#offer to do the initial rinsing

[sodacowboy]

I hate you I hate you I hate you

[p0orbaby]

Cream Crackered

summary: being a phd student is not for the faint of heart

warnings: none, well tiredness? does that count?

a/n: based on this request. im also suffering from a hefty case of writers block so if this is awful, i apologies to all involved

word count: 1.1k

-

You’ve been burning the midnight oil for weeks.

As a PhD candidate in molecular biology, your days and nights blur together in a haze of research, experiments, and writing. You’re exhausted, running on fumes, but you have to push forward. You have to finish what you’ve started.

One evening, as you’re hunched over your computer, frantically typing away at your latest chapter, there’s a knock on your door. Startled, you look up to see Alessia standing there, concern etched on her face.

“Alessia?” you croak, your voice hoarse from lack of use. “What are you doing here?”

She steps into your cramped apartment, taking in the sight of scattered papers and empty coffee cups littering every surface. “I haven’t heard from you in days,” she says softly as her eyes scan your exhausted form. “I was worried”

You force a tired smile. “Just… I’m trying to finish this dissertation before my defense”

“You haven’t slept either, have you?”

“Is it that obvious?” You force a laugh, a weak little thing cut off by a large yawn. Gosh, you were tired.

She places her hold-all down on the floor, the one you were too tired to initially notice, before coming to stand over where you’ve stationed yourself at the dining table.

She nods, concern etched across her features. “Yes, it is,” she replies softly, her hand reaching out to brush a wayward strand of hair away from your face. “And it’s not healthy. You can’t keep pushing yourself like this”

You lean into her touch, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you despite your exhaustion. “I know,” you admit quietly, the weight of fatigue settling heavily on your shoulders. “But I need to get this finished”

Alessia hums, a low rumble in the quiet of your humble abode. “I thought you might have said that”.

Before you know it, Alessia leans over you and slams your laptop shut. Snuffing out the light of the screen in one smooth move, leaving you blinking and confused.

“You’re done for the day” she deadpans.

It all catches you off guard a little if you’re being completely honest.

“Wait, what? No, I’ve only got a few thousand words left” you protest, trying to prise your laptop open again. But it was no use, a perfectly manicured hand was keeping it closed, and you were too tired to fight her on this.

Looks like you're tapping out at homologous recombination.

Alessia gives you a firm look, an expression that leaves no room for negotiation. “You need rest, more than anything else right now”

You slump back in your chair, defeated but also secretly relieved. Deep down, you know she’s right. You’ve been pushing yourself to the brink, and it’s not at all sustainable.

With a resigned sigh, you nod, finally conceding. “Okay, okay. You win. But just for tonight”

Alessia smiles softly, “I’ll make you some dinner,” she offers, already heading towards the kitchen. “And then you're having a bath because no offense baby, you look like you could use one”

The truth hurts, you guess.

-

"So, tell me about your day," Alessia prompts as she rinses the shampoo from your hair.

You relax further into the warm water, gratefully leaning back against her. "It was hectic, as usual," you begin, recounting the events of the day with a sigh. "I spent most of it in the lab, running experiments, analysing data, the usual”

You feel her nod behind you. "Sounds intense," she comments, her fingers working wonders on your scalp. "Did you make any progress?"

You hum to confirm you had, a sense of pride swelling within you despite your fatigue. "Yeah, I think so. I managed to replicate some promising results from a previous study, which was a relief”

"That's great!" Alessia exclaims, kissing along your shoulder and up your neck. "I'm so proud of you”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at her words, a sense of validation that you desperately needed. "Thanks," you say, settling into her further, then asking her the same.

As suspected, her day was filled with training and game strategies and business meetings, a routine you’re familiar with but nonetheless always interested to hear about.

You start to doze as she talks, not because you’re bored, but because this is the first time you’ve felt relaxed in days.

It’s only when you hear the water slosh and she shifts behind you that you realise your eyes have closed and your head has lolled against her shoulder.

“C'mon you, let’s get you to bed before we both get colds”

You blink, gradually returning to awareness as Alessia’s words register. With a gentle nudge, she encourages you to rise from the bath, the cold air hitting you before she wraps a towel around your shoulders.

You offer Alessia a sleepy smile, feeling the weight of exhaustion in your bones. “Thanks for looking out for me,” you say softly, gratitude laced in your words as you nestle closer to her.

Alessia returns your smile, her eyes warm with affection. “Always, my love,” she replies, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with gentle fingers. “You know I’ve got your back.”

You nod, feeling a sense of comfort wash over you at her words. “I do,” you murmur. “And I’ve got yours too, always. Even more so when my every thought isn’t consumed by nondisjunctions and point mutations”

“That’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever said” she teases, a playful grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I can keep going? What about horizontal gene transfer? Or chromosomal segregation. Any of that doing it for you?” you jest, raising a suggestive eyebrow in her direction.

She just rolls her eyes and pushes you gently through to the bedroom.

“Come on, you know you love it when I talk nerdy to you,” you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

She chuckles, shaking her head in amusement as she grabs some clean pyjamas from the dresser. “Usually, but right now, I think we both need some shut-eye”

You pout playfully, feigning disappointment. “Spoilsport,” you mock, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her closer.

Alessia laughs, gently extricating herself from your grasp to pull back the duvet. “Hey, sleep is important,” she informs. “You of all people should know that”

You relent with a sigh, knowing she’s right. “Fine, fine,” you give in. “But you’re missing out on some riveting conversation”

So riveting in fact that you're yawning again and leaning into Alessia's touch as she helps you get dressed and tucked into bed.

Sleep, yes. What a splendid idea.

Alessia gives you a knowing look, “I think I’ll take my chances,” she says, before snuggling into bed beside you and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

[heich0e]

"don't stick your fingers in there!"

touya turns away from you furtively, his pointer finger caught between his lips. there's a mischievous lift at the corner of his mouth that you catch just before he turns his back to you that tells you he's not even a little bit remorseful, save possibly for the fact he's been caught.

you sigh, but the sound is just as fond as it is frustrated, and open the kitchen drawer at your hip.

"here."

touya turns around again to look at you, his finger still in his mouth though you're sure the frosting has long dissolved on his tongue. you hold out a teaspoon towards him, with a little dollop of the frosting from the mixing bowl balancing upon it. he blinks a little, surprised you're offering him any when he'd just gone to such great lengths to steal some, but accepts it nonetheless.

"thanks," he says, taking the spoon from your grip into his own, your fingers brushing lightly as the utensil changes hands.

touya's tongue peeks out from between his lips, licking away a small corner of the frosting on the spoon rather than sticking it all into his mouth at once. it's cat-like, almost—though it doesn't surprise you all that much, when so much about him is. you watch as he savours his little treat slowly.

"is it good?" you ask him, wiping your hands off on a towel—you'd been rinsing off some dishes when touya had initially stuck, and droplets of water still cling to your skin.

"mm," touya hums affirmatively. "'s sweet."

you laugh a bit. "it's frosting, that's sorta the point."

you pick up the offset spatula in front of you, scraping some of the fluffy white frosting from the edge of the bowl. you feel a familiar weight against your back, suddenly; a pair of arms slipping around your waist where they seem to fit so naturally.

"what's the cake for anyway?"

touya's voice is right by your ear when he drapes himself over you like this. his breath is warm against your cheek. if you turned your face towards him, you'd be so close you could probably still taste the sugar on his lips.

your hands pause in front of you, setting the spatula aside.

"touya," you say quietly, your voice a little hurt. "do you know what day it is?"

all at once touya seems to stiffen—petrified by unexpected panic he's forgotten something important.

"ah, uh—fuckin' wednesday right? no, wait—"

you turn in his arms, pressing your face to his chest.

"tomorrow's your birthday, dummy."

touya's hands—hovering momentarily over your back since you'd turned around to face him—drop to rest gingerly against your shoulder blades.

"oh," he says. simple. plainly. "i forgot."

no one's ever made him a birthday cake before. at least not that he can remember. maybe when he was really little, and things weren't as bad at home—but he can't be sure if those faint recollections he has are real memories or just things he dreamed up to make the truth sting less.

shouto made him a birthday card once, though. he remembers that. it was right after he learned how to write his own name—that's all that was actually written on the card, 'SHOUTO' scrawled in bright red crayon on the inside since he didn't know how to spell anything else, but there was a crudely drawn picture of a cake too. that's the closest touya remembers to getting a birthday cake.

that was the last birthday touya spent at home.

(he still has the card, all these years later. he sometimes wonders if shouto remembers it, too.)

touya holds you a little bit tighter, his eyes scanning around the kitchen of your little apartment over the top of your head. it's nothing fancy. a bit cramped. certainly humble. then he looks at the cake—waiting to be decorated—on the counter behind you.

it looks delicious.

he presses a kiss to the top of your head. so light you might not have felt it at all.

"thanks," he says.

you peek up at him.

"for what?" you ask, blinking at him curiously.

he smiles a little, and you notice for the first time there's a little smudge of frosting at the edge of his mouth. there's a little blush sitting high on his cheeks too. he looks younger like this. boyish in ways you're not used to, but that make your heart squeeze tight in your chest.

he laughs. "for letting me try it."

[inksandpensblog]

Somehow I got this idea of Chosen, left alone after the season conflict again, wandering away from the site of the final battle and then stumbling upon Victim’s abandoned farm.

Obviously by the time he finds it it’s a little run-down, because the property owner hasn’t been back in a while.

(Not that Victim had been spending much time there anyway, recently. As the lab grew, they started spending more time at their office, and their own house became more of a retreat. Though the neighbors would still lend a hand every now and then, at first.)

But when Chosen finds it, it’s been long enough that the neighborhood is pretty sure the original owner won’t be coming back.

Not that Chosen is aware of this, at first. It starts with him squatting in the barn.

He gets a good nap in, but eventually the farm animals notice there’s a person in the barn again and begin vying for his attention.

He figures out what they want, in the hopes that making them happy will get them to leave him alone, and then goes back to resting.

Rinse and repeat a few times, until Chosen realizes that the only way to get the animals off his back more permanently is to get a bit more involved and make some changes to the space.

So he starts fixing the barn up. Which leads to him fixing up the property around the barn. And he starts paying attention to what the animals’ regular needs are, instead of just their needs in the moment.

(The neighbors have become aware that Victim’s property is no longer abandoned. The new guy doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, but he’s good to the animals and he’s trying to fix the place up so they all pretend he isn’t technically trespassing. He looks similar enough to Victim for them all to figure he’s probably family, so they figure it’s alright that he’s there if he’s gonna take care of the place. Nobody approaches him though; he seems to not want anyone to know he’s there…and, again, he looks similar to Victim.)

Eventually enough changes have been made that anyone who spent a lot of time in the area would have to know somebody was there, even if they hadn’t seen Chosen himself. So Chosen decides to check out the actual house.

I don’t think he moves in, exactly. He’s gotten used to the sheep snuggling up with him, the barn cat purring on him, the horses’ quiet solidity, the chickens’ constant quiet clucking, the cow’s lowing, the hutch rabbits’ fluttering heartbeats. But there might be a few nights when he needs quiet and solitude, so he’ll slip into the house for the evening.

But even if he isn’t completely moving in, he still starts to fix up the house. It’s something to do.

(He was wary, when the neighbors began looking his way. But aside from the occasional greeting or acknowledgement, most seem content to pretend they haven’t noticed him. He relaxes a little more.)

Eventually it becomes clear that nobody is going to dispute his occupation of the farm. His presence has been accepted in all the ways he can discern.

He begins to think that maybe, he can find contentment here.

(The neighbors have grown comfortable enough with him to call advice to him over the fence, in passing. He has clearly not quite grown comfortable with the idea of having neighbors yet, but he recognizes that help is being offered; and little Toby found his ball back on his front steps the day after he kicked it over the fence, so the guy can’t be that bad.)

So time passes, and Chosen truly begins to settle into farm life.

One day, as he’s working on the interior of the house, he hears footsteps on the porch. Nobody has ventured so far as to visit him on the farm grounds yet, but they aren’t the heavy footfalls of aggression so he cautiously opens the door.

Only to see a roughed-up Victim fumbling for their spare key.

Chosen is immediately tense. But...Victim is favoring one leg, and their hands are shaking, and breathing seems to hurt, and frankly they look like one good punch might kill them. So he waits.

Victim’s initial reaction, after freezing in place, is simply a flatly nonplussed “what are you doing here.”

“…I live here.”

“…this is MY house!”

[silverzoomies]

Summer Wind

tate langdon x reader smut

warnings: existential crisis, death, afterlife, implied/referenced character death, murder, angst, aged-up tate langdon, fingering, fingerfucking, kissing, canon divergence

word count: 4,690

a/n: another drabble. y'know that thing people do sometimes? where they "age-up" a character, but don't really age them up? i initially wrote this in response to that. but it somehow turned into a means of venting my existential terror instead. i was gonna include more smut. but tbh i didn't feel right about it. this one's gonna stay unfinished. sorry about the abrupt ending !!

inspired by the song summer wind by frank sinatra

You were dead for an indiscernible span of time.

You couldn't be sure how long. But you suspected a few years, at least. Through one of the top floor windows of your eternal purgatory; you watched the trees. Nature alternated between skeletal displays of branches, to vibrant arrays of color. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming. Withered. Blooming again. Rinse and repeat.

Once you accepted your fate, things started clicking into place. Trapped in a vintage hotbox of murder, you put together the pieces of a long lost puzzle. And though some parts were still absent, you pushed yourself to move on. You might never figure out how you died, or who you were before. But to worry so much would be senseless at this point.

Through acceptance, you began to feel again. If only in small bursts. Abrupt, but worth cherishing.

One memory remained ever present. You had the sense you were a school guidance counselor in life. And in death, you took up the mantle again. Offering your services to the other souls lost in the house. One of the ghostly residents shared a similar occupation. Way back in his breathing years. He didn’t do it so much anymore. Instead, he spent time with his family, working towards redemption for his past actions.

You steered clear of most residents, fearful of their unpredictable episodes of bloodlust. They allowed the evil within the house to lure them further into madness. On the days they came to you for your services, you spoke to them in hopes they’d find absolution. Change in the afterlife was extremely difficult to achieve. Your 'clients' rarely ever scratched the surface of their tainted psyches. And any progress they made, they always resorted to their old habits in the end.

Only one of them ever found true change. Of course, he had to be the most wretched of them all.

You once felt sympathy for Tate, making excuses on his behalf. In the years when his heart still pumped blood through his veins; he was young. Misguided. Perhaps the pressures of his upbringing took too much of a toll on him. And in the afterlife, he suffered under the influence of the house itself. The evil buried deep within channeled through his broken soul.

But if such an evil did exist, it never took hold of you. Nor did it sink its venomous teeth into Violet, or her innocent mother, or that pure of heart baby, or even Ben Harmon himself - sinful a man as he was. They resisted, and so did you.

Tate was pure evil. Carnage incarnate. Maybe that made him susceptible to the influence of dark forces. But after talking with him for a few years, you accepted him for what he was. Foul from birth, deplorable in death. No matter how often you tried guiding him to goodness, he remained forever loathsome. The evil in him burned eternally, needing no kindling.

His own acceptance of that fact allowed him to change. In a more physical way, much like Moira. Tate embraced his fate, convinced the house was where he belonged. A punishment until the end of all things. Simultaneously, a safe haven from whatever lay in waiting after purgatory. Tate’s progress was very much real. Albeit, not the kind you aimed for.

You could see his growth in his features, rather than his morals. Sitting across from you during another weekly session, Tate fidgeted with a frayed hole in his jeans. With his blond brows creased, he stared down at the denim. As you watched him like this, you picked apart his finer details. Where his skin once beamed with the pale, ghostly image of youth; creases were now etched in. Faint, but noticeable lines curved under his eyes.

An aura of maturity emanated from him like a light much too dim. Tate carried the same mannerisms from his heyday - if one could even call it that. But he had long since graduated from his mentality of that era. Tate spoke of his past actions as if he regretted them, though you suspected he felt no real remorse. He used to cry all the time. He used to throw childish tantrums. But you couldn’t remember the last time you saw his soulless, black eyes water. Now…

He carried nothing but cold desolation. Common amongst those trapped in perpetual limbo.

“I saw her again today.” He admitted, his lidded eyes flitting up to meet yours, “She hasn’t changed any. Not like me. Not like…” Tate made a gesture at his face, his thumb grazing the angular shape of his jaw. Tiredly, he blinked, “Not like this. Fate’s a funny thing, isn’t it? I always thought we were fated to be together forever, but…”

On the sofa across from him, you kept your cheek perched in a hand. As you scribbled in your notebook, you took note of the way Tate’s features bled misery. All at the mention of her. It must have been painful for him, watching her stay the same. While he finally outgrew himself. Those changes only further separated the two of them. Obliterating any chance he had to make amends. If there ever was.

There especially wouldn’t be now. Even Tate was on the tailend of coming to terms with it.

“How’d it make you feel this time around?” You pressed in a soft tone, shifting on the couch. His dark hues zeroed in on your thighs, bare in a simple dress. The lining appeared cheap, glittering with sequins reminiscent of childhood nostalgia, “When you saw her?”

“Fuckin’...I dunno…” Tate put his face in his vascular hands, fingers curling into his hair, “She’s like a kid to me anymore. What am I supposed to think?”

“Maybe she’s content like that. In the same way you’re content the way you are now.” You shrugged, tenderly laughing, “Maybe teenage angst suits her that much.”

He shook his head, shifting from a criss cross position on the loveseat across from you. Bouncing a leg, Tate gave you a pointed look. His brows turned downward.

“We thought it fit me too, didn’t we? But look at me now."

You were. You were looking at him a lot. And he wasn't wrong. Teenage angst once paired well with Tate's immature nature. Back when he thought like a kid, and acted on impulse. These days, he'd become more lethargic. When he wasn’t consumed with blood lust. Rugged virility was his partner now. Coupled with the melancholy existentialism of a man pushing thirty.

“You wanted to move on.” You clarified, your teeth clicking the edge of a pen at your lips.

“Did I?” Tate bitterly laughed, the empty vacuums of his eyes caught your tongue in motion, “Doesn't seem like anyone else here wants to. ‘Cept Moira.”

“Well, they only think they can’t. They believe they’re tethered here, frozen in time at their moment of death. I used to think growth was impossible too. Until you…”

You took in his masculine features again. The scruff around his chin. So fair, and not too noticeable. Catching yourself in the midst of ogling him, you redirected your gaze to Tate’s eyes. Imposing. Starless. Easy to get lost in. He wasn’t ignorant to your attraction. A hint of grin pulled into his laugh lines and dimples.

“Does it scare you?” He asked, “What’s your excuse then?” Tate threw a condescending nod of his head, “If you’re so enlightened. If you know better than all of us - with your morals ‘n bullshit like that. Why haven’t you changed any since you died?"

Shrugging, you looked bashfully down at your notes.

“Why would I want to? If I can stay young for eternity. If I can keep these curves, and what’s left of my youth. What’s the point in growing older?” You admitted in truth.

“That’s a little superficial though, isn’t it?” Tate leaned back into the loveseat cushions, “Shit like that doesn’t matter here. Who are you tryna impress? And what’s anybody living gonna think? When they meet you, and find out you’re nothin’ but food for maggots now.” He teased, legs spread, one knee bouncing, “There’s gotta be another reason you haven’t moved on. You’re not like us. I dunno why you and the Harmons don’t just…y’know…go.” He trailed off, his gaze falling to his lap.

You saw his bitterness return in full force. Another miserable wave of longing washed over him. Yearning for something that didn’t exist anymore, and never would again.

“I…” You paused, doodling hasty flowers in your notebook. You avoided Tate’s eyes, “I wanna know how I died first. I wanna know who I was. Before I even consider moving on.”

Sinister acidity flashed through his vision, “Seriously? That’s what’s stopping you?” Tate huffed a harsh laugh, admitting without missing a beat, “You wanna know how you died? I’ll tell you. I stuck a knife in your back and stabbed you to death.” He confessed, monotone, “You know it too. You’ve known since we met. You’ve just been in denial this whole time.”

You sat up in an abrupt movement, scooting forward and tossing your notebook away.

“What?! What are you even talking ab-…I’ve been trying to figure this out for years, Tate! Years!” You threw out your hands, “You…you can’t be serious! Why would I be in denial about something like that??”

Tears of betrayal stung the corners of your eyes. Tate shrugged, seemingly unbothered. He crossed his arms, his eyes dark under the ridges of his brows.

“‘Cuz you feel bad for me. Or…uhm…you wanna feel bad for me.” He shrugged again, “Fuck if I know why. I’m the last guy you should have sympathy for.” Tate said, his black hues narrowing in thought.

“You didn’t…did you really stab me? Really? You’re not lying about that?” You almost shouted, clawing your fingers through your hair, “Please. Please tell me you’re lying!”

Tate appeared unfazed, ignoring you, “Do you love me or something? Is that why you’re so broken up about this?” He asked, desperate in his infinite search for validation.

“Why the fuck would you stab me?!” You shouted, full of wrathful turmoil.

You stood off the couch, surging toward him with your fists balled at your sides. Tate didn’t flinch. He pursed his lips, thoughtful again. With an insufferable aura of nonchalance, he shrugged once more.

“Wanted to.”

The blank emptiness in his expression told you everything you already knew. Tears streamed down your face, painting your cheeks and chin in damp threads.

“Where? Where did you stab me??”

Tate gestured with a nod of his head, towards the only window in the room. A summer breeze fluttered, catching the curtains in its dance. You wanted to find the radiant light of nature beautiful again. But it only served as a haunting reminder - the environment remained symbiotic with time. And you were forever left behind.

“Over there. By that window.” He said, watching you pad over to said window, the skirt of your dress fluttering.

The window. In the one room you always felt so drawn to, for reasons unknown. Now, you knew. Bracing your hands on the windowsill, you peered your head outside. Ghosting your skin, the air breathed an essence of life. Something you were no longer a part of. You used to be content with that fact. But now? Knowing your life was unfairly ripped from you, how could you ever move on? Your death wasn’t an accident. Nor had an irreversible illness seized your physical form. Just Tate.

His low voice droned from behind you and in your ear. A faint vibration followed, along with a presence at your back. You felt the soft texture of his sweater, but no body heat with it. One of his icy hands met your shoulder. He reached his other arm out. Tate pointed to a spot near the entrance gates.

“I didn’t wanna tell you. Because I didn’t wanna lose you too. But…” He paused for a beat, “It was on Halloween. Ten years or so years ago, I guess. I was gonna leave. Make my rounds. Y’know…like I used to. The house was-uh...up for grabs back then. You came up to the door. One of the kids here opened it for you. And you kinda...walked in. Tried lookin' for 'em. Wrong place, wrong time.” Tate lowered both his hands to yours, after sliding his fingers down the sides of your arms, “You were holdin’ hands with some kid the whole time. He had to be, like…seven? Eight? I don’t even remember what his costume was.” His lips curved in a grin, “But I still remember yours.”

Your fingers curled into the sill, scraping wood, indenting the paint.

Ten years.

“So, you stabbed me in front of a child?”

Another breeze blew by. The steady air picked up your dress with it, flitting delicate fabric. Glitter along the seams of it fell away, sparkling like microscopic crystallites in the wind. Tate’s long fingers drew patterns over the cold surface of your skin. Tracing infinity symbols onto your hands.

“Rapunzel.” He whispered, “That dress was kinda pretty on you. Sucks about all the blood.”

You remembered then. When death imbued you with unexpected consciousness, you wandered around the house in a blood-stained dress. And ever since, your afterlife wardrobe alternated only between dresses of similar styles. Always cheap fabrics. Decorated in craft materials. You assumed you must’ve loved playing dress up in life. The thought of perishing in a store bought Halloween costume never crossed your mind.

“Who was he?”

You sniffled, breath hitching without any need for oxygen. Tate brought a hand to your cheek, wiping away your tears. He loomed behind you. A cold-blooded apparition of your nightmares. His casual talk of violent depravity made your blood boil.

“Who, the kid?” He asked.

He lowered his hands to the sill. Looking out the window over your shoulder, Tate squinted in the sunlight.

“Yes! I don’t-” You burst into tears without warning, sobbing into your hands, “I-I don’t remember anything! Nothing! I had no idea…who was he??”

“Dunno…” he dropped his head, pressing his cheek to your hair, “I didn’t really stop to ask. He ran away. Right after I pushed you out of this window.”

“You pushed m-what?! You’re a fucking monster.” You whimpered. Wishing you could leap out and disappear with the oscillation of the wind, “You know you’re never getting out of here, don’t you? You’re never going to change, Tate. You’ll always be a monster.”

“Probably.” He droned, wrapping his arms around your middle. Pulling you closer, he added, “You’ll be stuck here too. If you don’t let go of that anger. If you let your rage consume you. All that bitterness and hatred. This house feeds off of it.” Another pause. He nuzzled the top of your head with his cheek, “Uhm…I know this won’t fix anything. But…I really am sorry I took your life from you.”

You huffed, staring teary eyed out the window. Taking in the vast, effervescent world you’d never be a part of - through the border that brought your demise.

“But I’m really stoked you’re here….’cuz it’s not as lonely with you around.” He admitted.

“I could always tell you to fuck off.” You choked, venomous in your revulsion.

“Yeah. You could. But you won’t.” He grabbed your arms with gentle hands, wheeling you around to face him. He took your tiny fingers in his palms. You refused to meet his eyes, “If you made me disappear, you wouldn’t have anybody.”

You decided to hit him where it hurt, strangling through tears, “I could always talk to Violet. She has such a good heart. Not like the rest of you. You’re all just…awful. So horrible and cruel!”

Tate clenched his jaw, dropping his forehead into yours.

“You’re right. She’s not.” He woefully mumbled, “How come I still miss her, huh? Been missin’ what we had for, like…forever. Now I’m pushin’ you away too. And you’re all I have left.”

“Maybe stop killing people, Tate?” You snuffed, tears catching your eyelashes. He wiped them away all the same, “Who knew death could be so miserable. I…I finally found out the one thing I’ve wanted to know after all these years. I thought a little closure might help me, but…” You cried, “I feel even more messed up.”

“Why? Do you love me?” He pressed with so little confidence, you felt he only said it to convince himself.

“I…” You hesitated, brows furrowed, “I cared about you. Even though you’re a lunatic. I wanted to give you a chance. But now…now I just want to shove you out this window like you did to me. I want to scream at you, Tate! I want to make you suffer! I want to-”

He shifted closer. Within this vicinity, his maturation became all the more clear. Your weeping hues glazed over the creases under his eyes. The blond bangs of his hair had thinned by a smidgen, losing its youthful shagginess. He was all fine lines and outward exhaustion. Had you met him like this in life, you’d think him a mere decade away from a mid-life crisis.

“Go ahead. If it helps. I don’t mind.” He reached down again, grabbing your hands and guiding them up to his chest, “Just let all that rage go…you can take it out on me.”

This was just another tactic of his. An attempt to appease you, in desperate hopes you’d forgive him. Still, you didn’t think twice. Whatever wrathful anguish you kept buried inside finally erupted. The soul crushing weight of loss tumbled down over you, sending you into a frenzy. You thrashed your arms, throwing your fists in shallow, but sharp strikes. Battering against Tate’s chest, you landed every blow - inspired by betrayal. He remained still, watching you with a hollow look.

Hits turned to scratches as your grief took hold of you. You clawed into Tate’s sweater, wailing, powerless to the pain of his disloyalty. Taken aback by your overwhelming emotions, you wondered how the afterlife could bring so much suffering. Tate wrapped his arms around you again, and you buried your nose in his sweater. Your sorrowful tears stained the stitching.

“I hate you. So much. So fucking much.” You whimpered.

“You said you cared about me.”

“I hate that I care about you.” You cried, sobbing into his sweater, “I-I want to hate you. I need to hate you. But you’re right. You’re fucking vile, and you’re right. If you were gone, I wouldn’t have anybody else.”

Shifting again, he tilted your head up with a cold hand under your chin. Tate stared down at you, weary with lonesome desolation. The endless monotony of purgatory brought forth nothing but turmoil. And that turmoil linked you both in all-consuming angst. When he dove in to kiss your lips, you allowed it. If only to feel something far less painful.

Tate hadn’t kissed anyone in over a decade. But he flowed naturally with you, wary of applying too much pressure. The last of your tears fell, and again, he wiped them away. Separation came slow, as he parted from your lips. He blinked, leering like he couldn’t believe you reciprocated. Another beat, and he dove in all over again.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

Kissing in your ghostly state felt bleak as the dull air of winter. In the throes of lonesome yearning, death nuzzled death so intimately. You opened yourself up for him, moving back until you hit the windowsill. In your negligence, you sat on it. A calm, easy breeze enveloped your back, tickling your neck. His desirous kisses swallowed you in, his hands claiming your cheeks.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He mumbled, his words weaving through every kiss.

Fate had yet to deliver you closeness of this kind. You couldn’t fathom how intimate connectedness might work in death. As Tate’s cold lips fell to your neck, the atmosphere between the two of you shifted. Something akin to the radiance of life saturated the air. Like the summer’s glow shining from outside. A few seconds more, and coldness turned to heat. Sensual heat.

“What does it feel like?” You asked, breathless without the need for air. You tipped your head back. Tate took this as an invitation to ravish more of you, “To make love after dying?”

The glossy warmth of his tongue painted gradual lines across your neck. He caressed you with a thumb, gliding the digit over your cheek. Under the newfound heat of his palm, you felt burning intensity. No one else brought you physical touch like this. Not since a time before you perished, so long ago.

All because of him.

“Feels kinda the same?” Tate muttered in a hushed voice. Capturing your lips again, he kissed you with cautious tenderness, “It’s a lot like being alive…from what I remember. Some of us get addicted to it. Like a drug. They suffer without it. Drives ‘em crazy.”

His forehead fell to yours once more, and Tate’s eyes fluttered shut. He continued stroking your cheek, cradling your face. As if you’d disappear once he let go. You noticed the way his chest heaved. Slowly, like his lungs were still infused with the essence of life. But when he moved in for another kiss, you felt no breath on your lips.

“Does it drive you crazy?” You whispered between kisses, “Do you suffer without it?”

“Not really.” He said, dragging his thumb over your lip, “Missed this, though. I miss it all the time.”

“What? Kissing?”

Tate nodded, blond brows creasing as his smile faded. For a beat or two more, he fell silent. Staring down into your eyes with all the liveliness of a barren void. You gazed into a cave-like abyss, lost with no light to guide you. Beckoned by the promise of something unseen.

“This feels…different…with you.” He whispered.

“Different how?” You shivered as his soft touches moved elsewhere, "Are you feeling guilty? Does it hurt? I hope it fucking hurts."

Dragging the tips of his fingers up and down your arms, he drew invisible lines with his nails. So careful. Like you’d shatter if he treated you too roughly. His palms settled over your hips, and again, he kissed you. Tate just couldn’t seem to stop doing so, even as you spoke to him with poison on your tongue.

“No. It’s warmer.” He squeezed your hips a little tighter, “Why…why’s it so warm with you?”

The initial kisses between you both were so frigid and lifeless. But now, somehow, so heated and real. You locked your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles. Inviting him forward, you loomed in the sill of the window. Your body tilted. In the arms of the summer’s air, you almost fell backwards. You had every reason to believe Tate would let you plummet.

But he didn’t. Not this time.

With an arm wrapped around your waist, he kept you from slipping. Under your dress, his free hand sought the heat between your legs. His palm cradled warmth over thin cloth. Discreetly, he pressed the pads of his fingers to your sex over your panties. And the contact amplified a scorching fire within you. A vigor exceeding the bitterness of death.

You wondered if Tate had less experience than he claimed in therapy. It took him a few tries before he found your clit. His sizable fingers circled your little nub in easy motions. Drawing long, needy noises out of you. Silence lingered between you both in calm, but tense quiet. Until the rasp of his voice caught your attention.

“Do you feel this? Do you feel, like…anything?”

You whimpered in response - timid like a churchmouse - as wetness stained Tate’s fingers through fabric. Cotton once so pure and untouched became damp. He chuckled, the sinister rumble in his throat making your blood run cold. Until the warmth of desire lured you in before you could second guess yourself. Savoring the hot friction on your pussy, you allowed sin to taint your clarity.

"For you? No. Never. You're sick. You're twisted. You're-" You cut yourself off with another whimper, once Tate caressed you with more pressure.

“Oh, shit…” He hastily tugged your panties down your thighs. Cupping your bare cunt, he pressed firmly into your clit. Thick digits teased the blazing heat of your folds, “You do, don’t you?”

Tate’s fingers dipped into your slick valley, his digits predominantly larger than your own. You rolled your hips just a smidgen, careful not to lose your balance - lest you fall out the window. Again. Though, maybe a rough tumble onto the lawn would knock some sense back into your muddled head. His other arm stayed iron locked around your body, keeping you safe. He eased inside you with all the hesitance of a man out of practice.

"F-Fuck! Fuck this. Fuck you." You mumbled, hushed under airy moans.

Following the squeeze of pleasure in your core, came something you lost in the afterlife. You almost felt the pumping of your dead heart again. A ghostly sensation of life blossomed under your ribs. Warmth flowed through your veins in syrupy bliss. Cozy wind billowed from outside, tickling your skin. If you closed your eyes for long enough, basking in the ecstasy of true feeling - you might’ve believed you were somehow revived.

Flitting your lashes, your eyes gradually opened. The sunny glow of afternoon light painted Tate’s aged features, showering him in golden rays. An image far too heavenly for a cold-blooded monster birthed from sin. You looked lazily into his hues. A whirlpool of guilt intermingling with lifeless cruelty; all within his dusky eyes.

“Feels like…” He mumbled, clumsily nuzzling your clit with the pad of his thumb. Biting his lip, Tate stifled a groan. He buried his fingers to the knuckle in your cunt, “...like I can feel your blood pumping.” Adding a third digit, he stretched you open. Your walls made effortless room just for him. You whined, making him smirk, “Fuck, this is hot. You love it, huh?”

"No. No. No, I'd never! Not with you. I'm just-" You swallowed, feeling your cheeks burn, "It really does feel like-"

Post-mortem coldness became lost on you now. Left behind, alongside your broken hearted resentment. Instead, you were overcome with the lively spirit of beingness. The afterlife had been so unkind to you. For a decade now. It abandoned you to stew in the longevity of solitude. With no one but Tate to provide you true company. Bringing your hands up to his cheeks, you pulled him in for a kiss. Your fingers threaded through his blond locks. Winding your tongue sloppily with his, you whined.

"Make me cum." You asserted, your legs sealing tighter around him, "Make me cum, and I might forgive you."

A flash of vulnerable sweetness overtook Tate's face, his puppydog eyes lighting up. An almighty flood of euphoria built up to a radiant crescendo, as his digits fucked you into oblivion. You clamped around his fingers, squirming with such intensity - he almost lost his hold on you. Tranquility found you at the peak of your climax. A divine miracle. As you cried little pleas into Tate’s lips, you felt as though you grew angel’s wings. As if some ethereal being descended from the heavens themselves, stole you away, and led you to the golden gates.

As you shuddered, your paradisal tremors eventually subsided. Blissful nirvana faded, and the hollow nothingness of death’s touch came again. Outside, the world continued on in slow-moving seconds. And in the distant horizon, the sun began its steady fall into night. Tate’s nose brushed yours. Looming in so close, he withdrew his drenched digits from your pussy. Leaving even more forsaken emptiness behind.

“I could…do that kinda thing for you every day…if you wanted me to.” He whispered, peppering your forehead in kisses, “It feels really good, doesn’t it? Just…please don’t make me go away? Please…”

[lie-lacdreams]

The Admiration I Have for You Flows Like the Water Above Our Heads (Daisuke x Reader)

As you wait in the meantime for Thermo & Turmoil, here is something purely self-indulgent. I really do believe Daisuke's top giving love language to be acts of service.

Word count ~ 1k

Steam filled the room and cleared the pressure of your sinuses, unravelling the pent up tension that culminated into a headache. While the pressure of the shower head wasn’t the best, the trickling of the water down your body felt marvellous as soap and water not only lifted and took away the dirt from your skin but seemingly the strain of a day’s work as well. The constant rushing of the water provided a white noise to create the illusion of silence that was pleasant, but not deafening. It was a haven, providing a space for clarity and a chance to breathe on this stuffy space ship you were on. 

A creak of the door behind the shower curtain pulled you out of your thoughts as the ruffled sound of fabric followed sequentially. These sounds weren’t alarming, but rather familiar – at this point, almost routinely. The curtain opened to reveal your anticipated showering buddy, smiling down at you trying to conceal his fatigue. 

You ushered him under the direct stream of hot water and he let out a hiss of relief. Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he initiated some quiet chatter, asking about your day and telling you stories of his. 

Oh, Daisuke. You knew how hardworking he was. It was so evident from the stiff muscles of his back you massaged soap into, the bags under his eyes as he looked down at you in admiration, and the difference in how he distributed his weight as he held you now in opposition to how he did in the morning. 

So considerate and eager to please, he would always reach for the heaviest equipment first so his older mentor could take the lighter loads, and would happily do anything that was asked of him. You noticed how he would offer to retrieve things people needed without hesitation, and the first thing out of his mouth was always “can I do it?” The others brushed it off as excitement in a new job, but you knew better. 

He now popped the shampoo bottle open and collected the product before massaging it into your scalp. While not the most thorough of a job, you knew that Daisuke tried his best in everything that he did, and that was sufficient for you. You cherished the heart and soul he put into it. 

Back on Earth, you knew him to be the same as he was up here; he was just misunderstood. You grew up alongside him, where you saw how teachers undermined his work and peers avoided picking him to be in group projects; even his parents were doubtful of the future success of their son. But again, you knew better. Underneath your hands was a man who would do nearly anything to prove his worth. He never let people’s doubts about him get to his self esteem, but rather leveraged it as fuel to motivate him to try again and do a better job next time. 

Always the optimist, he inspired you to follow his example and fail upwards. You were always anxious about the future and so you were so grateful to have such a carefree best friend turned lover who always reassured you that together you’d figure out what the universe had in store for you. 

Wrapping his arms around your waist he pressed your body to his, allowing most of the water to wash you down as you rinsed out soap from your hair. The way he looked at you, even with your eyes squinted to block shampoo from going in, never failed to make you swoon. 

He was always thinking about you, and it wasn’t something he tried to hide at all. After his mother had found this internship for him, he immediately found you and made you apply with him. He always knew you were worried about never being able to have a career. Entry-level positions for students were hard to come by nowadays and after a pile of rejections, it was a miracle that you both had gotten something at all, but fate that you got to do it for over a year, together. 

Opening your eyes again gave him the indication that you had washed off all of the soap, and he took that as a cue to go in for a kiss. 

You always knew you loved him; it was nothing you felt like you needed to deny. After all, you knew that he loved you too. The nights of playing video games together, sides pressed up against each other and uncontrollably laughing told you so. The way he held your hair as you felt sick in the toilet after too many drinks on your twenty-first birthday, taking you home to remove your makeup for you and make you drink more water told you so. But somewhere along the way that love turned into a realisation of romance, and the transition was seamless. 

As he pushed his lips into yours more now, you tasted a ghost of sweetness from his tongue to yours and you smiled, immediately connecting the dots to the origins of his taste. You loved how easy it was to understand him – it only made you love his antics more. 

Breaking the kiss, you stared up at him, only for him to press his forehead to yours. The two of you broke into soft laughter, unable to contain the hilarity of such an angle of each other. After a long day of work, spending time with the one who loved and understood you the most was what you looked forward to. And when you looked back at him, you could tell that it was the same for him as well. 

[ssahotchnerr]

i gotchu with domestic!aaron requests love: how about him being too tired from a case and r just washing his face and shaving his stubble (cuz the case was so long and busy he couldn't do it thoroughly) and he's just putty in r's hands <33

missed you

cw; description of shaving, language, fluff!!!!

a clang from the bathroom wakes you, followed by a shit.

you were sat up in bed before your mind even processed the sound, your heart rate shooting up from both the initial abruptness and panic. your first immediate thought was jack, but your suspicion changed once your bleary eyesight began to regain clarity. you were met with a dark bedroom, but a pillar of light was barely illuminating such, as the en suite bathroom door was slightly ajar. you glanced at the clock besides you, reading 2:42 am.

"aaron?"

"it's me." his familiar voice called back in confirmation, allowing your racing heart to calm.

you pushed aside the comforter, getting out of bed and joining him. it's been over a week since the two of you last saw each other, and a sense of peace overcame you. there was nothing more comforting than know exactly where he was, that he was safe. once again, he made it home to you.

"what was that?" you blinked a few times, your eyes adjusting to the light.

you were met with a low grumble. "i dropped something."

your eyes averted downwards, finding his container of shaving cream and picking it up. your eyes lifted to his face, analyzing him. he did have his fair share of stubble, but that's not what caught your attention.

exhaustion.

aaron had dark circles under his mildly red eyes, prominent lines complimenting such. they appeared to be weighing down his entire body- his shoulders slouched, his usually styled hair messy and hanging in front of his forehead, his skin pale. he looked as if he hadn't slept in days.

he probably hasn't.

not only that, your heart also ached at his intent to shave despite the hour.

without saying anything, you directed him a bit to the side, giving yourself the greater access to the sink. you turned the tap on and grabbed onto the washcloth aaron had waiting on the counter.

as you waited for the water to warm, your hand lifted to his cheek, rubbing your thumb against his rough stubble gently. at the contact, aaron nearly melted into your hand, a relieved breath exiting his mouth and his eyes shutting momentarily.

"i missed you." you whispered after a moment's silence.

his eyes opened to met yours. "i missed you."

you offered him a small, closed mouth smile and pulled your hand away, only to run your fingers under the stream of water to check the temperature. once you were satisfied, you held the washcloth underneath, soaking thoroughly before wringing out and bringing to his face.

again, aaron exhaled at the contact. one of his hands grasped the edge of the counter where he sat, to better support himself from collapsing in tiredness as you patted the damp cloth around his face. forehead, cheeks, the crevasses around his nose- dutifully wetting it. you then grabbed his face wash, untwisting the cap and squeezing a small amount into your palm.

after you applied the cleanser gently and helped him rinse, his shaving cream reentered your grasp. you applied the cream on his cheeks, covering every bit of stubble you could see.

"you could've waited until morning, silly." you said softly and he opened his eyes at your words, meeting your gaze. again, your heart sank to your stomach at the sight of his prominent eye bags.

aaron's eyebrows quirked in the way they did whenever he had a clever comeback, to whatever teasing remark you might've made, but in his tired state, he wasn't as enthusiastic, "i could've."

you hummed gently in response, taking the razor out of it's holder and raising it to his face. aaron flinched slightly as the blade touched his skin, causing you to softly shush him. in a whisper, you remind him that it's only you, that you would never hurt him. he relaxes.

"case end well?" you already knew he was probably too exhausted to speak, but small talk never hurt.

he sighed, "about as well as any case could."

you nodded, slowly grazing the blade against his skin. "we missed you. oh, jack got an perfect score on that spelling test."

"the one he was worried about?"

"mhm." you rinsed the razor, a smile forming on your lips. "we must've gone through the word list at least fifteen times. kept missing 'their'."

a smile pulled at the sides of aaron's lip, trying his hardest not to move his face and interrupt your handiwork. "switching up the e and i?" you hummed in confirmation. "yeah, i remember doing that."

you laughed softly, pulling your bottom lip into your teeth in concentration as you continued to rid his stubble. "i was going to say... he takes after you. he's a little smarty pants."

"but who's the one he practiced with?"

a comfortable silence fell over the two of you. again, you didn't want to push conversation. instead you fell into a routine of swipe and rinse, before speaking again.

"he's excited to tell you though, so you didn't hear this from me." you pulled his skin taut with your fingertips, being sure to get even the trickiest of areas.

"if he has any suspicions, i'll plead the fifth."

a ripple of affection shot right through you, lifting his chin up and over to grant yourself access to the underside of his jaw. "you better."

you fell back into rhythm, finishing silently in a matter of ten minutes or so. several times, you found yourself checking to see if aaron had fallen asleep right there- as his eyes were closed, breath even, slowly leaning into your touch more every time your hand simply skimmed his face. you wet the washcloth again, with cold water, and wiped away any remaining residue on his cheeks.

after your own hands were washed and a kiss was pressed to his forehead, you began putting the used materials back where they belonged, aaron straightening himself up.

once the bathroom was in order, you smacked his behind playfully, "c'mon, brush those teeth and come to bed."

as you turned to exit, aaron caught your hand, pulling you into his chest.

"missed you." his arms tightened their hold around you, his voice dull and sluggish with sleep.

you placed a kiss on his chest, clutching onto him just as tight. "love you."

[stealingyourbones]

Hello

I just finished reading the chemistry teacher Danny phantom post and saw you and your twin mention a really chaotic chemistry teacher you had

It's fine if not, but I was wondering if you had any more stories about that teacher?

They sounded really fun and I am now curious what other antics they got up to.

Sorry if I'm asking too much.

Oh no absolutely I can! That man was my chemistry teacher for two years and was my favorite teacher of all time.

Ok sO.

- The Fume Hood Incident (twin shall explain @bonebrokebuddy)

- making an absolute SHIT ton of thermite when we couldn’t inhale boron gas as our last chemistry club experiment. We initially wanted to melt a hole in a junk car with it but the dude who offered his car backed out :(

- did the “exploding gummy bear” experiment that made a lot of very toxic gas for shits and giggles. We had to stay in another teachers classroom for the next class period because the room had ventilate for a while.

- once burned some extra magnesium for fun DIRECTLY UNDER THE FIRE DETECTOR and made the entire school leave because the fire alarm got set off in the dead of winter. Things akin to this happened two more times.

- since the first incident, he found out how to TURN OFF the fire detectors in his room whenever he’s doing experiments involving fire. Evidently he failed twice in this exercise.

- self medicated ADHD with coffee and drank at least 3 pots of the stuff during school hours. He had his own coffee machine in the classroom. Once did a presentation on potency stuff and brought in espresso for the class to drink. That man drank a whole pot of it before the end of the school day.

- during said coffee drinking experiments, he broke his one mug he used and used a new beaker for 2 weeks until he bothered to get a new one. Rinse and repeat this exact scenario from the beginning of his teaching until he left.

- would buy pure chemical or whatever un watered down esque chemicals are and would lower the molar count himself because “he didn’t want to pay for water” and did it IN THE CLASS ROOM BY HIMSELF WITH NO FUME HOOD. (Chemistry terms are bad I haven’t had a chem class in 5 years)

- this man is now a college professor I think. Where he rightfully should be because there is no way the experiments we did with him were given a green light through the wavers we signed.

- he bought the school a blast shield with the rest of the chemistry club funds to encourage the next chem teacher to do more dangerous experiments. (They never did :( )

These are just annecdotes. If @bonebrokebuddy wants to add onto it they’re free to do so :)

[syubseokie]

all on my tongue (i want it) | khj

― pairing: kim hongjoong x pierced afab!reader ― genre: explicit, a lil fluff, idol au ― word count: 2.6k ― warnings: oral sex (m receiving), cum swallowing, pet names (baby, babe), reader has a tongue piercing, a hint of cockwarming ― summary: Your voice is coaxing but not demanding, and Hongjoong acquiesce to your siren call. Soon, the gentle prodding of your tongue bleeds into longer strokes and your lover shivers at the sensation. Yet, something feels different... OR The one where you surprises Hongjoong with a new tongue piercing ― notes: at the end.

"Do you think I'd suit a tongue piercing?"

The question is completely random and you had not even realised the words left your mouth until you noticed your sister stare at you with wide-eyes and an excited grin.

"Yes, oh my god!"

You hum, pulling a quick inhale on your vape, before asking, "Should we go get it done now?"

"Damn! Hongjoong only left last night and you're already spiralling." She teases. "Let me smoke this last cone and then we can go."

You wave your dismissively, thinking over the spontaneity of this afternoon's session with your sister and the upcoming event. It was not often your sister had a day off, but being that you were at home on your own for the next month, she decided to "pull a sickie" and crash your apartment; arms lined with snacks, a bag of the devil's lettuce, and her home-made gravity bong.

The sound of spluttered coughing brings you out of your quiet musing and you snort as she chugs back her fruit juice. "You good?"

She nods, a slight wheeze escaping her lips, before she reaches over to take a hit from your vape. You allow her to do so, stealing her drink and taking a gulp, before standing up and motioning her to follow. "Alright, let's go get a tongue piercing."

∞

"What are we getting today, hun?"

It suddenly hits what you're about to do as you fill in the consent form, and you hope your voice is clear of nerves when you reply, "Tongue piercing."

Once the form is completed and the payment finalised, you and your sister follow the piercer into a smaller room where she instructs you to sit on the edge of a black cushioned table. Your sister sits on a chair opposite you, playing absentmindedly with her own tongue bar, but you can see the excitement in her eyes as your piercer preps the required instruments.

"Don't be nervous," your sister chimes when she notices your gaze, "You're going to look so cool with it once it's done. And it doesn't even hurt!"

You glance at the clamp in the piercer's gloved grasp before looking back to your sibling. "You sure?"

She offers you a reassuring smile. "Trust me. The healing process is probably worse than the actual needle and it doesn't even take that long to heal either."

The piercer agrees, informing you of what to expect in the coming days and weeks as your tongue heals. They remind you to rinse your mouth daily with warm water and salt, and also advise what foods will be easier to eat during the next two weeks. "Are you ready?"

You inhale deeply, steeling your nerves. "Let's do it."

∞

Using the bathroom mirror, you stare at the cute barbell that sits on your tongue. After three-and-a-half weeks since your initial visit, you returned to the piercing studio to check the healing progression. You had spotted the light blue aurora borealis designed jewellery in the glass cabinet when you entered the store for your follow-up appointment, and after receiving the go ahead to change the piece to a slightly shorter bar, you requested the pretty one that had caught your eye.

Safe to say, you were very happy with your impulsive decision and you had a feeling your boyfriend would be too.

Speaking of...

The feeling of excitement (and, to be honest, relief) floods your system when you glance at your phone to see Hongjoong's text reminding you he and the members were finally back in the country. You do not consider yourself a needy partner, but you cannot deny how much you missed him — or at least being in the same time zone. Phone calls, voice notes, and sending tiktoks could only fill the gap of his missing presence so much, and you could not wait to wrap your arms around his frame once again.

Nor could you wait to wrap your tongue around his c—

The sound of his ringtone breaks through your thoughts, and you are quick to answer his call.

"Baby?"

A smile graces your features when you hear the familiar endearment, and you switch off the bathroom light before making your way into the living room. "Hi Joongie," you reply with a soft voice. "Are you out of the airport now?"

"I am. Did you want to come to our place or should I come to your apartment?"

You hum, mulling the options over. "I'm not too fussed. What's easier for you?" There is a bit of rustling on his end and you faintly hear Wooyoung's voice in the background.

"I'll come to your place," he decides. "I'll drop my things off first and shower before heading over. Is that okay?"

"Of course, love. Are you sure you're not tired, though? We can always see each other tomorrow or once you've settled back in. I'm not going anywhere, Joong."

Despite the tiredness you hear in his tone, he waves off your concern with assurance that he wants to see you. "I miss you."

His words make your chest flutter and you can't help but internally roll your eyes at how soft you are for him. "Alright then. I'll get some food sorted."

"You are heaven-sent. See you soon."

∞

It is just over an hour later when you hear the tell-tale sign of your apartment door opening, followed by the removal of shoes and Hongjoong's dulcet voice calling out for you. Having just finished whipping up a pot of stir-fry with whatever you had in your fridge, the aroma of a home cooked meal wafting through the air and the low sounds of lo-fi music welcomes your boyfriend into your place.

Quickly wiping your hands with a kitchen towel, you go to greet Hongjoong but his excitement to see you is palpable as he meets you halfway with a playful "Honey, I'm home!", before wrapping you in his embrace. You chuckle, allowing him to bury his head in your neck, and return his hug. His scent is familiar and overwhelming in the best of ways, solidifying his physical presence.

"I'm glad you're back," you murmur while gently running your fingers through his hair. "I missed you."

He responds with a low hum and his arms around you tighten just a fraction. "I missed you too. So much." He slightly loosens his hold enough to press a much-needed kiss to your lips, but before he can deepen the action, you pull away and offer him a knowing smile.

"Are you hungry? Food's ready."

He shakes his head and brings you back into his arms. "Not hungry right now. Not for food anyway." His mouth begins a trail from your collarbones, up your neck, and back towards your lips, his hands stationed in your hips to steady your wavering frame. "One month away from you is far too long."

You cannot help but sigh happily at the sensations he offers; tilting your head back to grant him access to your neck as he makes his way back down the opposite side. "You're being dramatic. It wasn't that bad. I'm sure you and your right hand became well acquainted again on the nights you really missed me."

Hongjoong huffs, his breath tickling your neck deliciously and you fight the urge to rub your thighs together because there was no way you were going to let him know just how much he was affecting you. God, you are so weak for him.

"While that's true," he says, his thumbs digging into your sides just a little deeper, making you emit a small, undignified sound, "It certainly doesn't beat the feeling of your tight pussy. Or your mouth."

His vulgar words stir something inside of you, and you quickly decide that food can definitely wait. "In that case," you hum, pushing him towards your sofa, "I have a surprise for you."

He responds with a single eyebrow raise before collapsing on the furniture as you settle on your knees in front of him. A knowing smirk plays on your lips when you see the outline of his semi pressing against the confines of his black jeans, and you waste no time in unzipping his pants and pulling him out of his briefs. A quiet hiss escapes his mouth once you begin stroking him gently, coaxing him into full hardness before placing a chaste kiss on the tip.

"Close your eyes, Joongie. Let me make you feel good."

Hongjoong does not argue; simply allowing his head to fall against the back of the chair and his eyes to flutter shut. Your touches are magic in the way he feels the tension in his muscles ease and a giant sigh mixed with relief and pleasure fall from his lips. Kitten licks from his tip down to the base are less of a teasing gesture and more of a warm up before the sound of you spitting into your palm and taking hold of his hard member makes his balls clench in anticipation. He moans softly and resists the urge to beg for your mouth. You know what he needs at this very moment, and all he has to do is enjoy it.

"Relax for me, baby."

Your voice is coaxing but not demanding, and Hongjoong acquiesce to your siren call. Soon, the gentle prodding of your tongue bleeds into longer strokes and your lover shivers at the sensation. Yet, something feels different—

With purpose, you flatten your tongue against Hongjoong's cock and drag it upwards in a painstakingly slow motion. His nostrils flare, and just as he opens his eyes to lock with yours, you swipe your muscle along the slit of the head, making sure he feels the piercing where you want him to.

"Holy fuck—" he gasps, staring at you in awe. "Baby, did you— fuck —did you get your tongue pierced?"

Your eyes twinkle in delight. Rather than respond verbally, you choose to focus on bringing your boyfriend to perfect absolution by taking him in your mouth and slowly pushing him down your throat. The sound he makes is one that has you clenching in excitement, and it isn't long before you feel his hands settle on the back of your head. You hum around his cock, the vibrations making him moan again, before dragging your lips and tongue back to the tip. You continue doing this in a relaxed manner for a few minutes, enjoying the sounds falling from your boyfriend’s lips, until you decide to up the ante by steadying your palms on his thighs and increasing your pace.

"Shit!"

Satisfied with his reaction, you carry on; occasionally meeting his dark gaze with your own, but never stopping. Even when you begin to feel that familiar dull ache in your jaw, you switch up your movements by including your hands to work in tandem with your mouth.

Hongjoong is in pure bliss. Soft pants and whispers of your name and how good you are drip in honey-covered ecstasy, and he believes that if the world were to end that moment, there is no other way he would go (except, maybe, between your thighs but semantics ). The sound of wet slurps mixed with the sensation of your pierced tongue and soft hands brings him closer to that just-out-of-reach high, but when you take him wholly in your mouth again — your nose pressing against his neatly trimmed pubic bone — and swallow, that high brushes against the frays of his sanity.

"Baby," he mutters with a choked gasp, "f-fuck, baby, I'm really—" another wheeze as his orgasm crawls up the base of his spine. "I'm really fucking close."

You do not pull back. In fact, your grip on his thighs tighten as you bob your head up and down his length with determination while maintaining eye contact. Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth with each push and pull, and there are unshed tears pooling in your waterline. You are not particularly fond of the mess that comes with giving head, but Hongjoong loves it messy and you love making him happy.

Hongjoong is at his wits ends and barely coherent when he tries to warn you. "Shit. Baby. I'm going to — f-fuck — I'm so close ." His words are desperate, body tense and breathing shallow. "Please, baby. Where? Where c-can I...?"

You pull back and take hold of his throbbing cock. Spews of curses and praise mixed with wet squelches resound loudly. You close your eyes and open your mouth with your tongue out.

The sight of the pretty coloured jewel sitting snugly on the awaiting muscle is enough to send Hongjoong over the edge.

A long, drawn-out groan is heard seconds before you taste the familiar thick, warm fluid. Your upper lip catches a bit of his release too and you eagerly swipe along its plushness. The pulsating member in your hand is a reminder that he is still going, and you teasingly stroke him until his whines signal his oversensitivity. Yet, even when he pleads your name with a warning hiss, you offer gentle kisses and soft licks to his softening cock.

—

Hongjoong shudders as exhaustion finally settles in. Normally, his stamina allows him to last a lot longer, but having gone without you than what is normal, he is not surprised at how quickly he succumbed to the pleasure of your warm mouth and knowing hands. Hongjoong does not know what nation he saved in his past life to have met you in this one, but as he watches you swallow his cum with a grateful sigh and a wistful smile, he wisely chooses not to question it. He is unsure how much time passes — though he suspects it has only been less than a few minutes — when you gently usher him to consciousness and hand him a hot bowl of the food you had prepared. There is another bowl in your hand for yourself, and he eagerly accepts the meal before gesturing to you to join him on the couch.

"Welcome home, Joongie."

Yeah. Hongjoong wisely chooses not to question it at all.

∞

A little something extra:

03:48am Buttcrack (Sister): A little birdy told me your boyfriend is home 👀 03:49am Buttcrack (Sister): Did you show him your piercing yet? 03:49am Buttcrack (Sister): What did he say? 03:51am Buttcrack (Sister): Helloooooo ??? 03:55am Buttcrack (Sister): Bro you better be dead or giving him head 03:57am You: It's literally crackhead hours wtf go to sleep 03:57am Buttcrack (Sister): What did Hongjoong say about your piercing? 03:58am You: Idk I was too busy sucking his dick 03:58am Buttcrack (Sister): Gross 03:58am Buttcrack (Sister): 🤢🤢🤢 03:59am You: gave him that hwak-TUH gawk gawk 3000 04:00am Buttcrack (Sister): brotha eugh 04:02am You: Fuck off I'm going back to sleep

Switching your phone to DND and placing it back on the charging dock, you curl back into Hongjoong's arms and close your eyes. His cock inside of you twitches and, despite the sensitivity you feel as a result of the activities that took place after your meal, you clench around him.

"Who were you texting?" Your boyfriend tiredly mumbles as he drags you on top of him.

"My sister."

He makes a humming noise and softly traces patterns along your bare back. "What did she want?"

"Wanted to know what you thought of my piercing. Told her I was too busy sucking your dick to ask." You answer, sleep dragging you into its warm embrace.

It is silent for a few moments. You are on the edge of fully succumbing to the land of dreams when Hongjoong's voice brings you back—

"Maybe I should get a tongue piercing."

―

fin.

a/n: hey, hi, hello!

uh…it's been a minute lol. and i'm an ateez girlie now (atiny wassuuuuuup)! i've had this sitting in the dungeons for a while after i spontaneously decided to get my tongue pierced at the start of this year when my partner visited their home country for a month. fun fact: all interactions with reader and reader's sister are actual conversations that transpired between my own sister and i (because she's the enabler out of all my siblings lmao). anywho, thought this would be a little fun thing to publish after two years of radio silence. i have been going through the trenches y'all and the imposter syndrome hit HARD when it came to my writing.

thank you so much for reading my work. i am always open to thoughts and feedback, so feel free to drop a like, reblog or leave me a comment!

please look forward to my other work ♡

―

masterlist | ao3 | twitter

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

right here

pairing || soft!matt x fem!reader (comfort)

wc || <1k

summary || Matt comforts you during a depressive episode

warnings || depression & nudity (no details and not in a sexual way)

a/n || wanted to create something like this for a while, little self indulgent oops, will probably regret uploading it in the morning lmao. this felt way more intimate to write as appose to my smut. but if you relate, im sorry and i love you💌

masterlist + rules

taglist

*inspired by this gif*

Days like this were unbearable, the constant looming feeling; a dark gloomy relentless cloud that paralysed you. Your energy, or lack thereof, was something you had to preserve. You had to save it for mundane tasks that right now felt unattainable.

You spent most of the day rotting in bed, staring aimlessly at the wall, the pillow wet from your never-ending tears. You had been emotionally blocked for a couple weeks, but today, it was as if some awful button had been pressed that made you feel everything you had been blocking out.

You had been sitting in the corner of the shower for about forty minutes now, your legs curled up as you rested your chin on your knees. You thought you were able to manage it, but as soon as you started you just gave up. It made you hate yourself for not being able to do such an easy thing- but it really wasn’t that simple.

Silently choking on your sobs as the water ran down the front of your hair along your face. The steam of water felt like a bubble around your head like it blocked your ears finally making your mind quiet.

You didn’t even hear the front door open, nor the sweet greeting from the man you love.

Matt heard the shower running and instantly went to listen behind the door to check you were okay, considering that you usually reply to him when in the shower. His heart began to race once he realised the water had been making the same flow sound for over a minute- immediately thinking the worst.

He gently knocks on it, but with no reply, he knocks again but a little more eagerly this time. He values your privacy, but right now he just wanted to see if you were alright. Opening it, deflating inside when he realised what was going on.

Kicking off his shoes getting into the shower fully clothed, and sitting down next to you. He felt his heart crumble for you to be this way. Draping his arm over your shoulder while his other hand laces into yours, silently telling you that he’s not going anywhere.

He wrapped his arm around your head as if to shield your ears from the hateful words coming from your brain.

It was an unspoken understanding. Whenever you both felt this way, you’d be right there offering one another your support. Given the fact you both struggled with depression, in a sad way it made you understand each other in ways no other could.

Sitting together like that for a while in comfortable silence as the steady stream of water fell onto each of your heads. He waited for you to initiate the separation, not wanting to let you go too soon.

Lifting his hand that was still connected to yours, placing a delicate kiss on the back of it, as if to say ‘thank you’.

Matt took that as your sign to let go, he didn’t want to smother you or somehow make you feel worse. Releasing your head from his biceps, kissing the crown of your head as he cupped your cheeks.

Struggling to remove his soggy blazer, throwing it into the sink with a sigh. He delicately twisted you around so that you were facing away, sitting on his knees behind you. Picking up the shampoo bottle from the floor, gently lathering it into your hair. Rinsing and repeating, before carefully combing conditioner through your knotty hair. He began washing you with your loofah, being extra vigilant not wanting to distress you. Washing your face for you, as you sat there blankly. Rewarding you with a kiss on the forehead.

He reached over to grab the towel, wrapping you in it as if you were the most valuable thing on earth, sitting you on the toilet seat lid as he quickly washed himself.

Stepping out, he led you through the apartment to the bedroom, gesturing for you to take a seat on the bed. He quickly dried himself, throwing on some pyjama bottoms before he dug around for yours. Patting you dry, placing the t-shirt over your head and slipping your shorts on.

He knew you so well, that he knew what order to do your skincare. Following your routine, gently swiping everything onto your skin, before he dried your hair.

Carefully pulling you up the bed, he covered you both with the blankets, wrapping his arm around your head once more, allowing you to cuddle into him. Kissing your forehead again, stroking over your arm as he hummed you to sleep.

[p0orbaby]

Fun Sponge

summary: the beach isn’t for everyone, Ella!

warnings: none I don’t think

a/n: some more grumpy!reader for you all. i’m just writing myself at this point

word count: 882

-

“You’re so weird”

“Thank you”

“That wasn’t meant as a compliment,” Ella clarifies, then sighs as Alessia turns and narrows her eyes at her.

“What?” Ella asks. “She’s the only person I know who doesn’t like going on holiday”

“I do like holidays, I’m just confused about why you have to crash ours,” you said, a barely there smile playing on your lips. You tightened your arms around Alessia’s frame as she sits sideways in your lap. “Why did we bring her again?” you whisper to her, your lips grazing her ear. You feel her shiver.

Alessia chuckled softly, her fingers tracing circles on the back of your neck. “Baby, we’re with the whole team, remember?” she whispers back with a smirk.

“Yeah, but they’re all way less annoying,” you muttered, your attention focused again on the brunette sitting beside you.

“I can hear you, you know?”

“Good, you were meant to”

“Babe, calm down”

Alessia is good like that. Always there to make sure you don’t get too ahead of yourself. Though sometimes you wish she’d let you have at it. Tooney can be a collosol pain in your ass.

“Less, tell your girlfriend to stop being boring”

“I’m not going scuba diving Ella. I’m very partial to solid ground and I will not entertain sharing my personal space with rogue sea life” You deadpan.

Ella rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re impossible. What’s the point of a beach holiday if you don’t even put one toe in the sea?”

“Oh I don’t know. To enjoy the sun, rinse the all-inclusive cocktails, hope and pray for peace and quiet, ogle Alessia in her bikini. Lots of points” you state matter of factly.

She shot back, “But it’s a beach! You’re supposed to enjoy the whole package, not just mope in the shade”

You wrap your arms around Alessia even tighter and bury your face into her neck. Your opinion on the matter set firmly in stone.

As you nestle into your girlfriend's warmth, Ella’s exasperation lingers in the air. She huffs, “Fine, enjoy your smoked pineapple margs, alone. We’ll be over there making sandcastles or something before our diving slot if you change your mind. Coming Less?”

Alessia hesitates, glancing at you sceptically before untangling herself from your embrace.

Your head snaps up, the look on your face one of utter betrayal. “Seriously? You’re ditching me for some sea turtles?”

Alessia chuckles, leaning forward to grab the palms you had reached out for her. “I know, I know, but it sounds fun. I’ll make it up to you later. I promise”

Ella grinns, seizing the opportunity. “And balance has been restored. Look after our stuff yeah?”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, I’ll be here, guarding the sunscreen like it’s the only thing I’m useful for”

Alessia pressed a quick kiss to your cheek, then several to your lips, “I’ll be back before you know it. I miss you already” she shouts as she walks away.

“Glorified bodyguard” you mutter to yourself as the two girls stride into the distance.

At least you get to read some of your book in relative peace.

-

You have no idea how much time has passed, but suddenly a shock of cold water splashes over you, jolting you awake with an uncharacteristic yelp.

You lift a tired hand in front of your face to block the sun from your eyes, only to find Ella standing over you, grinning mischievously.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead! You missed out big time, but don't worry, I'm here to fill you in”. She announces, then proceeds to recount the whole thing with an overwhelming level of detail.

Alessia, expertly anticipating your annoyance plops down beside you and whispers an apology, offering a comforting kiss to the underside of your jaw. Her warmth soothes your initial irritation as Ella continues her painfully enthusiastic monologue.

"And then, this giant sea turtle swam right past me. I swear, it felt like a scene from a documentary, but we were actually living it!"

You manage a half-smile, your mind wandering as you try to savor the last moments of your nap.

"Oh, and the coral reefs! They were like a living, breathing masterpiece. I could've stayed down there forever”

Alessia nudges you, a hand coming up to stroke some hair out of your face to get your attention. Your eyes meet hers and she rolls them playfully.

"I even saw a clownfish! You know, like Nemo? It was adorable!"

You nod absentmindedly, your thoughts more focused on your girlfriend as she leans over you to finish the rest of your abandoned margarita than Ella’s rambling. She smells like sunscreen and seawater and you can’t help but relax a little.

Eventually Ella stops and you let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. Finally she’s run out of steam.

“You know what? That actually sounds super fun” you say, and Ella looks at you like a cat who’s got the cream.

“You think?”

“Absolutely fucking not”

She shoots back, offended “You’re impossible. Did you even hear anything I said?”

You wave a dismissive hand in her direction, “Something about sea turtles and coral reefs, right?”

“Oh my god, I hate you. I actually hate you so much”

“Can I get that in writing?”

[turnertable]

tolerate it

Alex Turner x Reader (am era !)

written by: me, first time doing angst

requested by: @bellaturner <3

music for the fic: tolerate it by Taylor Swift

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angsty, sad, slight sexual references and pushing about

The future looked bleak for them but for Alex, it had never been more bright. He had recently cut his hair short, Y/N hated it. He claimed it was for the new album but all she could see was her teenage love fading away before her eyes. Their love was something the tabloids had praised from the dancefloor days. "The High School Sweethearts of Sheffield" plastered on the front page of newspaper after paper, her face started to come out of print in the last year.

Y/N found herself perched on yet another stool out of the frame of the newest photoshoot of her boyfriend, scrolling her phone aimlessly and barely noticing Alex's next move. If those ridiculous rockabilly sunglasses left his face, Y/N might have taken interest but at Alex's rate, they had likely been surgically screwed to his nose bridge.

He posed relentlessly and attempted to look over at Y/N, realizing she had no idea what was even happening. Once that was clear, Alex huffed and rolled his eyes beneath the shades, remaining focused on the shoot because he couldn't care less about her opinion at this moment. He was Alex Turner: the acquitted persona of rock and roll in Britain; Olympic opener and soon to be Glastonbury sensation yet again.

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

The shoot concluded in due time and Y/N mumbled to herself, "Thank fucking god." as she threw my phone into her bag and stood up. Alex read her lips and huffed slightly with frustration, as he thanked the photographer and went to leave. They met at the door and he nodded at her wordlessly, not wanting to talk to her til they had a minute to discuss her annoyance. She led them out and they stood at the cub by the door of the studio: Alex immediately got his cigarettes out and offered her one,

"Fuck off with that." Y/N scolded him viciously, "It doesn't make you cool." Alex sighed and pulled out his lighter, a silver Zippo with the band's initials carved into it.

"You used t'smoke, me luv. 'member at The Leadmill when you'd pass em owt to anyone?" Alex reflected as he lit the cigarette. Y/N noticed his accent slip at the use of "the" and looked down.

"I was a kid, Al. We found them around Jamie's that one weekend." She muttered in response to try to entertain his idea, not wanting to see that version of her Alex relay nostalgia to her.

He smiled slightly with an exhale as he looked over, "Oh yeh, he still talks about tha, tha knows. Still got ya tho.." He tried to cheer her up because he did love her endlessly but he knew this was a lot for her to process.

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

The last few months had been frequent fights and sex to make up for it all, where Alex would promise nothing had changed and it would be ok until the next designer jacket would come home and rinse repeat. No amount of money could fix it either for Y/N. Yes, it was nice to be personally styled for an awards show but where Alex would come home and laugh all night with her being himself again, the persona never dropped nowadays.

Y/N nodded and went on her phone to call the taxi, letting Alex finish the cigarette in silence as she stepped away and only demonstrated the metaphoric distance between them. She spoke quietly and got the taxi booked, forcing herself not to think of Sheffield, circa 2005. Sitting on the curbside, her lips never leaving Alex's the whole way home. Drunk and giggling at the way the city looked at night from the taxi window. He'd carry her home as she kicked her legs with excitement to be in bed with him yet again. However here she stood with a smartphone and a man she no longer recognised as the love of her life.

As the taxi pulled up, Y/N opened her own door and got in, finally looking over at her boyfriend as she spoke to the taxi driver promptly, desperately wanting to be in solitude. She looked at him with a neutral look of almost curiosity, searching for any and if so, some glimmer of hope in him and love that would last. No dice. Alex looked over and offered her his hand to hold, a common quirk of his. Y/N took it and looked out the window, the tears pricking at her eyes as the taxi pulled off. A solemn silence hung over them like a ghost in the passenger seat the whole journey home. It could be dealt with at the house, like usual.

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

As the taxi rounded the corner by the house, Alex thanked the driver and nodded at Y/N to say, "in we go." Y/N offered the taxi driver a thank you as well and stepped out of the car, letting Alex open the door and not even attempting to get her keys from her bag. Alex unlocked the door and kicked off his shoes, leaving Y/N to shut it and lean on the wall of the hallway.

"What the fuck is up nah?" Alex started the argument, making Y/N prick up. He finished the conflict but it was unusual for him to bring up an issue without prompt. Alex stood arms crossed at the silence before removing his glasses and rubbing his temple. "Just tell me, please Y/N."

"Why did I have to come to that?" Y/N met his tone and removed her own shoes. "That's the third this week…" She continued and reminded him of how much this weighed on her schedule.

"Well excuse meh for bein successful suddenleh, didn't seem t'bother you when I were 19…" Alex retorted to push her buttons yet again with the memories of their relationship. He tried to walk off to go get a drink, he'd been drinking a lot more frequently since the fighting started. While Alex could hold his drink, it was a new habit he had picked up with the look.

"Yeah well my teenage boyfriend with spots had some fucking intellect not to just lap at anyone who offers him a moment in the spotlight!" Y/N raised her voice and rolled her eyes, trying to stop him from drinking, "I swear if I see you drinking again for another night…" she continued in the cold tone.

"Oh fuck off, 'm 27 now and so are you, act it." He said sternly and lightly pushed her out of his way. "I'll do what I wan, babe" He stormed off to the kitchen to get a glass and the bottle of whiskey on the side, half empty from how often he had been consuming it.

Y/N followed in a huff and tried to keep fighting him, "You really wanna talk about acting, Alexander? What the fuck are you wearing?" She scanned his body and outfit of a leather jacket and tight blue jeans, making Alex smirk slightly as he knew what to do.

"Jeans, you like em babeh?" He tried to give her the eyes that said "you want me really" and stood over her to offer her an embrace. "Can get me out of em if you're nice to meh…" He chuckled softly and held her lower back where he was met with a scoff and a push.

"Get off me, James Dean. Tell me when Alex is back…" She went to sit at the table, making Alex huff and turn back to his drink with annoyance.

"You make me fucking drink…" He mumbled to himself quietly enough for her to miss it. "I'm not gonna be tha kid anymore, you do realize tha, reyt?" He announced as he poured the whiskey and recapped the bottle. "I hate who I were, a spotteh teenager with a squeaky voice on stickeh stages an people throwing shit at meh." He turned to her and finally admitted.

"I fell in love with that kid, Alex." Y/N let the truth slip too, "and I still do love him, ok?" he continued as she looked down sadly, sniffling at the words. "My Alex is gone, he was my home, my safety and you're just this husk of who he was. You're everything we mocked in bars while I waited to hear the same 10 songs every night." Her voice trembled at it all as she looked up at him where all his anger had turned to sympathy yet again.

"But babeh…you could make new memories with new Alex." He heard himself and mentally cursed at his words but persisted on: "We could 'ave a famileh and get married and the band will onleh get more famous and you'll reap t'benefits wiv us.." He tried to reassure her as he leaned down to get her level. "We could be happy again one day, me love. This is just a rough patch…"

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

Y/N listened intently and her face soured at the idea that the band was involved with the future of them. She thought and chose her words carefully as she knew the band's importance to him, especially with him bringing it up here.

"Alex, it's not been a rough patch for you though, has it? The tears started welling up in her eyes, continuing through the melancholy. "You'll be ok, babe. I just won't be. My boy is gone and maybe that's the problem. I'm just not happy anymore…"

His face dropped and his chest went tight when he heard her claims, "You're n-not 'appy? As in wiv me or??" His voice shook as he spoke quietly, staring at her with torment. "I can get ya someone to talk ta, I promise babeh please…" He begged at her feet practically.

Y/N shook her head and looked down, "I'm so sorry, Alex…I love you so much but this version of you, I'm not in love with him. Please just make me proud…" She gasped between sobs and watched the tears roll down her chest. Alex's eyes began to water at the realization of the situation, the blunt actuality of her saying that to his face. How long has she been thinking of telling him?

"Are ya sayin what I think you're sayin?" Alex mumbled as he wiped his nose slightly. Y/N simply nodded and he sighed to himself, "Well shit, tha's about 10 years of me life gone. Is there anythin I can do at all to change yer mind?" He pleaded incessantly through his tears. "I love you, Y/N. Please…"

Y/N sat up straight and held his face softly, kissing his head, "It's ok Alex, we're just different people, darling…" She wiped her eyes and smiled gently at him. "I love you too, Al."

The knife stuck in and twisted at the nickname, it was hers from the moment she muttered it at 17 when they met. Alex's eyes were full of sadness but he nodded and tried to smile, "I understand and I respect yer decision but you do realize t' next album is gonna be so bloodeh sad nah…" He managed a laugh that Y/N echoed.

"Oh yeah, I want sad proses about me now…" She cupped his face and delivered the last kiss, "if that boy ever wants to come back to see me again, he's more than welcome…" She said softly and wiped his eyes with a smile. He nodded and smiled back.

"I think this might be t' soppiest breakup ever…" Alex hums, stands up to get his drink and reaching for another glass before turning to her,

"One for the road?"

[onlyseokmins]

aftercare • w.j.h.

Pairing: wen junhui x gn!reader

Genres: implied smut (minors dni!), fwb!au, aftercare!au

Warnings: swearing, gooey-ooey shit tbh, lil sneak of possessiveness, tiny angst if u squint, feelings ew, mentions of sex but it's actually really soft but lmk if i missed smth

WC: 1.3k

A/N: a request i kind of got a lil carried away with idk if this is what they were looking for but this is what my brain came up with askdjfksdj i think i made it gender neutral 🤞🏻 but if i missed up please let me know - i didn't intend to but it just turned out that way :3

Sweaty bodies lay against one another, bedsheets tangled and damp from the rigorous amounts of exertion earlier. Yet it's not uncomfortable at all.

It hits Junhui first, coming out of his post-nut clarity with a startling — almost terrifying — realization. You looked good earlier. Good enough to eat. Decked out in a sexy little fit that had everyone's heads turning at the club… and effectively turning him on.

He'd had his hands all over you in record time. The need to touch and claim you as his for all to see was ravenous. All-consuming. Not even a half hour had passed before he'd worked up your sexual tension so high on the dance floor with slow grinding and sneaky groping. Then he was teasing and prepping you with nimble fingers during the ride back to his place. 

Tongue battling yours, mouths and lips sloppily making out while he struggled to open the door. Immediately dropping to his knees to explore your intimate parts once the lock clicked and you were inside, back pressed firmly against the other side as he slid down to have his way with you.

Junhui is very well-acquainted with your body but nothing gets him going like finding a new way to make you squirm and moan louder. 

For him.

But now, thoroughly fucked out and fucked well, you have a glowing vulnerable air of softness around you. All for him. Alone.

And he finds you as gorgeous — if not even more so — as he did before. Just as radiant as when you first met, standing out amongst everyone else in a subtle way that drew him in.

Junhui had genuinely wanted to get to know you first. Approached you with honest intentions. It was you who shuffled the cards and set the rules, putting the initial offer on the table to win the game. And how could he resist?

He lost the reckless deal willingly and easily dived into this odd arrangement of not-quite-friends with plenty of sexual benefits. But his heart had already clumsily fallen for you even back then.

With his brain only catching up to speed now. So he can't help but place what feels like an instinctual kiss on your nose that he'd denied doing before, watching with an astounding amount of endearment at how your eyes nearly cross at the action.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

You follow his lead, guided by his hand holding yours. Tremors and shaky legs are but a by-product your aching body experiences after sex with him. Normally that would inflate Junhui's ego — maybe even rile him up enough for another round.

But contrary to the roughness he exhibits and indulges your bedroom desires with, the warm cast of the nightlight he'd installed in the bathroom (after one too many stumbles with you in the dark) dials down those lust-filled feelings with… something different.

Of course, you act like you don't notice the sudden shift between you two. Simply choosing to stare blankly ahead, posture slouched unattractively over the toilet that he helped you sit on. Yet he's never seen you any lovelier despite the telltale empty look in your eyes. More than likely planning the usual, sneaky exodus he can't seem to encourage you from forgetting.

"You'll stay the night?" The man tries not to sound too hopeful — too needy — while wetting a fresh washrag under warm water for you after rinsing off the one used on himself. "I… accidentally ripped all your clothes anyways."

"Sure there's something I could salvage."

"You can get all cozy and snuggle underneath the new blanket I just bought. It has cute cat faces on it and it's super fuzzy."

"Or you could give me something to wear, bet you have something laying around that I can use."

"I mean, I could since it doesn't bother me if you borrow something of mine. Or you could leave a couple pairs of clothing here next time for next time. I told you I didn't mind."

Junhui expects a disappointed, slightly annoyed sigh of his name like usual. But he should know what happens when he breaks the mode; it triggers a butterfly effect. 

"You did it on purpose, didn't you?" you question pointedly, though you let him gently pick up your hand so he can dab at it. Palm to palm, it lays lax against his — neither holding but not pulling away — and he takes that as a win. "I spent a good amount of money on those, you know."

"I'll buy you more."

"Junhui…"

He focuses on the tender motions of wiping your arm, ignoring the warning call of his name that's always delivered in a cold tone. Once he reaches past your shoulder and sweeps delicately across your collarbones littered with teeth marks, his eyes are drawn up to your slightly chapped lips that are set in a frown.

"Um, don't worry I can also have them fixed. My friend's good at stitching and it's not like they're… in pieces."

"So they're wearable."

He whispers loudly in mild frustration, "Why do you keep trying so hard to escape?" even though you've made no effort to physically move.

"I'm only escaping if you're keeping me against my will. Otherwise it's simply called leaving."

"But I don't want you to leave! Can't you see I'd rather have you stay?"

"… Why?"

"Why?" he repeats incredulously and leaves the wet cloth to hang on your opposite shoulder. Bare fingers brush the side of your neck, cup your cheek, and a thumb sweetly rubs at the corner of your mouth. Brown eyes raise from the curve of your lips to the cute bump of your nose to finally meet your eyes. Despite your aloof front, he can see how they flicker with an uncertainty he wishes to soothe. "Because I like you. If you want to be held captive, just say the word."

"You're crazy."

"Crazy for you, sure. But I am definitely in my right mind and I mean what I say."

Suddenly backing away with a tug, Junhui urges you to stand with him. You still ask your demanding questions even as he releases his hold on your upper body and squats. A gentle hand grasps your outer thigh while the other gingerly strokes the delicate flesh between your legs and downwards. Dutifully cleaning away the mixed stains of your releases. 

"What if you're wrong? What if you regret it?"

A chaste kiss is delivered below your belly button as he works on the other leg. "I won't."

"You'll get tired of me… you'll miss being free."

"Is that why you're trying to leave first? Because you think I'll walk away one day?" He takes your silence as an answer and rises to his full height. "Won't you give me a chance? Even if it gets to that point, if we hit a crossroads where it's not easy anymore, and you think we'll go our separate ways… Only if you want me to, I'll make sure to prove you wrong. That we can make it through together."

"Why though? Do you really think — "

"Because I like you. And I want to learn to love you… and maybe, just maybe, you might be able to love me in return too."

"But Jun…"

His name falls from your lips in such a soft tone, a stark difference from earlier and he pulls you into a hug. Dry and warm skin becomes a comforting embrace against your cooler, damp body. He's safe. As much as it scares you shitless, it's oddly soothing. He's soothing. 

Maybe it sparks something deep inside your chest you've tried to bury as he finishes cleaning you up, the steady touch of his hands expressing what words yet cannot. Returning to lay on his bed, the cozy cat blanket covering your naked bodies… perhaps you realize "I love you" has never sounded better wrapped in the undertoning of the words "I'll make the same promise to you when morning comes," followed later by Junhui's low snores. 

You doze away letting his arms encompass you, dreaming of the possible future that may become a reality — the one with him in it.

onlyseokmins: March 2023 ©

[writing-whump]

Nightmare

Isaiah is sick after a nightmare. Cue some fluff and comfort from Seline. Warning for emeto.

Isaiah was pretty sure their pack was ruined before it even formed. And that he had ruined his chances with Seline.

Since that difficult afternoon, things have changed between the trio. Matthew and Seline apologized to each other right away - her for not letting them know earlier of having guests over and him for scaring her. They both acknowledged partial guilt for the incident and resolved to be more tolerant in the future.

Seline promised to always message them if someone came over and ideally warn them a few days in advance. Matthew expressed deep regret over raising his shadow at her and promised he would never hurt her no matter how angry he was and reassured he wasn't being angry with her in the first place.

This did not, however, achieve the effect Isaiah had hoped for.

Seline was cold and avoiding them. She would greet them and act politely, but she hurried over to the second floor to her room any chance she got, excusing herself from sharing meals with them. She waited until they left in the morning to come down, came home late and her answers to any initiations or invitations were "don't know if I'll have time yet". Which Isaiah knew was a lie, cause she kept a calendar for months in advance and because her assistant job was flexible and confusing to understand without it.

Matthew and Isaiah both had an unspoken agreement to initiate contact on neutral ground in the shared spaces only. The second floor became Seline's exclusive territory - her room, her personal boundaries and her safe space. They were not going to breach it without explicit invitation, hoping to soothe her that way.

Except the invitation never came.

Isaiah didn't think it was necessarily him she was avoiding, but since he had comforted Matthew, shared a room with him and tried to mediate their first apologetic interaction after the incident, he had inevitably taken "his" side and fallen into the "enemy" camp.

He shouldn't have been explaining so hard that wolves needed their territory and were touchy about new wolves that invaded it without warning and that the whole thing would have been much easier if they had just become a pack. His suggestion was met with a disbelieving stare, asking him if he was insane. Yeah, he should have held his mouth shut.

But he couldn't precisely abandon Matthew to the issue either.

Isaiah got to know Matthew's stress reactions very intimately in the following weeks. Matthew asked him to train with him outside of their sparring for fun to work on his shadow's temper. He also kept up with his daily runs, waking up even earlier to go to the gym and do some boxing workouts before and after school. When he got home, the redhead usually switched on their Google Chrome on the smart TV, a clear indication he was open to having a movie night, whatever anyone picked.

Their evenings looked exactly the same since. Seline declined his offer to watch something without even giving him a look or a thought. Matthew promptly dosed off, only to stumble over to bed around midnight and get up at 4 am again for his run. Rinse, repeat.

Matthew's stress reaction was to sleep and be quiet. Coaxing a conversation out of him took a herculean effort. Then again, he could also be exhausted from all the additional workouts. Isaiah thought Matthew was working on the issue diligently and seriously enough to win some sympathy points, but Seline seemed set on not seeing any effort Matthew was making.

He also thought she had come a bit calmer from her visits to her mom over the weekend. Except afterward, she started going home every weekend, sometimes even taking Fridays and Mondays free to go home sooner. Completely shutting them down.

This left Isaiah alone in a very tense and silent apartment. He hadn't realized before how much he looked forward to coming home after they started living together. How much he cherished the afternoons cooking for everyone or sharing a glass of wine with Seline to talk over progress on their respective research projects. Or the way they would debate and laugh about movies, always switching in introducing their favourite ones to each other. He missed Matthew's good-hearted grumpiness and Seline's playful complaints and the heated discussion about that or another scene. It really felt like a home, in a way the empty vast place he had before never did.

Now living in polite charming illusions he knew alright and he hated them. Masks may have been his thing, but he only became what he wanted to be, what he wanted people to hear - because he genuinely wanted to give them something and not because he was hiding what he knew was terrible to do to someone else. His masks were heartfeltly crafted pieces of art, of himself, of things he was shaping himself to become.

But whatever this terrible silent tension was, it was too close to home in an unexpected way.

Maybe that was when the nightmares started. The foreboding feeling came right in the evening, his stomach feeling like it was hanging on water as he watched Matthew turn his face into the pillow and Seline gathering food to eat in her room, so she wouldn't have to spend even that minimal time with them.

Retiring to their shared room with Matthew didn't help much either, cause he couldn't sleep and when he did, he dreamed. He wasn't sure what he dreamed about, just that he woke up confused, nauseated and sweaty and like he didn't get any rest at all.

Matthew's sleep was very deep though. Nothing seemed to wake him once he was out, so Isaiah at least didn't have to worry about his night terrors being witnessed.

It was the same that night as well.

Isaiah woke around 3 in the morning, sweaty and breathing hard from a dream he didn't want to remember. A string of faces of all the people he had failed, that he had left behind. Familiar enough.

Except now Seline's and Matthew's faces showed up there too.

He must have had a real heavy dinner today, cause he wasn't just feeling vaguely nauseated. His mouth was actively flooded with saliva and gulping down just made his stomach twist more.

Isaiah scrambled from the bed as fast and queit as he could, though Matthew didn't even stir, and headed for the sanctuary of the bathroom.

He turned on the light, closed the door and dropped to his knees in front of the toilet. His stomach was in turmoil, roiling restlessly inside him. The nausea felt like claws, black and long running up his back and Isaiah leaned over the toilet, bracing against the rim.

Taking deep breaths didn't seem to help at all. He let drool drip from his parted lips, when a sudden heave surprised him. His whole body rocked and vomit rushed out of him, hot and thick. The horrible guttural sound accompanying it was even worse.

He took some more breaths, but they were coming fast and shallow. His stomach hurt and twisted further and he knew this wasn't the end. Another terrible sound came and another thick wave of vomit with it, chunks of undigested rice and meat from dinner spluttering noisly against the water.

This was horrible and intense and he didn't even understand the cause! Surely his stomach wasn't so weak as to react to stress that wasn't even rightfully his.

His stomach shot up his throat again, but he managed to swallow it down this time, moaning the bitter taste burned his throat. Isaiah let his head fall down against his folded hand on the toilet, exhausted to the bones.

Time seemed to have stopped and slowed down at the same time. The nausea was still there, not as intense, but ever present, so he didn't dare to leave his post. His shirt was cold and sticky with sweat, making him shiver. He should buy a thicker carpet in front of the toilet, this one did miserable job sparing his knees...

The door creaked open. Isaiah didn't feel like lifting his head, it seemed to weigh a ton.

A hesitant gentle hand touched his upper back.

The contact felt electrifying, his head finally shooting up to see Seline kneeling next to him, bathrobe open around her blue PJs.

"Oh," he creaked, his voice hoarse. "Hey." Just when he thought the night couldn't be any worse.

"Hey yourself," she said, not letting her hand fall. "What's wrong with you? Are you sick?"

"It's nothing. Had a nightmare. Nothing serious." He let his head dropped back against his folded elbow, wanting to hide. He always felt like hiding when he felt like crap. Especially from her.

"A nightmare can make you this sick?" Seline asked, horrified. "What was it about?"

Isaiah made a helpless gesture up with his free hand, then let it fall limply beside him again.

"Go to sleep, please. Nothing fun to see here."

She reached behind him to flush the toilet. Isaiah reddened at the reminder he forgot to do it himself.

Seline rubbed his back slowly, feeling him tense and shiver as she touched the sweaty stains. "Anything I can do?"

"Just go back to sleep," he said quietly, not wanting to argue. Why did she always have to see him at his most disgusting and pathetic? Why couldn't he just be his normal, strong, tidy self, like he could with everyone else? Couldn't she come down from her fortress during the day, when he was fine and in control?

The anxiety spiked a reaction in his stomach. He groaned as the nausea made him shudder and he leaned over the toilet again, spitting into it. His stomach roiled in preparation like he was on a boat.

"Please leave, Seline. I don't feel good," he warned, brows furrowed as he rode out the next wave. His teeth clapped together, but he didn't think that would help.

"That's okay, I don't mind."

"Seline-"

"You can't seriously expect me to leave you here like this-"

Isaiah wanted to argue that was exactly what he wanted her to do, when the new wave of puke had him heaving over the toilet violently. He braced against the rim with both hands, mind going blank as his body purged in several waves after each other, leaving him breathless.

He lifted a little, his hands hurting from the coldness digging into his palms. This was so humiliating...

It was then that he noticed the warm presence against his back. Seline had her forehead pressed to his shoulder blade, hands digging into the fabric of his shirt from behind.

"Please, don't send me away. I want to help you," she said.

He reached for toilet paper, wiping his mouth clean of the drool and sighed heavily. "I don't want you to see me in this state."

"Why can't you let other people help you? Why can't I help you?" Peaking up from her place against his back, she added in a smaller voice: "Why do you not want me here?"

He couldn't stand the hurt in her voice, like he had somehow put it there. "Because I want to be perfect for you and this is the exact opposite of it," he said in exasperation.

The silence that followed was deafening. It made him realize what a terrible thing he had just said.

Isaiah groaned, pushing his face against the inside of his elbow again. "I'm so sorry."

"For what? Saying that you like me?" she said in a stunned voice.

"Yes. No. I'm sorry I said it here, at such a disgusting place and at such stupid time. I had a whole plan of how-"

"Shhhhhh," she said, leaning against him again. He could feel the place where she buried her face into him burning through his shirt. "It's alright."

"But you-"

"I like you too."

It was his turn to be stunned. He blinked, hoisting himself up, trying to turn enough to look at her.

"And you help us with embarrassing, stupid stuff all the time," she said quickly, "so it's no fair to try to prevent us from doing the same."

"This is such a terrible confession," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. She leaned back as well to meet his eyes. Despite what he said, her blushing cheeks, her tangled hair in a loose ponytail, her eyes flashing with indignation - he thought he never saw anything more beautiful.

"Shut up! I thought you would never say anything."

"I was waiting for your signals!" he protested, "I wasn't going to force-"

"Signals? I was giving you plenty. You think it's easy for a girl not to look like she is chasing the man-"

Isaiah chuckled. He was freezing, his mouth surely smelled terrible, just like the whole bathroom and it was almost 4 am and there they were, arguing. His chest felt so light and fluttery though like not in several weeks. Not since the argument.

Seline's eyes widened in surprise as she tipped back against the wall, watching him. "Hahaha. Glad you are feeling so much better."

Isaiah ran a hand through his hair. "I'm still very sorry."

"If you apologize one more time, I'm going to hit you," she threatened. He wondered how exactly she was going to do that, when he was the one trained in martial arts and with a deadly shadow.

Her hand reached forward to press against his forehead, gently brushing some hair out of its way. "You don't have a fever."

"I told you. It's just stress," he deadpanned. But he truly was feeling a lot better. His throat was still raw and his stomach was tender, but he didn't feel the weight gnawing him or the nausea at his spine. He allowed himself to lean a bit into her touch, eyes closing momentarily against the exhaustion that hit him as a ton of bricks.

Seline rocked closer to him again, face almost touching his neck.

"Stop that," he chided in a resigned tone. "I'm disgusting."

"You better stop with that talk," she said. He blushed, squirming self-consciously as her hand slid from his forehead to his cheek. "I couldn't find you disgusting if I tried," she whispered.

He wrinkled his nose in disbelief, but he was too tired and confused from the adrenaline crash to argue further.

Seline leaned away, but tugged at his sleeve. "Come up to my room to sleep with me?"

Isaiah forgot about the embarrassment entirely. "Oh?"

Seline's whole face reddened, waving her hand at him adorably. "Not like that! Just...I thought it might help against the nightmares. If you want."

Isaiah watched her in amusement, realizing slowly what she had just offered. Breaching the ban. She just invited him over to her room, her territory, her kingdom.

He smiled at her, blinking tiredly. "I would like that."

---

@bellysoupset

[arisenreborn]

Silver Linings

Word Count: 1295 Characters: Reverie (Arisen), Rann (Pawn) AO3: (Link)

After being thoroughly accosted by an ogre for the third time in the span of a few days, Reverie wasn't about to refuse Rann's help getting all of the slobber out of her hair. (Introspective, Dialogue-Heavy, Character/Relationship Building)

Silver linings, silver linings. The words repeated in Reverie’s head like some mantra, perhaps a vestige, a clue even, of her former self. Whoever she’d been before her memories were lost -stolen, rather- and she was forced to work at that excavation site. Further still, before she’d had her body scorched and her heart plucked out by the dragon, marked as Arisen. 

Had that person had to find ‘silver linings’ under such circumstances before? The weight of the world on her shoulders, ensnared in political schemes? 

Silver lining number one: The boulder she was sitting on was blessedly smooth against her bare arse. Unfortunately, the river water was wretched cold. 

She also had to wonder if that woman she was before had to deal with roaming the wilds and getting accosted by ogres on the regular. 

“Seriously, why do they always have it out for me?” She huffed, scrubbing at her arms. It felt like she’d never get the sticky stink of saliva off of her. 

“Unfortunately, Master, ogres have a tendency to target women,” Rann answered. “I am sorry I was not better able to prevent the beast from carrying you so far from us at the time.” The pang of regret in his voice tugged at her- Ah, well, not her heartstrings she supposed. Something deeper then? Either way, it ached. 

“It’s not your fault, ‘twas chaos what with the harpies and the bandits.” She sighed, and refrained from shaking her head in exasperation simply recalling it.

“Still, I shall endeavor to do better going forward.” His hands delicately moved through her hair, pooling water between his palms before rinsing away globs of ogre spittle. 

She couldn’t fault him for the sentiment, she supposed. She had to do better, too, after all. 

Once the worst of the ogre sludge was cleaned away, he took a bottle of rosewater and started massaging it into her scalp and strands. This she’d anticipated, but less so how good it felt.

With a sigh she slumped where she sat, feeling tendrils of tension unwinding themselves down her neck and shoulders. She had initially told him she could do this herself, but now she was feeling grateful he’d been insistent, and she’d been too weary to argue.

Silver lining number two: Rann. Actually, he ranked higher than the boulder. Considerably higher. As much as she loathed the idea of ‘commanding the Pawns’, let alone dragging them into these vicious battles, she wasn’t sure how she’d have gotten on without him. 

“Ahh, that feels nice.” Somehow she managed to avoid making any particularly unseemly sounds. 

“It gladdens me to be able to offer you some small respite.”

She doubted not the sincerity of his words, but it was instead the inclination behind them that troubled her. Would he not have done the same for any Arisen beyond the rift? And when that thought occurred to her, so did another; Where did a Pawn learn how to do that? 

She supposed it might have simply come natural to him. But on the other hand, it seemed that some of the Arisen in other worlds had… peculiar tendencies. Her brow twitched and furrowed.

“Did you… learn how to do this beyond the rift?” She tried to pitch her voice more towards curiosity than jealousy - which seemed an absurd thing to be feeling, yet there it was. Just a pinch of it, enough to recognize and feel some shame over. 

Rann hummed thoughtfully, gently pressing his thumbs in small circles down the back of her neck. Her eyes fluttered shut and for a moment her thoughts stretched into stillness. Blessedly, all she could smell now was rosewater.

“To be honest? I… don’t quite recall. I don’t believe that to be the case, however. At least, I have no recollection of doing such before.” 

A measure of foolish relief came with his answer, but more pressing was a new concern alongside her curiosity. Brow furrowing, she turned her head enough to catch his mismatched eyes with hers.

“Have you… lost your memories, too?” Her voice faltered, and there was little hiding her subtle shock at the idea. 

They’d been traveling together for nearly a month now, and this was the first he’d so much as hinted at such a thing. He certainly hadn’t given any indications, but then again, that span of time was plenty confusing for her. Still fog-brained from whatever Disa had done to her, clamoring for scraps of a lost identity, and being saddled up with a bevy of other issues to contend with. Mayhaps she simply hadn’t noticed.

“I would not say that,” he said, shaking his head. “But I believe I… spent a very long time in the rift without being called to aid another.” 

His voice sounded strange then; a little sad and yet… almost proud? ‘Sad’ she thought she could understand. The Pawns were bent to the service of the Arisen. Void of other purpose, this alone seemed to grant them the ‘joy of fulfillment’ humans possessed. Or at least so it seemed to her, in a manner of speaking. 

So to that end ‘pride’ seemed an odd addition, but she didn’t feel like she could ask when it was only a supposition. 

“My memories are vague things that jump into clarity the instant they are called upon,” he continued. Placing his hands against the sides of her head he turned her face forward to continue his ministrations as he spoke. “I recall working with mercenaries before, and traveling plenty.” Woefully, she could not see the hint of a smile playing on his features, but she could hear the subtle lilt of it in his voice. “I was looking for you, everywhere I went.”

What a thing to say. It troubled and vexed her to no end, that he could say such things and not understand the weight of them. And she was all the more a fool for letting them affect her so.

“But eventually, for reasons I cannot quite remember, I returned to the rift and abided there for some time. Long enough that both my thoughts and memories grew foggy and dim, and the stretching darkness of the rift laid claim over them.” 

His hands paused, resting against her shoulders with a ghost-light touch. 

“And then you called to me, and all became clear once more.” 

There was that uncomfortable itch in her chest again, deeper than her nails might reach. Would that she had a heart so she could better heed it, or memories so she might make sense of any of it. She felt warm despite the chill of the water, and dumbstruck, as if a cyclops had just clobbered her in the head. Though, thankfully without the accompanying pain. 

How silly of her to worry about how he might regard other Arisen.

Not knowing what else to say in response to such a bafflingly sweet sentiment, she could only rely on the truth. Closing her eyes she settled into silence for a moment, recalling when she’d first reached her hand towards the riftstone. Clueless as a newborn kitten, she’d had no idea what to expect, or if she was ‘doing it right’. Yet before she could fall too far into the fear of failure, he had arrived. 

Even now she could recall the relief she’d felt to see him. Almost a sense of recognition, perhaps like meeting a very old friend, but not quite. At least, not that she could remember. Nevertheless, his soothing presence endured to this day.

“I’m glad it was you who came to my call.” She said, a warmth swelling in her chest - before a great handful of cold water was dumped over her head. Biting back on a shriek, the sound was strangled into a one not unlike a rat being stepped on, and Rann laughed. 

What a dreadfully beautiful sound it was.

[tanuki-02]

Progress Report

For 09.16.23 to 07.08.24

I plan on doing these progress reports weekly. Perhaps with the occasional post in between if I feel like I have some huge improvement within that day.

But for this first progrep, I'll try to detail as much as possible my learning from the day I started until now as I write this post.

For a little more info, I'm a 2nd year university student who is already fluent in 2 languages. I'd say my strong point is memorization which is incredibly helpful.

‎

— GOAL

Initially, I wanted to learn Japanese because of manga. Yes, I know fanlations exist and I can go buy physical English copies. However, English versions are waaaay more expensive and a lot of the manga I read have very slow fanlations or they've stopped translating it completely.

This brings me to my next point; I wanted to learn how to READ Japanese first and foremost. I hardly cared about other skills (but now I do understand their importance to the holistic learning of it all).

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— September '23 to November '23

I went into this language learning journey blindly. I had no idea where to start. But all I knew was that: 1.) Du*lingo is not your best option, 2.) DON'T use romaji to learn, 3.) Start kanji as early as you can. Looking back on it, I feel like these 3 points are important and I still do believe them now.

So, I went ahead and learned hiragana and katakana in less than 2 days. It was quite easy (although, katakana still does make my head spin sometimes).

After that, I went ahead and started with vocabs and kanji. Basically, I searched up vocab & kanji lists for the N5 level. After I found some good practice/list PDFs, I printed them out and used them as my main study material.

What I would do is to memorize them on my own accord (reading over and over again then, checking if I remember—rinse and repeat). I would say this worked out well for the first couple of months. The N5 lists had around 800 vocabs and 60 kanji which were pretty easy to memorize. I had this down in about a month. The following N4 lists had around an additional 800 vocab and 120 kanji. This one took me 2 months, but I'd say the mastery isn't as great as the N5.

With that in mind and the additional 4000 vocabs and 300 kanji that N3 offered, I started to doubt my method. It was then that I really began to search the web of an efficient way to learn this language.

It was then I discovered TheMoeWay and Anki.

‎

— December '23 to June '24

Plenty of people recommended TheMoeWay, so I had to check it out. It has a guide for the first 30 days of learning, but I ignored that because I was way past 30 days at this point. I read everything else and learned about spaced repetition systems (SRS); that's basically what Anki is.

It recommends to start with the N5 Tango Deck first and I did that. I began on December 6, 2023 and finished it on March 28, 2023. To consider it finished, all cards should be matured.

‎

‎

This deck was VERY easy for me at this point because the prior months of inefficient reviewing that I did. If I'm not mistaken, I did about 100 cards per day which explains why I was so fast.

I had to move on to N4 Tango Deck once I ran out of "New" cards in the first deck. So, at some point, I was doing both decks simultaneously. I began this one on January 17, 2024 and finished it on June 15, 2024.

‎

‎

Admittedly, this deck was a lot tougher than the last one for me at the time. I had to lower the daily card count to 50 (which is still a lot). But I can say after finishing both tango decks—vocabulary, kanji retention, and grammar—all improve drastically. These two decks are super duper helpful in the beginning and I would totally recommend them.

After accomplishing both decks, TheMoeWay says for you to create a mining deck of your own. So, as I was about to go through the N4 Tango Deck, I was deliberating whether or not I'd go through with what is recommended or go for something else.

I think making a mining deck would boost your skill by a huge margin, but I opted for the Core 2k/6k Japanese Vocabulary Deck which I learned from Livakivi on YouTube.

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— Current; July '24

I decided to take on the Core 2k/6k while I was doing the N4 Tango (This also explains why I did fewer cards 'cuz I was trying to balance both). I started this one on January 14, 2024 and I'm still getting through it little by little. By that I mean I'm not even halfway done haha.

This is what my progress looks like so far:

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‎

I'm doing 20 new cards per day while it's still summer break from university. Although, I'll definitely have to lower it once the semester starts. Maybe I'll go back to 10 or something.

Anyway, I found that by doing this, my retention for words and how they are spelled in hiragana have improved so much. Sometimes I can easily read random sentences on Japanese websites or books. Moreover, after doing this for some time, I found that my reading got a lot better (duh, you know more words). I can easily pass the N5 and N4 tests on the official JLPT website. The N3 tests... not so much just yet.

This brings me to my next point: I am lacking in grammar and reading comprehension. To remedy this, I've tried immersing a bit through reading news on NHK or random stories on Tadoku Graded Readers (honestly, boring, but I have to). I tried reading manga, but I'd skip so many speech bubbles that it made no sense anyway.

At the moment, I'm doing an Anki deck related to grammar, another one based on Tae Kim's guide, and a third one for listening comprehension (because my listening skills are also doodoo).

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TL;DR

I'd say I'm around the higher N4 level or maybe a very low N3. For my level, I'd say I'm pretty good at reading... everything else not so much. I barely do output so writing and speaking are non-existent skills for me and listening is something I only started now.