandoned like somehow the scales in the relationship had tipped where the balance of affection was off. He cared so much for you, why couldn’t you feel the same?

“Oh don’t be dramatic. I will be done soon.” You snapped, your attention turning back to the screen. If Namjoon was going to throw a tantrum there was no reason for you to indulge him.

“Don’t dismiss me like that. You’re the boss, just tell the people to wait. Or delay it.” He walked closer to you, shutting your laptop, standing with his arms crossed. He wanted your full attention, and he was going to demand it. He hated how condescending you were being.

“Are you kidding me? I can’t do that. This is for a client.” You stand up facing him, anger flowing through you, indignation plastered on your features. Even though he was significantly taller than you, your glare could have made anyone feel small.

“Just do it later and apologize.” Namjoon knew he was being stubborn, but the reason for the fight was forgotten, he just wanted you to admit that you were wrong. As childish as it seemed, he wanted to win. 

“What the fuck? I have a whole company that I need to pay, I can’t just skip shit.”

“Oh don’t give me that bullshit. Missing one deadline won’t make you miss payroll - you’re not a struggling small company anymore.” That hit a nerve, he could see it in your eyes as they flared with anger. He would feel bad for making you angry if he weren’t so happy to get a reaction.

“The fucking hypocrisy. Sure Namjoon, have RM miss a concert. It’s okay you’re not a struggling small band anymore!” You poked him in the chest as you moved closer. He hadn’t seen this side of you before. You had never been angry with him before. You had never fought like this before. Your anger only seemed to fuel his. He had no control over his schedule, you did. Why couldn’t you understand that fundamental difference?

“That is not the same thing. You are overworking yourself for no reason.” He was talking with his hands, you knew he only acted like that when he was pissed, but you were not going to have any of this petty behavior. For all his bull and bluster about being a feminist, he’s going to pull this shit on you? His job is great and not stressful or busy but when it comes to you he’s going to pull the overworking card? When he literally collapsed during rehearsal last week and hid it from you? You were livid.

“You’re going to talk to me about overworking?” You laughed sarcastically, your eyes burning. “Oh is it not the same thing because it's my job and not yours?” 

“You know that’s not what I meant. Whatever. Fuck this. Enjoy writing your proposal!” Namjoon couldn’t argue anymore. He felt his anger rising to a point where he knew he was going to say something he regretted if he hadn’t already. Using his one remaining rational brain cell, he walked out of the room, not before maliciously slamming the door behind him.

“I will!” you screamed into the empty room, panting with anger as you picked up the water bottle on your desk and threw it across the room, tears in your eyes.

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

Y/N: Have you seen Namjoon? He’s not responding.

Yoongi: Isn’t he with you?

Y/N: No.

Yoongi: What happened?

Y/N: Nothing, we just had an argument and I haven’t seen him. It’s been two hours.

Yoongi: Okay don’t worry. We’ll find him.

Y/N: Thanks Yoongs

Yoongi: Where are you?

Yoongi: Hello?

Yoongi: Namjoon. Answer your phone.

Yoongi: Y/N is really worried about you

Yoongi: Listen Namjoon if you don’t answer in the next five minutes, I’m reporting you missing

Yoongi: Enjoy that press 

Namjoon: Stop calling me. I’m fine.

Yoongi: No. Where the fuck are you?

Namjoon: I’m just on the roof.

Namjoon: Please don’t come here. I just want to be alone.

Yoongi: Are you okay? Y/N told me you guys had a fight

Namjoon: I’ll be fine. Don’t tell her where I am.

Yoongi: Okay. Text me if you need a friend.

Namjoon: Thanks hyung.

Yoongi: He’s on the roof. He said he’s fine, but not to tell you.

Y/N: Thanks friend

Yoongi: You should go find him

Y/N: He doesn’t want me, there he made that clear

Yoongi: I’ve known him and lived with him for a decade, trust me. He needs you.

Y/N: Okay, but if we break up it’s on you.

Yoongi: Just go find him Y/N.

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

Namjoon rubbed his face as he sat on the rooftop of the hotel, his back against the railing. Replying to Yoongi he tossed his phone aside. He’d been sitting here for the past couple of hours his anger dissipating into guilt far too quick. Dried tears streaked his face as he tried to gather the courage to go back to the room. 

He was scared. The image of your angry face as he dismissed your work popping in his head. He didn’t know why he did that. He respected what you did, but he felt like a hypocrite. All his exes he dismissed when they asked him to take care of himself and not overwork. All the times they came to his studio to force him to leave, only to have the same look of anger that you gave him. He laughed bitterly as he pulled his legs to his chest.

At the edge of the guilt, he could feel it again, the same feeling he’d had since the comeback started, a sort of brain slush. Like a haze shackling him in place. He had felt it many times before but it was never this strong, this force of unproductivity, making him want to forget everything and hide. The stress of this comeback wasn’t any different than other ones. He always made it a priority to write new music in between promotions and shows but his creative block from four months ago was back and nastier. He could feel it gnaw at his neurons, forcing him to stay awake for hours after he should be in bed staring at a blank Ableton file. Usually, he could trick his mind out of this fog by working harder, but lately, it was like it was getting thicker seeping into every aspect of his life, painting his vision sepia, making every movement robotic. 

He remembers when encouraging messages from ARMY would make him happy, excited to make more music for them but nowadays it just made him feel guilty. He wasn’t doing enough for them, he couldn’t even string together a series of 808s without it sounding like a gimmick or worse like plagiarism. Last week he had fucked up so bad that his body shook from the memory. He had stayed up all night in some sick form of self-harm, scrolling through hate comments on Twitter then Reddit. He was never sadder to know multiple languages because even if the characters were different the messages were the same. He was a shitty musician, too overhyped by fans, his awards were bought by his company, his dances sucked, he tried too hard, and of course that he was too ugly to be an idol. His rational side would argue that these messages were meant to hurt him, his friends and you would comfort him by telling him they were lies, but he never told anyone about this habit, and his rational side often lost out. If anyone asked why he did this he would say to fuel another song, but he knew the real reason - he just couldn’t stop. So he stayed up all night till his eyes were dry and scratchy from staring at the screen, and had three espresso shots before the show even though he hated espresso, his body eventually giving out during rehearsals. He got quite a few lectures about that. A leader’s job is to set a good example. You have been doing this for so long, be a professional play in your limits. But there were no limits, not when it literally took a mantra of just “power through it” to get out of bed and shower.

He had been hoping this weekend would solve everything - that seeing you would solve everything. As he sat on the roof, the first few drops of rain falling on him, he curled in further into himself. It wasn’t your responsibility to make him happy, clear the fog, but you had done it the first day. His mind felt clear but it was gone too soon. He didn’t know when it happened but he could see it after a while that you didn’t feel the same way he did. You didn’t crave to be next to him like he did, speaking affirmations in his ear as he did in yours. Hell, even when you saw his ex for the first time, you barely reacted. Maybe it was the way you were so adamant that he not leave any marks because you might not be able to cover them this weekend, or the way you made sure to not sit next to him at the gala even when you were seated on the same table by some stroke of luck. You didn’t love him like he did, and he would be happy with scraps, but he couldn’t afford to miss you more than he did. He laughed again, cackling maniacally, as he realized where he was: a rooftop in the middle of a downpour, just because you once said rooftops had magical healing powers. There was nothing healing about being alone looking at lights shining in offices no one was in - it was lonely.

He was so desperate to feel anything other than this fog that even anger was a better option. Maybe he wanted you to put him out of his misery, leave him as he was sure you would eventually before he burdened you with more of his fucked up life before he relied on you further just to have his legs cut out from under him. He sighed, shivering even though the rain was warm, resting his head on his knees. Could he survive if you left him tonight, justly so?

“Joon…?” You call out as you reach the rooftop, searching for him through the rain.

“I told hyung not to tell you. I wanna be alone” You barely hear him mumble from the corner and you make your way over to the dark figure. He’s hunched in on himself, his arms around his knees, his face in his hands and it breaks your heart. Your boyfriend is a tall, broad man who can easily throw you across the room if he wants to, but at this moment, he looks small, almost tiny. It takes everything in you to not just go and wrap him in your arms. 

“Namjoon, what are you doing?” You squat in front of him, resting your hands on his arms. You wouldn’t usually push him like this when he seems distraught, you knew he didn’t respond too well to direct conflict but you needed him to let you in, your inherent need to fix going into hyperdrive. When he refuses to look at you, you cup his face and pull it up firmly to look into his eyes. He looks like he’s been crying and it makes your eyes well up. “Look at me. Why are you driving me away?”

With nowhere to run, all he can see is your face, your eyes puffy, red-rimmed and glassy, your nose a dusty pink. He made you cry. He made the person he was supposed to take care of cry because he got pissy over something she couldn’t control, something he was guilty of as well. All his guilt bit at his chest again and he hated himself. You didn’t deserve this. You should leave him. Why were you here in the rain trying to comfort him when he was such a useless asshole?

“Fuck... I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice sounded hoarse and broken, and he knew all the apologies in the world wouldn’t make him worthy of forgiveness. He wished you’d just leave and let him wallow in the rain by himself - he deserved that. Tears filled his eyes and he hoped the rain would ensure they were invisible.

“Hey, hey. Baby, it’s okay.” You kissed him on the forehead, settling on your knees in front of him. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, his hands on top of yours, gripping your hands a little too tight.

“I… don’t know why I picked a fight.” He averted his gaze, not having the courage to look at you.

“It’s okay.” You move your hands to the back of his neck as he places his on your shoulders, opening his legs wide enough for you to move closer, your forehead against his as you caress the hair on his nape. 

“No, it’s not. Fuck! It’s like when I saw you yesterday I could finally breathe! I’ve felt so numb these few months but when I saw you, it’s like I could finally be happy.” He cups your face. He knows he needs to be honest but he doesn't know where to start.

“Joonie…”

“And then I could feel it escape again. I felt it. My head getting cloudy like I was slowly going underwater, and I don’t know… I just… I can’t ask you to be responsible for my happiness. It’s not fair to you. I can’t. I can’t.” He knows he’s not making any sense but his chest feels tight and he can’t fight his tears anymore as they mix with the raindrops on his cheeks. He can feel himself hyperventilating. He doesn’t know why he can’t tell you this without breaking down. What was wrong with him? Maybe that’s why you didn’t love him. Maybe that’s why you never got jealous because you knew he wasn’t worth it. How could he support you when he could barely stand by himself. He was so fucked up. 

“Joonie. It’s okay. Just breathe, okay? You’re okay.” You cradle his head against your chest, kissing the top of his head.

“I can’t lose you Y/N. I can’t be the jealous idiot that I always am and lose you.” He’s clawing at your sweater, pulling you closer than you are, making your eyes well up at his desperation. Why does he think he’s going to lose you? As far as you knew you had never given him any indication of that. You loved him and you couldn’t imagine a future without him.

“Namjoon. Look at me. It’s going to take more than a stupid fight to drive me away.” You pull his face away from your sweater and hold his gaze, his eyes red and still full of tears. The image breaks your heart but you hope you can convey your honesty to him.

“No, but you shouldn’t be with me. I’m fucked up, you know. You deserve better.” His actions speak otherwise as he holds your upper arms in both his hands tight enough to bruise as if you would disappear if he let go.

“Where is this coming from? Namjoon you’re not fucked up, you’re human. I don’t care how fucked up you think you are. I love you.” You look deep into his eyes, urging him to believe you. You had been trying to tell him you loved him all day but you always chickened out, but not now. You needed him to know that you were here for him. You were dying to know what started this, why he felt this way, but you needed him to realize that you had no plans of leaving.

“You… love me?” His voice was almost inaudible as his bottom lip quivered.

“Of course I love you. I love you - good parts and bad parts. I love 100% of you.” You kissed him gently, wiping at his face with your thumbs.

“Why?”

“Cause you’re you. You make me happy, even when you make me mad you make me happy.” You put your forehead against his again as the rain picked up, pelting the both of you. “Just don’t run away from me, please?”

“I don't deserve you. Fuck. I love you so much it scares me.” He kisses you at that, rough and full of yearning. It’s like the first kiss you shared this weekend and it makes your heart ache. Did he feel this way when he saw you again yesterday? Like he didn’t deserve you? You wished you could go into his head and learn all his worries - this did not seem like only work stress to you.

“Hey. I’m scared too okay? It just means it’s real.”

“How do you do that? How do you sound so sure all the time?” His head is on your shoulder as you caress his hair. It seems as if all the energy has been drained from his body as his grip on you loosens and you feel his weight lean on you.

“Because I believe in us. We’re Rapmon hyung and Y/N noona. We’re OTP, remember?” You lift his face and smile at him as he musters a small one of his own, as you kiss him again. “Let’s get out of the rain, okay baby?”

You both are drenched from the rain when you get back to your room, and you lead Namjoon to the bathroom. He just stands there, eyes glassy as you start a bath and grab a towel, drying the rain on his body. Once the bath is full and bubbly, you undress him and guide him in, discarding your own own clothes before climbing in behind him.

“I always sit behind you when we bathe.” He says, voice barely audible.

“Let me wash your hair, is that okay?” you say tentatively, kissing the back of his neck as he nods.

Suddenly, his head snaps up as he speaks loudly, a slight panic in his voice. “I have to use the special shampoo so the colour doesn’t fade.”

“Yeah. I have it right here.” You smile as he relaxes and you foam the shampoo on his pink hair, massaging his scalp gently. You take your time, washing it out before moving onto the conditioner, letting it sit as you massage his shoulders. You hear him sniff as you work at the knots. As you’re washing the conditioner off his hair, he turns at the waist, bringing one hand to your cheek as he looks at you. You realize he was still crying as your own eyes threaten to fill with tears.

“Thank you, Y/N. I… I know I don’t deserve this. Thank you.”

“Shh… I love you Joonie. You deserve this and more.” You kiss him gently on each cheek and then on the lips. You are not sure how to make him believe this but you hope he can see how much you love him as you wipe his tears. Namjoon’s never been this vulnerable with you, never given up this much control, and if you’re being honest it scares you seeing him this way. In a way, you feel helpless. You’re a fixer and there’s just no immediate way to make him feel better, you just have to make sure he knows you’re here for him. 

After you get dressed, he lays in bed as you do his skincare routine for him, running your fingers over his face gently. Namjoon hasn’t felt this way with someone before, so raw but soothed at the same time. He never shows his negative emotions to anyone. Right now it feels like his emotions are a livewire, but the way you gently tap the serums on to his skin, making sure not to miss a spot, he realizes how wrong he was. All the ways he convinced himself you didn’t love him were wrong. You don’t show love through jealousy or possession or even words. This is how you show love - in the quiet of your room making sure that he doesn’t go to sleep drenched from the rain, or skip his eye cream so his eyes aren't too puffy in the morning or at breakfast when you always cut the crust off his bread because he once mentioned he doesn’t like it. He opens his eyes as you say all done and sees you smiling softly at him, some of his confidence coming back. He smiles at you even though it’s difficult, and pulls you to his chest. As you lay on his bare chest for a while, feeling how tightly his arms wrap around you, an idea pops into your head.

“I want to come with you to LA.” You usually don’t make such impulsive decisions, but you could feel that he was not ready to be separated and you were definitely not ready to leave him, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he didn't have a choice so you add, “Is that okay?”

“What about your work?” He asks softly and you can hear his heart beat faster as he awaits an answer.

“I work from home all the time. It’ll be fine.” You rise up slightly to look at him, your chin resting on his chest, making sure to look him in the eyes. “I want to be with you.”

For the first time that night, you see him smile wide enough that his dimples poke through his cheeks and you’re sure you’ve made the right decision.

“I love you, Y/N. Thank you.” He pulls you further so you are fully lying on top of him and as you tell him you love him again, you feel his breath even out, both of you falling into a much need sleep.

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

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[queenlua]

@neongnosis said: can you elaborate? neongnosis said: I’m tired of self-congratulatory and panaceac tourist literature about mental health lol and can’t find else

sure thing!  with the caveat of, i’m only about halfway through the book:

most writing about trauma, mental health, etc, leaves me feeling cold, for a variety of reasons.  first, i’m a picky bitch in general.  second, trauma narratives that are overly tidy and neat, along the lines of “a bad thing happened and then the power of CBT happened and now i am Healed TM,” ring hollow to me, and read too much like self help, or worse, like someone’s selling me something (“i am Healed and you can too!”).  but third, at the other extreme, narratives that are too overtly emotive, that are intent on extrapolating their bad experience hugely solely on the basis of pathos… yeah, not a fan of those either!  sometimes it feels like it’s valorizing living-in-fear as the best way to live?  idk.

(i say this while very specifically refraining from comment on specific narratives, since like, i have idiosyncratic tastes! what works for someone else may not work for me! etc)

anyway, enter Susan Brison’s book.  she is a professor of analytic philosophy—and, a survivor of a rape + violent assault that very nearly killed her.  her formal background means she’s got a razor-sharp mind and deft rhetorical skills.  after her assault, however, she’s disappointed to discover that little of the literature in her field is equipped to help her process her experience.  so she combines her philosopher chops with contemporaneous work by feminist philosophers, legal scholars, anthropologists, etc, and writes about it—using what she’s learned from her assault (and from other survivors’ narratives) to inform a very potent analysis of selfhood and memory, in a way that makes the net result more intelligent and perceptive/thoughtful than it would be otherwise.

the opening chapter is a punchy “account of [the] philosophical issues raised by my assault and the immediate aftermath.”  amusingly, Brison says in the introduction that this chapter was written two years after her assault, and while she’d write it differently nowadays—less angry, less urgent, etc—she leaves the piece as-is, out of a desire to show the arc/development of her ideas over time.

the tenor of that chapter worked well for me, fwiw.  her bearing is understated but powerful and keenly analytical; there’s honestly-interesting sidebars on, e.g. “why do we describe rape as sex minus consent, but we don’t describe theft as gift-giving minus consent; what’s the nature of consent anyway”, and a sidebar on Plato’s thoughts on justified anger, and also, some striking observations i haven’t seen in print in many other places.  (Brison’s experience is that of a quote-unquote “perfect victim”, in the sense that, it was a violent stranger attacking her during daylight in a safe place, which means she’s able to avoid a lot of the usual victim-blaming—but she’s surprised to find that doesn’t make her feel better, because, if she couldn’t have done anything to avoid it, that means it can happen again; in this way victim-blaming can end up being a perverse cope for both victims and bystanders, etc)

she uses that springboard to launch her (very interesting!) account of selfhood and memory, and what trauma teaches us about both.  a pretty common self-description from survivors of trauma is that they died during the event—something which must be metaphorical, since the person is alive enough to tell us about it; what precisely are they gesturing at?  (insert really interesting unpacking of PTSD symptoms & comparing them against various philosophers’ accounts of what constitutes personhood.)  what exactly is it about telling their story, and being heard, that is often so healing to victims?  (insert very interesting account of psych research on the topic, as well as the nature of what it means to be integrated into society, etc)

basically, tl;dr, Brison’s blend of clear-mindedness and humanism really works for me and maybe it’d work for you too!  there’s a wiff of 90s feminism to it, for good and ill, lol, but it’s mostly good shit

[storytime-with-moth]

Writing modern teen Dad Sokka (zukka uni)

I wrote this a few months ago, but I ran out of steam and inspiration, so anyone is welcome to take this on and finish it as their own or take it as a prompt and try there own story.

Summer of grade 11, Sokka and Yue spend the whole summer as lifeguards, soaking up the sun, making each other laugh and dreaming of the future.

One night it’s just the two of them in the pool after it’s closed, you can see the full moon through the windows above, Sokka and Yue lay on floaties driving around the pool.

“Hey Sokka?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

Sokka laughs “Haven’t heard that since I was a kid and I wanted to be and otter penguin - and no I have no idea where that came from.”

Yue turns over so she can look Sokka in the eyes. “Seriously though, what do you want to do when you can leave this small town and its small ideas.

Sokka could tell that there was more behind the question but tired answering it honestly “I dunno exactly “What” I want to be, but I think I would like to build things, useful things too. And I’m not really a car guy or a building guy.”

Yue snorts “Ya not a car guy, says the guy who failed to get his license twice!”

“Hey!” Sokka splashes yue playfully. “Okay okay, I have been looking the some of the research into mixing prosthetics with robotics and focusing more on make prosthetics one with the body, I don’t know much about it yet. But I guess I started reading all about them and I kinda became obsessed.”

“what about hockey?”

“I love hockey, and the coaches at school think I’m good enough to get scholarships, so if hockey helps support an actual career for me I’m all for it, but I know I want to do more than catch pucks my whole life, I want to really use my brain and solve puzzles.”

“hmm” Yue turned over and looked back at the moon thoughtful.

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Well as you so gracefully put it, what do you want to do when you can leave this place that’s too small for you and your big ideas and dreams?”

“Well when you put it like that… I want to travel, see places, important places. I want to fall in love, out of love, I want to have enough friends that my house is always filled with good food and loud laughter. I want to be a Mom someday, I think maybe I want to go to school and study philosophy, not sure what kind of job that leads to but I want to ask questions, the big questions like why are we here, what is a life well spent?”

“Whoa”

“Ya… Whoa”

“and have you talked to your dad about that?

“Sort of, and it sort of didn’t go well.”

“he’s still set on you making the Canadian swim team? Duty to country and family stuff?”

“YeP” she said as she popped the P

“That sucks”

“indeed it does”

They floated around in silence for a bit longer.

“Hey Sokka?”

“Hmm?”

“Do you want to have sex?”

Sokka promptly fell into the water, Yue’s laugh echoing around the empty pool.

They did indeed tumble into bed together that night, an awkward interaction for both of them that ended with the laughing covered in sweat. That morning when Sokka woke up Yue was already sitting on his bed looking at his doodles on the walls.

“Sokka I love you, I do, and I honestly thought maybe I loved you like a girl loves a guy, but I think I just love you because you're my best friend.”

“Ookaaay. I think I should add in you’re my best friend too? Because you’re being weird”

Yue looked to her hands in her lap and a tear fell to her hand. “Sokka, think I might like girls.”

She said it so quietly that it took a second for Sokka to understand what she had just told him.

“Whoa, no I mean, Cool! That’s fine. I support you, wait was I really bad last night?”

Yue’s tears quickly turn into laughs “No you idiot! You ere great, it just wasn’t right”

“Okay well cool then…..”

“Cool then”

“promise you won’t tell?”

“Yue, I promise I won’t tell! I can even pretend to be your boyfriend so your dad can’t freak out, and we can totally go to the girls soccer games this year if you want?”

“Sokka I love you, you big dummy”

“Well I love you to, to the moon and back dreamer”

___________________________________

So Sokka and Yue were still best friends and they spent the fall attached at the hip, and when Yue found out she was expecting a baby and her parents kicked her out, Sokka just grabbed her hand and her backpack and walked into his house stating that Yue lived here now.

Hakoda and Bato nodded and welcomed her home, Katara squealed and fawned over becoming an auntie.

And for a while things were good, they were complicated as they prepared to become teen parents, co parenting as best friends, both of them aiming for scholarships and working part-time gigs whenever they could to save up. But life was happy, they were going to have a baby.

But then things went wrong, Yue went into labour 6 weeks early, her pressure dropped, the baby’s dropped, there was blood, there were doctors everywhere, then there was a small shrill cry, more moving and running and yelling. Then there was a lot of quiet.

Yue died in labour, their baby was in the NICU for three weeks to improve her lungs and even then doctors were worried about how premature she was. Finally after weeks camped out in a hospital next to his baby in a box or in his bed in the dark or the shower staring at the wall, he could bring his daughter home. She was going to be okay.

Her name was Juno Kya Last name, and she was perfect, wide hazel eyes like her Mom, and the sharp cupids bow like Kya, it looked like she would have Sokka’s dark hair and complexion. She watched everything with curious eyes, and didn’t cry unless she was hungry or tired which was often the first few months. But Bato and Hakkoda loved their granddaughter to bits and helped with everything. The diapers, the late feedings, the tummy time, the grieving.

The grieving was the hardest. Mostly because he was to busy trying to be there as a Dad and as a student and as a team player. He spent so long being there for everyone else that one night once hockey season was over and Katara took Juno to a girls sleepover he was all alone, for the first time since he was a little boy after his Mom died.

The dam burst and he sat on the floor and cried, he cried until his Dads came home and they wrapped him up in a hug and he cried some more. Then they made hot chocolate and sat on the couch in thick chewy blankets. They talked and talked, Hakkoda speaking about loosing the love of his life with two young children, being a dad by himself, Bato spoke about loosing his best friend Kya so unfairly and traumatically. The spoke about the unfairness of life and the peace in death, and how he will never move on but he will move forward, with one hand holding his daughter and the other pointing him forward to his own future.

When Katara came home the next day, Sokka was already awake and making blueberry pancakes poorly singing ice ice baby. When he saw his sister holding Juno he scooped her up and gave her a million kisses.

They were going to be okay, because they were loved, because Sokka was smart, because Sokka was going to be driven just like his best friend was, he was going to ask the big questions whenever he could, and love and laugh, so much his home was filled with it.

For Juno and for Yue, and for himself too.

_________________________

So Sokka worked his ass off, he won a full ride scholarship to university for hockey to study bio engineering, he was even able to work on family residence on campus, which took a load off his shoulders of trying to figure out travel to and from school with a baby, now he skates, lives and attends school on campus (which even had a daycare)

During the summer leading up leaving for school Bato revealed that ever since Sokka got into school he has been trying to transfer his job to the same city so they could be closer and he had not only done that but he had gotten a promotion out of it too. So Katara was starting at a new high school for senior year and Bato and Hakkoda were moving to be 20 minutes away from Sokka’s school.

He knew he would have to get used to being more independent, as he knew his dads thought he would be annoyed by them following him, or his sister would be upset about changing schools. But no, katara had high hopes for her new adventure and sokka was just relived to not be alone, and that Juno had more than one badly an adult person in her life.

_________________

Little hands grabbed at Sokka’s hair as he hoisted 9 month old Juno up on his hip. “Well June-Bug this is it our home for the next four or so years”

Juno looked up at her dad with wide hazel eyes and replied in noisy baby babble.

From behind Sokka Bato came up and rested a hand on on his shoulder “Deep breaths kid, you’re going to be great.”

Sokka smiled ruefully at Bato as Katara ran up with a stroller full of baby things and his dad struggled with his hockey bags as he tried to lock the car with one hand.

Sokka looked at Juno again and whispered to her and himself “Deep breaths kid”

Later after they had gotten the crib set up in the attached office to Sokka’s room Bato and Katara took Juno for a walk in her stroller to grab some food. While Sokka and his dad finished unpacking.

“Son are you sure you want to stay on campus, are you sure you want Juno to stay with you? We could take her for the weeks mostly and you could come stay with us at the new place on weekends. I know you expected to do this more by yourself, but Bato would move oceans for you kid and got the new position in town, so we’re here, we can help.”

“Dad… Ya I’m going to need help, so thank you, I will take you up on looking after Juno when I need it, but you and Bato are going to be looking after her as her grandparents and not as her guardians. I promised Yue - Juno and I are family, and I’m not going to pass her off whenever I feel like not being a Dad anymore, she’s my kid and I want to be here for all the stuff, the walking the talking everything, and that’s not going to happen if she’s only my kid on weekends.

“Sokka you’re doing just fine son, more than fine really. Okay okay well when Juno wants to see her Great Papa and GB (Grand Bato) you give us a call, or if you need to pull an all nighter for an assignment you call, anything you call and we can be here. And when you get your game schedule, email us so we can make sure one of us can take her to the games, Bato is very excited about the baby headphones he bought her.”

“Okay Dad Okay, Now get out of here ya old man, and Dad Thanks for being here.”

“Of course Sokka”

________________________

Sokka was pretty pleased with his new place, sure it was small, but it was clean and had more room than he expected to get so he was grateful. The suite was in the family/accessible living accommodations which was a small building with elevators to every floor. This suite had two rooms on opposite sides of the small common area which had a worn in couch and a coffee table. There was also a small kitchen and an even smaller dinner table. Sokka’s room had a small attached office space that he turned into Juno’s room, even though she still co-slept with him most nights, it was good to have a crib for naps and a place to put her never ending supply of diapers, blankets and clothes.

Sokka's roommate was a paraplegic kid named Teo who happened to have basically the same schedule as Sokka so they quickly bonded over advancements in the medical and mechanical fields. Teo also seemed pretty chill and took a liking to Juno right away. Which made Sokka endlessly happy because, well they were now living together and babies cry and poop so he was worried about tiptoeing around his new home.

Day care still didn’t open for the next two weeks while sokka would be attending training camp so his Dad would be taking most of the days with Juno, but it happened to shake out where the first day of meet and greet and skate Hakkoda was attending a support group meeting for retired field medics in a new city and Sokka didn’t want his Dad to miss it, plus it gave Sokka an opportunity to introduce everyone to his best girl.

Katara came to hold Juno while he was on the ice excited to get a sneak peek at university life before her high school year started.

“Da da da” Juno babbled as she mushed her fist into Sokka’s mouth, sokka smiled and pretended to gobble up her hand, the baby shrieked and laughed and Sokka adjusted her baby sweater around her neck.

“Sokka she’s fine, I have diapers, formula, and the big blanket you packet in the stroller, if she gets fussy I can take her for a walk to see the birds, and she won’t get cold because you packed a million layers and she will be held by every limbo there so again, she will be fine.”

Sokka checked the stroller again nodding to what his sister was saying. She was right, he was prepared, he had already emailed with the coaches so they knew what was up and he had coffee with the captain yesterday, who looked like a giant holding his baby, but overall seemed like a good guy. Eric “Wooly Mammoth/ Wooly” Woolner seemed like a solid guy, like physically solid and also like the type of guy Sokka could lean on as a leader while figuring out classes, fatherhood and being on a university level hockey team.

Everyone met in a blank sort of room with lots of chairs facing a projector, Sokka thought it was probably to review game footage and make new plays. He settled in with Juno on his lap as the other guys in the room took notice that there was a baby in their midst.

“Sokka you brilliant man!” Shouted a familiar face from across the room as he stood up and ran over.

Haru was taller and broader than Sokka, much bigger at least than when they last saw each other when they played on the same club team when they were 15.

“Haru, dude! You’re here! Awesome!”

Haru took a look at Juno and sized her up, then he stuck out his tongue and did a silly dance, Juno hid her face in Sokka’s shoulder and Haru ran around so she could see him and did it again. This time he managed to get a small smile before she hid her face again, grabbing Sokka’s collar with her hands.

“She’s cute Socks, she yours?”

“Yep, this is Juno.”

“Nice, is she gonna be at the games and shit?”

“Easy up on the potty mouth there dude, and ya I hope so, my dads moved into town so they hope to be there and bring her to them and stuff.”

“Wicked, is the uh - mom in the picture?”

“Nah, she passed when Juno was born so it’s just us.”

“Sorry bro”

“Thanks, anyways we should totally catch up properly later. Let’s introduce the team to our new good luck charm shall we?”

Katara was right, Juno has passed from bro to dude to himbo, once she realized that everyone one here was as big and cuddly as her dad she seemed to warm up and enjoy the attention. Then it was time for everyone to get on the ice to pass around the puck and do some laps getting a feel for the other players on the ice.

Juno sat with Katara smearing her messy hands all over the glass looking at the people on the rink until she fell asleep in her stroller tucked under a whole blanket.

Sokka enjoyed the team, Haru was a great comfort of home, Wooly was a level headed captain that set a tone for the rest of the guys, then there was Lucas “Longshot” Cho, Dennis “The Duke” Cunningham, Sam “Rooke” Chesterfield, Finn “Pipsqueak” Biggs, and the team manager Suki and the assistant captain Zuko.

All of the guys were loud and boisterous, including Suki, but Zuko seemed reserved and maybe a little prickly.

Then there were coaches Piandao and Bumi. Piandao seemed more serious, the man with a plan. He had coached a lot of different teams and was sought after for his reputation of the coach who turns coal into diamonds, Bumi on the other hand had coached here forever it seemed. He gave Sokka Manic genius vibes that had him thinking that maybe he should let Piandao hold Juno for the occasional practise instead of the ripped crazy old guy who ran around the ice in uggs.

——————

Later when Sokka was packing up and talking to the coaches about potentially bringing Juno with him in case he couldn’t find a sitter last minute working out how that would work, Katara pulled up with a fussy Juno in her stroller.

“Sorry Sokka I have to run, Dad is outside waiting for me and I have to finish unpacking my room tonight”

“All good Kat, thanks again for coming tonight!”

Katara leaned down and kissed her fingers and pressed them to Juno’s head “Love you little bug”

The coaches bid their farewells shortly after and Sokka packed his stuff into the stroller before taking Juno out to settle her and give her a bottle.

Just as he tucked her into his arms and pulled the bottle from the bag someone walked briskly into the locker room where he was sitting.

Zuko and Assistant Captain huffed in and sat down hanging up his phone and tossing it on the bench.

“Uh hi?”

Zuko whirled around looking ready for a fight before spotting Sokka and said baby sucking on a bottle. “Hi Baby.” Zuko said shyly.

Sokka laughed “ Take me on a date before you call me that.” And winked at Zuko.

Zuko looked like a startled deer so Sokka took pity on him.

“Just kidding dude, I mean sort of I am Bi - what a discovery that was and anyways - sorry I wasn’t coming on to you - I don’t know you - I just thought I should make it clear that I COULD come on to you because I like guys, and girls…. Whelp I would start running away in shame now for oversharing but I’m currently a food spruce for this nugget sooo, yep just going to sit here and wish I could time travel to punch myself in the face.”

Throughout the vomit of words coming out of sokka’s mouth Zuko seemed to relax and then smirk at the other man.

“You do know I was talking to your kid right?”

“Yep, yes I did”

“Well see you around Sokka.”

And Zuko grabbed his bag and left the locker room. First impressions for today might be bit all over the place Sokka thought to himself.

____________________________________

Sokka talked to Juno all of the time. What can he say, he is a guy with a lot of words and they can’t all stay in his head.

So Juno has an interesting and advanced vocal for a 9 month old baby.

Of course she can address the people in her life, Dada, Kat, Great Papa, and GB (Great Bato)

She can also ask for milk, to go up, and uh oh.

She loves to say no but can infect say yes (sokka swears he’s heard that one)

But it also means she tries to say things that Sokka often says to varying degrees of baby success

“Stupid gravity!”

"Monkey balls”

“Shoot”

“I love you to the moon and back”

“hockey time.

And her favourite word of all time

Puck

It stopped making Sokka freeze after the first 2o times he thought he heard his baby say fuck. Now its just a cute funny thing his kid has figured out, Dada has to find the puck, and it is her job to hide them.

She hides pucks everywhere, he swears sometimes she is multiplying them on her own because he always finds at least two in the diaper bag and one hidden in her crib.

So very quickly into the season the team dubs the hockey baby with her very own nickname

“Little puck”

Sokka quietly thinks that Yue would have liked that one because her favourite Shakespeare play was midsummer night's dream.

________________________

The team gets Juno and Sokka a fancy running stroller for her birthday/christmas

It was Zuko’s idea

Zuko sometimes comes by to offer to take her for a run when Sokka has exams.

_______________________

Zuko seemed to always be the last to leave the locker rooms, Sokka would usually rush out to pick up Juno from whoever had her unless she had stayed with Couch Dao during practise which she had today.

On days like today Sokka takes his time, cleans and folds his gear, re-tapes his stick for next practise and actually has a real shower. So today he was tucking Juno back in her stroller after changing her as Zuko put the tape away. They were casually talking about the hilarious origins of Pipsqueaks nickname when sokka realized Zuko had a funny look on his face.

“What? Do I have poop on me or something?”

Now Zuko looked even more confused as Sokka looked at his shirt, twisting around to make sure he was free of baby droppings.

“No, you just never look at it, is all. I was trying to figure out what was so -weird about you other than being a crazy goalie, and you don’t look at it.”

“I don’t look at what?”

Zuko gestures to the scared half of his face glumly. “You don’t look at it, you look me in the eyes, always have. It’s weird I guess. You pretending it’s not there.”

“Oh”

“Forget it, sorry.”

“No! It’s just of course I know it’s ther, I’m not pretending its not there, it just seems like whatever happen was probably truamitic, ya know? And - well - okay so tragic backstory time. My Mom was killed in a targeted home invasion by some racists, super fucked up... “

“Holy shit.”

“Yep, anyways everyone knew about it, in the town we lived in, in the next town we lived in, So it was like everyone could see my big truma all the time, it wasn’t up to me to trust people enough to share something that was hard for me and that hurt. It was out of my hands and everyone knew including people I didn’t feel safe with or I didn’t know at all. So I get it, in a way. I see your scar I do, but I get that it maybe comes with a pretty sucky story that’s not mine to make assumptions and judgments on. If I’m worthy of knowing then I will, but I will always look you in the eyes, I’m not going to look at your trauma first because you’re Zuko first.”

Zuko stared at Sokka with his mouth open. Sokka looked away and finished strapping Juno into her stoller before looking back up at the other player. When he did Zuko was looking at the wall, his shoulders turned away from the young father.

“Thank you, and I’m sorry about your Mom… I promise I won’t tell anyone, that scar can stay between us for however long you need.”

And before Sokka could stay anything Zuko turned on his heel and walked quickly from the room.

________________________-

Sokka wasn’t sure what was up with this Zuko guy, everyone else on the team except Haru and Sokka had played with Zuko last year, so they all seemed to have an unspoken understanding of the reserve alt captain. But Sokka couldn’t even get him to smile. Sokka knew he was funny, he was full of 100% organic grass fed dad jokes for goodness sakes! But no, Zuko would not smile, he would not laugh, actually most of the time he seemed to be trying to not talk to Sokka in general. Which was hard considering Zuko was one of the defensemen and it was his job to protect Sokka, you’d think there would be an effort to become friends.

“Maybe he’s uncomfortable with the whole baby thing?” Suggested Teo from the table where he was copying data to a new chart.

“Nahh, I don’t think so, he even said hi to Juno at the first prac - ohhhhhhh” Sokka fell to the floor from where he was sitting with Juno, she took the opportunity of her opponent on the ground and began to climb on her dad.

“What ohhhhhh?”

“I totally flirted with him after that and told him I was queer and he like panic walked out of the locker room.”

“Ugh so do you think he’s homophobic or something?”

“Maybe or something? I don’t get bully vibes from him more like “I act scary so people won’t pretend to like me and then stab me in the back” vibes from this guy. So maybe it’s just a little internalized stuff and he’s not going to beat me up just might not want to talk about it.”

“Well it sucks either way!”

Juno continued to climb around her Dad trying to stuff toys down his shirt and then take them out again. Sokka kept a hand two inches from her back whenever she got close to standing just incase she decided that gravity no longer applied to her and she tumbled over.

“Hey Sokka, do you think he told anyone? Would your spot be in danger if you were outed?”

A cold feeling settled in his stomach “oh shit, I uh, I didn’t think about that… I don’t think I would be kicked off the team. There are policies like that for the school, but I don’t know about how safe I would be from the boys.”

“Oh,” Teo finally looked up from his laptop and set down his highlighter. “You know if you need someone to back you up, I know I can’t take them in a fight but I am friends with some freelance hackers and I could make their lives living hell.”

“Teo, you my man are one scary dude, and the wheels only add intimidation with that tricked out chair. You’re also a really great friend.”

Teo blushed and shrugged “Eh it’s whatever, us queers in engineering trying to change the way people use bionic tech gotta stick together right?”

“Totally, isn’t Uncle Teo awesome June-Bug?” Sokka picked up his daughter and flew her over his head as she wiggled her legs.

“Too too!”

“Uncle Teo?” teo said quietly from the table.

“Oh, well ya, if you want? Juno needs a village right? And one day you and I are going to start a bionics company together, so ya you’re going to be around for a while right?”

“Right.” Teo smiled.

“Toto!” Juno screamed again.

Both of the boys laughed and the night went on.

_______________________________________

Juno was still asleep and Teo was in the house studying so Sokka took the opportunity to go for a run around his building with the baby monitor clipped on his waist band.

It was rare nowadays that Sokka could get a good run in outside, his feet pounding the pavement, a chance to clear his mind.

He was surprised to see that Zuko apparently had the same idea because soon they were matching each other stride for stride around the complex. It was surprising even after weeks of Zuko evading Sokka at any chance they seemed to be in sync.

They were still going strong when Sokka heard Juno fuss from the monitor and slowed to a stop. Zuko halted a few paces ahead and looked confused.

“Are you tired? We can stop-” Zuko started but Sokka quickly waved him off.

“No it’s Juno, I just want to see if she’s going to go back to sleep herself or whether I have to call Teo to pick her up, or if I should go get her. Come on J-Bug settle down,”

Zuko looking curious came to hover over Sokka’s shoulder looking down at the tiny screen which showed Juno in her crib tossing and turning.

“Come on J look your penguin is right there- YES!” Sokka pumped his fist and did a little dance. “My baby went back to sleep, ah I love you!” He continued speaking to the machine and the sky and skipped around before remembering he had an audience.

It looked like Zuko was thinking about smiling and Sokka thought that that might be worth celebrating too.

“Hehe whoops, sorry man. I just haven't been able to run in forever, it's like she knows when I grab my runners and demands to see me.”

“No worries, Sokka.”

So the two hockey players started up a soft pace again around the building. It came to Sokka's mind that he shouldn’t poke the bear but he also had poor impulse control so as he thought it the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

“So have you outed me to all the guys and should I watch my back?”

Now it was Zuko’s turn to stop, he looked like Sokka slapped him.

“What.”

“Ugh! You know, like I can not talk about it and we can just play the game but - should I be making sure that Juno is safe? If she comes to a practise and I’m leaving will I get roughed up by the guys? Because I can take a hit, but my daughter is off limits. Nothing has happened yet so, my guess is you haven't told anyone, but are you going to?”

“No!” Zuko still looked scared “ Never - do I come off as someone who would do that?” He followed up quietly.

“I don’t know what to say dude, you looked scared out of your mind when I flirted with you and practically ran out when I told you I was Bi and ever since you have avoided me, I just assumed you were uncomfortable.”

Zuko looked around as if to check for monsters around them, then he looked at Sokka. “I won’t tell anyone, I haven't, I swear to you that I have your back if you ever want to say anything about it. Juno is safe, I swear it.”

“Whoa that’s a serious tone shift, Um thank you then.”

There was an awkward pause as the two men regarded each other for a moment.

“Just out of curiosity why did you avoid me after? Was it the baby thing?”

“No, it wasn't the baby thing.” zuko mumbled and toed the dirt with his shoe.

“Okay… but were good now right?”

“Ya”

Sokka turned and started to jog again, and soon enough Zuko caught up and they continued for a few more laps. As they were cooling down Zuko still looked amped up, Sokka was surprised, running usually calmed him down but Zuko seemed jumpy.

“Well this was fun! If I can ever join again it would be nice to have company, even company as quiet as you along.”

“Why don’t you bring Juno in her stroller or something?”

Sokka rubbed a hand behind his neck “ Well her stroller is a second hand one we got when she was born, it’s not the kind I can take running without it falling apart or bouncing my babies brains out. And her Mom and I both had much to offer in genetic smarts so I would like my babies brain to be perfect so she can run the world or something.”

“Oh and I guess running strollers are expensive?”

“Ya a bit, and I already spend so much on her clothes, she just won’t stop growing!”

“Too bad, it was also nice running with you.”

“Wow a real Zuko compliment, be still my beating heart!”

Sokka grabbed his chest and fell back and rolled in the grass. Zuko’s lips tilted up just a fraction and butterflies fluttered in sokka’s stomach.

Just then Juno started to cry in earnest and Teo’s voice came over the monitor. “Uh Sokka is her bottle the one in the door of the fridge or do I make a new one?”

Sokka sighed a little then pressed the intercom button on the monitor “Don’t worry about it Teo I will be up in two. Just start telling her the periodic table or something.”

“See you later Zuko”

“Bye Sokka.”

_____________

Sokka’s head was pounding and his vision was blurry, as he stumbled in the dark to the toilet and heaved.

“Fuck.”

At some piont after the sweating and throwing up he dragged himself back to his room to fetch his phone. Juno was fast asleep in her crib because he had a headache last night and homework took forever, so he had put her down early.

Back in the bathroom he rested his head on the cool tile and dialed up his dad with shaky fingers.

After three rings Hakkoda picked up in a panic “Sokka, are you okay? Is Juno okay? Where are you?”

Sokka squinted his eyes at the loud voice of his Dad ringing around his skull. “Dad? I think I have the flu.”

“Oh bud, okay. What’s going on, how can I help?”

“I had a headache last night so I put J down for bed early then I woke up with a fever, I keep throwing up, Dad I -” Sokka felt a lump in his throat and tears sting his eyes. “Dad I don’t want to her her, she was just so small, and I don’t want her to get sick. I know I have to do this, but i love her so much and I dont want to fuck up - “

The tears fall down his cheeks to the floor.

“Oh son, okay. One you love that kid more than anything you would die before hurting her this I know. Two people get sick, people also get better with rest and the I think I can help with that.”

“Dad I know I’m grown up ish, but can you tell me what to do?”

Hakkoda chuckled on the other end of the line. “Sokka, Bato and I will come pick up Juno in 30 minutes, we will drop off some crackers and gatorade too.”

“Dad- “

“Nope Sokka, you asked so I am telling you what we are going to do. We will come and get our baby girl and take her for a few days, You will email your profs and get your homework sent to you, you can only go to class when you don’t have a fever and if you do you’re going to wear a mask, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good you will email your coaches tell them whats what, when you feel better you can go watch practise, the cool might even be good for the fever, but you will not push yourself. This week will not make or break the rest of your life. So you will sleep, rest, do your work form home, and Juno will play at GB and great Papa’s house. And everything will be okay.”

“Okay. Thank you dad”

“We will be there soon buddy”

So Juno went with his Dad’s and he sent his emails and face planted in his bed and passed out for 6 hours.

Later an hour before practise Sokka’s phone pinged, he groaned and grasped around for his phone.

A text from Fire Prince Zuko

Coaches just said you won’t be at practise tonight. Is everything okay? Is Puck good?

Flu bug, don’t want to mess up that pretty ice with my vomit. Juno seems fine she’s at my Dads house until I’m not dying of the plague

A few minutes went by after that and sokka’s eyes started to fall again. “Ping”

I can drop off soup and tea on my way to practise, which suite is yours in family huas?

Dude its fine I can feed myself

Dude. I’m helping at my uncle’s tea shop today. They have soup and tea, it’s no problem. In fact my uncle insists.

14a second floor

And thank you Z

What are Alt Capts for?

Hakkoda was right, everything was indeed okay in the end. Juno had a blast at her grandparents house and sokka managed to get all of his homework done and even managed to watch a few lectures online courtesy of Teo. Zuko was the anomaly he could’t account for but was grateful for none the less. Whenever he could he stopped by with snacks, soup, tea and even weirder sent cute cat and baby videos at random points during the days.

Within 4 days Sokka felt good enough to go to classes and do some dryland training uring practise and after one more day he was back catching pucks on the rink with his daughter sleeping in the bed next to him one hand fisted on his shirt to make sure her dad didn’t leave.

After that week sometimes Zuko would still stop by with a tea, which Sokka had begun to like even when he wasn’t dying. Except now he would occasionally stay and drink his own tea while they watched juno play on the floor.

Sokka was starting to think he might have a new friend after all…

_____________________

[fictional-ghost]

zoomester studyblr challenge days 1-10

Day 1- Introduce yourself! What’s some basic info you’d like to share about yourself? Also! What are you studying? (If you’re in college, what’s your major? which semester are you in?)

hey! i'm Casper, 21, from the UK. i'm a poet and a writer and this blog is half studyblr, half writeblr. i'm studying English Lit and Creative Writing at the Open University but considering switching the English Lit to Philosophy.

Day 2- If you’ve chosen a major, why did you decide on it? If you’re in any other grade , what field/major interests you the most?

we don't have majors in the UK but i chose the degree mainly because of the creative writing modules, mainly because i want a degree but i adore creative writing and know that the jobs im likely to end up in wont rely on a degree. i'm considering switching to philosophy because i've studied english lit so much over my life and philosophy has always been frustratingly inaccessible to me past my obsession with jean-paul sartre

Day 3- Have you done a challenge before? If so, how was it? If not, what are you expecting to get out of this experience?

not really! i used to on my witchblr but it's been a long time. i really just want to connect with other people - pandemic timez are isolating as hell.

Day 4- For my researching fellows, what are you researching on? If you’re not currently researching, what is the topic within your field that you’re most passionate about?

not currently researching and no idea what topic i'm most passionate about in terms of creative writing. in english lit i just really like looking at genre trends compared to real life big situations, and in philosophy im mad for existentialism.

Day 5- Tag 3 studyblrs that you like seeing on your dashboard.

@rivkahstudies @bulletnotestudies @contre-qui

Day 6- Quickly! tag urself!

five am. ice cold water. watching the sunrise. healthy smoothies. skincare. reads often. friends with everyone.

ten am. iced coffees. always in a hurry. golden hour aesthetic. remembers the little details. loves old movies.

midday. mom jeans. picnic dates. thrift-shopping. pinterest. low-key insecure. obssessed with photography.

three pm. the color yellow. walks everywhere barefoot. oversized t-shirts. can make anyone laugh. a bit crazy.

five pm. warm smiles. classy. aesthetic instagram feed. anklets. soft music. yoga. face masks.

eight pm.  netflix. cuddles warm sheets. indoors life. loves singing but can’t. sweats. never sleeps.

midnight. driving at night. flirty. neon lights. wears a lot of red. neon lights. big sunglasses. karaoke.

three am. tired eyes. small sketchbooks. pressed flowers. stargazing from the window.

i think i'm mainly 3pm but also 3am. i like 3s

Day 7-  Some of your music faves right now (let’s say up to 5)

im barely listening to music atm because im trying to get comfortable with silence but i'm going to put The Grey (VIXI) by Bury Tomorrow here, as well as their songs 301 and Choke. also Alesund // Sun Kil Moon

Day 8- International Women’s Day! What’s your take on feminism?

i wont be discussing my views bc this isn't a discourse blog but. intersectional feminism is where it's at, white feminism is bullshit, terfs/swerfs/radfems can fuck off and stfu, men's issues need to be included in feminism because a) some men are trans and were socialised as female therefore still experienced sex-based oppression from an early age, b) if feminism means all genders being treated with equity in mind and gender based discrimination disappearing, then that means ALL genders (of course, men are still the most privileged gender and it's mainly them that perpetuate the issues feminism tries to address but we can't just be like 'hurr hurr women's rights' and not look at this from a rational and critical perspective). its a complex subject and gender privilege needs dismantling at the same time as other oppressive structures like class and racial hierarchies do, because they all feed off of one another.

Day 9- Write something that you’d like to tell yourself.

your bad days are just bad days. there will be good ones ahead.

Day 10- Tag someone whose aesthetic you love seeing on your feed.

ahh idk i have adhd memory

[sanderssidesfanfiction]

Royal Growing Pains - Chapter Sixteen

Warnings: Homophobia, transphobia, misgendering, sympathetic Deceit

Royal Growing Pains Tag

“So, in terms of vows, I assume your mother didn’t want to go the traditional route, if you have nothing planned,” the Queen said.

“Yeah,” Roman sighed. “This is the one thing she apparently doesn’t want to be traditional, and I hate it. Does she really think I know Damien enough for personalized vows?”

“I have no doubt she wants other people to believe that, regardless of whether or not it’s true,” the Queen said. “Do you want a few minor facts about Damien that might help everything feel a bit more personal?”

“That might help,” Roman agreed. “I mean, I know he’s a klutz, and I know he can sing and dance surprisingly well for a klutz, and I know he likes philosophy, but...honestly that’s about it.”

“You also are aware of his orientation,” the Queen pointed out. “He told me he told you.”

“Ah, yeah, I know that too,” Roman said, cheeks tinged pink.

The Queen nodded. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to know? Do you have anything in mind for vows?”

“Not really,” Roman admitted. “I have no clue what I would say. Even if he’s cute and funny and I like him, is that enough for vows?”

“Honestly? If you know how to spin it right, that might be just enough,” the Queen said with a little smile. “Just speak from the heart and you should be fine. I told Damien to do the same. He turned red and whined that it would be embarrassing.”

“He’s not wrong,” Roman said, turning redder. “Admitting that I have a crush on him in front of easily a hundred people?”

“That’s what weddings are all about, really,” the Queen said. “Telling the person you love that you love them.”

“I still don’t even know if what I like him as is anything more than a crush,” Roman protested.

“Well, you just have to sell people onto the idea that you love him more than that for half a day. After that the two of you can be whoever you want to be, and however close you want to be. It sounds more difficult than it actually is. If you act the way you act around him now when you’re at the wedding, no one will doubt that the two of you are in love,” the Queen said.

“Ugh, is it that obvious I like him?” Roman asked.

The Queen laughed. “I’m afraid so, dear.”

Roman sighed. “Okay, okay, not the point. How do I make myself sound grateful for him being an escape without flat-out saying he’s my escape?”

“You let me forget about my responsibilities for a moment, you make me feel like we’re the only two people in the world, you give me hope for a brighter future?” the Queen offered.

Roman nodded, “Ooh, that’s good. Do you mind if I write that down?”

“Go ahead,” the Queen said.

Roman typed those options dutifully onto his phone, along with the bullet points that Damien was funny, cute, and that Roman liked him. He stared at his phone in consternation. “I don’t know what else I can do for vows,” he complained, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m a disaster. I have no clue what I’m going to say.”

“You’ll figure something out, Roman, I believe in you,” the Queen said.

Roman’s mother walked back in and Roman continued staring at his phone, chewing his lower lip lightly. “What’s going on here?” Roman’s mother asked.

“Planning for vows,” the Queen said. “Apparently, it’s a difficult practice on such short notice.”

“Well, I have no doubt that you had months to plan yours,” Roman said to the Queen. “I have four days and the pressure is officially on.”

The Queen laughed lightly and said, “If you need any more help, dear, all you have to do is ask.”

Roman sighed. “I’m just really tired. I want this all over and done with.”

“Ah, now that I completely understand,” the Queen said with a little smile. “This will be over before you know it, though.”

“Enjoy the moment, Veronica. You’ll miss this time before you know it,” his mother told him.

Doubtful, Roman thought. “Aside from vows and music, is there anything else I should do?” he asked.

“I can’t immediately think of anything that you can do on your own,” the Queen said. “Diana? Anything you can think of?”

“No, nothing comes to mind,” his mother sighed. “However, I do imagine that we should talk about the night of the wedding itself, and what we plan for that.”

“I, for one, do not anticipate us having sex,” Roman said, raising his hand. “For whatever that is worth.”

The Queen’s lips quirked upwards. “That’s quite all right, dear. My husband and I were figuring that you and Damien might be heading away to your honeymoon that night, anyway. I don’t know how well you can sleep on a plane, but rest assured, if you’re not comfortable with anything Damien won’t pressure you into it.”

Roman nodded. He had figured Damien wouldn’t pressure him either way, but it was nice to hear confirmation. However... “Travelling all night sounds somewhat unpleasant, as I can’t sleep well on planes. Would it be possible to instead plan for it to be early morning?”

“Of course! First thing in the morning, the day after the wedding, you and Damien can head off on your honeymoon,” the Queen said. “You two will have a lot of fun, wherever you decide to go.”

Roman offered her a smile. “It should be nice to just get to relax for a week or so after all of this.”

The Queen nodded. “Any idea where you’d want to go?” she asked.

“The Carribean is always nice,” Roman said with a shrug. “But I’ve also always wanted to explore Rome.”

“Both of those do sound nice,” the Queen agreed. “Talk it over with Damien this afternoon. It could be that the two of you have always wanted to visit the same place and you can make plans.”

Roman nodded. He checked the time and realized with shock that it was about noon. “Wow, time flies,” he said. “Almost time for lunch already.”

The Queen looked to the clock in the room and agreed, “So it is. Anything you’d like for lunch?”

“Everything Patton makes is delicious, I’m not picky,” Roman said with a shrug.

The Queen nodded. “Diana? Any requests?”

“Not particularly,” his mother said. “Perhaps he could make a few things that he was anticipating might be requested for the wedding? Get an idea of what the reception’s food could be?”

The Queen hummed. “Good idea,” she said. “I’ll go speak to him, I’ll be back in a minute.”

But before Roman could protest her leaving, she was gone, leaving him and his mother alone. He narrowly avoided visibly cringing and returned to his phone, flipping through his apps, praying for something to keep him occupied.

“Veronica,” his mother hissed softly. “You have some explaining to do!”

“If you’re referring to the Queen’s questions this morning, I was merely being honest in my answers,” he said smoothly. “You’re the one who told me to always be honest, Mother. I don’t know why you’re so upset about it in this one particular instance.” He understood it was because he was trans, but he didn’t understand why this was the hill his mother was willing to die on.

“You are not a transgender, Veronica, how many times do I have to tell you this?” his mother hissed.

Roman rolled his eyes and closed them, praying for more patience. It didn’t appear that he was going to get any soon. “Okay, first of all? You’ve been using the word ‘transgender’ wrong. It is not a noun. It’s an adjective. I am not ‘a’ transgender, I am transgender. And I really wish you would at least use it correctly in your ignorance. I know it’s wishful thinking, but honestly, I’m so sick and tired of all of this. I just want you to accept me. You don’t even have to love me anymore. Just accept who I am. But no, that’s never going to happen, because of course it won’t. You’re too blinded by your prejudice to see that this is how I can be my happiest, most authentic self.”

His mother snarled at him and Roman didn’t even feel like crying, he was so numbed to her rejection. “Look, you can love me. Or don’t. But don’t pretend to love me when you actually love the concept that you’ve built around me and expect me to live up to. That’s just not fair,” Roman said.

“I love you for who you are, Veronica. I know this is just a phase, and I want you to realize that too!” his mother snapped.

“Why would I willingly go through a phase that would leave me ostracized, locked away in my room, unable to talk to my friends, and distanced from my own family? No, really, Mother, why would I do that?! I didn’t choose to be like this, but I’m trying to make myself happy! That’s all I’ve ever been trying to do! And yet you refuse to see that! You refuse to entertain the idea that you might be wrong! That I know more about myself than you do! Why are you so insistent that I wind up hating the person I once was? I was perfectly okay with the concept of being mistaken when I thought I was a woman until you started shoving your own agenda on me! Now I feel like I have to have known I was trans from the beginning, because that way, maybe you would have accepted me!” Roman shook his head. “You’re making me hate my past more than I ever could have without your help. Don’t be surprised if I never talk about my childhood whenever you come to visit, to make sure I’m listening to your asinine rules! I just wish...” he trailed off. “I just wish that maybe you had a shred of empathy.”

His mother growled and Roman shook his head. “No. I’m not playing this game. I’m not listening to your side of the argument, when you’re so clearly wrong and refuse to see my side. If you don’t respect me, I won’t respect you. That’s how this works. Enjoy lunch. I anticipate I won’t be talking to you for the duration of it.”

And with that, he went back to his phone. His mother was fuming, but she said nothing. And Roman knew that what he had said wasn’t wise, but he had reached the end of his rope. Besides, his mother couldn’t confine him to his guest room here, at least, and she wouldn’t want to send him back home for “acting up” only a little bit, because that would raise too many questions. So he was safe. For now.

The Queen walked back in the room and looked between them. “For what it’s worth, I am glad that neither of you set anything on fire while I was gone,” she said with a completely straight face.

Roman burst out laughing hard enough that tears were springing to his eyes.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry!” he gasped. “That just—I mean—I think...” he trailed off into more laughter. “That struck me as funny.”

The Queen offered Roman a tiny smirk. “Patton will be bringing in samples of food he can make for the wedding shortly. He’s very relieved that we’re trying to make a decision today.”

“I’ll bet,” Roman said. “Damien and I had told him we hadn’t come to a decision and he said it was fine, but I’m sure he was a little stressed that we might be making a decision the morning of and he’d be left scrambling.”

“Probably,” the Queen agreed. “Patton does worry over perfection, even if it can’t be achieved. He would certainly be stressed if you only gave him a few hours and no chance to test the food beforehand.”

Roman nodded. “He seemed like that kind of person.”

The Queen sat down and his mother turned to her. “Rose, you never did tell me what you said to your son last night.”

“Oh,” the Queen said. “It wasn’t anything particularly noteworthy. You need to treat guests better, you need to respect others in general, sometimes no matter what you believe you need to admit that you’re wrong, that sort of thing.”

“I heard he refused to leave his room this morning, is that true?” Roman asked.

“Yes, he did refuse to leave his room, but I wouldn’t worry about it. He does that when he needs time to lick his wounds,” the Queen said, but Roman could hear the worry in her voice.

Roman’s stomach flipped. “I hope he doesn’t take too long, I would like to speak to him sometime today.”

“Logan dragged him out of his room for his studies earlier, I know because I could hear Damien’s frustrated griping as I headed here. And he works better once he has a task in front of him, he should be fine by this afternoon.”

“And I can talk to him after lunch?” Roman asked.

“You may fetch him when it’s time to plan more of the wedding and practice dancing again, yes,” the Queen said. “I can tell you’re worried about him, hopefully seeing in person that he’s all right will soothe you?”

“Yeah, hopefully,” Roman said.

Patton walked in the room, humming, and saying, “Good afternoon! I hope you three ladies are having a good day so far?”

“As good as it can be, I suppose,” Roman said noncommittally.

“Well, hopefully some of my food can cheer you up!” he said. “I have three small portions of options on each plate, one is fettuccine alfredo, one is head-breaded chicken, and the third is tilapia.”

“Thank you, Patton,” the Queen said with a smile. “I take it they’re all made the way that Damien likes them to be?”

“Since he’s not here to help decide I figured I should make three of his favorites, so he’s okay with whatever you decide,” Patton said. “Do you mind if I stay to find out what you like the most?”

“That’s fine,” Roman said.

The Queen hummed. “Which dish would you like to try first, Veronica?”

Roman shrugged, ignoring the sting of his deadname. It wasn’t like the Queen had a choice if they wanted Roman out of his parents’ house. “I’m not super picky,” he said. “I suppose we could try the tilapia?”

The three of them all took a bite of the tilapia. Roman didn’t feel super strong about it one way or the other, and he told the others as much. “I don’t hate it, but it doesn’t just seem like the kind of food I’d have at my wedding,” he said simply.

“That’s fine!” Patton chirped. “And if none of these work out, I can always find something else!”

After that, they tried the fettuccine alfredo. Roman liked this one, and he mentally decided that unless the chicken blew him away, he would choose the fettuccine.

But he tried the chicken and it well and indeed did blow him away. The breading was just the right amount of crumbly, the meat was tender. His eyes lit up and after he swallowed said, “This. This is the one.”

“Excellent choice!” Patton said. “I’ll come around later when you and Damien are both available to ask about the cake, but until then I’ll get everything ready for the chicken. What would be a vegetarian option you’d prefer?”

“Uh...I don’t know,” Roman admitted. “I’ll leave your best judgement on that, if that’s all right.”

“Perfectly fine!” Patton assured. “Enjoy the rest of your meal, I’ll be heading back to the kitchen!”

Roman turned back to the food on his plate and finished the rest of the chicken, while his mother and the Queen took their time trying the rest of the three dishes as well. When Roman had finished both the chicken and the pasta, he wiped his mouth clean with a napkin and said, “I am done with lunch, is it all right if I seek out Damien now? I can bring him to wherever we are supposed to meet next.”

The Queen sighed, but a tiny smile was playing at her lips. “Yes, dear, I imagine Damien is finished with lunch and will be outside sparring. It will be on the left hand side of the castle, do you know where the exit is from there?”

“No, but I can find it,” Roman said, standing up. “What is next on the agenda?”

“Dance practice,” the Queen informed him. “After which the tailor will give you his first fitting. And of course, we need to solidify the music choices.”

Roman nodded. “I can find Damien and we’ll head to the ballroom. Whenever you need us next feel free to come and get us.”

But before Roman could completely leave the room, his mother sent him one last warning. “Veronica, be convincing.”

Roman ignored her and kept walking down the halls in the direction he hoped would be the fastest route to Damien. He went through hall after hall, nodding to the people he passed, not missing their murmurs and the gossip about what his mother had done this morning. He felt at his cheek. Luckily, nothing seemed to be bruised, although he wasn’t sure if there was still a pink mark on his cheek or not.

He made a victorious noise when he found a doorway that led outside, sunshine spilling through as he cracked the door open. His heart leapt into his throat at the thought of seeing Damien and him being depressed or visibly upset. But he pushed those thoughts out of his mind and forced himself to keep moving forward.

Tag List: @lunareclipse-13@sanders-sides-crofters@blushy-gigglee-mess@wannacrymetoo@kaytikitty@magicalspacepanunicorn@bootsinthesun@pricklyfish777@flowersanddinosaurs@leiasolo77@birdybabybird@enby-phoenix@luna–28@justagaygoose@the-prince-and-the-emo@fandomsandanythingelse@randommuffinyt@snekky-boi@thesoftestlittlepuffballwegot@twilight-trix@abby5577@escalatingtoofast@friendlyfacestabbing@remus-is-stinky@foggybanditdreampeanut@ghostskull300@sprinklestheditty@canvas-the-florist@askthesnake@samuel-the-gay@determination-saved@juicy-cashew@demidork84@why-should-i-tell-youu2@nerd-in-space@aphriteblack@loganpatton@lilbeanblr@kittyboof8@irish-newzealand-idian-dutch@sanders-trash-4ever@hamilspntrash@swords-and-kittens@phantomfander@narniasfinestavengingsociopath @rjmeta@ambersky0319@anni-cat-flower@idosanderssidespromptssometimes@nafsbluebery@redisawerewolf23@voidvirgil@msu82@angstyfanfiction

[goatbi]

Backstory Bullshit

Hi. I don’t know what I’m doing. This is just random important things about Author and Host, thank you for your time. (Author is referred to as Alaric, Host as Quill!) 

Also if you’re expecting coherency from me, don’t. This is just to get my thoughts down. 

Also a trigger warning for rape mention and eating disorder mentions, as well as a minor gore thing. None of these go into detail, but I feel like it’s important to mention nonetheless. 

-Basic Info for starters: 5′5″, trans man, autistic. Alaric is Pan, Quill is Demi Bi. 

-Two older brothers, one older sister. Older Brothers are the Jim Twins (this information was something Quill blocked out for a good amount of time) the older sister is currently unknown and not something Quill (nor Alaric) is looking for. 

-Parents? Nah. Why don’t we kill those, thanks Alaric, thank you for your time. 

-Kind of disappeared. There is a reason that Alaric didn’t know that the Jims were his brothers, and it’s because Alaric sought to completely distance himself from everyone. 

-Thought he was human. Was wrong 

-No real first experience with realizing that he’s got powers. It was mostly a slow build up of Alaric writing random things in various places and having them end up becoming true before Alaric realize ‘oh shit. huh. I’ve got magic.’ and then just kind of went from there 

-Murders sometimes, just for fun. Alaric doesn’t really get hands on all that often, the only people he did that for were parental units, and then focused on writing, cause he thought it was neat to see what he could do to them without ever laying a finger on them. 

-That was true up until he was raped and then Alaric took a bat to the man’s skull and never looked back. 

-Thus begins Alaric’s philosophy of “Trauma? What trauma? I’m not traumatized.” 

-Alaric is very much traumatized. 

-Becomes very hyper sexual as a result, but kind of hates himself for it. 

-Also tends to kill the people he has sex with. Just. Just for fun. Y’know. Not because of a trauma response-

-Also begins to self destruct a bit, in many many ways. 

-Doesn’t eat as much as he should, which is just it at first, and then eventually just. stops eating 90% of the time. Keeps himself alive through writings in a personal notebook he has, just for shit like this. 

-Starts getting into dark magic, and then black magic, trying to find the source of his powers, so he can get more. Does not take any precautions. 

-Power hungry, vaguely blood thirsty. 

-Finally, the whole, ‘not taking precautions when doing black magic’ thing kind of backfires. Badly. 

-Admittedly, Quill doesn’t know what happened in the few hours that are missing from his memory. There are a few things he does remember: Alaric’s afraid, panicked. The room is on fire, the entire cabin is on fire, the fire is in his head, and he has to get it out. 

-Alaric tears his own eyes out with his bare hands. This is not a clean job, there are scratch marks all around Quill’s eye sockets because of this. 

-The Person In Between, since this person is no longer quite Alaric, but not yet Quill, wanders off. Wanders back to the others, namely Dark and Dr. Iplier, is a dramatic motherfucker and grins at them, waves, and then passes out. 

-Wakes up, still not quite Quill, not def not Alaric anymore. There’s something to take care of first. 

-The library was Alaric’s domain, and it will be Quill’s. But first, certain remnants of Alaric are placed aside, in their own little room, away from everyone, hopefully to be forgotten about, and then the person between locks part of the memory away. 

-Quill is tired, of course, and honestly hates himself. Not because he is Alaric, but because he was. Just because part of those memories were locked away doesn’t mean all of them were. 

-Takes some time, Quill meets Malik, which is something that helps drag Quill out of his brain 

-Quill relearns to use first person in order to properly say ‘I love you’ to Mal. 

-Finally, starts settling into who he is now, which has turned from a violent angry scared, frankly broken man, into this. Still sorta broken, still scared, but more tired. Avoids violence if he can, but isn’t afraid to use it if he must. 

-And then Quill finds the room. 

-Now, the person between did this on purpose. Like a time bomb in the back of Quill’s head, waiting until he was calmer, had dealt with some of what he remembered (which was enough to know Author was violent and scared, but some of the reasons were not there) before opening the rest. 

-To be completely honest? Quill broke a little bit. Forced people around him to pretend not seeing him for days was normal, kept himself tucked up in that extra little room and remembered 

-Flipped his shit. 

-It wasn’t ALL about the fact that there were three siblings he didn’t remember, but that was what he focused on 

-This was around the time that people realized. Oh shit. Quill hasn’t been around in awhile. 

-Mal flipped his shit as well, to a lesser extent 

-Quill went off and attempted necromancy. Failed, because his siblings weren’t dead, and brought back someone else, because Alaric had a bad tendency of burying victims around the cabin (which yes, is basically a burnt out shell now)

-Quill ended up killing the guy for a second time, and had a panic attack until Dark came and took him home, since Quill couldn’t exactly communicate where the cabin was to Mal (who was not told for various reasons) and Dark knew where it was. 

-Spent a few days in an exhausted stupor. 

-Then decided to burn everything in that room (after going through it all). It was very cleansing. Quill has an attachment to fire in some ways, now that I think about it. 

-After that, the Jim Twins were like ‘alright. How do we tell our brother he’s our brother when he thinks we’re dead’ 

-They managed it, however, and Quill has brothers now 

-Mal proposed (after telling Quill an important part of his backstory) with a necklace with one of Mal’s feathers on it. 

And that’s. generally, in order. the story. Here’s some random bullshit info that isn’t important to that but is for me 

-Neither of them like shoes (sensory reasons). Alaric went barefoot everywhere, just cause, but Quill wears fun socks that he steals from Mal. 

-Quill’s coat is one of the most important things to him in this world. Very good sensory thing. 

-Alaric had a German Shepherd dog, which he didn’t... completely take care of, kind of let it be feral. 

-Quill now has the menagerie. This started with just Echo and Brair, the two cats, the first of which is a Turkish Angora, and the latter of which is a grey Sphinx. Not exactly in order, it has expanded to include Fate, a German Shepherd, Nagini, an albino ball python, and Noodle, a brown ferret. There are plans for more, but that’s it for now. 

[gplewis]

losing my edge

being as young as I used to be has necessarily passed away; so I write the only poem I have left to write, calling it “poetry” even though it’s really just leaking, paired with a stubborn refusal to read what I’ve written; maybe that’s what autumn is for — my editing/reading self and my writing self are different; this I can support using this evidence:

Critics Parul Sehgal and Teju Cole on the changing authority of words

I’ve read this interview several times. What sticks in my mind is the notion: “The self that writes is not the self that edits is not the self that generates. I’m able to split and edit myself as if it’s copy coming in that I’ve never seen and I’m mildly contemptuous of.”

So writing and reading is an education in the soul, in time, in money, in the world as it is, in the flow of justice. And maybe I just have to apprentice myself all over again (I’m 33⅔ and recently spent a good few weeks ... no, the point of that was James Baldwin spent some years “tearing up paper” and maybe...I’m struggling to accept what writing won’t and can’t do for me, how it is necessarily apart from others, how maybe it isn’t for others, can’t do anything for you — you — I’m interested in your troubles because they’re mine: money, love, mortality, career, satisfying work, being proud of oneself, being connected to a community...we can deal with not-having together; “being, doing and not having” is an experience we share, and only silence keeps us apart; our only mistake is not having talked about it, not having met. 

I used to meet. Meetups. They were the way to get connected and going. Companies, jobs, work. That was the way. Now I know creativity, art, soul, spirituality, generosity, receptivity, curiosity, interest, talent, patience, endurance...these are the way to creating a life I want to live, and this work is solitary, but I can hand over the record of my working — but every man or woman working is alone; the charade has to slip like a cape off the shoulders for each individual.

There is no way to be easily satisfied anymore. Maybe life hasn’t changed, maybe I’ve just gotten older and realized I have to forge a way that’s never been traveled before. Robert Frost wrote a poem about the road less traveled and how it made all the difference. And it will. Maybe I’m surprised at how difficult it actually is for me to accept getting older and being alone. Intellectually it was easy, I flung the truth around like paint or a rope: the truth about life came easy to me, now it’s a little more difficult, or just slower and stranger. It used to be easy to sit in a room and live another Monday, but I suppose every Monday is unique in its hulking languor and constipation.

I could sigh and scream, “Maybe this is for no one!” but my enthusiasm doesn’t stop there. I know the only road forward for me is the writing one, and filling sentences with ever stranger material and music. I’m writing things I never thought I’d say; of course I’d like to be read even though I say often I don’t. Maybe it isn’t so pioneer to write my journal in public. Maybe many people write stuff like this, they just don’t share it. Though I have the sense my peers have defected to Netflix and wine, homeownership and a dog, weekend plans, online shopping, landscaping and yard projects...I don’t actually resent them for this, I just do different gardening.

It’s stressful and tiring to resist employment, to resist being told what to do, to always be pushing back against the gravitational force of the world, having to make your own way (the art of asking, which I delay on; right now I “need” money, though I keep finding a way to extend the runway and not worry about it — maybe my own collision course with being broke is essential American instruction and poetic voice: maybe I am meant to collide with the wall of needing money and not wanting to make it, and finding my own way to go on: no fitting in, no relenting, no losing my voice, — I remember email, meetings; I am always asking, “For what end?” Global scale and disruption (thinking of startups here, and friends’ postmortems of hope-filled experiences that were ultimately disappointing) for what? And then what happens?

Maybe employee is a stage to get through, and you learn what “a place” can’t do for you. The place is your solitude: any work you do alone, and it’s elective. You could be anywhere else; you could question why you’re there. Jim Carrey: “We make decisions out of fear disguised as practicality.” So what happens when you follow your dreams? Well, you’re alone, writing, at the forefront and precipice of your social network; you could reach out to anyone, draft any kind of website then be the carnival barker for what you’ve done and what you can do for others. 

I can’t live in this elected state. 

"Life is a process of becoming, a combination of states we have to go through. Where people fail is that they wish to elect a state and remain in it. This is a kind of death." — Anaïs Nin, D.H. Lawrence: An Unprofessional Study

It is very difficult to live. Albert Camus: "Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears."

Nearly 7 million households could face eviction in July. It could be me. Who would have me? Where would I go? György Lukács: “Philosophy is transcendental homelessness; it is the urge to be at home everywhere.”

Is community a place in the world or in my head?

I used to be excited about having asked such big, important, vital questions in such a fresh, sharp, spiky way. This is a nice document here; nice enough to maybe I think warrant the kind of exciting young Parisian intellectual’s life, with more good food, alcohol, laughter, nice clothes, live music, dark bars, sex with beautiful women...but I realize it’s more about stretching in the morning, writing 1.5 pages longhand, breakfast and coffee, 4-5 hours with the laptop on whatever strikes your interest and limbers up your typing-hands, then outdoors time for exercise, and return for nourishment and also another creative practice: singing. Oh, it’s been a pleasure to perform as a vocalist:

I Want You (She's So Heavy)

I was going to add that earlier; oh how I can already see a productive conversation with an editor — oh how I’ve called and called for this doctor — someone to help me make better use of my time, talent and work in progress. Oh, a manager, a boss, someone I respect, someone who will help me see the road ahead. This is something I could use in my personal life as well: someone to see with, stand with, talk with, plan with. Maybe I have become the most alone writing man in the world — this is the fine start for a seedbed of a career, ha! Career for what? I suppose tomorrow will be different, as every day is; I just had to wring this day out completely. Maybe one more walk around the neighborhood and then get to singing...ha, ha, maybe this is all going perfectly according to plan.

[judehayward]

lady gaga voice slowly fadin in: ju-Das juda-ah-ah… frankly i missed this ridiculous depressed little man so i’m gna try my hand at playing 2 charas again. the crowd grits their teeth in apprehensive nerves. it’s fine it’s fine it’s all FINE!!!!!!!!! also this is nai btw forgot to say. anyway. ahem. without further adieu.... his intro

he pinterest:

me in the voice of a card magician performing on the street: round up round up pick a pinterest any pinterest!

ta-da it’s aesthetics:

lead marbles instead of eyes, a stolen hearse careening down the wrong lane, wearing a faded smiley face sticker on your forehead while receiving a serious lecture, bags under the eyes that are so big they could pack enough clothes for a three week vacation, a cigarette wobbling from your bottom lip as you squint against the sunlight, passing out on a stranger’s rooftop, placing sunglasses over the eyes of a biology lab skeleton, gangling around the place like shaggy minus his scooby snacks, saying “fuck off” to inanimate objects

about tha Bitch:

ok to start w i won’t lie i’ve pasted in an old intro here bc i just hate intros i hate writing them i hate them................. bt it’s fine.......................... lets pretend this is all fresh n sexy n new....... bsically this is jst a disclosure tht this isn’t tht well written bc it’s old n stinky bt we’re all jst having fun here. bye

he hd to do community service bc he kind of… hd a bit of a breakdown before the funeral of his elderly neighbour who bsically raised him bc her kids rly didnt care abt her they jst wanted her inheritance?? so he… stole the hearse w her casket still in it n ws jst like… drivin around the place sort of… tryin nt to cry…..KJJFHSFKJGHKFG i mean. it isnt funny its actually sad bt :/ in a very bizarre n jude way. he gt caught n taken in fr questioning bt her son kind of realised hw… broken up abt her death jude ws n had a heart n didnt press charges. regardless he stil hd to do community service bc it ws like taken seriously even tho it ws his first proper offence. doin it rly exhausted n depressed him so when he wsnt doin tht he ws just hibernatin in his room……. this ws like 2/3 months ago nw mayb bt... just some fun lore fr u all

in a new development in terms of sexuality i jst am nt quite sure……. hes always thot he ws straight… fooled around w a 90s hugh grant lookalike once n ws jst a bit like :/ my rocks rnt blasted off? bt who knows wht the future holds… who KNOWS wht the future holds ladies n gentlemen

born in sheffield in england, bt they went back and forth between there n san fran a lot jude was an unhappy accident. his parents never rly used protection bc they were super Liberal n Au Naturel n believed in the pull out method bc… they were maniacs. bt then the ONE time they used a condom in an effort to b safety conscious it broke n hence…. jude was born

they just kind of ran w it bc they had such a passionate relationship tht they were like What The Hell…. may as well! itll be fine we’ll learn to be good parents n love him like normal ppl do

spoiler alert: tht didn’t work out

they were ok to him like they weren’t abusive or anything like that bt they just found him to be a massive burden n hindrance to their plans. they literally….. had sex all day every day n acted like a pair of teenagers. it ws a super weird environment for a kid to grow up in bc he literally had no role models or… guidance or…. anything rly. occasionally they’d joke around w him or pretend they even knew what grade he was going into but for the most part they just Didn’t Care one bit

they were both suuuuper into the arts. they’re both rly good sculptors bt they paint too n they actually own a successful gallery in san fran

as a result he grew up around a lot of creative n sometimes pretentious ppl. the friends of his parents were more present in his life than his ACTUAL parents bc they were always jetting off to diff countries to scout out new pieces fr their galleries n just have a gd time in beautiful places without…. the annoyance tht ws their son forcing them to b responsible n look after someone else. tbh some of his parents friends were rly damaging too bt….i won’t go into that just yet. it doesn’t rly…need properly explaining bc jude never talks abt it anyway n it….is rather triggering so i’ll jst….leav it for now tbh fgkhdfgh. basically they just were Not Nice n jude had a lot of bad memories he keeps repressed

bc of how he ws raised he has a p cultured taste. he luvs classic lit n p much anything artsy. he can play piano 2 n sometimes gets rly high n thinks he’s mozart level gd at composing. i mean he’s gd bt… Calm Down Jude. personality wise he acts out sometimes bc he’s so frustrated. he tried rly hard to be someone his parents wld care abt by doing wild or stupid things so he’d hav funny stories to tell them n tbh sometimes it works n he gets them to laugh w him but it isn’t a parent/son bond n it never rly wil b.

he’s rly sarcastic, sleeps around a bit, has an overflowing secret sketchbook n if he cares abt someone he’ll probably draw them n get rly defensive if they find out abt it fkjgdhfkj bcos he’s an Independent Boy without a sentimental bone in his body. or so he says. at heart he is jst a very Sad Boy w lots of repressed issues like depression genuinely just does NAT giv him a single break bt he plasters over this w wise cracks n never discusses his emotions ever. he’s actually p decent or at least tries to b. he’s kind of like tht bit in superbad where michael cera gets rly drunk n makes a toast to women. tries to b? a feminist bt sometimes fucks up n offends ppl n is like dam….. my bad fr :/

he has p bad insomnia so he like never sleeps fgjkhfgjkf he always has rly sleepy eyes n rubs them tiredly mid conversation. he smokes a lot of weed to try n compensate fr this n make him tired bt he still struggles a lot

ANYWAY that aside he’s at lockwood doing fine arts. he luvs painting n photography n philosophy n all tht. a pretentious fiend sometimes? maybe_so.gif. he isn’t rly pushy abt it tho n tends to like.... take nothing seriously bt at the same time acts like he is??? like he’s very deadpan in everything he does

ummMMMMmm honestly idk i’m blankin on what else to say. ull find him smoking weed reading an american classic or gnawing at his thumbnail n getting charcoal smudges on all his clothes. wandering the streets eating frm a cereal box without care in public. he’s p broody n scruffy n he’s mostly here fr a good time. o and he’s That Guy that would die fr morrissey (his vibe not personality bc i hc jude was depressed n shut himself inside all day when he actually found out what a dick he is dfjkfhg) and all that stone roses the smiths etc stuff music wise. HMU FR PLOTS!!!!!! i’m down fr anything

[mattzerella-sticks]

Self Insert, s15 coda, M, 3.8k

(TW: overdosing - no deaths, but a lot of pills are taken at once)

Ever since finding out that Chuck has been writing their lives, the Winchesters are going off script more than usual. And each act of free will spits on all of Chuck's work and muddles his sharp, writer's mind. It's bad enough he has to babysit a powerful demon he brought back from the Empty, but now he can't write the ending the Winchesters deserve. How can he create an epic, gut-wrenching ending when he's being given domesticity, wallowing, and a badass Castiel to work with. All of it useless to him.

There's nothing anchoring his work. No puppeteer to pull the strings. But somehow Lilith proves her worth and finds the silver lining in the stormy skies.

Chuck raids Becky’s bathroom cabinet, mirrored door swinging wildly on its hinges while he searches for aspirin. Another migraine rips across his temple, flaring as powerful as a dying star. He curses, tossing lotions and bottles randomly until he finds the economy sized tub. “Thank me,” he sighs, grabbing it and twisting the cap off. One pill wouldn’t cut it, so Chuck poured the bottle down his throat until his cheeks puffed. Then he races to the kitchen for a pitcher of water to wash it down with.

Lilith watches on, unamused by the laughable scene of God overpowered by a simple headache. “Really?” she starts, waiting until Chuck leans against the counter with an empty pitcher in hand, “You couldn’t snap your fingers and make it go away?”

He shoots her a glare but she doesn’t wilt. “It doesn’t work like that.”

“But swallowing enough pills that could take down all of Jonestown helps?”

“Maybe?” Chuck shrugs, “Power of suggestion?” As he says that, another beat of pain flares up. Dropping the pitcher, he rubs at his forehead. It shatters against the tiles. Chuck walks away, muttering, “Clean that up.”

“Oh, that’s all I am now?” Lilith snarls, defiant, “Your maid ? Not even good enough to be a plot device anymore?”

Another headache wiggles at the base of his skull, where a set of fiery white eyes burn into him. “You weren’t even that good of one to begin with.”

“Excuse me!”

Chuck scrubs his hands over his face, frozen, waiting for the avalanche he knocked over to bury him. Lilith stomps towards him, each blow to the floor adding to his already drumming head. She claws at his arm and forces him to look at her. “ What ?”

“You know what,” she says, squinting up at him, “You wake me up, bring me here, give me one night of freedom and then…? Nothing ! There’s only so much you can do in a damn house. Especially one that doesn’t have any cable !”

Chuck copies her disdainful expression. “There’s wi-fi.”

“That doesn’t help me when you have the only laptop!” Lilith yells at him, “Give me something to do, dammit. Otherwise just send me back to the Empty!”

“I gave you something to do,” he lobs back at her, “And you did it poorly .”

“I got you the Equalizer!”

“You got rid of the Equalizer!”

“Which I still haven’t been thanked for,” she says, hands flying above her, “I know you’re the Almighty Father but would it kill you to express the smallest amount of gratitude? I mean, no wonder Lucifer fell like he did…”

Chuck feels anger bubbling up inside him. Instead of wrecking his current base of operations he directs the maelstrom towards a distant galaxy light years away. Decimates three planets and freezes the core of their sun so the rest of that solar system dies slowly. “I wanted it.”

“For what reason?” she asks,”What reason would possibly warrant you keeping a weapon that can kill you around? It makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense!” Chuck tells her, voice loud and enriched with power, “Out of the two of us here there’s only one God and it’s me… I don’t have to tell you anything . I don’t have to keep you here .”

“But you do,” Lilith says, “Not out torturing the Winchesters or their friends. Not back in the Empty sleeping for the rest of eternity. No, I’m here because you need me. Need me to sit around and read through every different ending you’ve written, being slowly driven mad because I’m the one forced to entertain your mediocre bullshit - nggh!”

Lilith hovers inches off the ground. She claws at her neck, where an invisible force applies excess amounts of pressure. Breathing doesn’t matter, but with her windpipe crushed she can’t speak. The pain comes when Chuck’s eyes glow a blinding blue and parts of her essence shrivel from the exposure.

In a blink the light show ends and she falls. Chuck steps to her, glaring at her crumpled form. “You want to know the real reason why you’re not back in the game?” he scoffs, “The Equalizer was only number one on the list of things you seriously screwed up. Because of you, the Winchesters know I’m working behind the scenes! You took my hand and laid every card I had on the table. Your whole chapter went nothing like I wrote !”

“That wasn’t my fault,” she coughs, wiping at her mouth, “You stuck me with lumps and expected statues . Of course nothing was going to plan.”

“Maybe if you tried harder the Winchesters would have responded better -”

“Winchesters?” Lilith laughs, a rough, hollow melody that grates on his nerves. “Kind of a roundabout way of saying Dean , don’t you think?”

Like being shot by Sam again, Chuck recoils from the strike. He considers flexing his power, destroying her and bringing her back again, only to settle after deeming it a waste. “No, it’s not… you failed with both of them -”

“So I was supposed to seduce both of them?” Lilith says, “Because I read your flimsy excuse of a first draft and that part with Sam wasn’t included. In fact, Sam was hardly mentioned in it at all. You still nursing a… wound ?”

Chuck brushes the joke off, shoulder tensing under his jacket. Tendrils of pain squeezing the muscles where the bullet rests. “Sam wasn’t that important then… it was you and Dean  -”

“And the knock-off erotica you wrote in which I, trapped playing a barely legal philosophy major, seduce Big Brother Winchester and we have crazy sex where I’m moaning and screaming ‘That’s it! Slam into my tight, little, virginal ass, Dean’!” She writhes on the floor, giving a Meg Ryan-worthy performance. Lilith stops with one hand tangled in her hair while the other supports her arched back. Bedroom eyes replaced with a harsh gaze. “Sorry I didn’t become the little porn star you wanted daddy. ”

He grabs her arm and drags Lilith to her feet. “I didn’t realize you treated that scene like a joke.”

“I could have,” she tells him, “Really play up the innocent school girl routine, but whatever I would’ve sold Dean wouldn’t have bought.”

“Of course he would have,” Chuck says, defensive, “This is Dean we’re talking about. He should’ve been all over you in that motel room.”

“Well he wasn’t.”

“Because you weren’t playing up your character’s sexuality enough,” he argues, “I made it really easy for you, too, what with all the aphrodisiacs I wrote in. Do you know how hard it is to insert ideas into someone’s head that they should change the layout of their motel rooms so they had mood lighting and antlers everywhere? In such a short time? No!” His finger jabs at her, close enough he nearly pokes her eye. “Since I’m ninety-nine-point-nine-nine infallible than the problem was definitely you .”

Lilith scowls at him, sharp teeth poking between her lips. “Like I keep telling you, it wasn’t me - and it also wasn’t you. It was Dean, he wasn’t interested .”

“Because you weren’t -”

“No!” she shouts over him, “Because he’s not the Dean you knew! Because he realized how creepy it is hooking up with a girl who’s almost half his age ! Who only seconds before was crying about how awful her life was because she felt like she had no purpose. I bet that at no moment of knowing ‘Ashley’ did he think her purpose was to happily take his wrinkled dick and fondle some saggy balls for fifteen seconds until he came and fell asleep without even attempting to return the favor! I’m tired of saying this but he is not the man you know anymore!” Lilith’s chest heaves with the force of her words, a few of the figurines in the room tipping over from how wild her power shot during her tirade. Like whips of electric energy she tore through the room, shattering picture frames and upending Becky’s model Roadhouse.

Chuck watches her through slitted eyes. He snaps his fingers and the room repairs itself. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chuck says, “Of course I know him - I know all of them. They’re my creations. Nothing’s changed about them, not at all.”

“So you’re completely ignoring what showed up today?”

A shadow passes over his face at the question. Another tidal wave of pain roars through his mind, every nerve in his body swept in its destructive path. “It’s nothing.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Lilith says, backing away, “That’s why you spent all that time ripping it to shreds only for it to reappear on your desk like it never happened -”

“Lilith.”

“I took a peak, of course,” she admits, “I found it… I didn’t immediately hand it over. Like I said, I’m bored . It was interesting… very different than a lot of other things I’d been forced to read.”

“Stop it, I mean it -”

“Dean Winchester, our charming man of action, holed up in his room eating his feelings and nursing some heartbreak,” Lilith mocks, tone heavy with cruel delight. “Sam, the boy afraid of his own powers, taking ownership of his affluence and ability with magic. And Castiel the - actually, I don’t really know how to describe him. The angel never really comes up in your writings. I don’t know why seeing how hot that action scene was. If you wanted me to seduce him, I wouldn’t really mind… if Meg could do it then so can I -”

“ Enough .” Chuck snarls, windows shattering all around the house. Pain from the migraine becomes too much to deal with so he sinks to his knees, unable to use his powers and fix the broken glass. All he can do is focus all his energy on his breathing while he fights the chaos of free will tearing up his future.

When he feels more in control again Chuck opens his eyes and chances a look at Lilith. The angry expression on her face melted into a more unusual one. Curiosity easily shines in her eyes at his pathetic display, outlined with an odd hue of fear. Returning to full height, both school their expressions into masked indifference.

“Those pages were garbage ,” he tells Lilith, “they were… fanfiction . It’s not how it’s supposed to go. Sam’s happiness… Castiel’s confidence and Dean…” Chuck can’t bear to utter the next few words. “Whoever wrote those doesn’t know all the work I put into creating these characters. All the specifics of their characteristics that makes them who they are. That makes them butt heads and become their own worst enemies! I’m the author! Whatever I write is canon! And I do not like being mocked .”

“But you were, Chuck,” Lilith says, a softer approach, “Today you wrote the fanfiction… the story where Dean leaves Sam behind to drown in booze and women didn’t happen. Sam choosing to sacrifice the body of the woman he loves to destroy Rowena’s magic didn’t happen. Castiel being too late to save that mother and kid because he was paralyzed by his depression… that didn’t happen . None of what you’re writing will happen if you sit behind a desk and pray for it to work. Sometimes you need to put the effort in and bend the rules to fit your game.”

Chuck arches a brow in her direction. “Deus ex machina?” he frowns, “I kinda prefer keeping my arrival until the very end… I am God after all. If I show up too early then where’s the plot gonna go?”

“And yet the story of the Winchesters keeps going even though you're a recurring character,” she shakes her head. Lilith inches closer to him, smirking. “This isn’t the time to be holding back. Grand finales mean bringing in your heavy hitters, like yours truly . Who cares if you show up early? Every moment from beginning to end should be filled with adrenaline and action and not this… domestic crap.”

It’s a convincing argument, Lilith presenting her case with honeyed words fashioned to sweeten his ears. Except he doesn’t trust her enough to suspect that her goals are far less charitable than helping him with his runaway characters. In a room full of quickly-closing corners, however, he will take the first exit presented.

“That’s not a terrible idea,” he says, walking towards the study. Lilith follows. “Since Belphegor’s arc wrapped up way too early for him to be the Big Bad… there has been something missing in my work. No wonder Dean and Sam have been circling the drain!”

“It helps they’re already gunning for you,” Lilith adds, sitting in a nearby chair, “Good luck taking you off the board though seeing you’re God .”

Chuck relaxes behind his desk, staring at an open Word document. “But they’re putting up a united front. Kind of makes it hard to have one kill the other when there’s nothing driving them apart.”

“You could have Sam find out what Dean said to -”

“There’s nothing driving them apart.”

“Then be what drives them apart.”

“ How ?”

“I thought you were the writer here?” she scoffs, swinging her legs up over the armrest.

He rolls his eyes. “You said you wanted something to do, right? Help me come up with a wedge.”

“Kind of a waste of my skills…”

“You’d rather I send you into some other girl,” Chuck asks, “have you try and seduce Dean all over again?”

Lilith scowls. “Why don’t you try and seduce him.”

“What?”

“You seduce Dean,” she repeats, “You’re so obsessed with who he sleeps with, clearly you’re sporting a chub for the guy. Every scene you write with him in it makes it obvious, even the ones where he dies at Sam’s hands. No one needs to know how handsome a guy is moments away from death.”

Chuck shrugs, nervously fiddling with his glasses. “Debatable…”

“So why don’t you hop on his dick and get off mine.” She reaches behind her for one of the figures on display, snatching a Dean with opposable joints. Swinging his arm, Lilith takes the knife in its hand and has the miniature Winchester stab himself over and over again.

He pays her no mind, mulling over Lilith’s sarcastic suggestion. “Y’know…” Chuck mumbles, putting on his glasses, “that could work…” Chuck’s fingers begin typing. The story unfolds easily now that the missing element - himself - was added to the page. A wicked smile unfurls the more he types.

Hours pass, and Chuck has a working idea of how the Winchesters’ world will end.

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

Sam carries a few books through the Bunker’s main room when he hears the door open from above. Glancing up he finds Dean casually strolling down the steps. A swagger in his posture that hadn’t been present in a long while. So taken aback he nearly let his brother walk away without the stern interrogation he planned.

“Dean,” he starts, “where were you?”

Dean pauses under the archway, facing away from Sam. His hand pressed against the wall. “Out.”

“Out?” Sam scoffs, “That’s it?”

“Yeah. I was out.”

“Without leaving a note or answering mine or Cas’s calls and texts?” Sam stomps over, scowling, “You complain all this time about him ignoring us. And the moment he gets here you turn tail and leave? What’s the matter with you?”

Dean shrugs, showing a sliver of his handsome profile to Sam. “Had better things to do then waste hours running in circles with you and a fallen angel.”

Sam’s expression hardens. “Out, huh?” he asks, “Did you go to the jerk store?”

“No,” Dean says, “now are we done? Can you go back to your bitch party?”

“Dammit, Dean!” He grabs his brother’s shoulder and spins him around, stomach clenching at the disinterested stare that greets him. “I thought we were done with this, man! If we’re gonna have any chance to take down Chuck than I need you here, with us. Knowing he’s still playing with our lives it’s… I know it’s hard. But none of us will make it out alive if we’re keeping each other at a distance.”

Dean pouts throughout Sam’s speech, but a spark flickers in his eyes. His tight shoulders droop under an invisible weight, and the indifferent mask breaks. “Sorry,” he says, “I… I know. I get it. But I didn’t want to sit and read and… I found this case in Texas. Thought Chuck was tied to it. Figured you and Cas were okay to sit tight and handle the research while I hit the field.”

Sam sighs, the knot in his chest unwinding. “That’s… okay. Wish you still told us but… did it pan out?”

“What do you think?” Dean shrugs. He scrubs a tired hand over his perfect jaw, plush lips stretching under his touch. “It… it didn’t turn out so well. Wasn’t so much Chuck as it was a djinn. Handled it anyway.”

“That’s… that’s good,” Sam says, attempting a smile, “You feel any better killing it?”

He shakes his head. “Not exactly what I wanted to kill at the time.”

Seeing his brother crack open his hard shell eases some of the tension between them. Sam inches closer, bringing his brother into a hug. Going slow to give Dean enough time to escape. When he doesn’t, Sam wraps his arms around his brother. “We’ll find a way to get Chuck,” Sam tells him, “and the second we get him you’ll have first dibs.”

Dean shifts in his hold. “Funny thing, Sam,” Dean mumbles, “I’m not in the mood to kill Chuck, either.”

“What -”?

Snkkt

A burning pain rips through his chest from where the blade sunk in. Blood rushes up his throat and bubbles in his mouth, Sam spluttering while it leaks from his parted lips. The books in his hand crash to the floor and he stumbles backwards in shock.

Dean watches him with a soft glee highlighting the crinkles near his gorgeous eyes. Sam darts his gaze from his brother’s face to the red-stained knife in his hands. His hands rush to cover the wound, but the blood continues gushing. “W-what…?”

“Enchanted,” Dean tells him, wiggling the weapon like a toy, “got it from a special friend.”

“You…” Sam’s legs give out and he crumbles to the floor, “How…”

A slow clap echoes in the room, drawing Sam’s attention. He uses all the strength left in him to crane his neck to where the sound originates.

Chuck, in a burgundy blazer and pressed black slacks, stands over them. Sam’s eyes widen as he descends the stairs. “Y-you,” Sam mutters, on his hands at this point, “How… why…”

“It’s easy,” Chuck says, passing him on his way to Dean. His brother welcomes him gladly, adoration shining. Darkness edges his vision, but Sam can still see how Dean nuzzles Chuck’s hand when it rubs his cheek. Accepts a kiss as he bleeds out in front of him. “Dean finally understands his place in the story…”

“Your word is law, baby,” Dean says, “Whatever you want, I’ll do.”

“You know what I’d really love…?”

In his final moments Sam becomes a third party to the scene about to play out. Chuck whispers to him, mouth hidden. Dean nods and drops to his knees. His last breath intermingles with the jingle of Dean removing Chuck’s belt. Chuck’s zipper being undone one of the last thing he hears. Sam’s life eeks out of him, and he dies knowing his brother has and will continue to service the very being that controlled their lives from the beginning.

“If only you knew, Sam,” Chuck says, “the glory that comes from giving your life to God…”

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

Chuck waits for Lilith to finish, leaning on his desk while she reads the printed pages. It’s been very silent, a worrisome song for writers when faced with readers. But given the variety of faces she shuffled through Chuck feels his nerves untangling.

“I have to say,” she says, “I’ve said this before and I didn’t really mean it all those other times. But when I say this is great… I actually mean it.”

“Really?”

“Well?” Lilith shrugs her shoulders, “it’s better than anything else you’ve done. It’s fresh, you’re not rehashing any of the old plot points that’ve come and gone. There’s a strong point of view here… Really appreciated you using Sam’s blood as lube -”

“I knew you would.”

“And that part where Cas walked in on you fingering Dean,” she continues, slapping the papers, “I cackled! Forcing him to stay until you finished and then making Dean kill him was brilliant.”

Chuck blushes under the praise, waving her off. “It just grew organically from where the story was going.”

“And then some…” Lilith lies his work flat on her lap and stares at him. “Now the only question I have is… will this ending actually happen ?”

“Oh… I think we’re winding closer to the end than anyone realizes…” Chuck turns the laptop around and shows Lilith the news article he found celebrating a local celebrity named Leo Webb. “And to thank you for the inspiration… I have another job for you.”

Lilith sinks to her seat. “I’m interested.”

Chuck explains the scene he has waiting, the unfinished threads he will quilt together later on. The more he talks about it the better the finished product becomes in his mind. An excitement that hadn’t existed inside for a long time squeezes his heart. He looks forward to leaving Becky’s house and getting his hands dirty. A joy he thought only came from creating worlds resurfacing in the opening act of destroying one.

Writing about Dean and Sam for so long made him forget who the real star of their story was. And it’s high time he reminds them.

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

Sam shuffles into the kitchen, rewinding through the horrible dream he experienced. One of the worst since he shot Chuck with the Equalizer. Thinking about it sends shivers racing up and down his spine like it’s NASCAR. The cars on the makeshift track speed faster when he finds Dean stuffing cereal into his face.

“Morning Sam,” he says, waving with his spoon, “Wanna pull up a seat?”

He doesn’t answer. Sam books it towards the coffee pot and debates pouring the drink over his eyes. Instead he grabs a mug from the cabinet above and fills it. Quickly, uncaring to how a few drops splash onto the counter. The faster he makes his coffee the sooner he can hide in his room until he wipes his memory of the horrible nightmare.

Dean won’t let him. When Sam turns to leave, he’s blocking his escape with a stern frown. “Sam?”

“...Yeah?”

“What’s wrong?”

Sam shuffles his feet, unable to meet Dean’s questioning stare. His brother asks again. “I can’t, Dean.”

“Why not?” he asks.

“Because if I say it, out loud it’s…” Sam sighs, “it’s real.”

Dean nods, leaning against the island. “Another vision?”

“Yeah…”

“How bad was it?”

“So bad.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want to talk about it?” Dean asks, “Y’know… maybe if you let me know I can -”

“No.”

“No?”

Sam shakes his head. “No. Trust me Dean, this… you don’t want to know…

[mikayla-jays-world-blog]

Mikayla Jay's World...

Welcome one and all.

Hey friends....I thought it's about time for me to really introduce myself to all of you. I started this little blog about 6 weeks ago, and the first thing I should say is that I'm...well...*ahem... getting older. (I'm 45). As such, I'm a bit of a late-comer to social media. If truth be told, this is my first and only blog and platform that I have ever used. Ever. I don't use Facebook, I'm not a YouTuber or on Twitter or Twatter or Chatsnap or whatever else is typically used by y'all. This isn't about monetization for me. I needed a place to be creative, to vent, to learn, to grow...and most importantly...I wanted to find others in hopes of developing some sort of support network for myself. You see, in addition to being old (er), I'm also a proud MTF Transgender WOMAN. I am also bi-sexual, with a ravenous sexual appetite for both men and women - and each for their own unique reasons and dynamics. I have been an artist for mist if my life and career, having spent over 15 years professionally as a tattoo artist (I was attracted to Tumbler initially because of the graphic friendly, pro-art/artist philosophy...and the porn lol- at least until they took that away 🙄). I got burned out professionally about 18 months ago, and really wanted to follow a dream that has been sitting in the back of my head for years and years... I wanted to pursue writing. I've always believed that you do what you love, AND THEN you find a way to get paid doing it. But really, it's not about making money for me. It's about living my life on my terms, loving the person I continue evolving into, standing in my own truths, living authentically and being happy....truly happy with the life I want to live. And while I'm on the topic, I wasn't always interested in that. Living, I mean. The Cole's Notes version of my past is certainly colorful, but also full of pain and some tragedy- like many of us.

I grew up in a chaotic household, with parents that fought constantly and ultimately divorced. That was tough on me because I was close to my mom, and not so much to my father. Mom was a Nurse, Dad a University Professor. You see, I knew I was different from an early age. Thing is, my Mom knew too. She caught me wearing her makeup (because I would smush her lipsticks not understanding proper application techniques, and she got tired of me destroying them on her lol). So my Mom decided to show me how to apply makeup properly. She knew I liked lingerie, dresses, heels etc. I believe she also knew that I was not straight at the very least- certainly as I entered my teens and became a horny kid, it became obvious- to her. My father had his face in a textbook my entire childhood, and so was oblivious to his oldest son's (me) true personality. As such, I became very close to Mom. She was my best friend.

When I was 13, my parents divorced. My Mom needed a fresh start and my father made way more money, so we (me and younger brother) were forced to live with him. We moved to Maritime Canada- Prince Edward Island to be specific, as my father accepted a job in Charlottetown. My Mom moved to the North West Territories, and took a job as an Emergency Medical Flight Nurse working thru a small Native reserve hospital in Fort Simpson NWT. I was heart broken at being away from her suddenly, and bitter at the whole situation. Then my life really turned upside down.

My Mom, the best friend I ever had, loved her new life. She was finally really happy, and at peace with herself. She spent a very. fullfilling year up North. Then, just before X-Mas 1988, my world fell apart. My mom was on an emergency medical flight, and without me reliving painfull details, the plane she was flying in- 3 miles from the airport on the return leg, flew into a mountain. The plane exploded on impact, and my Mom was killed. That day, a big piece of my heart died.

I'm 14 yrs old. My mom, my best friend, my confidant and only person I trusted and supported who I was, was taken from me. The impact it had on me was simple. I was broken inside. I was in a new city and province, had no friends, was confused, alone....and broken.

The way I dealt with the pain and grief was to bury it by inside me. I became introverted, isolated, depressed, and scared. I was also trying to fit in where I didn't belong. Those of you that have never experienced small town maritime Canada, it's like Deliverence. Only worse. I had to adapt to my surroundings. The local customs and beliefs were not open, accepting or pro LGBTQ. The one thing I had going for me (at least then) was that I was coordinated and active. I could play sports. And I was a big kid. I believed my only option to fit in was to pretend I was like "everyone else". I learned to bury not just my pain, but everything that made me who I was. My sexuality. My needs and longings to feel feminine. To dress up and wear makeup. The happiest side of my personality was intimately linked to my feeling that I was born in the wrong body. I became sport-o. A jock. I blocked out and buried that part of me. And began living a life of lies. I became a "mans man".

Fast forward. I got big. I got angry. I hated myself and the world. I got involved in football and rugby and started amateur boxing. I became more confused as time went on. And more angry. Eventually after University, I moved out West. To British Columbia. Vancouver. Part of me wanted to get as far away from my father, Atlantic Canada, and my past. Part of me was aware of the progressive open gay community out there.

I ended up taking a job as a bouncer in a fairly violent biker bar. I immersed myself in that world, all the while walking a razors edge where I was "Iron Mike" on the outside, a tough SOB and all around bastard of a person. My confusion and anger over time grew into overwhelming dysphoria. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I battled those feeling by way overcompensating and going to the extreme other end of the gender scale. I became hyper masculine outwardly, and satisfied my inner desires on the sly, behind everyone's back. I engaged in many dangerous and stupid behaviors. I became a drug addict. And that culminated in 3 suicide attempts. I wanted to die.

That part of my life is a story for another time. But I will fast forward, for the sake of my sanity and yours. I was lucky enough to find an addictions doctor and a mental health councillor who helped me turn my life around. I began with grief Councilling for dealing with my mother's death. As I learned to trust the two women at that clinic, I came clean. With everything. My sexuality. My gender identity. I opened up about my risky sexual behavior (days and weeks suppressing and burying who I was inevitably would boil over and I would "blow off steam in the extreme let's just say.) Cyclical, drug fuelled gay sex parties were like a medicinal, almost spiritual healing event, just in a backwards twisted sort of way. My depression, dysphoria and anxiety would go up and down with my moods. I needed to change. And the more I worked on accepting myself, and battling the debilitating shame of feeling like a closet freak, the more I realized how wrong I had always been. How confused, disillusioned and unhappy I always was. I learned, slowly and not without setbacks, that I was not the pariah I feared I would become. I wasn't a freak. And I didn't have to continue to be......broken.

Over the past 10 years, I have grown and evolved. I began by accepting that I was gender fluid, and embracing it. My lifelong habit of crossdressing became something I refused to bury, and I stopped being ashamed of it. I consider myself mostly bisexual....with a definitive preferrence towards gay men and gay sex. I enjoy sleeping with women as well, but I really find it is a different type of sex, and my attraction to women is more about the intimacy. I emotionally 'make love' to women, whereas I like a good n' nasty fuck with a man...call me old-fashioned LMAO.

I also evolved in my gender identity, my knowledge and experience growing alongside my courage, and the belief in who I really am. I have grown to embrace the woman I've been evolving into. The amount of time I spent dressed up and living as a female grew more and more. I learned to truly accept myself, and the word Transgender. The philosophy, lifestyle, choices, mental impact and ultimately the strength and happiness that I've found by embracing that I AM A PROUD AND HAPPY MTF TRANSGENDER WOMAN has absolutely changed and saved my life. As such, I went through Gender Councilling, and went through the long and arduous waiting list/period to see a gender specialist doctor. I am so excited to say that I finally began by hormone therapy treatment about 6 weeks ago.

Which brings me to where we are now. I have just begun the next phase of my life. I am so happy and thankful to have survived and come through on the other side. Part of that journey has been learning to love myself. Respect myself. Believe in myself. I am so grateful to the small support group of doctor's and mental health workers who helped me learn to live my life as it was always meant to have been lived. And the other part is making sure that I can pay that gratitude forward, by helping other Transgender people live their authentic wonderful lives. That's a big reason why I started my blog. Mikayla Jay's World is a reflection of who I am. It is a place where I can thrive, meet others like myself, actually BE myself, and continue to grow....creatively, spiritually, emotionally, and mentally. It is a world where you won't be judged, and you will always find a supportive girl to lean on and become friends with. We are on the cusp of great societal changes. We have the ability to help each other through the difficulties still to come, and all be stronger, better people for it. Welcome to the world I live in. Welcome to a place I love. A safe place to be who you are...inside and out....and a place where we can all laugh, cry, be shocked, be turned on, be motivated, be creative, be unique, and be loved. Your always welcome in Mikayla Jay's World. Thanks y'all.

[voyages-extraordinaires]

C:R ~VE~ Chapter 27 (EXPLICIT VERSION)

This is the explicit version of this chapter that contains graphic sex between Aronnax and Nemo. Please proceed to the former chapter if you wish to read the non-explicit version.

---

Though we spend a great deal of our in the epipelagic zone, where sunlight can easily penetrate, I feel an excited pit form in my stomach whenever Nemo announces that we’ve passed into the mesopelagic zone.

The twilight ocean.

Though sunlight technically reaches these depths, it is not enough for photosynthesis to occur. However, while there is no plant life, animal life is a different matter. Not a full day is out before I’ve already spotted a swordfish that’s easily over three meters long!

I wonder how many of my journals I’ll be able to fill in two weeks? It’s hard to sketch moving creatures, but the challenge is exhilarating!

When the porthole looks empty, I occupy myself by talking to Cardia about the routine checks and maintenance for the Harper. It’s not that I don’t love helping Impey and Nemo, but Cardia speaks in a language that’s easier for a beginner like me to understand.

I hardly ever have a moment of free time, but when I do, of course Barbicane happens to peer over my shoulder.

“Woaahh! So you can draw more than just scientific specimens!”

My face flushes and he leans over to look at my sketching.

“Oh man, you’ve got her down perfectly!” Barbicane suddenly plucks my journal from my hands. “Cardia-chan, my angel, put on paper!”

“Don’t you have better things to do?” I ask. “Like getting some sleep or–”

“Oh, Polly-chan, what’s the harm of a little fun? Come on, I want to show her!”

“B-Barbicane, wait!!”

But l might as well be chasing after a rabbit he sprints so quickly through the door.

Cardia is sitting on her bunk, having a quiet moment with a warm cup of coffee and a biscuit.

“Cardia-chan, look at this! She did a pretty good job, right?!”

Cardia looks at the journal that Barbicane is offering to her, and I stand behind him, almost too nervous to watch.

But she smiles and looks at me with a gentle expression. “It’s amazing. This must be really hard to do.”

“No, not …. not really…” I stammer. “I mean, I’ve been practicing art since I was a little girl. It just takes time and practice…”

But Cardia’s looking at the sketch I made as though it were magic.

I take a deep breath and say, “Hold that thought.”

I quickly turn around and walk back into the salon, headed straight for the bookshelf embedded into the wall. Though Nemo has most of these shelves dedicated to science (with a surprising amount of philosophy peppered about), the bottom shelf is entirely filled with blank books.

I pull one out and leaf through it before returning to the bunks and handing it to Cardia. “Here you are.”

She blinks up at me curiously before gingerly taking the book from my hands. “What is this?”

“Your journal,” I say.

“Mine?” she repeats.

“Start with something small, like a spoon or even a bolt,” I say. “Observe it, connect your mind to your pen, and draw what you see.”

Cardia’s smile falters. “It won’t look anything like what I see, though.”

“That’s why you can’t stop,” I say. “Every page you fill is a world of experiences, Cardia. Besides, I’m sure your number one fan would love to see whatever you do.”

“That’s right!” Barbicane points to himself triumphantly. “I believe in you, Cardia! Maybe someday you can draw my stunning physique!” He strikes a pose. “Like Polly-chan drew Nemo a few pages back!”

“BARBICANE!!” the color drains from my face.

—–

The next time we surface, Nemo gives the controls to Barbicane before climbing up the hatch. I begin to do a routine check of the bridge when I hear Nemo’s booming voice through the submarine.

“PROOOOOOOOOOFESSOR!”

I shake my head and climb up the ladder after him. When I reach the top rung, Nemo grabs my arm and pulls me up, a wide smile on his face.

Since the Harper took off, we hadn’t had much time to see each other alone. Granted, it’s only been a few days, but after working next to someone for so long, it’s lonely to suddenly be apart.

“The stars are so bright out here…” I say as I walk along the top of the Harper. “It reminds me of when were were in the airship.”

I look back at Nemo with a smile, and watch as he lifts a sextant to the sky. He really does look like a sailor like this, and I sigh as he writes down his findings.

“Captain Nemo…”

“Hrm?” Nemo peers around the navigational device to look at me.

“What, don’t you think it has a nice ring to it?”

Nemo looks at me, his lips drawn thin, processing my words. Then he opens his mouth and says: “Say it again.”

“What? Captain Nemo?”

His posture stiffens, and he jerkily pulls his goggles up onto his forehead. His eyes are sparkling with delight.

“It’s…. it’s….”

He suddenly bounds over and squeezes me tight. “PEEEERFEEEEEEEEEECT!! My sweet, cute, daaaaarling Professor! Say it again, say it–!”

“C-Captai—” My words are cut off as he spins me around and rubs his nose against mine.

“Ahoy up there!” Barbicane bangs on the ladder. “Are we going to get our coordinates sometime tonight?”

“Riiiiiiiiiiight, right!” Nemo grins down the hatch before I yank him back to me and kiss him. He jolts in surprise but soon leans forward, and we melt like both of us had forgotten how good it was to touch each other.

He tries to speak, but each time he opens his mouth, I cut him off with another kiss. Finally, he whines in frustration and puts a finger to my lips. “Neeeeext shift… let’s catch up, shall we~?”

He winks.

“I want to hear aaaaalll about the things you’ve seen! Tell me eeeeevery detail!” he strikes a flamboyant pose. “And then—!”

Nemo lifts my chin and bends down towards me, but his eyes snap back open and focus on something past me.

“Get below,” he speaks quickly.

I turn around and glimpse a small shape on the horizon before Nemo ushers me back into the Harper.

Barbicane looks over at Nemo as he climbs down and closes the hatch behind us.

“Think they’ve spotted us?” he asks.

“It soon won’t matter whether they have or noooot!” Nemo puts his goggles back on as he looks outside one of the portholes. “Soon, we will be nothing more than a mirage, a trick of the sky itself! ENGINES—”

“Yeah, yeah, prepare to dive, got it!” Barbicane waves before making his way back to the engine room.

As Nemo pulls a lever and we begin to descend to the safety of the deep, I focus my eyes on the ship far-off in the distance

.....

An hour passes. Instead of focusing on the life passing by the salon’s porthole I find myself constantly glancing upwards towards the suface. With every shadow that passes, a ball forms in the pit of my stomach, sitting like a brick.

I don’t know why I feel so nervous, ships are a common thing. But perhaps I am afraid that a British flag will unfurl, and we’ll find ourselves in combat with Victoria in international waters.

I sink into the lounge and hang my head. Right now, more than anything, I need sleep. But there’s no way my anxiety will release its grip on me so easily.

I don’t even look up when I hear the salon door open and shut. There’s some shuffling and the sound of a seat moving before silence falls once again. Then, Bach once again graces my ears.

I slowly look back up. The music is a perfect backdrop to the ocean flowing past us. It’s energizing, and I manage to tear my eyes from the porthole to watch Nemo play.

His hair, damp from bathing, it tied back into a low braid hanging down his back. He’s dressed down considerably, simply wearing his usual turtleneck and a pair of leather pants. Somehow, this wardrobe and the lack of his usual makeup makes him look almost… “normal”. It’s not better or worse than his usual, just different.

“You have to be tired,” I say as I stand up and walk over to him. “Surely you can spare a few hours to get some sleep.”

I reach out and gently begin to rub his back in slow circles.

He continues to play, as though I’m not even there. I stand there and watch his skilled fingers move perfectly over the keys.

Finally, a long note plays, signalling the end of Nemo’s performance.

“You’re a very braaaaave woman to interrupt a madman’s concentration,” he says, a slow smile stretching on his lips.

Even without his lipstick on, Nemo’s lips are dark and very soft when I bend down to kiss him.

“I’d say that I’m more selfish than brave,” I say. “Selfishness can push me where bravery can’t.”

I sit down on the bench next to him and wrap my arms around his shoulders.

“I think… even in an airship sailing high through the clouds… I don’t think even the heights could keep me from you. That’s just how powerful my selfishness is.”

Nemo squints at me, then bites his lip, his shoulders shaking. Finally, he throws his head back and laughs so loudly that the pipe organ hums.

It takes awhile, but eventually he calms down enough to form a coherent sentence. “Y-you couldn’t budge an iiiiiiiiiiinch when we were on that tiny, tiny airship! What makes you think you’d suddenly be able to… haha… hahahahahaa!! If you were on something that could go as high as the Nautilus, you’d be in teeeeears!”

Nemo bends over and leans his head on my shoulder, still trembling from laughter.

“The Nautilus...” I look away from him and shake my head. “I don’t think it would be the height that would frighten me so much as its raw power. It was... incredible...”

Nemo puts his hand on my cheek, turning me so that I have to look at him.  

It would be so easy for me to lose myself in those deep eyes, burning like the sunset.

“You’re more afraid of the creation than the architect.”

It wasn’t a question, which was refreshing because it meant that he already knew the answer.

His hand is so warm, and I lean into it without thinking.

“I was afraid of you when we first met, Nemo. I would have been a fool not to be. But you still have so much more to give the world!”

“I knooooow~” Nemo smiles, looking off into the distance. “I have so many great things planned, my mind can hardly contaaaain them!”

“I want to hear all about them! But first...” I stand up and take him by the hand, leading him to the porthole.

“Look at what you’ve done for me already,” I say, holding tightly onto his arm. I point out to the blue expanse, sunlight filtering through the water in crystalline rays.

“I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl. I’d sit in my wardrobe and pretend that it was a magnificent underwater ship.”

I wrap my arm around him, leaning my head against his chest so I can feel his heartbeat while looking out at the water.

“I’d always take my grandfather’s anthology of Plato’s dialogues in there with me and read them over and over. I couldn’t understand any of it, but I thought if I repeated it enough, my brain would somehow absorb the information. Somehow I’d gain the knowledge to find the lost continent of Atlantis!”

Nemo raises an eyebrow at me.

“Don’t give me that look, it’s embarrassing,” I say with a sheepish laugh. “I was just a kid, remember? But... Atlantis or not, I’m still able to re-live something special because of you. How could I be afraid now?”

I turn to him, my eyes sparkling. “I want more of these adventures. All the darkness and danger that goes along with it, too! Take me in the sky with you, won’t you? No matter how much I tremble... don’t stop. Make me experience it all, sea and sky.”

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him. “I want to see everything you can create. Science won’t wait for me to get over my fears.”

“Hee hee hee...” Nemo begins to undo my bun, stroking my hair as it falls down my shoulders. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is to saaaaaaaaaay such things to me, the ousted Lord of the Sky?”

A dangerous grin stretches across his face. “I miiiiiight decide to keep you all to myself, and never let you walk upon the blasted earth agaaaaaiin!”

I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss his wicked smile again. “I think I could handle you, but that’s a risk I guess I’ll have to take... my captain.”

Nemo suddenly grabs my shoulders and pushes me against the porthole. His breathing is ragged as begins to hike up my skirt around my waist. The glass feels cool on my buttocks, and I blush when I realize how exposed I am.

“Nemo, what if someone...”

Nemo bends down to my height and looks at me with a serious expression. “Who...? The fiiiiiiiiiiish? Do you not want the fish to seeeee us?”

He pulls out a dagger and toys with it.

“You don’t want them to see your laaaaaacy garter belt?” his laugh is dark as he tugs at one of my stocking straps until it smacks back against my skin, making me yelp.

He undoes my tie and tosses it aside before proceeding to unhook the buttons of my blouse.

“But reeeeeeeeally, professor, modesty has no place here in my realm! Ahh.... but that sounds like the fun beginnings of a story, don’t you thiiiiiiink?  A pretty professor held in a metal prison deep below the sea, where ‘nobody’ lays claim… Her mind is used in the progress of science, and her body…”

He grazes the tip of his blade down my sternum  and flicks it under the front clasp of my bra.

“…Is used for the amorous desires of the geeeeenius scientist who holds her captive!”

He pulls the dagger up until it rips through the fabric, my breasts falling free. He stands there silently for a moment, examining the way my chest rises and falls with each breath. My nipples begin to ache, and with a smirk he grazes one with the back of his hand. His touch felt electric, and I arch my back for more.

“You really are a maaaaa~soooo~chiiiiist~ to be enjoying this scenario! How sad, how siiiiiiick---!” 

He flicks his dagger over and pushes its handle against my panties. I bite my lip as he nudges it past my vulva and gently begins to rotate it in a slow circle, seeking out my clitoris.

I groan and arch my hips pleadingly when he pulls it away.

He slides the dagger under my panties, and I put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Wait...” my voice is hoarse. “Please, this is one of my favorite pairs...” I look at him with half-lidded eyes. “I’ll make it up to you...”

I lean forward and push my breasts against his chest, whispering in his ear: “...Captain Nemo...”

The dagger clatters to the floor, forgotten as Nemo quickly reaches around and digs his fingers into my hips and buttocks. He buries his head in my shoulder, sucking at my skin as his hands desperately pinch and grab at whatever flesh of mine he can reach.

I gasp at his sudden ferocity, shivering as he loops his fingers in the fabric of my panties and snaps them before stepping back.

“Theeeeeeeen I’d suggest you hurry and get them off!”

With a giggle he pulls his sweater over his head and tosses it onto the lounge, and I barely have time to kick my panties off before he is in my arms, holding me tight to him. I can feel both of our heartbeats like this.

I glance down and smile when I see that he’s already unhooked his pants, and I reach for my prize.

But he grabs me by the wrist, a crazed grin twisting his face.

“My pretty, pretty professoooooooor... I haven’t given you permission...”

“Oh?” I pout. “Are you going to ask me to beg, Captain?”

“Ha.... hahaha... aaaaa----hahahahahahahaaaaa-----!!!”

I wince at his booming laugh, and wince again when he grabs me by the shoulder and turns me over, shoving my cheek against the glass.

“Oh no no nooooo! You’re not going to get the chaaaaaaaaaaaaaance to beg!”

I yelp in surprise when he suddenly lifts me, holding me up by my legs so they’re spread wide.

I’m completely exposed. Even if the ocean is my only witness, being put on display like this makes me ache with both humiliation and desire. I feel so swollen, so agonizingly empty!

“Yeeeeess... you see yourself in the reflection there, don’t you?”

I look up, locking eyes with my reflection in the porthole. I look so needy, I feel my stomach turn in revulsion and arousal.

I curl my toes when I feel Nemo nudge the tip of his penis against my vaginal entrance. I look back up at our reflection, and I see the glint of his smile as he begins to rub himself against the length of my vulva.

“That sweeeeeet expression you’re making-- and this angelic body-- both are about to be sullied by meeeeeeeee, Neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeemooooooo----!”

With this loud declaration, he plunges into me.

I almost lose control when I see how hungrily my body eats him up. I can feel my vaginal walls throbbing against him, welcoming him, pleading for him to fill me over and over again.

He begins to pull out, slowly, and I twitch when I see each of his piercings slowly slide out from inside of me. It’s almost like they’re a unit of measurement-- deep, deeper, all the way...

My fingers twitch when he thrusts back in.

“Noooooow then, my dear! Why don’t we show the sea itself just where you beloooooooong!”

Thrust.

“Impaled!”

Another thrust.

“Twisting and convulsing--- a disgusting display of humanity’s basic instincts--!!”

I spasm as I feel his tip hit my cervix.

“But it feels gooood... doesn’t it... to give in like this? To give into meeeeee?”

He stops, waiting for me to answer.

“Yes...”

He still doesn’t move, and I squeeze my muscles in an attempt to coax him back inside. In response, he begins to pull out.

I cry in desperation: “Yes! God, fuck me---!!”

He cackles, rewarding my obedience by doing just that.

He’s so stiff, and the sensation of his piercings on top of that are driving me crazy. I can barely concentrate, focusing my vision on his beautiful cock pounding into my eager body.

My mind, foggy with lust, begins to think-- the Nautilus was a terrifying creation, a modern Tower of Babel, and yet...

Yet, I find myself wishing that I had been up there with him, that he would’ve taken me like this--! For all of London to see!

The force of my orgasm rips through me like lightning, and I can barely keep my eyes open to watch my reflection convulse.

In response, Nemo begins to rock his hips instead of thrusting, grinding his shaft against my sensitive insides. It feels heavenly.

As I begin to calm, as my muscles begin to relax, I realize that Nemo is still stiff inside of me.

“My~ you sure do finish quickly, doooon’t you?”

He staggers back, his own body trembling as he sits down on the chaise lounge, with me on his lap.

“Well then... are you ready to continuuuue?”

I look back at him and shake my head. “You stopped me before... but now you’ll let me have a taste, right?”

I open my mouth and let my tongue loll out, mimicking one of his expressions.

I take advantage of Nemo’s shocked expression to stand up, shuddering as Nemo’s stiff member slides out and rests on his stomach, twitching with need.

“My cute scientist...” I purr. “You might have me captive, but I have ways of getting what I want in the end.”

I kneel down between his legs and put my lips on his shaft. I can feel the blood quickly pumping through it, letting me know how badly he needs this release. The heat radiating from his skin is intoxicating, and I eagerly let my tongue roam over his shaft, pausing to gently suck on each barbell decorating his penis.

He arches his hips and hisses. “This isn’t the time to tease me, Pauliiiiiine--!”

I smile as I slide the head of Nemo’s penis into my mouth. Finally, it feels like I’ve waited eons to feel his incredible heat! I feel him twitching inside of me, stiffening even further at my doting affections.

If a twisted part of Nemo still desires to be worshiped, then I will gladly fulfill that fantasy for him!

I eagerly try to fit more of him into my mouth, cupping his scrotum as my lips slide farther down his shaft.

Nemo rewards me with a loud moan, opening his legs wider and propping his foot up on the lounge. I look up at him and watch as he begins to lift his hips and thrust into me, forcing his length deeper into my yielding mouth.

I give a needy moan of my own, but I freeze when I realize that Barbicane and Cardia have likely been forced to listen to us this whole time. That break in concentration is enough for the ring in Nemo’s foreskin to rub against my throat, and I begin gagging.

I quickly slide him out of my mouth and collapse to the floor of the submarine, putting a hand to my neck as I cough. My eyes sting with tears, and I quickly wipe them as I look back up at Nemo.

He’s sprawled on the chaise lounge, his hips twitching as he lightly bucks into the air, looking at me with half-lidded eyes.

“Professoooor…” he whines. “Leaving me like this… it’s so cruel…!”

He’s so cute, I can’t resist teasing him like this.

I playfully lean in-between his legs and kiss his frenulum, running my tongue along his ring

.“You have such a lovely cock, Nemo…” I purr. “Glistening with sweat, and decorated so nicely…”

I tilt his penis forward so I can suck on the very tip.

“I caaaaan’t--!!” Nemo thrusts his hips up, and when I feel his penis begin to pulse I take him in as deep as I can without choking.

The throbbing intensifies, and Nemo lets out a deep groan as the first spurt of his semen fills my mouth. It’s warm, thick, and bitter, and I can’t help but moan as I swallow it. This act feels so incredibly intimate, there’s nothing else like it.

Nemo’s staring at me, his lip twitching as his body convulses. He reaches out his hand and threads his fingers through my hair as the second, third, fourth spurts fill my mouth.

It’s all I can do not to choke, and a trail of his semen begins to leak down my chin. Nemo gives a light whimper and I slow down my movements, realizing how sensitive he must be.

I lock eyes with him as I slowly release him from my lips. My brain feels hazy as I open my mouth, his semen dribbling down my tongue.

For once, Nemo is silent, just watching the spectacle of his white cream dripping from my mouth.

I laugh lightly as I catch the threads of his ejaculate with my hands and bring them to my mouth, cleaning myself off.

He’s still staring, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open.

“Nemo...” I sit up and gently lick the oozing remnants of his orgasm away from his tip. “I told you I have ways of getting what I want... Cap~tain~...”

-----

I settle in against Nemo’s chest, both of us sprawled out on the chaise lounge.

It’s a long time before one of us speaks.

“A part of me... does wish I could have seen the Nautilus in person,” I admit.

Nemo giggles.

“The Nautilus was a great masterpiece…” his voice is hoarse from exertion. “But it wasn’t my fiiiiinaaaal one… once we get back to land, I’m going to design the perfect airship… faster and sleeker than anything the world has seen… yeeeees… beautiful enough to even eclipse my Naaauutiluusss…”

He closes his eyes, content in whatever fantasy he’s cooking up for himself.

“And when that happens, yes… oh yes, I’ll take you up there, Professor. Again and again… and again… I’ll be the one… to graaant… all…. yoooour…dreeeeeeeaaams…… and I’ll never go back to the ground… ever… ever……..”

The next time he opens his mouth, it’s in a deep snore.

I nuzzle my cheek into his bare chest before falling asleep myself.

.....

“Oy, Nemo!”

I jolt when I hear Barbicane’s voice. I sleepily look over to the voice tube that Barbicane is speaking through.

“Mmm…” Nemo frowns, scrunching his nose in displeasure. “Impeeeeeey… Barbicane…. this had better be impoooooortant…”

“Hey, listen, I didn’t want to interrupt you, either! Man, I can’t believe you couldn’t keep it in your pants for a week! My poor angel and I have been huddled up here wearing noise cancelers and they STILL weren’t enough! Aren’t you supposed to be focused on science?! Tch!! Why’d it have to be you…”

I sit up and hastily begin buttoning up my blouse, shame making my entire body flush red.

Nemo stretches before leaning back and casually lacing his fingers behind his head. He doesn’t even acknowledge Barbicane’s complaints, instead asking: “Sooooooo….?”

Barbicane sighs. “We’re being hailed via the aether transmitter. Must be a strong one to reach this deep, I didn’t even think it was possible!”

Nemo’s frown deepens as he repeats: “Sooooooooooooo…..?”

“SO, we’re being hailed! At first I thought someone was in trouble, but… well, listen for yourself!”

There’s a sharp whine as Barbicane relays the transmission over the voice tube.

“—essor! If you can hear me, please respond! Professor!”

I leap to my feet, realization spreading through me.

“Conseil--!”

[blastthatsadfm]

I just read your ask thing about Izaya and I'm super interested in what you had to say about Izaya in fanfiction! I'm not sure if you've written fanfic and if you have please point me to it, but if not do you have any how would you write him? Any ideas you're willing to share?

Oh, hey! That was really kind of you, to have an interest on that! First of all, no, I dont write fanfic. English is not my native language and I’m pretty awkward at it. =/

But I think you basically asked me if I had Izaya headcanons and how I would write him and here they go!

 - Izaya probably has read Russian literature, since he needed some use for that language other than to throw small provocations at Simon. He can probably talk really seriously about Russian Literature, the literary divergences that stems from it, the philosophy imbued on it. Its a heavy subject, full of contradictions and I can see Izaya having a fun time with it. Folks, Russian literature is The Real Shit, I know very little about it but its fun. (and depressing but ya know thats a whole other thing)

- I really, really love all of the potential that Izaya has with his little sisters, like??? It used to surprised me how little of it was explored on fandom and mostly on fanfics. I understand that everybody has their little headcanons about that, but I have no doubt those are siblings who deeply hurted each other and, yet, still profoundly love each other.

- Think about Orihara Twins sticking their noses on Shizuo/Izaya’s relationship. Think about them asking out loud Completely Innapropriate Questions, like “So did you guys had sex yet?? Kuru-nee and I were talking, right Kuru-nee?? And we got to the conclusion Shizuo-san definitely needs to get laid” and making Izaya Want To Jump from the window.

- LIke, my take is that he tries, but he cant mantain his composure At All in front of them and thats why I think they would have so much potential. I think this is why they lack scenes on canon; we inevitably learn too much about Izaya everytime the Orihara Siblings interact. Sad this isnt explored on fanfics, regardless of the plot.

- Its canon that he cares deeply about them and its canons he also cares about Shinra. And its not like this kind of thing isnt explored on fanfics, but??? Its always like “Izaya is so bitter and lonely, he’s trash hahahaha”, for once I would like to see or read some situation in which Shinra and Izaya would confront each other about the shitty friends they were for each other, and with the admission that Shinra is Absolute Trash too. And like, it doesnt have to be emotional. Just a step on their mutual character development.

- Guys I love Shinra but he is. He is Trash on Izaya’s level. Super weird this is never adressed too?? Narita himself indirectly addresses a bunch of times, but playing with the fact is Shinra’s relationship to Celty that makes him so likeable. But Shinra would be Just As Lonely if it wasnt for Celty (People werent on that hot pot because they were friends with thim, my buddy. LIke, how come??)

- And Izaya and Shinra would be, you know, rational about it?? And sarcastic little shits but they wouldnt get emotional over it. This is interesting too, their unspoken camaraderie.I really would like to read they being able to slowly rely on each other.

- People usually ignore the DRRR!! Characters background as, ya know, japanese people that live in Ikebukuro, and they forget they can talk about this?? Not talking about traditional aspects, of course. Just… 

- Is Izaya good at arcade games?? If Shizuo and Izaya are together, whos better at videogames and at getting prizes out of the claw crane machines?? (We see Chikage and his girlfriends having a scene close to one of those stores, at some point in the novels) Who get super competitive playing silly nintendo games?? (Both, its both of them). Which one of them reads mangas the most, and buys it every week?? Who are their favorite characters?? Do they have a favorite series, a favorite TV Show?? (We know Celty has fave tv shows, as an example) How come Ive never read a fanfic in which Kadota, Chikage, Shinra, Shizuo and Izaya embarass themselves at the Karaoke?? How would an Actual Date between Shizuo and Izaya be, in Ikebukuro?? Why must you people fail me like this??

- And since we’re at it, give me established domestic Shizaya; who does the laundry, who makes tea?? It doesnt have to be boring, with them it never is. Would they have a cat?? How would they name it?? Would they fight about having the cat and naming it?? The answer is yes. 

- I can see they slowly reaching a routine together, only just having small arguments over every step of the way and that’s where the potential for nice scenes lies, I think.

- Izaya has problems to go to sleep at the right time and Shizuo tries to find a way around fixing that. Shizuo is super shy when the Twins or Celty come to visit, Izaya teases him about it and tries to find a way to make him relax around others. There, we have little conflicts and ways to solve them! And it can be solved with snarky remarks, sarcastic answers, a little dose of sincerity and genuine care for the other, and look! We have a shizaya fanfic that its not a trainwreck.

- They really just need… good dialogue between them. Seriously, that’s all there is.

Second of all, I absolutely admit is very arrogant of me to criticize other people’s writing when I very much… Dont Write. I’m doing this right now since I got this ask, but as an artist I recognize the guts it takes to post your own work out there for the internet to see. Is very assholish of my part to just say I have a problem with it.

But well… I… do…. Its hard to say with which element I have a problem with cuz I honestly believe every plot can work, as long as well-written. 

But I think I have a prolem with the whole takes of either “Izaya is trash he sucks LMAO right??” or “Izaya has XXX disorder and his entire live is Pure Misery”.And when it comes to Shizuo is either “Hes brutal and hurtful and makes Izaya’s mental state worse, by never caring about him  or treating him right” which honestly  just fucking hurts. to read. Or he’s a uncaring friend or a uncaring boyfriend for plots sake in order to make Izaya hurt more like I’m tired, Canon!Shizuo is not an uncaring person, why cant I just have a fic in which they bake cookies with Akane or work out their issues or both!

But if it helps or makes any better I always make a point to leave comments and reviews to fics I like, I am a Good Citizen who leaves reviews! I just…. havent left reviews in a while because its been months Ive ever read any drrr fanfic. if you folks have recs, I’m really happy to hear about it.