#the fastest i ever had an idea and made it

[boolger]

Purge your thoughts of the life you knew before 🌻 ch.3

Female reader x Nikolai x Price <-last chapter✨ AO3 link ✨ next chapter -> wc: 10.8k - call of duty - explicit, MDNI. Read the tags. Dead dove don’t eat.

tags: non-consensual elements/rape, bikers AU, biker gang 141, omegaverse, dub-con, non-con touching, harassment, stalking, reader has a vagina, M/M/F threesome, threats, reader has a nickname, loss of parent, original characters, pack dynamics, alpha!John Price, Alpha!Nikolai, omega!reader, forced bonding, loss of virginity, breeding kink, piss kink, scent marking, daddy kink, stun guns, smut, rough sex, knotting, (maybe pregnancy), voyeurism, punishments, noncon spanking, p in v sex, anal sex, overstimulation, claiming barks, uh short appearance of a chopped off body part (action not described but the part will appear shortly)

AN: once again i must thank the ever so sweet @venuskaltrip for helping and dealing with me and all my ideas. and teaching me better than any of my english teachers ever have lol<33

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Your head hurt a bit the following morning.

It was raining outside your window, dark clouds rumbling now and again, making you stay in your bed a tad longer than usual. You had the day off at least, so you could nurse yourself back to  health. Besides food, you had no urge to get out of bed, almost tempted to hide beneath your blankets all day… perhaps even build a temporary nest, to properly feel safe for a little while.

It was only because of the packages, that you got out of your bed - making a big breakfast, staying awake despite the urge to sleep the day away. You  sipped your tea, impatiently checking your phone again and again, waiting for your things to arrive.

You had paid way too much for the fastest delivery. The sooner you could feel slightly more comfortable in your home, the better.

No, you might not have been fully sober when you had ordered everything, but you had felt as if you were. As if the fear of Price’s words had truly flushed your system and made you think clearly, as you had added more things to your online basket.

Then you had messed around on some more dodgy websites, managing to find a dude that sold stronger stun guns. He hadn’t asked questions as long as you paid and you hadn’t asked questions about how he got them - but he had offered you a nice deal, when you asked if he had pepper spray as well.

All the other stuff you had ordered was legal; another lock, which was one of those fancy ones that you needed a chip to open, a baseball bat to have next to your bed, then a normal lock for the back door. Perhaps the baseball bat was a little excessive but you had dealt with creepy men for two years already - if you needed to step up, then that was what you had to do.

You distracted yourself by looking into apartment prices in the nearest big cities, taking in the prices while looking at your savings. It wouldn’t be impossible - If you could actually make yourself sell the house, you could move into one of those apartments and be able to pay rent while looking for a job.

Abandoning Mary felt wrong in every bone of your body - you knew she would survive, but it was as if you were considering leaving your last parental figure. What would she even do if you left? Probably have to hire someone new, but still — not to mention how to even explain it. Did you even want to tell her that you wanted to move, because you were once again, being harassed by a leader of a biker pack?

Of everyone in the bloody village, it just had to be you.

The sound of the bell at your front door almost made you throw the laptop to the floor and you barely managed to put it on the coffee table, before hurrying to the door.

A moment later, you had your box with locks and another one with a baseball bat. You had never played with one, only been forced to cricket a couple of times and that was a different kind of bat, but you knew the basics. Grab it, raise it and hit the other person. Couldn’t be that hard.

You spent an embarrassingly long time attempting to put in the locks, before caving in and calling Harold and Jenny. They asked questions. Of course they would, it was stupid of you to think that they wouldn’t. Jenny was extremely good at reading people, the teenage beta instantly realising that something was up, even better than her boss.

“It’s uh - just a big house. With only me in it,” the lie felt uneasy on your tongue, but you couldn’t help yourself. You didn’t want to worry the elderly omega nor the young apprentice.

“Are they bothering you?” Jenny asked while Harold was picking up some tools in the car, looking up at you with squinted eyes - watching you in a way that made your palms feel sweaty - and a slightly worried look in her eyes.

You huffed, reminding yourself that you were a strong, proud alpha and you didn’t feel bothered b y a couple of men in leather jackets trying to seem intimidating. So you straightened up, watched Harold and shook your head, another lie slipping from your lips.

“Of course not,” you answered, unable to look at the other, unable to admit to the defeat you felt, “just wanna be sure nobody touches the jewelry mom left.”

Another lie. It was dusty on your tongue, from suddenly having dragged your poor, deceased mother into your lie. There was nobody to fear in the town but the bikers. Yet Jenny let it go and shrugged, before taking the tool box from Harold as he got up the stairs again. Instantly beginning to tell Harold about how she had seen these locks online, while you retreated, watching them without intervening.

You had a lock bolt and a chain lock on the back door already. Now this in the front.

Locks weren't going to save you. Nor were stronger stun guns or pepper sprays. 

Sleep well, little Sunflower.

The locks and illegal weapons might not save you, but they would probably help you sleep a little better. 

… At least until you figured out what to do.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

“Would you be able to find somebody to help you with the cafe if I left?” 

Mary stiffened, not moving for a second; then the older beta spun around, her braids flying at the movement, looking straight at you with a raised eyebrow and suspicion in her eyes.

“What have you done now?”

You huffed, rolling your eyes. As if you had done something to ask, like a little naughty kid who often got into trouble. No, for once, you hadn’t done anything. Sure, you had threatened the men with a stun gun, but they were big men. Probably not that  scared of your little weapon.

“Haven’t done anything,” you defended, “jeez, Mary, you sounded like my mother just now.”

Mary softened up a little, a small chuff-like sound leaving her. You looked back down at the dirty cups, continuing to wash them. Rings of dried coffee slowly dissolved into nothing. The water felt hot against your skin, reminding you that you were very much alive; stuck in Millhaven, surrounded by beasts on motorbikes and with a secret that burned in your stomach.

“Are you thinking of moving again?”

You nodded, your back still turned to her, unable to look her in the eyes again. Afraid she would see right through you - figure out that you were hiding things from her. It was uncomfortable in a way, to tell half a lie. As if you had two wounds but only showed the one which hurt the least.

“Are you afraid Graves will come back?”

A part of you wanted to break into laughter from her question; because wasn’t it naive of Mary to believe that Phillips Graves was still alive? She had heard the shots too, the screams, the horrors that had taken over Millhaven that night  - how could she not realise that they were all dead?  Even if Phillip Graves was to rise from whatever shallow grave he had properly disappeared into, he wouldn’t scare you the same way John Price did. Graves was in fact the last thing you feared right now, if you had to be honest with her - but you weren’t… not fully, at least.

“No,” that was a part of the truth, because you were more afraid of what exactly had happened to him, but it melted into lies once more, “I’ve considered getting a degree or some sort of education.”

You hadn’t… not really. Sure, you could. It would probably be a smart enough choice, if you were to leave Millhaven, so that you could get a well paying job or something, but… but as you dared to look over your shoulder, watching Mary, you almost felt like apologising for even suggesting it.

It was as if you were being split in two; the cafe was going well, Mary wasn’t afraid of the group, she would be safe if you left her… but what if she wasn’t? The idea of abandoning her, hell, of abandoning Beatrice and her pack, Enid, Dennis, Carlos, Finn, Alma — it all gave you a bad feeling. 

For a moment, it was as if Mary looked much older than usual; as if her hands had gotten weaker and face gotten more wrinkled in the matter of seconds, her black hair looking a little more on the grey. She would grow old too… would she be alone here? Only her sister to come visit? Would The Gentle Cuppa close? You put the cups down, turning around fully, looking at her.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, like a kid aware that she had upset her mother, suddenly feeling small, with the urge to grab onto her skirt and cry into them, “I - I know that was very sudden.”

“It’s okay, Sunflower,” she answered, moving forward to cup your face gently, “I would miss you - but I will also support you.”

There was flour on her hands. Her scent was herbal, like different kinds of dried teas all blended together, with a smell of something purely Mary beneath. She let out a soft rumble, close to a purr, like a mother would do to her pup and you closed your eyes, listening to it and her breaths, trying your best not to break into tears. You wanted the truth to escape your throat, to drip from your mouth and explain to her how you had struggled; how they had been at your house, how it was escalating much quicker than it had with Graves. That Phillip Graves, with all his nastiness and evil, had seemed easier to handle than this new group - you couldn’t read them, never knew what to expect. You were losing more and more control and it scared you.

You let your forehead rest against your boss’. There wasn’t much separation between your work and personal life between you and Mary anyways. They had blurred for years. She was a parent — your parent. You had slept on her tiny couch for three days after your dad passed away. 

“I want you to be happy, my little Sunflower,” her reply was filled with love, “wherever that may take you.”

The idea of leaving her, who you had come to consider your new mother, psychically hurt. 

Leaving or staying; you felt, as if the two options were beginning to pull you apart, the reasons to either stay or leave becoming more and more intricate, less and less simple… People who you cared for were tangled in between those reasons, while The 141 crawled closer and closer in the dark, as if they were waiting for the perfect moment to attack - always nearby, unable to be scared off. 

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

When you weren’t working the next couple of days, you spent hours making lists and mental notes, trying to figure out the pros and cons of your different options. Scribbling down different notes on what to remember, what to consider, who to call. You had to call the bank if you wanted to sell the house and buy an apartment in a bigger city - you had to figure out which town you would move to, which real estate agents to contact.

You needed more fake scent-perfumes and stronger pills. Another way to protect yourself - in order to avoid accidents and in case anything was to happen, the mere possibility scared you.

The following days, it also suddenly seemed like everything was back to normal - sure, different members of the 141 would swing by the cafe and buy things, but none of them bothered you. When you walked home, you would be barked at by Mrs. Henley’s dog and see the chain smoking teenager in the window. You would turn your corner and nobody would be in front of your home; no big motorbike standing in the driveway, no John Price leaving cigar ash on your stairs.

The new locks worked without problems, the chip beeping and unlocking, beeping as it locked behind you — somehow they did make you feel more comfortable. Not to mention the baseball bat next to your bed and the pepper spray and new, stronger stun gun that arrived the next morning.

You hoped, no, you begged, to whichever god who would listen to you, that the men had gotten your hint and that the entire pack would leave you alone now.

As the week had crawled by, the weekend ending with things still staying the same, it did seem like somebody had heard those prayers of yours.

When Monday came around, you began to seem a little more optimistic; it almost seemed like things had died down to the point that the bikers’ interest in you might have died…

Well… Almost. 

Perhaps you had been a bit too optimistic about it.

It began that Monday evening, even if you didn’t truly realise it before Tuesday. Every time you walked home, somebody followed you at a distance. 

It apparently didn’t matter whether it was from the cafe in the late afternoon or at night after a drink in the pub; they always appeared before you got too far, following until you reached your smaller road with your blue house at the end. 

Everyone following you appeared to be one of the women in the gang - it seemed to be a task only the three of them had been given and they followed you dutifully, like unwanted guard dogs. Only one of them attempted to be slightly discreet with their stalking task; the two others not even seeming bothered by the fact that you knew and looked straight at them.

Whether they had specifically been told to do this because none of the men could be bothered — or because they believed you might be less uncomfortable with women following you home, you didn’t really know. In all honesty, it didn’t really matter. It could have been any of the members from the shitty biker gang, whatever gender and secondary gender they might have, and it would have made you upset.

It felt insane to you that they didn’t realise that it was the whole “stalking you as you walk home”-aspect of it that made you upset. Though you doubted that the thickheaded alpha that was John Price would understand that.

The alpha woman that had followed you the second night, had not seemed intimated in any kind of way, as you angrily demanded for her to fuck off and stop following you. She had long dark hair, pulled back into a long braid and sharp features with intense eyes - an attractive alpha, hadn’t she been following you. The small woman had merely raised an eyebrow at you, said nothing and merely waited for you to turn around again, only to continue walking behind you.

Wednesday was the third night in a row and when you growled at the second woman, a tall, muscular beta woman with short hair and familiar-looking jacket and when you demanded that she let you walk home alone, she had merely laughed out loud. Then she had said something in what you assumed to be Spanish, but as you didn’t speak the language, you didn’t know what - so you had growled loudly at her again, walking home even faster than before, ignoring her laughter as you stomped angrily the entire way.

With Thursday a new woman appeared; this evening it was a blonde, bonded omega who, just like the others, didn’t seem one bit intimidated by you. Instead she looked slightly amused, if not a little bored, as you dared to walk towards her, telling her to piss off. You weren’t sure why you tried, as it hadn’t with the others but the woman, her leather jacket almost fully covered in small metal spikes, had merely taken a drag of her cigarette and tipped her head to the side, before actually replying. ”I’m merely goin’ for a walk, Sunny. Don’t ya’ have to get home? It’s cold outside.”

You snarled at her calm words, the way she spoke to you and you considered making a scene, scream at her and draw attention from the people in the little town, for them to look out the window. 

Instead you went with the familiar choice and turned around, walking home while cussing out the entire biker gang.

At this point it was getting ridiculous. You couldn’t even walk home alone anymore, couldn’t listen to Mrs. Henley’s dog barking at you nor watch the chain-smoking teenager without being bothered by the bikers. Those simple pieces of freedom had been taken from you as well. The things you used to enjoy doing were narrowing down, day by day.

Sure, you had hated Graves and the Shadow’s presence in Millhaven, but by now you already hated John Price and the 141 even more. Being able to walk home alone shouldn’t be impossible without being bothered. You just wanted to enjoy the sounds of Millhaven as the little town went to supper or to bed - you wanted the freedom to be able to walk home, without fear scratching its way into your bones.

Next day, it was the blonde omega once more; it was Friday, Enid had celebrated her birthday, so you had drunk a bit more than usual. Two pints, four shots and a fancy drink that Enid hadn’t liked and with the alcohol warming your body, you tried to ignore your stalker while walking home. Humming, unable to walk in a straight line, but in a better mood than usual.

You were certain the woman was there though; you could hear her familiar heavy boots, her huffing and puffing of the cigarette - and the wind blew her scent in your direction. Bonded, female omega. It couldn’t be any other. You flipped her off over your shoulder and her soft laughter confirmed that she was in fact there, watching you walk.

This entire week, with your changing, annoying guard dogs behind you, you had tensed up whenever you had turned from the main road to the smaller one where you lived; feared that there would be motorbikes in your driveway, that they would stand in front of your house, waiting.

Every time you had been worried while turning the corner. Would they be there again to bother you, their eyes watching you, sniffing the air and taunting you? Or would you once again be lucky and able to get inside without any of them in the way? 

But as they hadn’t been there all week, your drunk mind had assumed tonight would be the same. That you would be able to waltz inside, lock everything up, eat some leftovers and fall asleep with the baseball bat in your hand. That the only harassment of the day was the chain-smoking woman a couple of steps behind you.

A deep sigh escaped you when you turned the corner and looked towards your blue house at the end of the road, continuing to walk, swaying slightly from side to side due to the alcohol. If they were gonna be here every time you got slightly drunk, you really needed to cut down.

For once there were only two of them.

They stood right in front of your blue home, like predators waiting for a prey to return to its nest. Their bloody bikes taking up space in your driveway. You sincerely hoped that a gust of the wind would make their vehicles tip over; maybe break one of the small rear way mirrors or even better, scratch the paint.

Of course John Price was one of the pair, sitting on the small staircase to the front door as usual; smoking his cigar, blocking your way inside.

By now you were tired of people you didn’t like or know, being in front of your house - the alcohol was still making you feel warm, curling along your ribs and making your head feel heavy. It seemed to swallow up most of your fear, so you let your growing frustration take over, confidence seeping into it.

You didn’t need to be close to know who the other was - the Russian, Nikolai or whatever you were supposed to call him - and while he was smoking a cigar as well, he was standing up at least. Similarly he was also staring at you, as  you walked towards the house. They seemed like well fitting mates in that way, you supposed.

Yet, it seemed to be the hunger in their similar way of looking at you, which made you uncomfortable; like they wanted to sink their teeth into your skin and rip your meat from your bones — feast on your organs, blood dripping from their chins and swallow up the fear it created. But you just stared back at them, not backing down or looking away, even as they tried to look intimidating. You stomped towards them, only stopping a few metres from them. Finally, it was like your little bubble of anger popped.

“Stop makin’ your bloody minions follow me every day, you twats!” You snarled angrily, words slightly slurred, trying to make yourself look a little bigger as you growled.

The two alphas smiled — almost grinned — as if entertained by your demand and it made you want to scream; it was such a simple but effective way of acting superior towards you, taunting you and your inner omega.

It was the Russian one who was first to speak.

”Milaya,” he almost cooed, taking a few steps towards you, the lit cigar between two of his thick, tattooed fingers with the many rings, the last bits of smoke escaping his mouth,  “we’re only making you get home safe.”

Home safe — home safe? 

You let out a loud sound of annoyance, disbelief at his words and you were unable to help yourself from growling once more, one of your hands sliding into the pocket of your jacket. 

”The only dangerous thing in this town is your fuckin’ group of wankers!,” you hissed, “So get them to stop!”

Your anger seemed to do nothing but amuse the big alphas and god, you wanted so badly to plant your first in the Russian’s face - then in Price’s. Nikolai laughed, before taking a drag of the cigar, blowing the smoke in your direction before saying something in Russian, which made Price laugh too.

Their actions made you feel small and harmless, made you feel stupid for even attempting to go against them - trying to seem aggressive and dangerous which they barely acknowledged.

Control was slipping from your sweaty fingers, even as you desperately attempted to cling to it, sink your dull claws into it.

Nikolai walked a little closer; you stood your ground, the alcohol making you slightly lightheaded. Of course it would be tonight, when you weren’t even fully sober, that the two of them would come at you. Fucking bastards. 

You just wanted to be able to go to the pub without them being here when you returned home.

”Listen, you knotheads,” you snapped, baring your teeth for a second, to show you weren’t backing down, glad they couldn’t see your hidden ones, “You can’t rent the garage, I’ll never fucking let ya - so you might as well just drop it. Find somewhere else!”

The low chuckle that escaped Price made your eyes flicker over to him as he still sat on the stairs, tipping his head to the side a little.

“Oh, how that’s peculiar,” John Price mused, watching you with a glint in his eyes, tattooed fingers grabbing the cigar after taking another drag, “because you’ve sure  been looking at a lot of nearby real estate agents online this last week - bunch of apartments in London and Manchester, too. Funny for you to look at, if you’re not leavin’ and will never let us have this house, innit?”

In truth, you almost pissed your pants from the shock - it was mere luck that you didn’t.

Sitting like that, the big alpha pretended to not seem like a threat; slightly hunched over, relaxed stance and almost looking like a father enjoying a smoke in peace - but in reality, he seemed like a demon who had crawled up from the sewers, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

Any sense of control that you might have had a brief minute ago was gone, together with any confidence. His words filled your lungs with fright, forced horror into your bloodstream; unable to breathe, to speak, to snap back at him. Defending yourself against something so intense, almost felt meaningless - you swayed, telling yourself it was from the alcohol, but you knew it might also be from what he actually told you.

They had been watching you, not only physically, but somehow they had gotten your access to your online history as well. Unknowingly, it seemed like most of your privacy had been ripped from your hands — you were unprepared for this, for this kind of stalking, this kind of dark, strange behaviour, with a big pack that didn’t respect your boundaries. Graves had been nothing compared to this and it was like all of your hopes and dreams of being left alone by these men had been torn and ruined without your knowledge.

Your voice trembled, all courage suddenly gone from your body.

“Please leave me alone.�� It was the first time that you let yourself be this vulnerable in front of them and even if you immediately regretted it, you felt unable to do anything else. Hardly able to keep on your legs, to keep your cool and not just scream and bolt.

To your horror but perhaps not surprise, John Price smiled over your begging words, a rumble appearing from deep inside his chest. The driveway began to smell from the pheromones escaping the two men, their pleased not to mention lustful, scents overwhelming.

It was like the ground beneath you had been ripped away and you felt helpless, desperate to grasp at any sense of control, attempting to escape the situation which seemed to spiral in such a short time.

You had almost forgotten the presence of Nikolai, too shocked by Price admitting to the pack having stalked your online movements - he walked closer but instead of walking close towards you, he began to circle you; like a beastly creature, considering how to kill its victim in the best way and it made you grip your stun gun a little harder than before, almost pulling it out. 

It felt like the weapon, feeble as it was, would be your only means of safety right now - though you doubted it would save you for long.

”Let go of that, Milaya,” Nikolai’s voice was dark, calm, his stench of alpha growing stronger, as he continued to circle you, “you don’t know what to do with it anyways.”

Degrading you once more, reminded you that you were backed into a corner - and for some reason, some bloody reason, you found yourself following the alpha’s command, following the deep timbre, the power — your grip loosening a little around the stun gun. It was as if your body followed the order even if your mind didn’t agree, because maybe, just maybe, he was right - you had never tried it, barely knew how to use it, did you? You felt it fall to the bottom of your pocket again, your hand slowly pulling back. You were unable to look over your shoulder at him, unable to look at Price, the shame overwhelming you as Nikolai let out a pleased hum, whispering a few Russian words.

”You’ve always had a spot for soft, weak women, eh, Captain?” Nikolai crooned, his voice suddenly appearing behind you, much closer to you than before, while Price laughed again. Humiliation. Price was grinning like a dangerous beast and the description of you rushed through your mind again and again. Soft - weak - you did as an alpha commanded, just because of the tone of his voice. The stream of self hating thoughts were broken as Nikolai was even closer than before, having moved silently, his big arm slipping around your stomach, pulling you back into his body, as close as he could, his face fully pushed into your neck. So close to your scent gland, sniffing at you like a pervert. The other hand sliding to hold onto your hip, cigar between two fingers.

”Smellin’ so synthetic, milaya, like —“

Before even considering what you were doing, you moved; all but ripping your stun gun from your pocket, flipping the little safety switch with a quick motion before pressing it against the exposed part of his tattooed neck, close to his jaw.

With a surprised shout the Russian alpha let go of you, staggering back a couple of steps, clearly in pain, though he didn’t collapse, merely having dropped the cigar — you were quick to turn fully around and stare at him, growling as he began to snarl at you. Keeping your small weapon raised towards him.

John fucking Price did nothing to help his mate, instead he was howling with laughter from his spot on the stairs. It felt as if the sound of him laughing this loudly was echoing through the little street, going straight into your mind, blurring together with your fear and adrenaline. 

While Price was clearly entertained, the Russian in front of you was clearly enraged instead - even though Nikolai was badly lit by the streetlights, you could see enough of him to know he was far, far from happy. His bared teeth shone, tongue out, exposing his silver tongue piercing, every breath accompanied by a deep growling sound. His shoulders were slightly raised, his large hands balled into fists, his body tense and clearly ready to attack again, if allowed. There was a vague, barely there,  stench of burned flesh in the air.

You felt pride over having been successful, showing the men that you weren’t weak, weren’t afraid to defend yourself. You swayed a little, perhaps from the intensity of the situation, not feeling much more alcohol in your body. You had gained some sort of power with the stun gun, some protection, even if it was an electric and short lived kind of protection, but it was better than nothing. Your hand was gripping the device so tightly that you almost feared it would break.

“You know, Sunny,” Price casually said, apparently done with laughing and you dared to look over at him as he rose from the stairs, taking a few steps towards you in a relaxed manner, “a couple of locks aren’t gonna keep us out, heh.”

He took another drag of his cigar, not looking away from you — Nikolai’s rumble making you fear the Russian attacking once more, keeping the stun gun raised like a knife towards him. You were almost considering getting the pepper spray out of your other pocket.

You felt unsure about which of them to look at - if one would attack you if another distracted you, your mind swimming even if you had burned through most of the alcohol by now.

Logically you knew that Price was right; the locks at your doors, the pepper spray in your pocket, the baseball bat next to your bed and the stun gun in your hand would not keep the pack away in the long run. But the idea of giving up, of not even attempting, felt like going against everything you had been raised to do.

Their pack, bigger than any you had seen before, would be no match against only you, not to mention the fact that the two men in your driveway were actual alphas. Just like you had attempted to be ever since you were a teenager, in order to escape men just like them.

Price let out a “tsk tsk” at you, as if you were a disobedient child, as if you were beneath him in the hierarchy of the pack you weren’t a part of, an alpha ready to remind a misbehaving pack member of their place. He walked a little closer, taking yet another drag of his cigar, clearly not fearing you.

Would any of your neighbours be watching you, you wondered - would any of them do anything? Or would they leave you to your own demise, retreat from watching you in the window, unable to watch your destiny?

”Soft, dangerous alpha,” the much older alpha demeaningly crooned at you, smiling once more as you snarled at him, Price’s words hitting harder than you wanted to ever admit, “unlucky for you, we really like your pretty lil’ house…”

”Too fucking bad!” You snapped, “it—“

”But we also really like you,” he cut in, making you stare at him - he stepped closer and it was as if you forgot everything about the stun gun, enthralled by his presence;  as he looked down at you, the almost amused expression on his face suddenly turned darker, colder - like a switch had been flipped, making him look even more frightening than before, “Nik ‘nd I find you quite cute.”

Cute? Alphas weren’t described as cute, they weren’t supposed to be that. It was a stereotypical dig at you, implying you were bad at your secondary gender, unable to live up to what was expected of you by society.

”I- I’m not—“

”Oh, I’m sure you’re not, pet,” he replied easily, taking a drag of the cigar, blowing the smoke in your face just a moment later, almost making you cough “But we will convince you - maybe ya’ wanna be courted like a lil’ proper alpha, eh?”

”No,” you replied instantly, ignoring the stinking smell of smoke that entered your nostrils, “I don’t want to be courted at all!”

You stepped back, slightly to the side, only to be reminded of Nikolai as he rumbled at you once more, his eyes still dark, tongue slowly wetting his lips. As if getting ready to pounce.

”Hmm,” John hummed, not following you as you retreated, only to casually ask, “perhaps courted as an omega then?”

The question, no, the mere word omega, took you so off guard that you stumbled backwards, Nikolai catching you with a purr, delighted with your fear - the stench of lust overwhelming you. Forgetting everything about the stun gun in your hand, you bolted.

They let you, but it didn’t matter if they had followed or not, not with the amount of terror in your body. You slammed the door close after you, hearing the locks before you sprinted further into your house. Your home.

It took ages before you felt able to breathe.

You could barely sleep that night; you weren’t even in your parents’ bed, but beneath it, hiding in the dusty darkness with a blanket and a big kitchen knife in your hand.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Liar.

Liar. Liar. Liar.

The lies seemed to spill even easier from your lips than usual, the actual truth stuck in your throat, burning inside it. You were becoming a bigger and bigger liar with every untrue statement that seeped out from between your teeth, despite when you tried holding them back. They had started like the usual ones, thin and white lies, but they grew bigger and bolder - you were digging your grave bigger and bigger. Because you’re fine… yeah, you’re fine, everything is good, you’re just a little busy.

“I’ve just been considering studying something else.” “No, I’m not more worried than usual, why are you asking, Carlos?” “It’s all good Mary, don’t worry about it.” “O-m-g, Bea, stop asking, you muppet, it's really nothing.” “Enid, I think I would have noticed if someone was following me home, that’s a ridiculous idea.” “Nah, I don’t need a lift home, but thank you, luv.”

Lies, lies and even more lies.

They had left you alone for a couple of days - the male members, that was. The three women didn’t, following you home like guard dogs, pretending it was normal behaviour. You stopped yelling at them, even though it still pissed you off every time you saw them. It made you wonder if they were just as tired of it as you — surely they had better, if not more interesting, things to do.

You add even more locks. On the windows too, ignoring the biker that stood at the corner to the main road, watching you do so. You played with the thought of putting up security cameras or getting an alarm system.

Mary seemed to be onto you - you were sure. It felt like the paranoia of being figured out by either party was gnawing its way, deeper and deeper into your bones. She was worried, but you lied, again and again. Mary was far from stupid however - you knew she was gathering up anything you let slip, even if she played along with your lies about moving away to study. It was becoming less and less about the mere idea of studying - and more a desperate escape.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Lewis had raised his bushy eyebrows when you had ordered sparkling water with lemon instead of your usual pint - but he hadn’t commented on it, just nodding along, humming like he always did before talking about the weather as if it was the most interesting thing in Millhaven. As if people should visit just to see the darkening, candy floss looking clouds at this time of the year. 

No, you just needed to cut down on alcohol. No particular reason, of course.

Beatrice was sitting next to you, trying to beat you in the card game. One of her pack mates had joined for once and Luna beat the two of you constantly, your pride in your card game ability taking one hit after another.

“Are you sure you’re not having problems with them?” Luna was in the bathroom, when Beatrice asked, the ginger woman looking worried. You had already told her - and the others - that you didn’t have any, but you knew they could put two and two together. Something was up - it was hard to deny that you were being followed home on the daily, since the bikers weren’t even trying to be discreet anymore.

”Who?” Playing dumb like a child wouldn’t help you much since Beatrice was a teacher and the look you got from her just confirmed it.

“You know who,” she replied, giving you a little kick beneath the table, “My ladies are worrying. Seen more of them follow you.”

”Do you kick your students too?”

”Stop changing the subject, Sunny.”

Finally you shrugged.

”They want to rent my house - or well, specifically the garage,” your voice wasn’t that loud and you were looking at the badly cut piece of lime in your sparkling water. Lime. You had ordered lemon, but Lewis had just shrugged and said they needed the lemons for the fish and chips, “Don’t fancy letting them, so they’re trying to intimidate me, I guess.”

“Sunflower,” she whispered almost in horror and damn, she barely called you by your full nickname, “why didn’t you say anything??”

Once again you shrugged and once again your friend stared at you, like you refused to tell her the secret of life.

”I don't find them scary,” You falsely admitted, as if you weren’t speaking with a hushed voice so that none of the members in the pub would hear you, “It’s stupid, I’m not gonna let myself be pressured even if they follow me like desperate puppies.”

Beatrice didn’t say anything. The soundtrack of the pub around you swallowed up any of your thoughts for a moment as you wondered how the fuck you came to this point. When you can’t even tell Beatrice the entire truth.

The door to the bathroom opened and Luna made her way towards the two of you again.

”Please - if you need help, just let us know, yeah?” Bea finally asked before Luna joined you. You have to keep yourself from blurting out that there wasn’t anything to do about it anyways. What are you, even with Bea’s pack behind you, supposed to do with a full on motorbike pack that most likely killed the former pack. You just nodded and asked Luna if she was ready to get beat in the next round of cards.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

You knew it was impossible for you to hide your little day trip - you, leaving your house on your day off? With how little privacy you seemed to have left, it would have been more baffling to you if they hadn’t discovered you by the bus.

What you hadn’t expected was for one of them to stop next to you, pulling off the helmet, grinning at you like he had won the lottery by seeing you. You recognised the Scot from one of the unwanted visits in your driveway, but the grim reaper wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

”Where ‘re ye going, hen?” He asked, not even bothering to hide how he watched you with a hungry, nasty look in his eyes. Stupid haircut, tattoos that were probably Gaelic inspired or something - the amount of piercings in his face made you wonder if he could even walk through a metal detector without having to remove every single one.

”None of your business.”

”Naw, lass, dinnae be like that,” he actually pouted, like a kicked puppy, before offering you a helmet from his lap, “want a lift?”

You stared at the helmet. Black, with their logo in the back. You had never ridden on a motorbike and in all honesty, you weren’t sure if you wanted to.

”No thanks.”

”Ach, hen, we both ken that I’m just gonna tail the bus the entire way,” he said it as if it was the most natural thing in the world to say, wagging his pierced eyebrows, “C’mon, it’ll be fun - you dinnae have to wait for yer bus then.”

You stared at him for a moment, before checking your watch. It seemed like the bus was late and you wondered if the universe was trying to punish you.

“No.”

“I’ll buy ye lunch, bonnie,” the beta continued, apparently not giving up, “anything ye want - I’m Soap by tah way - I’ll let ye use mah card for shopping too an—“

”Fine,” you finally snapped, stealing the stupid helmet out of his hand, “but if you crash that bloody thing I’ll break your neck!”

The pure look of glee on this Soap’s face reminded you of a teenage boy managing to ask a girl out for tea. Hadn’t he most likely been a dangerous piece of shit, you probably wouldn’t have agreed. At least he wasn’t Price or Nikolai - then you would rather have walked.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The few instructions he had given you didn’t save you from the terror rushing through your body as he drove. Your breakfast felt as if it was sitting up in your throat, attempting to escape, life flashing by as you were unable to even keep your eyes open. You didn’t even need to look to know that he was driving waaaay past the speed limit.

Fucking twat.

It was embarrassing how you clung to him, how your fingers dug into his leather jacket, convinced you would fall off at the next turn if you didn’t hold on.

You didn’t fall off, but you did curse him to the moon and back. As you finally reached the bigger town and stopped, you didn’t comment on the closed off small garage they seemed to have here. No tools to work on their bikes, but it clearly wasn’t the first time they were here.

As you walked towards downtown, you tried your best to ignore him but he just wouldn’t shut up. He wasn’t Nikolai or Price, but he still stood out - or perhaps it was you who stood out against him. You were dressed in a pair of jeans, a t-shirt with a hoodie over, a sunflower embroidered on your chest. It was one of your favorite hoodies and usually you could enjoy it on your own, but he seemed interested in it as well, blabbering on about your nickname.

When you reached a familiar spot, close to an alleyway that you recognised - you made a quick choice.

”Thank you for the lift,” you said as abruptly stopped walking, watching the beta stop a few steps later, walking back to you like a guard dog who didn’t want to lose you, “you can leave now.”

The big man looked at you, even tipping his head to the side. There was a big scar over his temple, tattoos curling around it, as if the wound had tried to swallow up the illustrations. Then, after a moment of silence, he grinned again.

”Ye’re welcome, pet,” he answered, moving to sling his arm around your shoulder, “And dinnae worry, Sunny bunny, I’m nae busy today.”

Sunny bunny. Graves’ face flashed before your eyes, blood dripping from the cut on his cheek, grinning like a maniac as he cooed out the awful nickname. Sunny bunny. 

Sunny bunny.

You instantly wanted to throw up all over him or plant a fist in his face. You didn’t, instead you followed your backup plan in case he refused to let you go - hand shooting into your pocket, grabbing the black plastic, flicking the switch on it.

You had tried it once before and been successful, sure, but it was not something you felt confident in doing. With a swift motion you pushed the handheld device against his skin, prongs pressing against it; the stun gun crackled against his neck as you did so, barely audible over his yelp - Soap seemed so caught off guard, that his grip on your shoulder loosened and then you were off. 

The sound that left him, a yelp, no perhaps closer to a pathetic scream like he was an actual puppy, had been music to your ears - if you hadn’t been so busy running off, you might have enjoyed it a lot more.

You didn’t see any reason to stay behind to see if anyone would help you, so instead you disappeared into the maze of the dirty alleyways in between the many buildings.

Not that you were much of a runner, but you knew your way around these streets, had gotten run around plenty of times between buildings and backyards, in order to find someone who would sell you illegal pills. Besides, you knew where the larger crowds were in this town, which was perfect to blend into.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

Several unknown numbers had attempted to call you not long after, but you ignored every single one of them, turning your phone off as texts began to appear as well.

You merely wandered around, buying unnecessary things for an entire hour, your pulse so high that it almost hurt. You didn’t really need sunglasses, but now you had some cheap ones on your face, hoodie tied around your waist as you sat in a cafe,  applying nail polish as you saw him wander past almost two hours later, not noticing you — animatedly talking into his phone.

Perfect, so he had been serious about this - they didn’t even want you to do something as simple as let you go shopping on your own. Sure, you had plans of getting illegal drugs, but they were a literal criminal gang, so it didn’t seem like an excuse to cut off more of your privacy. 

Somehow the tea tasted even worse when you couldn’t see him anymore. Briefly, very briefly, you considered just leaving everything behind - get on another bus, perhaps a train, abandon everything at home. But the mere idea disappeared together with the tea as you drank the last of it, knowing it was nothing but a childish daydream. You couldn’t abandon everything like that, not without any explanation to Bea, Mary, Enid, Carlos — everyone.

You forced your claws out, the dull things appearing beneath your normal, now painted blue, nails. Perhaps you should sharpen them again. 

You were thankful that your father had taken the choice when you represented, no matter how ambivalent you sometimes felt about hiding your secondary gender now; as if he had known that you being a young, pretty omega would bring you nothing but trouble in a town with a biker gang. He had been right, Graves had lusted after you even though you were an ‘alpha’ - the idea of how he would have acted if you were an omega? … you didn’t like the thought. 

People-watching while your nails were drying could only entertain for so long. You needed to buy things - that was why you had gone to town after all. After making sure that the Scottish beta wasn’t anywhere nearby, you went along with your plans of the day.

A specific shampoo that you really liked — you should treat yourself with all the shit going on in your life right now — scent patches and pheromones blockers from the pharmacy, a new mascara and nail oil. You felt tense the entire time but somehow you managed to avoid Soap while shopping, flinching at everyone nearby with a hint of a Scottish accent.

☀️🌤️⛅️🌥️☁️

The plastic bag in your lap felt heavy; not from the actual weight, but from the problems the content carried which you had to confront once the bus would stop. Somehow you had managed to avoid the beta ever since tasing him and you doubted he would just let that go - you had seen him looking for you after all. If you were lucky, he would merely scold you or something like that.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally.

Normally it would have taken a one-hour trip with the bus to get home, but you had taken a different one to avoid meeting Soap, which drove to another small town, from which you had taken yet another one - it had almost been two hours when you finally got off. Your body felt stiff and you couldn’t help a yawn escaping you as you got out, in the different end of the town than usual, but it didn’t really matter. You were mostly relieved by the lack of bikers by the bus stop.  

As you stood there, illuminated by the streetlight, you considered not even heading home. You could go to Mary, you knew she would let you in without hesitation, even if she didn’t know the entire situation - you had slept on her couch before, covered by one of her knitted blankets and woken up to freshly baked bread. Otherwise you could go to Beatrice and her pack; they would let you in, no questions asked - at least at first, the interrogation would start later - and you would sleep in their little guest room, with the lavender smelling duvet.

You had to go home. You knew that, but that didn’t mean you wanted to. You couldn’t stay away forever, they would be there tomorrow if you didn’t come home today. You hesitated for a moment before pulling your phone from your pocket. It had been turned off all day and you wondered if they could have tracked you if it hadn’t - was that even possible? Or were you just being paranoid again?

As the screen lit up and you unlocked it, notifications from unanswered calls and texts instantly overwhelmed you. Bloody hell. They had tried to call you 22 times - or at least, four different phone numbers you didn’t know had, but you doubted it could all be scammers. There 32 text messages - you ignored every single one from an unknown number, only opening one from Mary who asked if you could work tomorrow.

You shot her a confirmation while you began to walk home, for once not followed by a biker - no, you were actually walking alone for once. You avoided most of the streetlights, staying as much in the dark as possible.

Since you came from the opposite direction, you couldn’t walk past your usual spots and you wondered if the teenager was smoking again today. If Mrs. Henley’s dog had gone to bed, if people were still at the pub or the shops.

But you had to turn around the corner eventually, even if it was from the opposite side. Despite hoping, almost praying for the driveway to be empty, for nobody to stand in front of your blue house, well, that wasn’t the case.

They instantly spotted you. Of course they did.

For once you weren’t drunk, merely sober and frightful. Turning around or just walking by to go stay at Mary’s or Beatrice’s was still tempting, however, you knew they would simply follow you. Besides, your feet hurt and all you wanted was some food and sleep. Sealing your fate, you walked towards them, attempting to keep yourself composed. As if you weren’t fearing having to deal with them after what had happened today.

Soap was not one of the three men, which surprised you. You had expected for him to be there, arms crossed and demanding an apology since you got a lift and then ditched him… after tasing him.

Despite it not being the case, you felt like your footsteps echoed through the street. You wondered if making a scene would help you, if screaming and drawing attention to you and to them being in your driveway, would keep the bikers from doing anything wild.

Probably not. 

You recognised Nikolai, the bear of a man was leant against one of the garage doors, arms crossed, only slightly visible because of the street light - John Price was at your stairs again, smoking one of the usual cigars. It made you wonder if that was everything he did - order his pack around, smoke cigars and bother people. 

The last guy, more lit up. watched you with an almost curious look. Like he wasn’t believing that you were the one they were waiting for.

He had short hair, a beard with a mustache that stood out the most - the street light made his prosthetic leg glint a little, but it was his scent and the change of the look in his eyes that caught most of your attention. A gust of wind forced their scents into your face, the different smells so intense that it almost made you nauseous for a moment. The nausea seemed to be a pattern whenever they were around you, your mind darkly supplied.

Lust. Anger. The scent that Nikolai and Price seemed to share - and then a scent that had taken you two seconds to recognise. It was the scent from one of the female members who had followed you home - the alpha woman with the long braid, if you weren’t wrong. It seemed like the entire pack had mates within it.

The beta stranger stared at you with an angry look that was different from the dark ones from the two alphas. While there seemed to be seeping lust into the two older men’s stares, there was seemingly nothing but rage in his stare - like a wolf, having focused fully on its prey, waiting for the sign to attack from its members.

You stopped a few steps further away than usual, one hand holding onto your bag like it was a precious treasure - in many ways it was. You wanted to hit yourself for not thinking about putting your illegal pills in your jacket, instead of letting them stay in the bag. Easy to spot if one rummaged around a little.

Your other hand slid into the jacket pocket - tensing a little at the lack of a stun gun. It was in the other pocket - instead there was the cool metal of the pepper spray bottle pressing against your skin. It was better than nothing.

You hadn’t said anything, the seconds had passed and you had merely waited, as you knew they would say something sooner rather than later - something nasty or something to make you upset. 

… and you weren’t wrong.

”It’s a pretty car in your garage.”

Nikolai’s voice was like a dark timbre from behind the stranger, his hand knocking against the garage door twice - and you saw red. You knew exactly what car - your dad’s car, YOUR car.

You knew the alpha said it to upset you, knew they wanted a reaction out of you and despite this, you still gave it to them; you growled deeply, deeper than you had before - as if it came from your chest, from your childhood self that was still protective over the unfixed car hidden beneath plastic and blankets. Your claws forced themselves out without your consent, as if you were getting ready to attack them, one against three.

“Easy, kitten.” Price suggested from the stairs, but you didn’t stop your growling immediately, especially not with that nickname - it died down slowly, like you were proving a point to not follow his orders like his small minions. But the man just looked at you, eyes dark but with a growing smile on his face.

“What things did you buy today then, Sunflower?” You felt all three men’s stares at you, as Price asked and you tightened the grip around the plastic bag - and around the pepper spray in your pocket, “- must have been somethin’ special, since you didn’t want a lift home from Soap.”

You huffed from amusement, the memory of Soap letting out a not quite masculine scream was still fresh in your mind - the youngest of the men, the beta closest to you, growled lowly at you. Apparently he didn’t find the situation amusing like you did.

“I’m quite capable of shopping on my own,” you finally replied, looking back at Price, squinting slightly at the leather clad alpha, unable to keep your voice from raising, “just like I’m capable of going places on my own. So stop makin’ all your little biker idiots stalk me - and don’t go snooping in my fucking garage!”

You were bordering on screaming, the deep boned anger and exhaustion of their constant harassment almost spilling over - the pure frustration over even having to tell people to give you some personal space felt surreal to you.

The wind got more intense for a second, making the trees and bushes in the gardens around you noisily sway  - the wind curled between the houses along the road, almost sounding like it was breathing hard too; swallowing up the silence that followed your little outbreak.

It was Price who broke the silence first by, once again, laughing - only this time, the two others joined him.

Their condescending reaction made your toes curl; you felt small. 

“What are you gonna do, tiny Sunflower?” Nikolai asked, mockery clear in his voice, as he tipped his head up a little, grinning at you, mostly swallowed by the dark, “Little taser of yours cannot keep us away forever, no?”

You were horrified by the mere fact that you knew he was right. Your already limited options of what to do were becoming less and less. You doubted calling the police right now would help, just like you doubted that your neighbours would all run out with kitchen knives and garden rakes if you screamed. No, you truly should have sold them the house the first time they even seemed interested in renting it, and gotten your ass out of Millhaven.

You didn’t feel like a strong alpha right now - and no matter how humiliating it was, you almost stammered out the words ‘just take the bloody house and let me go’. But then the front door to your blue house opened.

It didn’t take more than two seconds to recognise the woman standing in your front door. You didn’t know her name, but you didn’t even need to, her leather jacket and familiar scent instantly made you know who she was. The only one of the 141 women to ever speak directly to you.

One thing was her following you home, blatantly walking a couple of steps behind you - another thing was her breaking into your house. The many locks, one more fancy than the other, had clearly not kept them out. She was slightly illuminated by the light from your hallway, like a villain revealing herself.

“Get out of my fuck—“ The words got stuck in your throat. She hadn’t even bothered to look at you, merely looked down at Price who was sitting on the stairs; holding up a bottle that you knew too well.

 

A bottle of false alpha scent.

Price killed his cigar against your staircase, no doubt leaving a mark on the three, a pleased grin on his face, as the woman gave him the bottle. He merely raised it to his nose and took a quick sniff before he looked straight over at you; his grin turned from amusement to wickedness, like a feral alpha getting the scent of an unmated omega — which, sadly, wasn’t far from the truth.

You took a step back, the beta easily following, watching you like a hawk. The bag in your hand was shaking.

”You are no alpha,” it was more of a statement than a question from Nikolai, who pushed himself away from the garage door, taking a few steps towards you as well, “Beta or omega then - but I think you are small, confused omega, milaya.”

Run. Run. Run.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Like a disappointed parent, John Price shook his head as he rose, leaving the bottle of fake scent on the stairs, tipping his head to the side, “Such a mess - but don’t worry Sunflower, we will help you out.”

Run. Run. Run. 

You panicked, words tumbling out of your mouth while your inner omega was screaming at you. 

“You can rent the house - hell, buy it!” You rushed out, “you won’t even ha- i'll sell it for cheap!”

You weren’t stupid; it wasn’t an offer they were giving you, not with how they have been bothering you for weeks, not with how they stared at you, how the horny alpha pheromones began to fill the air around you. The bag slid from your hand, hitting the asphalt with a thunk but none of you reacted.

Run. Run. Run.

You carefully popped the lid of the pepper spray inside your pocket.

Nikolai said something in Russian, his laughter almost swallowing the words up before he was done.

“You ca-can just take the house,” you managed to stammer. Your stomach hurt - legs shook, as you tried to keep yourself up, the three men all staring at you. 

It was as if there was something beneath your ribcage, a fear that vigorously grew so much you were sure you would combust; all of the scents, the hunger, the lust, the anger, it was all too much - the clouds dark above you, a soft rumble heard from the sky above. As if the weather was trying to warn you too.

You ran your finger along the tip of the spray, making sure you knew which way the spray would come from, so you wouldn't hit yourself.

Run. Run. Run.

”Cute of you to think that the house is the only thing we want now,” Price mused, before raising a hand towards your front door, the woman having disappeared, “Why don’t we go inside, pet? Nikolai and I have some questions.”

Every chance of talking your way out of this seemed abandoned.

”Alex,” Nikolai’s voice wasn’t loud but the loyal beta in front of you took a step towards you, raising his hand to grab onto you.

Your grip on the metal almost slipped, as you ripped the weapon from your pocket; while you had used the stun gun twice by now, you hadn’t tried the pepper spray before, but you solely relied on your instincts and from the scenes you had seen in movies.

Alex screamed as you sprayed him directly in the face, barely any distance between the two of you - but you didn’t stay around to gloat, a second barely passed and then you were off.

Run. Run. Run.

They might have been here for some weeks and gotten to know the basic outlay of Millhaven; but you had lived here your entire life, learned all the routes through people's gardens when you were a kid and stole apples, or when you had sneaked home as a teenager after staying out too late. You knew Millhaven like the back of your hand, even in the darkness - there was a thunderous rumble from the clouds above you, as you darted in between Mrs. Barnaby’s and the Carter pack’s houses and disappeared into the dark alleyway.

Run.

[obsessive-intellectual]

Quick explanation for those interested

1. An HIV vaccine is in progress, and has been for years. One of a few reasons it's taking so long, is that training the adaptive immune system (the part of your body that recognizes different viruses/disease) didn't recognize HIV's viral proteins, which means it didn't work. Granted I know much less about HIV/AIDS then I do cancer and colds. Speaking of...

2. There are actually cancer vaccines. However, they're not preventative, meaning wards against cancer, but rather therapeutic, meaning they help treat it. Therapeutic cancer vaccines work by training your body to recognize cancerous cells as harmful, and gives your body the ability to destroy them. Often it's used secondary, or after remission to more reliable methods such as radiation and chemotherapy.

Because of the variability of cancer (where it can form, how fast it spreads, types and sizes, environmental factors relating to the growth of tumors), it's doubtful we'll ever be able to have a preventative vaccine for cancer.

3. This one's easy. The reason we don't have a vaccine for the common cold is because the common cold mutates too fast, and some species of common cold aren't even part of the same family. It's the same reason you need to get a new flu shot every year, except worse. To put it in perspective, the mutation rate is estimated to be anywhere from 10−3 to 10−5 mutations per nucleotide per genome replication event. Given that rhinovirus (the fancy name for a cold) genomes are 7,200 nucleotides long, common colds mutate 1 mutation per replication cycle. Common colds can finish a replication cycle every 8 hours, and every brand new strand puts it one level farther from a hypothetical vaccine, because the antibodies can't recongnize it.

4. The COVID-19 vaccine is a special case. You had the world on high alert, millions dying, with some of the highest infection rate seen. Reason number one that the COVID-19 vaccine came so quickly was because you had everyone that specialized in biotechnology on it. This was (still is!) a do or die situation. There was (pretty much) worldwide collaboration!

That, and we'd already had decades upon decades of research on other coronavirus diseases and vaccines, such as SARS, severe acute respiratory syndrome, and MERS, middle east respiratory syndrome, and their vaccines and why and how they worked.

The second reason was that COVID-19 vaccines used new technology, called mRNA. Basically, they work the same way as traditional vaccines, where the vaccine trains your body to recognize the disease with a weaker part of it, allowing it to fight off the real thing when the time comes.

Most vaccines contain a weak or dead version of the virus, which means they need to be stored at very low temperatures, and can take years and years to develop (Before COVID-19, the fastest vaccine creation was mumps, and that took four years!)

However with mRNA vaccines, they take the messenger strand of RNA (that's why it's called that), which is necessary for protein production. When the mRNA is taken into the virus cell (after you've gotten the vaccine and after you've gotten infected). Antibodies are then trained to recognize the protein rather than the entire cell, and therefore be able to act quicker.

Another reason why mRNA vaccines where so quickly made is their limited ingredient list! Really all that's in an mRNA vaccine is the mRNA itself, lipids (fatty acid that help it bond), potassium sorbate, sodium chloride and stabilizing salts!

mRNA vaccines are a wonder of biochemistry, and with this new knowledge from creating one of the most effective vaccines yet :))

So yeah. Have thought critically, still think it's a fantastic idea. Even more so now. It's pretty fucking cool how fast we've gotten to this point.

Do your homework and make a choice that's best for you, but don't settle for whatever's in your bubble. Find experiences from Outside of your bubble, and don't get stuck in an echo chamber of the same thing over and over

[foldingfittedsheets]

I’ve always been a pretty good liar. As an adult I’ve come to a moral place in which I don’t use that skill set unless it will explicitly benefit someone. But when I was a kid all bets were off.

I think tiny child me was doing their little autistic best but recognized that some situations would be best navigated by lying as telling the truth never netted positive results. Whether it was because my needs often went unmet or ignored, or because I didn’t see any reason not to lie if it would be more favorable, I’m not sure.

This is the story of my proudest lie. The best lie I ever did. A lie that looking back I still go, damn, I was eight.

Our story begins in second grade. I was eight. My school was having a book fair and I spent my small stipend on Gulliver’s Travels. No idea why. Lacking further funds I wandered the fair and came upon the greatest sight known to man. Frog erasers. They were so cute and I was extremely into animals of all kinds.

The whimsy. Who could have known they made erasers in such wonderful shapes? I mourned that I’d spent my money already, and played quietly with the little frogs in their bin. That’s when I was approached by a few other kids from my class.

I didn’t know most of them very well, but enough that it was civil when they asked me, “Are you going to buy those frogs?”

“I’d like to,” I admitted, “but I spent all my money.”

“Why don’t you steal them?”

“I thought about that, but I don’t have pockets.” Indeed, stealing had crossed my mind but it had been a brief temptation. I wasn’t even scandalized that the other girls suggested it.

“Caitlin has pockets,” the leader of the pack said. And indeed, Caitlin in her purple overalls did have pocket space for two frogs. So Caitlin and I became partners. My role in the escapade was just... wanting frogs and walking out with her. We stole two frogs, a yellow and a purple, and united by the misdeed we played together with them at recess despite not really being friendly prior.

After lunch I was called from class to the library. The principal herself was there waiting for me. She had a somber air, almost mournful that she needed to punish me. It was self evident to me that I was here for frog crimes. Caitlin had cracked and taken the fastest route to forgiveness- snitching on an accomplice. Despite the fact that my role was just: wanted frogs, I knew I was going to be in trouble.

Now, I could have told the truth. Pulled a Caitlin and ratted on the girl who told us to steal them. But clearly I’d still be in trouble for having gone along with the morally bereft plan. I was mad at Caitlin for telling but not enough to foist the onus back into her.

“Do you know why you’re here?” The principal asked kindly.

“Is it about the frogs?”

“Yes, Caitlin told us you stole the frogs.”

I quivered my lip and drew myself up indignantly. “I didn’t steal them!”

She blinked at my vehemence but since I looked near tears she carefully asked, “What happened?”

“I really wanted the frogs, but I didn’t have any money. So I asked the librarian if I could take them and bring the money tomorrow! But she was really busy and lots of people were talking to her, and she said yes! But maybe she was saying yes to someone else? And I thought it was to me but Caitlin didn’t, but I was going to bring money tomorrow!”

The principal. Was flummoxed. This was a situation in which I clearly thought I’d done no wrong, in which she couldn’t prove I had done anything wrong, and which the librarian would almost certainly not be able to weigh in. She regarded me not with suspicion but rather vaguely confused as to how to handle me.

I got off with a slight warning that I should pay for things before taking them, despite not having been the one to take things in the first place, and the frogs were confiscated.

I was vaguely worried they’d call my parents but years later when I admitted the story to my mom as an adult she laughed herself sick and said she’d never gotten a call.

[mahalachives]

The Night Court’s Tiny Protector

pairing: azriel x reader

summary: Azriel discovers that his fiercest protector isn’t his shadows—but his own child, who takes their job far too seriously.

genre: fluff

Azriel was feared across Prythian. He was the Shadowsinger, the spymaster, the silent specter that haunted the nightmares of his enemies.

But today?

Today, he was the father of a menace.

And that menace was currently threatening a fully grown male in the middle of the Velaris market.

Azriel watched, horrified yet vaguely impressed, as his son—no taller than his thigh—stood before a merchant with his tiny arms crossed, his wings flared, and his brows scrunched in utter defiance.

The crime?

Apparently, the male had looked at you for too long.

"You better step back, mister!" your son snapped, voice far too bold for someone who still needed help tying his boots. "My dad is the deadliest Illyrian alive, and he will DESTROY YOU."

Azriel nearly choked.

The merchant—a poor, confused older male who was just handing you some fruit—blinked rapidly, looking between you, Azriel, and the tiny ball of righteous fury that had just challenged his entire existence.

You pressed a hand over your mouth, clearly struggling.

Azriel? He was malfunctioning.

"Sweetheart," you said, voice trembling with amusement, "he's just selling peaches."

Your child, unconvinced, narrowed his eyes at the merchant. "He was staring."

Azriel, for once in his life, had no idea what to do.

He had trained armies. He had interrogated traitors. He had survived Cassian’s cooking.

But this?

This was a new level of warfare.

"Uh…" Azriel cleared his throat, stepping forward. "He's, uh…very protective of his mother."

The merchant nervously laughed, handing you your fruit before making the fastest exit of his life.

Your son huffed in victory, brushing his hands off like he had just saved the entire Night Court from certain doom.

Azriel slowly turned to them. "Where did you learn to threaten people like that?"

His child beamed. "Uncle Cassian!"

Azriel closed his eyes.

Of course.

"Alright," he sighed. "New rule—no threatening people in the market. Or anywhere. Ever."

Your child pouted. "Even if they’re looking at Mommy weird?"

Azriel almost caved.

But then he glanced at you, watching as you fought back laughter, and he knew he needed to shut this down immediately.

"Especially then," he said firmly.

Your child grumbled but relented. "Fine."

Azriel exhaled in relief—too soon.

Because the second he turned away, his son muttered under his breath, "But if anyone looks at Daddy weird, I’m punching them."

Azriel groaned.

You, meanwhile, burst into laughter, finally losing your composure.

The rest of Velaris?

Well, they had no idea that the Night Court’s most feared spymaster now had his own tiny, overprotective bodyguard.

The End.

I hope this made you laugh! Let me know if you want another one—your little menace has so much more chaos to unleash!

[chxrrywines]

₊˚⊹♡ letting you | sam winchester x reader

a/n - this might be the fastest i’ve ever written a fic??? it’s pure filth so that might be why but LMAO, i love love love the idea of soft dom sam sm he melts my brain, hopefully this is good!! getting back into writing after taking a break from being sick bc my brain wouldn’t work. special thanks to my friend who helped me brainstorm the delicious idea ilysm !! <3

cws - fem!reader, 1.6k, nsfw 18+, softdom!sam, sub!reader, cockwarming, masturbation, praise, kinda unedited

other fics can be found on my masterlist

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The only thing she could hear was Sam’s soft breathing, and the soft tap tap tap of his laptop keys behind her.

If she paid close enough attention, she could hear the way his shirt rustled when he moved his arms, the soft fluttering of book pages being turned, but her focus wasn’t really attainable, it was slipping through her fingers with each excruciating moment that she was sat there.

Sam shifted in his seat out of a pure intention to get comfortable, and his cock nudged deeper inside of her wet heat, dragged a soft gasp from her lips, which just earned her a soft “shh, honey” against the shell of her ear.

It had been her fault that she was in that position in the first place. She’d been a little too needy with Sam when he was trying to research, and on her third attempt at trying to initiate a — much needed, mind you — make out, he’d grabbed her hips and tugged her into his lap facing him. His voice had been a little stern as he told her to pull his cock out, and the tone of his voice alone had her cunt clenching around nothing as she quickly did as she’d been asked. She knew that voice, she’d had it in her ear most nights, whispered against her throat, against the plush of her thighs. It meant he was in control.

Sam had sat back from the library's table for enough time for her to pull his cock out and pull aside her panties, sank down onto him with a soft moan, but before she could move he grabbed her hips tightly, kept her still.

“Don’t move,” he’d dipped his head down and kissed her throat, pulse fluttering beneath his lips. “Stay there while I finish up and I’ll take care of you after, hm?”

If she was feeling a bit more bratty she would’ve whined or complained or just moved anyways, but his voice in her ear and his hands on her hips had her head spinning, so she just nodded and tucked her head against his throat as he leaned over her to continue what he was doing, completely focused, as if he wasn’t buried deep inside her pussy at that moment.

That had been twenty minutes ago.

It was becoming torturous.

Sam was unfairly skilled at keeping composed. He was also unfairly skilled at winding her up. Those two went hand in hand, it seemed, because each second that passed just worked her up more and more. All she could focus on was the warmth of his body pressed to hers, his cock nestled deep inside of her, the lack of stimulation. When she’d came out to the library with her attempt at bothering him, she’d craved a genuine release, not this.

Her hips shifted slightly and she squeezed her eyes shut, huffed out a soft “Sammy” against his throat when that slight movement was enough for her pussy to throb around him.

“Stay still.” He murmured without as much of a look in her direction. She glanced up at him and his eyes were locked forwards, pupils shifting left to right as he read whatever was displayed on his laptop screen. Tap tap tap, more pages turned, more reading, rinse, repeat. He was killing her.

Barely a minute had passed before she made another soft sound against the warm skin of his throat, lips brushing his neck, “Baby please-”

“My hands are busy, sweetheart,” his voice was so nonchalant it drove her up the wall. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

Her eyes squeezed shut as she huffed against his throat again. “Can you just take a break?”

“No,” he shook his head. “No, I’m almost done, you’ll just have to wait,” he tsked, a hand briefly pet her hair, the touch so light it was like he was purposely depriving her of any stimulation. “If you’re that needy, you have two hands of your own, baby. Sort yourself out until I’m finished with this.”

She released a shuddered breath against his throat, squeezed her eyes shut for a moment. It wasn’t the answer she’d wanted.

“Hey,” one of his hands came up to the side of her neck and he pressed his thumb against her jaw, tilted her head back until he could meet her eyes. “I told you I’d sort you out once I finished, didn’t I?”

She nodded, bit the inside of her cheek.

“So isn’t it nice of me that I’m letting you get yourself off in the meantime?”

Letting you. Her cunt throbbed again.

“Yeah.” She whispered.

Sam leaned down and kissed her, just a soft little peck, and somehow it just riled her up more. “I’ll be done soon. Go ahead and sort yourself out for me, sweetheart.”

He let go of her jaw and moved his arms to the table again, continued tapping at his laptop, and her eyes scrunched closed again as she tipped forward and rested her forehead against his throat. But she was so needy that she didn’t think twice about following his instructions. One hand stayed tucked at his waist, fingers curled into the soft material of his flannel, and her other reached between them and tucked under the material of her shirt, fingering at the waistband of her panties until she slipped beneath those too, and she was so fucking wet that she was undoubtedly making a mess of his jeans from just sitting there.

Her fingers dipped down, pressed against her clit, and she shuddered as the stimulation made her clench around his cock deliciously. She pressed her fingers forwards again, started to shamelessly rub herself, exhaled soft little moans and sighs against his throat.

Before she could do anything else Sam’s voice was in her ear again, “Quiet, sweetheart. You’re meant to be letting me work, don’t make me tell you to stop.”

Her jaw clenched as she exhaled shakily, eyes squeezed shut, and she huffed a breath against his throat as she took a moment to compose herself. Now that she’d started touching herself, it’d just be a torture to stop, so she just nodded against his throat with the intent to keep herself quiet.

It took a moment for her to settle on a pace. She was a bit too needy with it, her hand squished between their bodies, knuckles pressed to his hard muscles each time she shifted her hand, but eventually she settled into a pace that had her eyes rolled back and squeezed shut, the fingers of her other hand curled tightly into the material of his flannel.

She circled her clit with the pads of her fingers again and again, but it was the feeling inside of her every time her cunt clenched around his cock that made it hard for her to keep quiet. She was half tempted to bite down on his collar to shut herself up, but Sam seemed to be letting her get away with the slight gasps and whimpers that she couldn’t stop herself letting up.

It took an embarrassingly short time for her to get close — her forehead was pressed to his throat, hot breaths puffed out against his skin, trying not to shift her hips as she rubbed at her clit with a need that thrummed within her veins. Her jaw clenched and she held her breath, eyes squeezed shut tighter as she worked herself closer.

“Breathe,” Sam’s breath tickled her ear as he spoke softly. She had a tendency to hold her breath when she came sometimes if she was especially worked up — she didn’t even know Sam was paying attention. She took a shuddery breath, and he murmured a soft, “that’s it.”

It only took a few more circles on her clit before she came and she grit her teeth, huffed out a sharp breath through her nose as the feeling washed over her. Her cunt pulsed in pleasure, waves that kept her rubbing at her clit until it felt too much, and when she finally stopped she was breathing sharply against his neck. Her hand was a bit cramped, fingers wet, heartbeat drumming, but the release felt so nice after she’d been so worked up.

“Good girl,” Sam crooned, and she could’ve cum again at the tone of his voice. “Good girl. Did that help?”

She nodded against his throat, relaxed into his front.

“Yeah?” He asked. “Are you gonna keep still until I’m finished now?”

She nodded again.

“Baby,” she felt his hand smooth up her back until his fingers delicately tangled in her hair, only enough to pull her head back to look at him. “I wanna hear you say it.”

She blinked a few times up at him. He was so devastatingly handsome, it wasn’t fair. “I’ll keep still,” she mumbled, face feeling far too hot. “Promise.”

“Oh, you promise?” She didn’t miss the teasing edge to his words, the smirk that tugged at the corners of his mouth.

She nodded again. “Yeah, Sammy.”

“Good girl,” he praised once more, and was nice enough to give her a proper kiss that time. It still wasn’t what she craved — she didn’t feel his tongue in her mouth, he didn’t kiss her until she went dizzy — but it was nicer and kinder than a little peck. “Ten minutes and I’m all yours.”

She settled back into his chest as he went back to work, comfy to just rest against him in her post-orgasm euphoria, happy to wait the ten minutes until he was finished. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d fucked her on the library table that week.

[stillprocrastinatingsorry]

rise is always fun to rewatch for me because of its attention to design details. these screenshots are from the bug busters episode. look at his battle shell: we see in these shots that it's designed to be flexible and not constraining for his movement

if you ever held a mango cut like this, you'll get the idea of how donnie's battle shell works

[triplefrontierbabe]

2 Hands Lando Norris Imagine

smau linked here

summary: you’re a world famous singer dating Lando Norris

pairing: f! singer reader x Lando Norris

warning: suggestive content, language

a/n: this is part of a request paired with a smau, linked above

Ask any woman what their favorite part of a man is and she will most likely say his hands. There’s just something so innocently sensual about man hands, especially if they’re the hands of a racing driver.

It’s no secret that using your significant other as inspiration for your work is one of the highest forms of flattery, especially when it comes to art. And ever since you met Lando Norris, he has been your muse for your work. Every song somehow suddenly was about him, he’s all you thought about. Now that your second world tour has come to an end it’s the perfect time to get back in the studio and you have the perfect idea of what to do.

To be honest, one of the first things you noticed about Lando was his hands and how they looked like they were carved from marble. The mere sight of him holding a coffee cup made your mind wander like no other. All you could think of was how his hands looked on your body and how he would touch you with such gentleness and care. Occasionally you’d sneak a photo of his hands while you were around him. Soon enough he realized the obsession of his hands that you had developed.

One night you and Lando were heading out for a nice dinner when you pulled out your phone to take a photo of you two in the elevator mirror. Lando immediately grabbed your phone out of your hands and moved his hand from your hips to the front of your stomach, and dangerously low might you add. You blushed at his actions, knowing your not so secret obsession had been found out.

“I know you like them.” Lando said cheekily handing the phone back to you as your face broke out in a blush yet again.

“Can you blame me though?” You asked, grabbing his right hand and examining the rings he had on. Those rings were another weakness of yours. The way the cool metal clashed with your burning skin made your whole body shiver. His hands were going to be the death of you.

“Write a song, it’ll last longer.” He responded with a mischievous smile as the elevator door opened. You looked over your shoulder at him and rolled your eyes.

“You know I just might, Norris.” You said as you stepped out of the elevator.

“Atta girl.” He said laying a light smack on your ass which earned a whispered scold from you.

A song about his hands is exactly what you wrote. The writing process for this song was probably the fastest you had ever written a song in your entire life. Your producer was shocked when you got to the studio and had to make minor changes to the lyrics, it was practically perfect– like Lando’s hands.

While Lando was halfway across the world for a race you facetimed him to play a demo of the song for him.

“You mean it?” He asked, looking at your face on his screen with a look of disbelief.

“Every word.” You simply replied, giving Lando a sly smile.

“What about a music video?” Lando inquired, shifting in his seat.

“Okay, hear me out” you began “I was thinking about incorporating cars into it somehow, maybe a McLaren or something.”

“A McLaren, huh?”

“I dunno, just a thought. Could be a fun little easter egg.” You responded by shrugging your shoulders while stealing a glance at his hands that were barely in sight on the phone.

Before you knew it music video rehearsals had arrived. On your first day of rehearsal you walked into the studio to see a box wrapped in bright orange- or papaya- wrapping paper with a big blue bow on top. There was a card attached that read ‘although this isn’t a sports car, i hope this gives you some inspiration ;) -4’. Lando had gifted you one of those battery operated kids’ McLaren F1 cars.

Another month had passed of working on 2 Hands but it was finally ready to be promoted, and so was your relationship with Lando. Since you started dating him, small easter eggs of your relationship had been sprinkled throughout your instagram posts.

But the post you made announcing that you had new music coming out, you decided to be bold. You included a picture of you on the toy car that had Lando’s number on the front. But the kryptonite of the post was the last picture which was a closeup of Lando with his hands on his helmet with his hand veins on full display. You had spent hours of looking through social media for the perfect photo of his hands, many thanks to the thousands of other girls who were just as enamored with his hands as you were.

The minute you posted, your phone was blowing up with countless fans speculating a relationship between you and the famed driver but more so, the attention was on his hands like you wanted it to be.

Abu Dhabi rolled around which was a big weekend for the both of you. Lando won the race, McLaren won the Constructors’ Championship and 2 Hands was released. You were with Lando at the hotel basking in his victorious weekend and listening to your new song. It was a perfect weekend and you couldn’t have imagined it to be any other way.

“I fucking love this song.” Lando said, grabbing you by the waist giving you a deep kiss. “But I love you way more.”

“I couldn’t have done this without you, Lan.” You replied, raking your hands through Lando’s curly hair. “I love how everyone loves your hands too. Did you know there’s pinterest boards dedicated to your hands?”

“Of course there are.” He responded by throwing his hand back in laughter. This moment was perfect, just being in the same room as him celebrating your accomplishments together.

“But, I’m the only one that knows what they feel like.” You said with a wink.

“Well, look at you Miss Possessive.”

F1 Masterlist | Indycar Masterlist

600 followers celebration!

taglist: @r0nnsblog @bernelflo @ifyouaintfirstyourelastt @f1updates4you

[askssgenerations]

[ASKS ARE OPEN]

Current Asks: ~130

I’ll do my best to answer all of the questions! But please note I might pick and choose depending on what’s best for the story!! Don’t worry if I haven’t done yours yet, I’ll circle back to try and hit everything eventually!

—————

[START HERE]

Welcome to S.S. Generations! Where 2 weeks after the events of the Eclipse Cannon, Sonic and Shadow fall into a new dimension called “White Space”. They also meet their counterparts from various dimensions. Follow them as they all search for a way out!

However, those who’ve been to White Space before are questioning why it’s so empty. It’s almost entirely blank, with no past, present, or future events to ground them. How are they going to get out if there’s no memories to go off of?

—————

Meet The Cast!

Sonic’s Version

Cont. ⤵️

Frontiers -> Cyber

- Doesn’t have a Shadow counter-part

- Pretty quiet and keeps to himself, which is pretty weird for a Sonic(?)

- Has strange cyber-related powers, possibly related to his glitchy appearance

- Seems to be in pain, but waves off any concern

Sonic X Shadow Generations

Modern -> Guide

- Calls himself everyone’s guide through White Space

- Still petty about having his birthday party interrupted, teases his Shadow to do stuff for him because he’s still the ‘birthday boy’

- Very laid back due to the peacefulness compared to the last time he was in White Space

Classic -> Mini-Me/Classic

- mostly follows around his older counterpart!

- doesn’t talk but is very content to zip around and show his feelings through body language

Movie -> Socks

- Once realizing everyone was giving themselves code names, he immediately went for Blue Justice. Or Speed, to reference his greatest strengths and one of the greatest movies ever made.

- Unfortunately, both ideas were shot down and he was dubbed Socks due to his lack of shoes compared to well, literally everyone else

- Constantly sprouting off some random pop culture reference

- Is very, very glad to see his Shadow alive

Boom -> Blur

- Names himself after one of his brother’s old code names for him

- Very snarky compared to the others, and is the least concerned with getting home

- Noticeably on the worst terms with his Shadow

Prime -> Paradox/Prism

- Tried to get matching nicknames with his Shadow but was rejected

- Very upbeat!

- Unlike the others, he thinks that he’s the ‘real’ Sonic and everyone else is a shatterverse version of him

—————

Shadow’s Version

SatBK -> Sir Lancelot/Knight

- Tends to be quiet to observe the others

- Notices Cyber’s deteriorating condition the fastest

Sonic x Shadow Generations -> Prince

- In one of his petty squabbles over Sonic’s birthday boy status, he lets it slip that Black Doom is his father

- After explaining that BD is their worlds equivalent of Space Satan, Socks tells him he’s basically like a Prince (dark romance style)

- The name sticks, which makes his and Guide’s squabbles much more annoying

Movie -> Eclispe

- Socks had more names for Shadow than himself

- But all other options, like Hello/Emo Kitty, Akira, Tokyo Drift, National Treasure, etc. were vetoed

- Shadow settles on Eclipse, to remind himself of his past decisions and their consequences

Boom -> Grumpy

- asshole

- Calls himself ‘Ultimate’ but dubbed Grumpy by the majority

- Very very quick to throw down with Blur, in all ways possible

Prime -> Shards/Shatterverse

- Has the same mindset as Paradox/Prism with 10x the paranoia

- Incredibly weary of their counterparts, especially after the incident with Nine

- Stays nearby Paradox/Prism at all times and is searching the hardest for a way to escape

—————

Thanks for reading!! Potentially more characters to come but that’s the cast as of right now! Any asks/suggestions are welcomed!!

​Note: this will probably have shipping!! be warned if that’s not your cup of tea!

[s-4pphics]

the art of chasing. (e.w.) part I.

synopsis: how to: lose a lover.

word count: 9.5K

warnings: bratbaby!ellie who’s a math prodigy :), baby!oc who’s not but craves approval, SARAH IS ALIVE, mentions of: ANGST, time jump, joel is everyone’s dad — adoption, dead parents, narc parenting, internalized homophobia, outward homophobia, enemies to ?, idiots to ?, alcoholism, ellie’s a hopeless romantic, so is oc but she doesn’t know it, rebellious teenagers, FLUFF :)

a/n: heyyy. this idea came to me very randomly in january and i’ve been drafting it since then. it’s a two parter with a possible intermission but idk we’ll see. also, i hit 4k followers? thanks THE FAWK?

BYEEE

Since age ten, you’ve hated Ellie Williams.

You were naive like most children; too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed to manage, running amuck and causing any wreckage you could with your pudgy little hands. You lived to explore, much to your father’s dismay. He’s a stickler with too much sense, exactly like your irritating, speckle-faced classmate. Stubborn with an ego large enough to topple mountains. 

The first time you met her, you’d been sobbing at the sight of blood on your skin. 

You weren’t the fastest runner on the playground, but your classmates knew to never play hide and seek with you. You’d squeeze into the smallest crevices of your school's hallways and sit until recess was over and you were crowned the winner by your classmates when the bell rang. Your victory streak felt everlasting, three months of invisibility, it seemed until one day, a boy approached you — Jesse, a few inches taller and annoying, made it a challenge to discover your hiding spot. Younger you accepted any competition with grace, even moreso when Jesse’s friends bet that he’d pay you if he failed to complete the challenge… Your dad was very confused when you returned home with twenty bucks and a bag of Warheads that Friday. You don’t gamble, but what’s a little reward for upholding your legacy as the Best Hider? Your tactic was masterful, and while your classmates failed to find you, your piggy bank grew in size. 

For the first term of fifth grade, recess was yours. Students of all grade levels were on a manhunt for you after lunch. The excessive searches got so bad that they limited your 10 second head start to 5, then 3, and even then, you were never caught. 

Until Ellie. 

You decided to switch it up one day: instead of going to your go-to hiding spot — in between the two giant pillars that separated the first and second grade classrooms — you decided to rush back towards the cafeteria and wait by the lunch tables. Call it hiding in plain sight. No one ever returned there after they finished eating; They were too busy pushing each other down the slide or searching for you on the field. 

Your fall could’ve been caused by anything: an untied shoelace, your mind moving too fast for your feet, a crack in the blacktop. All you recall was laughing maniacally one second then sobbing harshly with a bloody knee the next. It barely hurt from your adrenaline, but blood had always freaked you out. You searched for anyone — a supervisor, a teacher, another classmate — but your cries weren’t loud enough to draw attention. 

No one was a witness except the freakishly smart nerd that sat at the back of the classroom. 

Ellie had been alone at the lunch tables, dirty sneakers kicked up with a sticker book in hand while she watched you cry completely stoic.

When you finally noticed her sitting there, you hoped your teary eyes would push her to get you some help, but when she squatted beside you with a taunting glance and pitying hand on your shoulder, you knew she sucked. Sucked really badly.

“That’s what you get for cheating. Everyone knows the lunch area’s off limits during recess.” 

And then she hollered over Jesse and all his loser friends, exclaiming that she found you and everyone owed her whatever rewards they planned to give you. From that point on, you hated her. Whenever she spoke in class, won a tetherball match with her man hands, laughed too loud, you returned home with a chip on your shoulder and the urge to swing on her. Not only did Ellie take your money and treats, she dimmed your glory. The crown on your head was placed onto hers in a heartbeat, title going from Best Hider to Best Seeker, and all it took was one accident. Ellie swiftly became your obsession after that. How could such a loser loner be that snarky? Losers are often desperate for any form of human contact, so why wasn’t she? Everyone thought she was the coolest person ever yet she didn’t care. Her routine stayed the same: silently sit in class and obnoxiously be the smartest person in the room then walk exactly 20 feet in front of you when the day is over. 

You’ll never forget the disgusted churns in your gut when you discovered she lives right across the street from you, and apparently had since you both were in kindergarten. If anyone at school found out that you religiously watched Ellie ride and fall(once) off her skateboard for a month straight, they’d probably group you too together for being the wackiest bitches in the neighborhood. 

It’s been five years since that day by the lunch area, and still, Ellie’s mission of making you feel like gum stuck to the bottom of her shoe rages on. Every test, every presentation, every spelling bee, every race, she shows you up without breaking a sweat while you drag behind her using every bit of willpower you have left, and still, it’s never enough. She surpasses you in ways that almost seem impossible, your brain can barely grasp it. 

She’s still mechanically organized, even as a teenager. On honor roll and a dickface. Isn’t high school the time to find yourself and not be a loser? Talk to boys and get a job and start driving— 

“You look psycho. She’s not thinking about you. Give it a rest.” 

Your best friend’s right as always, but your glare doesn’t get any softer. In fact, it hardens when Riley scoots directly in front of your vision so your eyes are on her and not Ellie. 

“If I killed someone, would you help me hide the body?” You say, exasperated. 

“No, bitch I wouldn’t,” she rolls her eyes, “You’re risking life in prison because she ruined the curve for our biology test?” 

“She gotta 98. I dunno how campus isn’t up in flames right now. All these bitches are weak,” you shove a carrot in your mouth, “my dad’s gonna kill me.” 

“I’ll come to the funeral.”

“That’s not funny. You know how he is! He’s gonna blow a fuse when my grade gets posted.” 

Riley’s eyes shadow with sympathy. “Maybe you can ask for a retake? Mr. Johnson’s not as fucked up as—“

“Ms. Robinson.” You and Riley both shudder in disgust. Your first bio teacher had it out for you so bad, it seemed. Last semester was stupid rough because of her pop quizzes and accusations of cheating. If she hadn’t fell down the stairs and broken her hip, you’d be on academic probation by now. 

“I’m not reliving that, Jesus… Are you comin’ later? Everyone’s asking where you’ve been.” 

Every reminder that you're locked in your room while your friends cause ruckus throughout the town is like a knife to the chest. “Tell 'em I'll seem them inna month,” you smile sarcastically, “I can’t go anywhere until I get my D up in math… and English—“

“Bitch how do you have a D in English when we speak it everyday—“

“I know, okay, I hate essays! My brain can’t… I can’t sit there and write for too long. I feel like I’ll start going crazy looking at those little ass words! I needa stress reliever bad.” 

Riley pouts and reaches for your hand, “I'll find you one and send it to your place, promise.” 

“Maybe you shouldn’t. My dad might set it on fire to taunt me.” You snort, but Riley doesn’t. She never does when you talk about your dad. The sad look she always gives makes you uncomfortable. Your gaze falls onto your tray when she squeezes your hand. 

“If you need to stay with me, you can. You know that, right?” 

“… Yeah. Thanks.” 

Riley’s a wishful thinker. Her family’s the sweetest: always inviting you over for holidays, her birthdays, sometimes your birthday when your dad deems you undeserving of celebration. They embrace you openly, and you’re forever grateful for their warmth, but the peace you experience in her household always ends in tears when your dad picks you. He’ll scream at you until his voice goes hoarse for running away even though you always ask for permission before going anywhere. The grudge he held onto after you snuck out one time in junior high weighs both of you down. 

Your father doesn’t trust you, and sometimes when it’s late and you hear delirious mumbling in the hallways, you question whether or not to trust him. 

The bell pulls you from your thoughts, and for once, you’re grateful that lunch is over. Riley’s gentle aura has a way of disarming you. You’re always unprepared whenever you trek the stairs to your porch; exposed and vulnerable. 

Riley allows you to wallow in silence all the way back to class. Your academic reputation was never stellar, but you always believed you were smart enough to make it into college and find your purpose, but every year that passes, your attention span suffers, and no one understands how draining it is except you. You were naive to think you’d be able to confide in your dad about something like that. 

Riley gives your hand one last squeeze before sliding through the door next to yours. Annoyance stabs in your spine when you catch Ellie already sat at the front of the room with her stupid fucking glasses and notebooks and sharpened pencils laid neatly on her desk. It’s like she lives her life to taunt you, force you to remember that you’ll never be as clever as she is. You’re sick just looking at her. 

You fall onto your designated seat in the last row, the last bits of students clabbering in just as the second bell rings. Mr. Thomas is already scribbling a bunch of Xs and Ys on the board and attendance hasn’t even been taken. It’s one of those days, one of frantic note taking while you attempt to catch all the information he throws at you while Ellie glides through the lesson like knives through butter. 

“Just like we reviewed last week, everyone! A point is a solution to a system of equations—“

You’re betting you won’t have a wrist by the end of class. What use are your notes if they end up looking like chicken scratch? You should know all of this, you’ve read these lessons so many times, so why’re you blanking when the question comes back to you?

“If we plug (3, 6) into our equations, will we have a solution?” Mr. Thomas points directly at you. It’s a simple yes or no question, and in retrospect, the equations aren’t that fucking hard but you can’t do it. Why can’t you solve this? 

Y and X and equal signs mock you all across the white board. Just guess! There’s a 50% chance you’ll get it right. A betted yes is still a yes, anyway! 

Exactly how a betted no is still a no. You’re fucked. 

“Um…”

Say anything! Who gives a fuck if it’s wrong or right or whatever! So what if you can’t do algebra! When you leave here, you'll be so extraordinarily incredible at your job that you won’t need any of it! Most of the things you learn in school all go to waste anyway! 

“… No?” You answer meekly, and your teacher’s eyes brighten. 

“Correct!—“

Thank God, I thought I was gonna die— 

“—Can you explain how?”

Oh, fuck my life

“Um… well… Uh…”

Your face burns from the stares of your classmates and your teacher and God himself. You stumble over your answer, saying a bunch of shit that you can hardly understand, all while the light in Mr. Thomas’ eyes slowly distinguish. 

“I’m… not sure, Mr. Thomas.” 

You swallow the lump in your throat when he gives you a pitying glance before asking, “That's alright! Does anyone wanna help our friend out?” 

And of course, Ellie’s hand flies up just to spite you, and your efforts crash and burn. 

“Yes, Ellie?” 

“If 6 is Y, then the equation has to equal 6. 2 times 3 is 6 but adding 1 makes it 7. So no…” 

“We don’t have a solution.” Her tone is so secure it strains in your ears. You might as well stand at the front of the class and let everyone shoot you with spitballs. That’d be less humiliating. 

“Great job, Ellie! So that means—“

Frankly, you don’t give a shit what it means, you just want to leave. Be anywhere but here. Being home would actually feel more safe, despite the small voice in your mind claiming that’s a fallacy. 

Class drags on and so does your writing. Whatever burst of energy you had at the start of class has been wrung to hell, finishing with a whopping one and a half pages of notes. Better than yesterday. Small victories. 

After what feels like ages, the bell rings, and students disperse to wherever they're supposed to be. You throw your backpack over your shoulder, your feet carrying you even faster towards the door when the Devil speaks. 

“—Thanks, Mr. Thomas. See you!”

“Bye, Ellie! See you tomorrow.” 

She makes it to the door before you, already vanishing into the crowded hallways before a calm timbre yanks you back. You spin with the brightest smile. “Yes, Mr. Thomas?” 

He stares disapprovingly, and you groan, “Can I go, please? I’m gonna be late—“

“I’ll write you a slip. I need to talk to you.” 

Your lax demeanor masks the pounding in your chest well enough. Mr. Thomas crosses his arms over his chest before sighing, “what’s going on with you? You’re not usually this…”

“What, stupid?” You tort humorlessly. 

“No! Not at all… Distracted, I suppose, but never stupid. Don’t say that again.” 

“C’mon, Thomas, everyone knows it, it’s not a big deal. Some people are smart and some are dumb. It’s just how life goes.” 

“There’s no such thing as a dumb student. Everyone learns at their own pace. That’s how life goes.” He scolds, “Do you need some extra tutoring—“

“No, actually, I don’t, thanks.” 

He sends you a look that’s very father-like and you almost vomit, “I want to see you succeed, that’s why I’m here. There’s so many resources available that could be of use, yet you never take them. Why is that?” 

You shrug in agitation, “I don’t know, Mr. Thomas. I’m trying, okay? I can handle whatever distractions I have on my own.” 

“You know some of your friends can tutor you, right? It doesn’t have to be some strict meeting with a teacher. Some students in here are tutors. Ellie’s on a roll with—“

“Can we not discuss how much smarter my classmates are than me? I'd really appreciate it.” 

He sighs disapprovingly, “That’s not my intention and you know it. There’s no shame in asking for help from people around you.” 

“Is this a therapy session?” 

“No, but the semester’s almost over. If you don’t pass your midterm and your final, you’ll fail the class, and you’ll be stuck with me for another year.” 

You scoff at the insinuation of your demise, “Wow, thanks so much, Mr. Thomas,” His gaze turns sorrowful — pitying. Your feet already carry you towards the door. “Don’t worry about that slip by the way!” 

You ignore the calls of your name before getting shoved into the ocean of students. There’s only one more class you have to sit through and you’re fucking free. Ellie’s not the only one you should look out for. Even teachers are becoming biased pests.

Just when you thought the walk home from school would be peaceful, mainly due to the fact that Ellie was nowhere to be found — not twenty feet ahead or behind you. You hoped her dad’s car got stuck in the open trench by the gas station. 

But no, she’s already made it home — to your home, squatted beside her stupid blue bike with a flat tire, tirelessly reviving her ride with a pump that looks awfully familiar. She’s practically blocking the entire walkway. Your day cannot get any fucking worse. 

You stand in front of her in annoyance, “Can you move?” She doesn’t reply, barely acknowledges you. 

“Hellooo, Earth to dickhead, I’m trying to get home.” 

“Go around.” She nods towards the street.

“What, so I can get hit by a car?” 

“Hopefully.” 

“Go away! You live over there!” Your finger jabs to her dungeon. “You could’ve pumped your own goddamn tire away from my domain!” 

“I don’t wanna walk all the way back.” 

“Back where?”

“To your house. Your dad let me use your guys’ pump.” 

Red alarms sound in your head. Your dad allowed the enemy into your dominion? Rage explodes within you when playful green eyes pan over your entire form. 

“That bothers you?” 

“You bother me. I hate your guts and I always will. You know what you did to me.” You stomp around her worksite. Before you can kick your front door in, she hollers at you. 

“I don’t actually, but alright. Make sure to let Thomas know.”

Your head whips in her direction, gaze searing trails of fire onto the sidewalk. 

“What does Thomas have to do with anything?” 

Ellie shrugs nonchalantly, “He emailed me earlier. Asked me to tutor you. Said you could use some extra guidance.”

She uses your shock to her advantage, pins you where you stand before rising to her full height. Her dirty fucking shoes pan through the dead grass of your yard. 

“If you wanna flunk, keep doing what you’re doing. Stay up all night and read until your eyes bleed only to forget everything the second you get to class because you’re scared of being wrong,” her teeth shine underneath the afternoon sun, “nobody’s rooting for you, not even yourself. I’m your last shot at making a comeback. I’ll get you that C if you want it. All you have to do is say please.” 

Flames of humiliation engulf you from head to toe. Never in your life have you had a stranger degrade you this strongly. Insults from family are always painful but after a certain point, you grow used to hearing what they don’t like about you. Ellie doesn’t know anything about you yet she’s reading you like that stupid scientology novel she always has in her backpack. 

You don’t even have the wind to tell her to go fuck herself before yanking the front door open and flinging yourself inside. It slams when you fall back against it and you swear you hear scoffing from outside. 

“Hey.”

Does he not notice your distress or is he simply uncaring? “… Hi, dad.”

“How was school?” 

“Fun.”

“Sounds like it. I made pizza.” Little does he know, food is the last bit of your worries. 

“Thanks.” 

“Mhm.”

“Dad?” 

“Yeah, hun.”

Am I a disappoint? Do you regret having me? Do you like me… I know you love me, but do you like me?

“… Did you buy some more hot honey?” 

“Course, baby. On the counter.”

“Thanks.”

He nods at you before refocusing on the match. That’s as much conversation you’ll get from him until tomorrow. You reheat your pizza silently, mind focused on the fucking aggravating genius right outside your doorstep. You don’t want to be in range when she gives the bike pump back. The both of them might team up to demean you together. 

Days like today remind Ellie why she misses her skateboard. Twelve-year-old her must’ve been in denial or incredibly lost when she begged Joel for a bicycle. 

She hardly ever rides it anymore, it just sits in the corner of the garage collecting dust and cobwebs, but nostalgia hit her harder than usual today. Could be due to the change in weather, the cold always takes her back to those family getaways in the mountains. Not a day goes past where she doesn’t think about that deer she found laying in the snow when she was eight. 

There aren’t many moments where Ellie gets to decompress: she’s always busy, drowned to the knee with novels and notebooks and annotation assignments or helping a classmate proofread their final papers. She doesn’t remember the last time she got home and simply wasted away doing nothing. There are parts of her that envy students who have that privilege, but every time her schedule slows for any reason, she grows antsy and her fingers twitch with eagerness to solve something. 

That’s why she pulled this stupid bike out of the garage. She assumed taking a lap or two around the block would pass time, but she hardly made it down the driveway before her front tire started stuttering. 

Why the hell did she think asking your dad for that pump was a good idea? Not that Ellie cares if you do or not, but it definitely wasn’t her smartest moment. She’ll get you one of these days. Catch you when you least expect it and press about your fucking issue with her because, frankly, she’s been confused for half a decade. 

Not that you’d ever care, but you’re not Ellie’s cup of tea either. You’ve been the same since you were five: loud and reckless with unpredictable mood swings. You just… do shit, and Ellie despises nothing more than people that just do shit; Your brain runs on impulse. You never see the world past your little bubble, and there’s a reason why people are so prone to pop it for you. Every move you make feels spiteful, especially if Ellie catches you in the act. You’re always there, staring at her, watching her with conviction. She’s provoked every time. 

It's gotten easy to ignore your bombarding personality. You’re ignorable, but you got her out of character today. She hates stooping down to your level but you took her there once again, and she’ll resent you for that like always. 

She feels hollow knocking on your front door. Her brain won’t stop replaying what you said and what she said and this is why she loathes interacting with you. 

The door opens and she realizes she was holding her breath. 

“Hey, Ellie! Your bike alright?” 

“Yeah, I uhh… yeah, sorry,” she extends the pump and your dad accepts it graciously, “Thanks.” 

“Anytime… Hey, you have class with my daughter, right?” 

A few every year. It sucks. She nods. 

“How’s she doin’? She looked real down today.” 

Yeah. Because she sucks. “I’m not sure. I don’t really pay that much attention to be honest.” 

“Of course, ‘cause you actually do what you’re supposed to in class! I wish she was more like you!” He’s laughing but Ellie’s not, hiding her discomfort with a stiff smile. 

“Thanks again,” she points towards the bike pump before shifting away from the door, “have a good night.” 

“You, too!” He grins, “if you see anything outta the ordinary, don’t hesitate to let me know!” Ellie nods with a stiff wave. Her feet couldn’t carry her off your porch fast enough. 

The door shuts, and Ellie releases the second breath she’s held since speaking to you. There’s an icky feeling in her stomach, distaste in her mouth, but she can’t pin where from. Her bike wheels whine the entire walk back to her house. 40 feet suddenly feels like 10 miles. 

She uncaringly drops her bike beside her dad’s truck before entering the house. 

“Is the alien invasion upon us?” 

Ellie’s replies dryly, “Could be.” 

“I’ll be damned! Come in here for a second, Ellie. I need your help with somethin’.”

She sighs before reluctantly entering the kitchen where Joel leans, practically bent over the counter with a rubber-gloved hand shoved down the drain. 

“Compromising position.” 

“Shut up, c’mere… I may or may not’ve dropped a fork in here ‘n I can’t reach it…”

“Dude, again?” Ellie grabs the lone rubber glove that rests on the counter. 

“Don’t give me that! I’ve had enough shit-talkin’ from Sarah.”

Ellie’s eyes go sparkly, “She here?”

“Not yet, kiddo. She just called earlier, she misses you.”

“She didn’t call me.” Ellie pouts. It’s weird, to go from living across the hall from somebody for so many years then only seeing them twice a year if that. When Sarah left for college, Ellie was devastated, excited, anxious, sad all over again. She’s everything Ellie desires to be: intelligent, talented, tall, pretty. In some ways, Sarah’s filled the vacancy that was reserved for Ellie’s mother. Joel’s a great parent and she loves him to death, but he’s not a girl, and there will always be something that he simply doesn’t understand no matter how hard he tries. Sarah will always be Ellie’s greatest blessing. Home is home — home is comfort, but without Sarah… there’s an emptiness in these four walls that fit the shape of her perfectly. Joel feels her absence, too. Ellie notices his longing whenever she catches him searching Sarah’s old room when they’re folding laundry.

“Compromising position.” Joel mocks when Ellie’s smaller hand shoves inside the garbage disposal in search for the missing fork. She throws him a middle finger and he laughs, deep and hearty. 

“You’re quiet today.” He says suddenly, and Ellie stiffens a bit, eyes glued onto clean stainless steel. 

“Always quiet, old man.” 

“Well, yeah… something’s bothering you. What happened?” 

“Just school stuff, nothing crazy.” She definitely won’t, and she partially blames herself for her own damning. You seemed so upset before you slammed the door in her face. It didn’t matter if you were on your last legs, ever since middle school, you’ve always gotten the last word, and Ellie’s always caught scrabbling for a rebuttal. 

Joel hums. Ellie nearly chokes on air when he inquiries, 

“What, you gotta girlfriend?” 

“What the hell, no, of course not, are you serious—“

“Damn… I was kiddin’ but I think you actually might, you’re all cherry-faced! What’s her name! Is she coming over for Christmas!—“ 

Ellie pulls the butchered fork free from the disposal with all her strength before tossing it and the glove on the counter. Joel’s hysteria weighs his shoulders down,  wiping the joyful tears from his eyes. 

“I’m going to bed.” Ellie states stoically. 

“AWW, C’MON! IT’S NOT EVEN 6 YET!” She rolls her eyes when his wheezing starts back up. 

Ellie leaves trails of fire all the way up the stairs, Joel’s giggly apologies and begs for her to come back silencing when her door shuts. Her palms find the caves of her eyes. Her body betrays her, brain pleading to climb underneath her mattress and sleep away the stress of today while her fingers itch to craft or sketch or repair anything. 

… She should’ve been nicer to you. Fuck. 

Her thoughts leap from point A to B: go apologize, help you pass math, go your separate ways for the rest of forever. But you could’ve been nicer to her, also. Why won’t you just be nice? 

Ellie goes against her better judgement and nearly sprints to her window. When she yanks her blinds down just enough to peep through, she locates the glass that guards your room. 

She swears she’s not some fucking weird pervert. She’s just checking to see if you’re alive and ripping up your favorite posters like you always do when you’re mad about something. But there’s no movement from your end and it’s dark where you stay. Are you sleeping? Are you on your phone? Are you… 

Did she make you sad? 

Anger is different — that comes about as naturally as being happy for you, but she hasn’t seen you cry since elementary school. Why does her heart start thrashing when she envisions your red eyes and tear-soaked pillow? Ellie doesn’t like you but she doesn’t want that. Maybe she desired to see you crack when you were little but that was because… 

Ellie doesn’t fucking know what she felt at the time. Agitated that everyone liked you so much, annoyed at how loud you laughed in class. Envious of your light. You were so bright — annoyingly so, shining your blasphemous rays everywhere, blinding everyone in your vicinity. There’s no way you’d give anyone the power to dim your shine.

That aggravating feeling blooms in her chest when she thinks about the amount of times she’s tried to do just that, and something tickles in her throat. It’s too thick to swallow down and she takes that as a sign. Enough sight-seeing for today. 

She plummets face first into her mattress, groaning in annoyance when her cheeks catch flame. You drive her insane. You and your adorable fucking nose. 

Just when she thinks she’s calmed down, knocks echo from outside her door. 

“Kid… Can I come in?” 

Ellie’s tempted to say not right now, but she forces herself up to open the door for him. Sorrow flashes in Joel’s vision. “M’sorry, kiddo, ‘bout earlier. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

“You didn’t, today just sucked.” 

“Talk t’me.” He implores gently. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I just…” Ellie shrugs lamely. Why is it so easy to talk to him about everything but you? “I don’t wanna talk about it right now. I will, but not now.”

He sighs, and she knows he’s concerned, but he doesn’t pry. “Okay, baby—”

“Can I have a hug?” Ellie coughs to mask the crack in her timbre, and Joel embraces her without hesitation. His hold is strong and it brings her solace. For the time being her mind silences, and shoulders aren’t as tense. 

Hold onto this until tomorrow. 

Until she sees you again. 

School has always been predictable. 

You come in, you sit for hours and run for one, and you leave with nothing, everything, and the little specks in between. You knew math would be a little awkward after your conversation with Mr. Thomas — you expected him to call on you more often to answer questions or say your name obnoxiously loud during attendance, but the patronizing never came. You took it as him sparing you until the following day until you received an email from him during your last period asking to speak with you. Much to your mistake, you accepted. 

Never during your entire high school career did you think that you’d be stuck getting scolded by your favorite teacher with Ellie Williams sitting right next to you. What a turn of fucking events. 

“You’re not spending another year with me. You’re going to do better,” Mr. Thomas’ tone is gentle with a sharp edge, but it’s not degrading, “my friend here is willing to help you get to where you want to be. I feel this will be beneficial for both of you.” 

Your teacher gestures to Ellie who’s annoyingly fidgety: messing with the loose strings from the slits in her jeans. You’re doing a stellar job at keeping your distaste in check. No need for another scolding. 

“Tell you what. If you pass the midterm, I’ll throw a pizza party.” 

“I hate tomatoes.”

“… Then we’ll have a to-be-determined party.” 

“Hooray.” You grab your stuff and stand, slinging your bag over your shoulder, “anything else, Thomas?” 

“Yes. Be nice to each other. We’re all friends here.” For once, his statement is for both of you. It’s a little comforting. At least you’re not the only one being corrected for adjustment. 

“Let’s go.” You say to Ellie who follows in your lead. You’re already out the door before she can finish saying her goodbyes. 

You only slow when rushing feet pitter from behind. When Ellie catches up, neither of you speak. You guess you don’t have to. She’s only scheduled to study with you for an hour anyway, there’s no need to waste it on pointless conversation. 

You only set one boundary. 

“Can we study at your place?”

Ellie pauses before nodding. The silence upholds the entire walk to Ellie’s house. She takes a deep breath before unlocking her front door. “My dad’s working, so… yeah. It’ll actually be quiet when we’re studying.” 

You say nothing. You set your backpack on the kitchen table to grab your math book and pencils. Ellie takes a seat beside you with her own notebook, opening it to the lesson from today. 

“Midterms are usually easier than finals, there's not as much to remember, so… um, what area are you struggling in?” 

An insecure itch squiggles in your nose and you scratch it. You shrug and play with your eraser. 

“We can do,” she flips through her pages, “x,y solutions if you wanna, just to start. They were from Thomas’ review the other day.” 

Your cheeks heat at the memory. Suddenly there’s thirty pairs of eyes on you all over again. “Sure, Ellie.” 

“Okay.” She turns to a fresh page before scribbling and her handwriting is perfect. The equation is familiar and easy. You were half expecting her to give you some crazy shit to kick off. She slides her notebook beside you and you don’t hesitate to input the values. You allow her to examine your work with a dry mouth. 

“That’s right.” 

Goosebumps rise on your skin and your cheeks go warm and you don't know why.

“Uh, good job, I’ll give you something harder.” 

She adds another equation onto the page for you to complete but you’re not paying attention. Ellie’s hands are very large. She’s always had freakish man hands but the definition in her veins is much more prominent than in sixth grade. What the fuck? Her pencil looks like a needle in between her fingers. They look so out of place on her dainty wrist, not that you care. 

“Uhh… hello.”

“What.”

“You can do it now. Solve it.”

“… Okay.” 

The question in front of you is the same format as the first one, but the numbers are bigger and there’s even more letters and addition signs and your chest plummets onto the hardwood. Your eyes anxiously find Ellie’s who stares back in confusion. 

“What’s the matter? Need help?”

You swallow and almost choke from the dryness. You just did this problem. The structure is the same, the process of solving is the same, but you're too focused on how Ellie’s going to react to you messing up. She’ll probably brag about how it’s not that hard and berate you about how you’re not that stupid. Perfectionists like her — like your dad are ruthless. Their superiority complex makes them yell and scream insults at you because you’ll never be where they are. You'll never be a match for their genius and in turn, they choose to resent you. 

So you wait for the low blows, the hollering, the threats of punishment. You wait and wait but she doesn’t say anything until she does. 

“Hey… you okay?” 

“What do you think, Ellie?” 

Tension pulls at her brows, “what do you mean?” 

In hindsight, she’s done nothing wrong up until this point, she's staring a little too hard for your liking. She’s the only one here, you have no choice but to give her the spotlight she loves so badly. Anything to get it off you.

“This is probably fun for you, watching me fuck up in real time. Is that why you agreed to do this for me? For an ego boost?” 

Why does she say your name like you’re hurting her? She’s never sounded so wounded; always prepared to strike back whenever you give her unfiltered attitude, retaliating until she’s blue in the face and you’re storming off in the opposing direction. 

“I don’t care if you mess up. I’m here to help you, why don’t you get that?”

“Because when have you ever given a shit if I do well or not? I’ve been a delinquent since we met, why are you so interested now?”

She scoffs and tosses her pencil in annoyance. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” 

“Apparently I’m the only one that missed the memo of hating your guts. News fucking flash, I don’t and I never did. Whatever shit you made up about me in your head isn’t my problem to fix,” she closes her notebook with more force than necessary, “if you don’t want my help then tell Thomas so he can get off my back about it. Find somebody else to teach you or don’t or whatever, I don’t care anymore.” 

...

… Oh.

It could be the way she’s staring at you: eyes stern, self-assured and her voice heavy, a bit deeper than expected when she’s aggravated, and the spots on her face compliment the red hot that burns in her cheeks, but you have very little — actually nothing to say, and it’s not for the reason you expected. You’re stunned into silence, and that confuses her: she half-expected you to take that pencil you hold and stab her through the neck, but you don’t. You don’t storm off, you don’t talk shit, you just sit and examine her face with a faraway look she’s never seen from you before. 

“What?” She implores when you stare too long for comfort, and there’s a lengthy, tender tug in your chest. 

You’re positive the end of the world is coming in the next ten seconds. None of the Earthly shit you’ve experienced will matter in the afterlife and the world you know will cease to exist and you’re thankful for that. You don’t think you’d be able to live any longer with the knowledge that you viewed Ellie in an incredibly different manner during her winded, angered dialogue. There’s a weird fluttering sensation in your stomach and your heart sits at the base of your throat. It waves over your body with an unfamiliar intensity and all you can do is gawk at the girl who took your breath.

“I— I’m…”

“You’re what? What’s wrong with you?” 

“I’m… I think I should go.” You’re already shoveling your things into your backpack, and Ellie’s insanely puzzled. 

“Wh—“

“Sorry. I just got lightheaded all of a sudden,” you sling your back over your shoulder before neatly pushing the dining chair in. You’ve never pushed in a chair in your life. 

“Are you… are you good? Do you need me to walk you back?” 

Her concern makes your tummy burst into flutters, “I'll be fine. Same time tomorrow?” You force down the dreaminess in your voice as Ellie follows close behind. 

“Um… okay? I guess, I thought you—“

“I think we should start over.”

It’s almost comedic how far Ellie’s eyes bulge from her skull. Why do you feel so featherlight all of a sudden? “Let’s forget today ever happened and start fresh tomorrow? Is that cool?” Never once in your life have you cared if Ellie was cool with any of your plans. Who are you right now? 

“I — well, yeah… cool, I guess. Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting really fucking weird right no—“ 

You squeeze the lone book closer to your chest. “I’m fine, trust me. Goodnight.” 

When you open the door, Ellie’s dad is on the other side struggling to find his keys in his work bag. He smiles down at you in surprise. 

“Hey, kid! It’s been a while, how’ve you been! How’s dad?” Only Ellie notices the wavering looks he shares between you and her. You smile, “been good, dad’s fine. I was just heading out. Thanks again, Ellie.” You say one last time before politely brushing past Mr. Miller, leaving Ellie to simmer and question what the fuck you took before you got here. 

When you're finally out of sight, Joel gives Ellie a knowing look, and she almost throws up from giddy nerves. Or full fleshed anxiety. Whichever ones worse. 

Is it possible to lose your mind before its fully developed?

You knew something was off when you set an alarm for five-thirty in the morning to get ready for school despite getting two hours of sleep in, yet still, you felt rejuvenated. You freshened up with your favorite body wash, plucked your brows, did a facemask, wore something that wasn’t the prior evening's pajamas. For the first time in your life since elementary school, you were excited to start the day and be productive. You don’t know why. 

Purposefully ignoring your change in attitude due to your neighbor is your favorite pass-time. 

You’re not sure what the hell happened to you at Ellie’s house, but it definitely solidified that you’re clinically insane. Delusional enough that whenever she meets your eyes in class your breathing pattern goes wonky. She nodded at you in greeting during English class and you nearly fainted. What the fuck has happened to you? 

Ellie was everything you detested less than 48 hours ago and now she’s leaving you with unrest that isn’t entirely displeasent. It makes you warm and tingly like a cup of warm tea on a cold morning. That’s not what you expected forgiveness to feel like, but it’s nice. Comforting. 

You didn’t see Ellie during lunch, and much to Riley’s confusion, you were disappointed. You and Ellie are nowhere near friends, but you’re trying, and she seems to be receptive to your efforts. In her own little geeky, awkward way. Might as well show your appreciation. She’s helping you out after all. 

After years of depending on Riley for emotional stability, you could use someone new.

So you wait perched up against the front of the school for your tutor. The anticipation makes you jittery, pacing across the small grass plain, kicking lone rocks, telling yourself to calm the fuck down because you’ve walked home with her since you were nine only this time around you’re not seperate but together—

“Sup.” 

You whip around at the call of your name, “hi.” You’re cheesing, can’t help it. Forgiveness is a great feeling. Ellie barely smiles back but it’s a start. 

“Um, we’re still at your house, right?” 

“Mhm, why, wanna go to yours?” 

“No!” 

Ellie flinches, and you scramble to recover. “I mean… I’d rather not, sorry. I’d just… rather not.” 

She eyes you skeptically before relenting. “… Okay.” 

“Shall we?” You gesture to the path to your neighborhood, but before you can lead the way, a hand clamps around your bicep, firm and stilling with something softer. You can’t move, and you don’t want to, the only proof of life being the constant palpitations in your ribcage. 

“Are you listening?” 

Nope. “Sorry, what?” 

“I asked if we’re, like… I don't know, good? Are we okay? I don’t know what’s happening, you’ve been so…” Her sentence trails, unsure of how to describe the arc you’re on. The arc of forgiveness. 

“Ellie… I forgive you for what happened in fifth grade. And everything after.” 

She squints. “What?” 

“I forgive you… I’m just hoping you forgive me, too?” 

“Uh… yeah… I forgive you, sure.” And she wears it so well. Her dirty shoes don’t bother you as much anymore. Joy thrums from the deep workings of your heart. “Friends?” 

“… Sure?” 

“C’mon then, friend. We got some math to do.” You squeal and throw your arms around her. She tenses but doesn’t push you off. 

You hold her the entire walk, and some time during, she relaxed into you. 

Ellie never thought she’d fall victim to an alien abduction and end up trapped in another dimension with a nice you, but she’s here, and surprisingly, she’s enjoying it. The one secret she’ll never tell. 

She’s not sure where this switch up came from, and honestly, she’s scared to find out, but she can’t help but be drawn to the shyer, timid side of you. Whenever she encourages or applauds your efforts on paper, your eyes go wide and glossy, and her heart squeezes in delight. 

There are times when she’s speaking, like now— light introductions about graphing parabolas, where she catches you mindlessly glancing over her features. She didn’t mind it initially — merely assumed that staring was your studying tic, but the longer she teaches, the deeper your gaze becomes, and the more uncomfortable she grows, even more than her disappointment whenever you look away. 

“Does that make sense?” She finally croaks when she finishes her graph, and you nod like you have no idea what she just said but simply can’t be bothered. She can’t help the upturn of her lips. 

“Can I test you?” She asks, and her heart thumps when your lashes flutter. She doesn’t wait for your response before creating a function table on the spot — albeit more complicated, but she needs to see if you’re progressing. 

When you take the pencil out of her hand and start scribbling, she can’t help but stare now. She watches you work silently, eyes cascading over your focused vision, each twitch of your nose, how you bite your bottom lip in thought. You erase and correct whatever mistake you’ve written and Ellie can’t the tiny smile that rises in her cheeks. Recognizing that something could be wrong is a telling sign of improvement. The kitchen is suddenly awfully warm. 

You exhale before setting the pencil flat on the table and sliding Ellie the graphing paper. 

“Don’t be nervous.” She comments when you start fidgeting with your eraser. 

You scoff, “can’t help it.” 

Ellie rolls her eyes before scanning your work. When she notices the messy erasing on your graph lines, she snickers — she’s not grading you on how perfect the lines are but that didn’t stop you from fixing them at least seven times. 

“What, I failed?”

“Nhm… it’s correct actually. Impressive.” 

“Impressive. What are you, 50?” You mock playfully. 

“Shut up, people see graphs and start pissing themselves, you did good.” 

“I was one of those people.” 

“And now you’re not, just needed a little elbow grease.”

“Elbow grease! You are 50, good God almighty.” 

Ellie scoffs. “Elbow grease isn’t an old saying! It’s used in every hard-working context.” 

“Oh, brotherr—“

“Shut up!” You and Ellie’s laughter blend together. The rest of your lesson resumes with such and Ellie couldn’t be more grateful. 

Time passes with delight, and before either of you know it, Joel is unlocking the front door while Ellie helps you organize your books. Neither of you notice his observing, and he’s thankful; Ellie would probably throw a fit if she caught him lurking, but he can’t help the glee he feels whenever Ellie laughs, and she's in hysterics with every joke you crack. Out of all the students that have visited the house, you’re the only one that’s garnered such a reaction out of his daughter. She's usually serious in a school-related setting, but you encourage her benevolence. 

“Hey Mr. Miller!” You wave and Ellie sighs. 

“Hey, kid… how’s the lesson going?” 

“Fine. We just finished.” Ellie says with the hopes that he’ll relocate so she can walk you out without hassle. 

“I think I’m getting smarter, Miller!” 

“You were already smart.” He charms, and you blow a playful raspberry. Your bag strap rests on your shoulder and Ellie leads you to her front door. 

“We should do something fun, Ellie.” Her and Joel’s ear perk at the same time at your invitation. The two of you cautiously eye the older man who scurries into the living room. 

“… Like what?” She’s suddenly nervous, eyes flitting wherever yours aren’t. 

“I don’t know, but I’ve been grounded and I’m bored. If I show my dad some of the work we’ve been doing he’ll probably let me off! Do you like arcades?” 

A noise reminiscent of a heart monitor flatlining blares in Ellie’s head at your inquiry. You’re asking her to spend time with you outside of school? She fucking loves arcades but she can’t say that because her jaw’s on the floor. 

“… Ellie?” You say, and she nods stupidly, but that doesn’t soothe the small flash of dejection in your eyes. “You don’t have to go. I was just asking.” 

“NO!” 

You flinch away from her and Joel hollers for Ellie from the living room to check in. 

“I’M FINE!” She screams before looking at you, “Not no, I mean yes… I mean I’d love to! I’d love to go to an arcade,” her lips snap shut before she allows a with you to escape, “They, uh… there’s one not too far from school. We can just walk there after.” 

When you smile, her heart throbs. Every time you smile at her, the organ cracks open in her chest to leave a spot just for you. She’s already plotting her own academic bribery so your dad can release you from confinement. 

“Cool. I’ll ask Riley if she wants to come.” 

Ellie’s mind whirs at the mention of a third. Riley’s nice; you all share English together, and though she and Riley don’t speak often, she never fails to give Ellie kutos on her writing skills whenever they peer edit. Riley is nice. She shouldn’t feel so disappointed that you’re bringing a friend on your…

She’s too ahead of herself. She was stupid enough to think that you’d wanna go on a date with her after a decade of bickering bullshit. That’s a result of swallowing down your crush for years out of fear of being rejected. She doesn’t even know if you like girls. She doesn’t know if you like anyone. If you do, you never disclose it. 

“… You good?” 

Ellie blinks rapidly, “Yeah, m’good, sorry. That sounds fun.” 

With your phone already in hand, you say, “gimme your number.” You don’t comment on the shakiness in Ellie’s voice when she recites her digits. When her phone dings on the table, you mumble, “Text me, okay?”

“Yeah… promise.” 

Is this flirting? Ellie doesn’t know — granted, she couldn’t tell the difference between right and left with a compass at the moment, but the fuzziness in her head is enough to convince her that your smile is more than friendly. Or she’s fucking delusional, could be one or the other. Both or neither. Regardless, she really doesn’t want you to go—

Wait, what. 

“Night,” you say so softly she almost misses it, and she replies just the same. When the door clicks shut, Ellie’s forced to sit with the irreversible concave you’ve left in her chest. Her head rests against the door to gather herself, long enough to garner the attention of her dad. 

“Somethin’ you wanna tell me?” 

“I don’t think want is the right word.” 

Who wants to come clean about their repressed infatuation with their sorta friend? Certainly no one sane, but Ellie hasn’t felt normal since the beginning of the month. 

When she finally picks herself up, she finds Joel propped against the wall with his arms folded, an inquisitive look in his eye. You’ve piqued his interest. Fuck. 

“We’ve never really talked about those lessons.” 

“Nothing to talk about.” 

“… Alright.” He sighs in mock defeat, “you know I won’t push you, but Christmas is ‘round the corner and I think it’d be best to plan somethin’ for your new frie—“

“I think I like her.” 

It’s said with such anguish; a fear of unrequited affection that slammed into her out of the blue, but it’s unrepairable now. Her next breath wobbles and Joel’s by her in an instant, large hands cradling her scorching cheeks. Her eyes water in embarrassment so she keeps them glued downward. 

“C’mon now, darling, look here.” Joel encourages softly, and Ellie reluctantly matches his gaze, a lone tear sliding down her cheek. He doesn’t hesitate to catch it with his thumb. 

“Whatever you’re feeling is a hundred percent normal. I’ve never seen you like this about somebody, it’s meant to be.” 

“… What if she doesn’t like me?”

“I don’t think that's the problem, baby. She goes all doe-eyed when you’re explaining… quantum theory or whatever the hell—“

Ellie can’t hold her laugh, and her shine cracks Joel’s smile even wider. 

“Wanna call Sarah?” He suggests gently, and Ellie nods.

“C’mon, we got some story to tell.”

Two weeks until your incoming doom. Or midterms if simplified. Fuck.

The closer the day gets, the more anxiety-riddled your lessons with Ellie become. Your new friend is incredibly reassuring, especially after you nearly toppled her to the ground in celebration of your D turning into a D+ after your last 3 assignment postings. Not only did you complete your math homework by yourself, but your answers were correct without cheating. 

Your dad told you ‘good job’ during breakfast this morning and you cried on the way to school. Happy tears. Accomplished tears. He finally thinks your efforts are worth something. 

… Maybe even worth a trip to the arcade? 

You don’t discuss your tutoring sessions with him that often, but he’s aware that Ellie’s aiding you to success. You know he respects her — sometimes you think more than you, but whatever — so maybe, just maybe, he won’t be against pausing your punishment for one night. 

You use your text threads with Ellie as an emotion stabilizer on the walk home. Fried memes and screen recordings of her Roblox fights are doing wonders for your thrashing heart. You can see your home and your dad’s truck in the driveway. 

Each step up the porch stairs is torture. 

You’re not shocked to find your dad on the couch eating popcorn. It’s routine at this point, and somehow, that makes your nerves worse. 

“Hey, hon. Hungry? I made mac and cheese.” 

Your stomach growls as if commanded. 

“Um… can we eat together?” 

His eyes unglued from the television and fell onto you, widened with shock at your proposal. Neither of you remember the last time you ate at the same table. 

He pauses before mumbling.

“Of course we can.” 

Something kick starts within your dad; he’s up and setting the table with a nice cloth and decorative plates, the fancy golden forks and spoons that are reserved for guests that never show, thick napkins, all with the dish of crusted mac and cheese set in the middle. 

You both have washed up and changed, in fresh pjs and clean hands. Your dad eagerly fixes your plate first. 

“How was school, honey?” 

A pang hits deeps in your chest at the empty memory. It’d been your mother’s birthday and you and your dad had planned a celebratory dinner for her. The same exact meal; mac and cheese, broccoli, and chicken, then pie for dessert because she hated cake. Served the exact same way every year until it was no longer necessary. 

“Great.” Because for once, school is great. School is cordial. 

“I checked your grades.” 

Your chest plummets but you reach for your fork to mask it. You’re aware of where your grades lie due to your obsessive reviewing. 

“My grades aren’t accurate, not yet at least,” you begin rambling in efforts to appease, “there’s still assignments that haven’t been graded yet—“

“You’re making a comeback. Good job.” 

… Shit. 

Two praises in one day? The only time you’ve felt this accomplished was when you’d ridden your scooter for the first time without eating dirt. He bought you ice cream after. 

You were seven. It couldn’t have been that long without some form of encouragement. 

Could it?

“I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” 

“M’kay.” 

“You know Ellie’s been tutoring me, and uh, she’s really good at it. Obviously...” 

He’s nodding but his eyes are piercing. 

“I… I thought I’d thank her. I’m on a really good track because of what she’s been doing and… yeah.” 

“How are you going to thank her?” 

You swallow down any hesitance. 

“The arcade after school. Her… her ‘n me. And Riley.” 

“And Riley.” He repeats detachedly. 

The fire in your cheeks is enough warning that this was a mistake. 

“When were you planning on going?” 

“Um… Friday night.” 

“What time.” 

“After school.” 

“And when would you be back?” 

“Um… it closes at 8… so 8:30?” 

His gaze drops down to his untouched plate, then yours. He relishes in the silence while you decay right in front of him. 

“Seven.” 

“Huh?” 

“Be home by seven.” 

Your chest flurries with excitement and appreciation and everything you haven’t felt for your father in so long. 

“Thank yo—“

“I need you to understand something.” His sternness crushes your smile. 

“This isn’t some pass for you to go behind my back and do bullshit. The second you get home, the routine is back. You go and study with her and come back here. No funny shit, do you understand me?” 

“Yes.” 

Your meekness doesn’t satisfy him. “Do you understand me?” 

“I understand, dad.” 

He nods once before grabbing his fork. 

“Eat your food.” 

[minarisplaything]

High Rise ft. IVE Wonyoung

Pairing: IVE Wonyoung x Male Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2.4k Tags: Daddy kink, Exhibitionism, Choking A/N: i said i would didn't i? probably the fastest i've made a fic recently which also means please excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes you find. might not be my best work but it sure was fun to write o7 Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction/parody

Dating a k-pop idol wasn’t easy. Especially when you were a so-called commoner. There were the obvious reasons, like you had to keep your relationship a secret until they reached their thirties, if you made it that long.And the not-so-obvious reasons; like watching your girlfriend parade around in sexy stage outfits and having to contain your desire to fuck her in them.

Or maybe that was just you.

When your girlfriend was Jang Wonyoung, a hyper-popular It girl – you cringed at even thinking those words aloud – the restrictions were even worse. Like that one time you had wanted to bring her flowers at her group's concert in Seoul and had to be snuck backstage with a bag over your head. Or the time someone had caught the two of you flirting candidly and Wonyoung blurted out that you were her cousin to save face. Embarrassing but somehow also cute when it came from her.

All this was to say it wasn’t easy.

But it certainly wasn’t without its benefits.

“Fuck, that one looks so good, princess,” you praised.

You snapped another photo as Wonyoung posed, biting her bottom lips and giving the camera a smoldering look. She hooked her fingers into her hip-hugging jeans, tugging them slightly as you quickly snapped another series of photos.

Honestly, you were somewhat shocked when Wonyoung told you her idea. It had felt provocative, mature even, and thus far each photo had proved that assumption right. But you rarely, if ever said no to her, even if her motivations were somewhat questionable. In fact, you wondered if this was all your fault.

“You left a like on Yuna-nim’s photo,” Wonyoung had said at the time. Her tone carried an accusatory hint.

“Did I?” you had stammered, trying to play naive. “I was just scrolling my feed and must’ve double tapped.”

“So you follow them?”

“Them?”

“Other girl groups,” Wonyoung clarified.

One thing you had learned about the IVE princess was that while she was sweet as a button on most days, she carried a jealous streak that verged on volatile. Sharing was not in her programming, least of all when it came to you.

You had recognized the trap forming but it had been too late. “Well, I mean, just to keep up. You know you do challenges sometimes and appear on their feeds.”

Her arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked to the side and slight pout was all the answer you needed.

That week you had gone without any physical contact from your girlfriend. Though she made sure to send you the filthiest selfies possible throughout. Which, oddly, worked. Because no matter how much you touched yourself to the photos she sent, it didn’t compare to the real thing.

It had seemed like the incident was over and in the past but as you snapped a few more photos of Wonyoung by the windowsill, you briefly wondered if this stemmed from it as well.

“Are you sure you’re going to post these on Instagram?” you asked, after a particularly racy photo.

“Mhm,” Wonyoung nodded. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before. Remember the bathroom?”

“Oh, I remember.”

You also remembered the ones that hadn’t made it to social media and were sent directly to you. But this still felt even more daring than this.

“How many likes do you think this will get?” she asked, coolly, giving the camera a sultry look. An innocent question. At least on the surface. But you remembered her comment one night as you two relaxed together.

“Besides, it’s to promote the sponsor, that’s all. This will get the most engagements,” she added. Her gaze dropped and a small smirk formed on her lips, “In fact, I’d say it’s already working.”

You followed her gaze, looking down to see a rather obvious tent had formed in your sweatpants. You laughed, a flush coloring your cheeks. “Well, shit. Can you blame me?”

“I guess I can’t,” Wonyoung said coolly.

The way she unbuttoned the top button of her jeans, spoke to more mischief however.

“Wony,” you wet your dry lips, “Are we still doing the shoot?”

“Mhm “ she nodded cutely, “Of course.”

She did another pose, pushing the waist of the jeans down to expose the lace underwear she had on underneath.

“You know, I love it up here. It’s perfect,” Wonyoung said. “Don’t you agree?”

“Yeah…” you muttered, more focused on the sight of her exposed abs and smooth skin than her question.

By here she was referring to the penthouse you were using for the photoshoot. Funny enough, she could easily afford a place like this on her own. Though that would only spur on more talk about inequality among the rookie group.

“Being so high up…” she turned her head to look out the window. Your breath caught as you watched delicate fingers slip inside of her jeans. “We can see everything but no one can see us. Even if we were naked against this window they’d never know…”

Now you weren’t the smartest bulb in the room. In fact, sometimes you wondered if it was your self-proclaimed himbo status that Wonyoung liked most about you. But even you could put two and two together. And Wonyoung’s words combined with the side-eyed glance she was giving you were all screaming one thing.

“I could show my naked body to all of Seoul and no one. would. know.”

Her tongue pronounced every syllable while she locked eyes with you. As sweet and kind as Wonyoung could be she had an undeniable minx side to her. You were also fairly certain your girlfriend got off on the power high of being such a desired person but you had never actually confirmed that.

If you were starting to get hard when she pointed it out earlier, you were practically aching now. You tossed your phone onto the couch and made your way over to where Wonyoung was by the window. She let out a delighted squeal as you pushed her up against the glass, kissing her passionately.

Your hands moved against her stomach, feeling her toned abs that were shown off by the outfit she was wearing. Honestly, you should send a bouquet to whatever designer sent this to her to promote. You nipped at Wonyoung's bottom lip, your hands sliding into her unbuttoned pants to squeeze her ass.

"It took you long enough," Wonyoung gasped, mischief gleaming in her eyes. "I thought was going to have to beg you to fuck me."

Your cock twitched, straining painfully against your jeans, "You still could you know."

She must have been in a good mood because the idol looked at you with large eyes, biting on her bottom lip. "Please fuck me against the window, daddy."

Oh.

You see, it had taken some time but you learned that your girlfriend had two modes. The arrogant queen who knew all of Seoul was her playground and made you worship at her feet. Then there was the submissive princess who begged to be pleased until she was satisfied. Often her mood was some mixture of the two but neither one left you unsatisfied.

"If that's what the Princess wants," you growled.

A delighted smile crossed the idol's features followed by another joyful squeal when you spun her around to face the window. Her hands rose, catching herself as she turned her head to look over her shoulder. You could see the aroused flush creeping up her neck and coloring her round cheeks.

"Didn't you say something about showing everyone your tits?" you whispered in her ear.

Not waiting for a response, you pulled her top down, exposing her tits to the cool glass of the window earning a gasp from Wonyoung in response. You pressed further against her, the bulge in your pants pushing against her ass.

"This whole shoot was just to rile me up, wasn't it?" you said, your breath hot against the shell of her ear. Your hands moved quickly to yank the jean pants she was wearing, exposing the white lace panties that she had teased you with a peek of earlier.

"Maybe," Wonyoung mewled, arching her back perfectly.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down to reveal her bare ass to your hungry gaze, "Bullshit. You knew what you were doing."

"Maybe I just wanted to remind you of what's right in front of you," she said.

There it was. That switch up she was capable of. It also confirmed your theory that your girlfriend hadn't exactly forgiven and forgotten about the Instagram incident. Well, there was no time better than now to put the matter to bed. You gripped your cock, slipping it between her legs to get it slick from her dripping sex.

"Oh, I'm well aware of what's in front of me," you started. Slowly you began to slip your thick cock inside of her, inch by inch with each syllable. "The most beautiful." More. "Talented." More. "Gorgeous." More. "Perfect." More. "Princess."

"Fuck!" Wonyoung moaned, her forehead bracing against the window.

"Is the princess feeling full?"

"So, so full…" she cooed.

"And I didn't even get to mention how good a girlfriend you are," you teased.

You could feel her pussy quivering around your length, stretching to accommodate the familiar intrusion of your cock. Wonyoung's hands were splayed against the windows of the high-rise, her ass pushed out and into you. She was on full display and only you were lucky enough to see it.

You could take it slow with steady, languid strokes, gently fucking your girlfriend against the window. But something told you that wasn't what she nor you wanted at that moment. Your fingers flexed around her waist, pulling out your cock until just the tip remained inside of her before thrusting your entire length back inside of her. Wonyoung's body jolted with pleasure as she braced her nude body against the window.

"This is what you wanted isn't it?" Harder. "To know how much you turn me on." Faster. "To see how fucking hard you get me." Deeper. "No one else makes me like this." Repeat.

A mixture of mewls and moans fell from the idol's mouth at your relentless rhythm. Her head fell forward, her cheek pressed up against the glass. Perspiration was starting to form across her flawless skin and you had to resist the urge to lean forward and lick it up. You wanted to prove a point, to fuck Wonyoung to the point of exhaustion for the whole city to see. After that maybe you'd enjoy the little perversions.

"You probably say that to every - fuck - every girl," Wonyoung panted, glancing at you from over her shoulder. "You're probably just waiting to move onto the next idol you're drooling over."

She didn't say it with enough conviction for you to believe she truly felt that way. For starters, while Wonyoung may get jealous, she was not insecure. At least, not enough to ever think another idol was above her. It was more often a toxic possessive kind of jealousy. But nonetheless, in the heat of the moment you'd take the bait.

"Is that what you think?" he said, your breathing growing heavy with your harsh thrust. Conversation wasn't exactly easy at this pace. "Did you miss what I said earlier, huh?"

One hand moved from her waist to slip around Wonyoung's throat. She inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat as you squeezed. For a passing second there was no sound save for the repeated slaps of skin against skin as your hips were flush against Wonyoung's ass each time you entered her.

"I only want you," you finally gasp. "Always you."

Rather than another vulgar display to go along with your words, you merely lean over her, capturing her lips in a sideways kiss. It's messy and imperfect but it's also loving and passionate. Your tongues dance together all while your bodies remain intertwined. You can feel Wonyoung pussy quivering around your cock intensely as she moans into your mouth. When you pull back, you look at your girlfriend with a raised eyebrow.

"Did you just cum from that?" you asked.

"S-shut up," Wonyoung retorted. You noticed a bright red hue of embarrassment coloring her cheeks before she hid her face, "Don't stop until you finish inside of me,"

It was always adorable when she continued trying to be dominant after her own orgasm. However, her words had an undeniable effect on you. "If that's what the princess wants."

You returned to the task at hand, focusing your efforts solely on chasing your first release and Wonyoung's second orgasm.

"Daddy," Wonyoung mewled, finding her voice. "I want you to cum, daddy. I want you to cum deep inside my tight pussy.""

You had a sinking suspicion that her words were payback for causing her embarrassing moments earlier. Her attempt at provoking you to blow your load sooner than you had intended to.

Regardless it worked to immediate effect. Your hips jerked, slamming against hers from behind. Your sweat-drenched body pressed flush against Wonyoung, pushing her up against the high-rise window. Your cock twitched, ropes of your sticky seed shooting inside of her womb as her walls convulsed around your length.

Of course the two things that pushed her over the edge would be you saying how you loved her and her revelling the power she had to make you cum on the spot. Truly a representative of her duality.

After a moment had passed and you began to regain your bearings you pressed a kiss to Wonyoung's shoulder.

"That was incredible, Wony," you muttered.

"I know," she said, her form practically radiating. "You weren't bad either."

You let out a chuckle, placing another lazy kiss to her skin, "Maybe we should've included that in the photoshoot."

Wonyoung smiled but didn't immediately respond. After a moment of delay she turned in your arms to look at you.

"Did you mean all those things you said?" she asked.

Her wide eyes looked at you and you reached up to brush aside a strand of sweat soaked hair. There was no hesitation in your response when you answered her.

"Absolutely. And don't you think otherwise for a second."

A smile beamed across the idol's face and she leaned forward, burying her face into your neck. Your arms wrapped around her and quietly you wondered if you weren't the luckiest man in the world.

BUY ME A COFFEE - if you enjoy my stories considering buying me a coffee! always appreciated, never required.

[fudgechocolatepuff]

a lovebirds bloom! 🌷 pt.i

keigo t. x fem. reader | wholesome fluff :)

pt.ii of a lovebirds bloom , pt.iii of a lovebirds bloom

summary ⋆ ꪆৎ you with an unoccupied life intertwine paths with the fastest and busiest hero, where you both catch a break in your tranquil flower shop. lots of love in the air begin to unfold ꪆৎ

In contrast to the big city where everyone bustled to work in a hurry and longed for a minute more at home, you were met with a life you found quiet, but quite easy.

Fortunately, you were able to nag yourself a lovely position as a florist in a small flower shop tucked away from all the chaos that the streets carried.

You took your current job to be a gem, considering you had a never-ending obsession with flowers and bouquets since you entered high school that thankfully you kept as you approached your 20s.

Despite the fears that others had about these small jobs like lower compensation, you found peace in such a laid back and natural environment, an escape from the worldly problems that awaited you when you flipped the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’.

Of course, you were aware that the shop wasn’t very popular among those in the city, and you didn’t exactly “make bank” like you had intended to as a teen, but you still enjoyed the connections you made with your boss, your other 3 co - workers, and your clients. 

Due to the lack of popularity of the flower shop, it wasn’t normal that anyone of high status ever visited. They’d always be too busy with their inquires to bless you with their presence or had their assistants do it instead.

Until one day when you were browsing through your laptop, choosing and buying flowers from suppliers when you heard the jingle of the door bell ring faintly in front of you.

If there were anyone you weren’t expecting to walk in the shop to browse through the supply of plants, you definitely weren’t ready to see the number two hero in the country waltz through the door.

You stopped scrolling through the page you were on and stared at the hero, observing his movements in awe.

Out of all of the training your co-workers drilled into you, you had no idea how you were going to confront the winged hero.

Um, Hello?? Hero Hawks?? What brings you in our flower shop that’s literally the size of a dormitory room?? On a random sunday afternoon in the beginning of march?? What the flip??

The air of your workspace became too awkward for you to breathe in.

Gosh, it was just so random that such a well known hero like him would be in such a small flower shop like the one you worked in, the comparison was mortifying.

You knew that pro heroes existed, sure, but making interaction with them seemed like talking to someone of higher class.

Well, maybe it was like literally talking to someone of higher class, but in a scenario like this, it was 1000x more intimidating.

You watched his eyes as they glanced every few seconds in the ‘solid tones’ from the ‘pink’ selection to the ‘red’ selection, and then to the ‘baby blue’.

You weren’t the best analyst, but you quickly recognized the lost gaze he held in his eyes as he searched without a clue what he was even looking for in the first place.

It was kind of cute to see him so concentrated on some silly flowers.

Hawks then turned his head toward you and caught the admiration in your face, returning a gentle smile that made you mentally curse yourself for letting him catch you drool at him as if he were a masterpiece of art.

His revealed toned arms crossed against his chest definitely were a piece of art no doubt about that-

“ ‘scuse me, but could I steal you away for a minute? I jus’ need some help… doing all of this I guess,” the hero chuckled to you, his hand ruffling through the winded locks of his hair. 

Your knees shook at the warmth of his voice and his boyish laugh that you almost ignored the initial request all together as you treasured his being.

You swear his presence was a mesmerizing haze, leaving you dumbstruck for a few moments.

“Oh… oh! Yes, yes! I’ll be right there!” You exclaimed to him as you snapped out of your lovesick daze, skipping out from behind the register counter to resolve his flower fiasco.

You stood to his side, looking up at him with your hands clasped behind your back. “So, how can I help you today, Hawks?” 

His hesitation and ‘ah..’ that dragged out of his mouth revealed to you that he didn’t know how to start with his little issue. Poor him, you thought. Might’ve been a bizarre story for all you knew.

You assured him that you could help no matter how peculiar the situation.

Honestly, you wouldn’t mind if you had to stand there all day to listen to his melodic voice.

He put his hands in the fronts of his pant pockets as he began to explain,

“Alright, so, ya’ see, today happens to be one of my friends’ birthday, Mirko, I’m sure you know who she is, and ah.. I kinda forgot ta’ get her a present—hero duties and all, ‘course I’d forget, right?”

You nodded your head and hummed letting him know you were listening to his story.

He scratched the back of his neck as he continued,

“Only thing I can think of getting her right now are flowers, I know she likes them, but I dunno the first thing about flowers. You get where I am in this situation?” he smiled nervously, hoping you’d understand.

“Yeah, I have an idea,” you giggled, your hand making its way to cover your mouth as you poked fun at him, “kind of crazy how you would forget such an important birthday like that though.”

The hero put his hands up in defeat, “You got me there. That’s bad on my part, but at least I’m trying to salvage this,” he joked. “I’m just hung up on what to get her, I can’t picture any color, any theme, nothing.”

He turned to fully face you and tilted his head a bit to the right, a cheekier grin tugging at his lips. “Thankfully though I’ll be saved by the cutest florist who I’m sure will get me hooked up on the best selection of flowers.”

You felt your teeth suddenly grind against each other with a sharp breath you took in following after, making Hawks laugh at your stiffened reaction.

“So, what combination do you think would go well for today’s occasion?” He awaited your response with an owl-ish blink, crossing his arms again in anticipation.

Shaking off the embarrassment pooling in the core of your stomach, you took a moment to think.

‘Mirko.. although she appeared as a tough fierce woman, you personally believed she’d appreciate something elegant and light. (It made even more sense to you since the spring season would begin to bloom this week.)’

“I was thinking of something simple. Um, perhaps a pair of white roses and lavender baby’s breath..?” You searched Hawks’ eyes for any sign of approval, to which a glint in his eye shone as he looked back at you.

“I trust your judgment to whatever selection you make for me. I already know that I’ll leave this shop saved.”

His caring attributes and words were hypnotizing you as a timid smile curved at your lips and you held back the urge to utter an “awww.”

“I’ll get them wrapped up for you right now, it shouldn’t take too long.”

You still couldn’t fathom the fact that Hawks was literally the only one in the shop with you, it didn’t feel real, more like a dream where everything around you would turn into clouds and the two of you would levitate towards eachother until your lips met-

snip snip!

Hawks’ knuckles knocked rhythmically on the counter as his leaned figure watched yours snipping the stems of snow white roses.

He couldn’t help but let his eyes linger over your delicate fingers, handling the plants so well. He bet your touch was as gentle as a feather.

What was he thinking.

Hawks felt his heart tighten. He wasn’t sure if it was out of flattery, but his pinkening cheeks told him otherwise.

He should stop by this place more often.

He gulped down his thoughts, pupils looking up at you showing off your work to the hero.

The boquete was decently sized, definitely not small. The flowers were spread out and mixed evenly making the colors appear vibrant. From the stem up, the plant bunch was wrapped in a lovely baby pink sheet.

You extended your arm to his face, obliviously poking him in the cheek with the flowers as you finalize your final touches with a little ‘shift’ here and a ‘shift’ there.

“It’s not the best I’ve whipped up, but I hope this is good enough for Mirko.”

Standing up straight, Hawks took the boquete out of your hands, ever so slightly making sure to brush his fingers against yours, transferring the jolt of electricity from his body to yours.

It would be criminal to ignore a gesture like such. Who were you kidding—it left your beating heart throbbing, yearning for more contact. You had to keep it professional.

His hawk-like eyes stabbed daggers into yours, releasing a spell that couldn’t let you look away from the man in front of you.

“Knew I could trust you. Cutest flowers I’ve ever seen. They’re perfect.” he insisted, face not faltering one bit as he kept his eye contact with you—not looking away for a second—and craned his head the tiniest bit to the right to steal another flustered smile from you.

You hoped that he wasn’t talking about the flowers.

The three seconds that you and Hawks took engulfing each other in the moment felt like it lasted three years.

Yes, it was cliché, no need to yell it in your face, but it was nice. For both you and Hawks.

You had a delightful change of pace in your uneventful days, and with the most gorgeous man your eyes ever laid upon? Come on, you had to enjoy this.

You were a lovely girl to be around, really. Something about your personality just felt soothing after all the mental and physical wounds he endured throughout the years.

He couldn’t just leave it all here though. He was no casanova—quite the opposite, actually—but he knew you two had some sort of connection.

Hell, maybe he was delusional about this, but he couldn’t care less. He felt his stomach sink whenever he looked back at you, depicting whether it were butterflies or not.

He cleared his throat. “Well, thanks for the flowers, sweetheart. I better move along now, duty calls. How much do I..”

“Oh..! No, no, don’t worry about it, it’s on me this time,” You stimbled an awkward, but sincere smile as your fingers subtly fidgeted with a strand of your hair, gliding up and down the piece.

Hopefully the ‘understanding’ sprinkled into your smile would console him of his awkwardness. Even you could see it, and that was saying something.

The winged hero returned a soft grin to that, muttering a “thank you.” as he made his way to the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

He turned his head back to look at you, capturing your image in his mind so he could replay it over and over when he made his leave.

Raising your hand to wave him goodbye, you wondered when the next time you’d see him would be, or if you would ever even see him again. It felt bittersweet.

“Come back again soon.”

“I plan to do so.” He professed, pulling the door open and taking a few steps out the shop before he took off into the city, leaving you shocked and still in the shop by his bold remark.

If anyone were to be zipping through the winds at a decently fast speed, it’d be normal to be a bit cold.

But in this case, the winged hero was warming up the more your shop came out of view. He whipped out his phone from his pocket and opened his “imessage”.

hawks:

i think i just met the love of my life. and kind of ruined it sent 1m ago

rumi:

you dumbass. sent just now

a/n: longest and might be the corniest thing i ever wrote, cute tho! last part was kind of a joke, idk if hawks would acc text ppl like that. lmk if i should do another part! love uuu! 💗

[nosyp]

Hi Nosyp!, yandere player 120 (I don't remember her name) and fem reader.

Platonic, 120 is like an older sister to her.

(reader is the youngest of the team)

--🥬

Heyhi 🥬anon! Ty for the request🥰 and her name is Hyun Ju if you wanted to know

Title = Protective Bonds

Warnings = yandere behaviour, fighting,

Pairing = Yan! Hyun-Ju (Player 120) & fem! reader

Summary = Player 120, your older sister figure, has always had your back. When you're attacked, she’s there in an instant, her protective instincts turning dangerously possessive.

Word count = 1.5k words

The world around you felt like it was on the edge of breaking. Every day, you were forced to play a game you never signed up for. With each challenge worse than the last. But… amidst the chaos, there was one thing that survived loads of other games with you and that was Player 120.

She wasn’t like the others. Warm, nice, and caring, she had a presence that you adored. Despite being trapped on an island and forced to play sick games, she was still very caring towards you. Even though she had a cold and rough exterior, inside she was caring. She often checked up on you and teamed up with you for group games. She insisted on letting her go first or stuff like that since you’re pretty young. 

You’d never understood why she took an interest in you. Maybe it was the fact that you were small, quieter than the rest, or maybe it was just your sheer luck. Either way, she always made sure you stayed out of the crossfire, out of danger.

“Stay close,” she’d say, always with that same calm authority and warmth she had. “I’ll look out for you.”

Sometimes, you wondered if she really meant it, or if it was just her way of getting onto your good side, though you had no idea why. But no matter how much you tried to read her, she always seemed a step ahead. She was actually quite quiet, collected, and always vigilant. Everything she did was for you. Even if sometimes you didn’t realize it and how much you insisted you were fine, she still did it anyway. 

Of course, you couldn’t help but feel safe with her around, you could feel yourself starting to depend on her every second you spent with her. In a world where every ally, friend or partner could easily turn a quick 180, into an enemy, there was something oddly reassuring about having her by your side. She didn’t show much emotion often, and didn't let her guard down. But the way she always seemed to be watching over you. She kept an eye out for you when others or even you didn’t.

In this game of survival, you hadn’t realized how badly you needed someone to trust. Usually, the players that had no relationships or connections with others lost the fastest, especially in team games.

The tension in the air never eased, it was unrelenting. The games grew harder, the stakes higher, and every time you thought you could breathe, something new threatened to crush you. But she was always there for you. Hyun Ju moved strategically, aware of everyone and everything. 

You learned to trust her instincts over time from prior games with her. Ever since you got close with her, you started listening whenever she gave a command, even if it was just a simple ‘Stay close’ or ‘Follow me,’ you always obeyed without hesitation. It wasn’t just because she was good at what she did. It was because, in this game, she was the only constant. The only thing that made sense.

One evening, as you sat against the cold wall of the holding room, trying to ignore the anxiety gnawing at your insides, you felt a familiar presence beside you. 120 didn’t speak immediately. Instead, she just sat down, her posture slightly stiff and body alert as always. But there was something different in the air tonight. Something that made your chest tighten with unease.

"You look like you're thinking too much," she said quietly, her voice low and steady as usual.

You shrugged, though the weight of your thoughts was hard to ignore. "It's hard not to."

She turned her head just enough to catch your eye, her gaze soft but still intense in a way. "This game… It makes everyone think too much. Don't let it consume you."

You wanted to say something. Something to push the conversation deeper, to understand her better but the words caught in your throat. There was always this wall between you two, no matter how many times she told you to stay close or how many times you’d shared the same space. She was always so… distant. Not cold or anything, but distant. And that distance made her even more unknowable.

Suddenly, a sharp noise broke the silence. Fuck. There were heavy footsteps nearing the room. Your heart raced, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Without a word, Hyun Ju was immediately on her feet, her hand outstretched to you, pulling you up with a force that didn’t let you question it. There was no time to hesitate.

"Stay behind me," she ordered, her tone shifting, sharper now.

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. This was different. The calm before the storm had ended.

The air was thick with tension as you followed her, hiding yourself behind her shadows. Hyun Ju was already positioning herself at the entrance, her eyes narrowed as she peered through the door’s small gap. Every muscle in her body was coiled like a spring, ready to react at a moment’s notice. It was a stark contrast to how she had been only moments ago. Opposite to her calm and collected side, now there was something darker in the air.

She wasn’t the type to show fear, but in that moment, you could sense it. Her every movement was precise, her eyes flicking between the door and you, keeping you close but not making it obvious. She viewed herself as your protector. And you viewed her as your protector as well. But even the bravest protectors could be afraid.

As the footsteps grew louder, you held your breath, trying to make yourself as small as possible. Hyun Ju didn’t speak. She didn’t need to. The command in her presence alone was enough to make you freeze.

The door creaked open, and a masked figure stepped inside, their silhouette barely visible in the dim light. Hyun Ju was already moving before they could even fully enter, stepping between the intruder and you without hesitation. Her body was positioned between you two, blocking any potential harm from reaching you.

“Get back,” she muttered to the figure, voice colder now and laced with authority.

The intruder didn’t seem to flinch at all, but they hesitated for a moment. The silence was deafening. Then, with a quick movement, they lunged. Hyun Ju reacted instantly, sidestepping with a grace that was almost unnatural. In one fluid motion, she grabbed the attacker’s wrist, twisting it to make the intruder stumble, causing their body to crash onto the cold concrete floor.

You barely had time to register what had just happened. She was fast, faster than you could even process or react. The air around you felt charged, crackling with a dangerous energy. Hyun Ju was not only a shield, but also a force to be reckoned with.

She stood over the figure now, her eyes cold but focused. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” she said, her voice low, almost deadly.

The intruder groaned, but didn’t move, clearly having underestimated her.

You stood there, frozen. You had seen her handle fights before, but this was different. There was something almost predatory in the way she moved. Something that told you she would do whatever it took to keep you safe. Even if it meant crossing a line she didn’t want to.

But the thought didn’t last long. The figure, clearly realizing they were outmatched, scrambled to their feet, quickly backing off. With one final glare from her, they disappeared through the doorway, leaving you both in a tense silence.

Hyun Ju didn’t relax immediately. She was still poised, waiting for any sign that another threat might appear. You, however, couldn’t stop your heart from hammering in your chest. It wasn’t just the fight that had your blood pumping. It was the way she had acted, like your safety was the only thing that mattered to her.

She didn’t look at you yet, but you could see the tension in her shoulders slowly fading. It was as if the weight of the moment was only just starting to settle in.

"You alright?" she asked finally, her voice quiet, almost like she didn’t want to disturb the fragile silence that had fallen.

You nodded, though your throat was tight, unable to form any words at first. The reality of what had just happened hadn’t fully sunk in yet.

“Stay close,” she repeated, the calmness returning to her voice. “We need to keep moving.”

Her hand brushed your shoulder briefly, the contact so brief you almost thought you’d imagined it. But it was enough. Enough to remind you that, even in the chaos, she was there for you. The only thing constant in this maddening game.

Without waiting for a response, she turned, leading the way forward. You followed, still trying to steady your breath, but there was one thing you knew for certain. That was… with Hyun Ju by your side, you might just make it through this.

[na0koz]

To off set the happiness I wanted to ask what would happen if reader got together with someone else, or showed more interest in them than Jinx. Even with Jinx trying to stop it

Or another thought would be what if reader liked Vi more than Jinx 🏃

wait ur lowk a genius nonnie. reader liking vi more than her would actually like set her off to 10000%. kinda stole that scene from season 1 episode 9 with jinx’s tea party lol.

toxic!jinx masterlist

VERY DARK!! just block me if you don’t like it.

cw: jinx breaking in, implied kidnapping, use of guns, jinx is just insane, f!reader

since you met jinx’s family, you’ve been round the family home for dinner a couple more times. in one of those times, vi managed to get your instagram. probably while jinx was out of the room to save her ripping vi’s arms off.

ever since that day, you’ve been messaging vi a lot on instagram. however, you were very careful not to have jinx find out. you knew she wouldn’t like it, but you can’t help it when vi just gets you.

a month or two passes, and you’ve grown close to vi. it’s probably not the best idea you’ve had, given how jinx acts about you getting close to people she doesn’t know. somehow you think she’d be even worse if she found out how close you had gotten to her sister.

one day, you’re not answering the stream of texts jinx has sent you. she may have only sent them a few minutes ago but over time you’ve become the fastest replier in the game. something was up. she instinctively checks your location. a bar? you don’t drink, what could you possibly be doing there? cheating, jinx thinks.

it’s not that she doesn’t trust you, she’s just paranoid. she needs you all to herself, completely.

she grabs a jacket and starts to head to the bar almost immediately.

she glances around once she’s inside, looking for any sign of you. it was simple. she just had to grab you and act like there was some sort of emergency and you had to leave, while simultaneously taking note of whoever you were with.

she finally notices you, and to jinx’s absolute horror, you’re standing suspiciously close to her dickhead of a sister. she knew vi was a piece of shit, a sleaze at best, especially after her and her ex broke things off, but this really takes the cake.

a surprise to everyone, you especially if you knew she was there, jinx leaves. she’s too angry to think straight but she knows one thing, she needs to be alone when she’s like this. for the benefit of anyone who might cross her.

the night lingers on and you continue having fun with vi, unbeknownst to both of you, jinx was crafting her cruelest plan yet.

-

jinx manages to act normal for the following couple of weeks, despite her literally wanting to kill her sister and have you watch.

until finally, it was time to make the both of you suffer the consequences of your actions.

the first step was breaking into your apartment, that was easy. she had the key she made herself a few months into your relationship and she was no stranger to popping by when you were asleep to check on you. she didn’t really class it as ‘breaking in’ though, since she has a key that unlocks the door. sometimes jinx wonders to herself if she is actually sick in the head, but she chalks up her actions to her love for you.

next, jinx had to set up for her plan. she dragged a chair from your dining table into the middle of your apartment, the open space between the kitchen and the living room. she laid out a couple of other items by the chair, but she’ll get to those later.

what’s left was done in a haze of anger. of revenge. now all she had to do was wait for you to come home.

she was sat on the counter, swinging her legs when she hears the lock click in your front door. here goes.

you see jinx first, setting your bag down and kicking off your shoes. “oh, hey baby.” you notice the glint in her eye, the one you see when she’s angry.

“are.. you okay?”

jinx says nothing, just glancing behind her to the chair she had setup earlier. you follow her gaze and gasp when you finally see what she’s done.

vi bound to the chair by the same turquoise rope jinx had used on you so many times, in situations you could say were the complete opposite to the one you had just got into.

instinctively, you start to rush towards vi, until you feel something cold on your arm stopping you. you look to jinx and see her arm outstretched in front of you. clutched in her hand was a gun.

your eyes widened. you knew she had knives but not a gun. when you thought about it though, it wasn’t too surprising. you realise how you’ve kind of just ignored how fucked up she is.

“jinx. it’s.. you need to calm down,” you try your best to hide the tremble in your voice. anything to try and spare your, vi’s, all of your lives.

jinx lowers her arm and hops off the counter. she paces slowly between you, rooted to the spot, and vi, breathing heavily in the chair she was tied to.

“i am calm. you guys are the ones that need to calm down.” she definitely does not sound calm. her eyes are wide and hands trembling, she’s manic.

vi makes eye contact with you, you can see she’s just as surprised as you. i mean, it’s probably a good thing this hasn’t happened before, right?

jinx stops in front of you and gently takes her hand. her hands are warm, soft. feels strange given the situation. she pulls you closer to vi, closer, closer, until the three of you can feel each other’s breath on your faces.

you see the glint of the gun in between your faces. your breath shakes as it sways towards you, to vi, to jinx.

“i wonder.. who deserves this the most?” jinx mused, as if she was talking to herself.

“you see, there’s one bullet in here, and i don’t know who’s gonna get it.”

tears fall from your eyes now. you regret dismissing how crazy jinx is, and roping vi, her own sister, into this mess.

the gun swings back to you and you hear jinx click off the safety, the metal grinding. her hands are trembling, from adrenaline no doubt. she’s enjoying this. her finger crawls its way to the trigger, and she pulls back, agonisingly slow.

your eyes squeeze shut, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sob. after what feels like hours, the trigger ticks. silence. are you dead? you can’t even hear vi’s breathing.

“ah.” jinx’s voice pierces your eardrums. you’re alive.

your knees buckle, but jinx doesn’t let you fall. she catches you and holds you up with surprising force. you glance at her and through the blur of your tears, she’s smiling.

“looks like it’s either me or you, sis,” she laughs while tapping vi on the chest with the barrel.

she turns to you. “who should go first? whoever you like the most, up to you.”

so that’s what this is about. jinx has got jealous before, never to this extent though.

you beg her to stop over and over, barely able to get your words out as tears fall down your cheeks. pleading, you reach up to jinx’s face with violently shaking hands, trying anything to get her to stop.

she swats your hand away with the gun, causing you to gasp and cry harder. you have to use every cell in your body not to scream.

“choose one of us,” she orders.

you literally cannot speak now, you’re hyperventilating while looking between the two sisters. vi looks equally as scared as you do. she hasn’t said a word.

“mkay. we’ll go with violet here since you like her so much.” the gun moves to vi’s jaw. jinx’s finger flexes on the trigger. she flashes a grin at you, she’s not done yet though.

the sound of the trigger being pulled rings through your apartment. nothing. vi is alive, letting out a loud breath and she slumps down in the chair, as much as the rope restraining her will allow.

“uh ohh..” jinx practically sings. “my turn. we all know what that means.”

she brings the gun under her own jaw. the truth is, there aren’t any bullets in the gun. she knows that. she just needs to scare both of you as much as she can. of course she doesn’t actually want to hurt you.

she pulls the trigger faster than expected. you cry out, this time jinx lets you fall to your knees.

again, nothing.

jinx lets her head flop down, looking between you and vi with low eyes.

“i was just messin’ with you guys! there ain’t any bullets in here. wouldn’t actually kill ya,” she’s laughing. after all this she’s laughing.

“you,” she prods vi in the chest with one pale finger. “you can stay away from her.”

she crouches to your level on the floor. “and you can stop givin’ me reasons to do shit like this. mkay baby?”

you weakly nod. you just need this to be over.

“great! see you later, love ya.” she pecks your forehead before skipping out of your apartment.

she leaves everything behind. the gun, vi still in the chair, you sobbing.

what. the. fuck.

[petday]

Do you think that it is okay to be "slow" at art? I have problems with ADHD and I can never get things out very quickly... while I still improve, learn, and end up finishing things, it often takes me way longer than it should. It ends up being a little stressful because my friends can output drawings a lot quicker, even in doodle format, whereas even for just doodles it can take me at least an hour at times. This makes things like drawpiles a bit hard to do as well.

Yes, it is okay to be "slow" in art.

"Speed" is relative. You are quite fast in movement speed in comparison to a different person.

Going further, there are infinite points to compare your speed against. "Was I the fastest I could possibly be when depicting this character with these series of lines?" Well, there are infinite different series of lines you could have drawn, infinite influences that any one person can have, infinite life experiences, thus no two people will ever draw exactly the same. A person can draw faster than you, but their drawings are different than yours. Even when people emulate each other, there is something about each person that makes their differences clear eventually – attitude, subject matter, tendencies, choice of material... "Would my friend draw this picture faster than I could?" You can ask yourself such questions but it would be impossible to answer, because you are the person who made the drawing, thus whatever 'speed' was required for the drawing was exactly the 'speed' at which you made the drawing, otherwise the drawing would not exist at all.

If you wish to draw 'faster', you can avoid some actions. You can paint without use of the undo button, you do not have to flip the canvas, you do not have to spend time reading color theory, you can just draw. You can qualify even the messiest drawing as a 'finished' drawing. That's what I enjoy.

However, if you avoid actions that you enjoy for the purpose of 'saving time', you may end up desiring such actions, and you may regret your faster pace. Contrary to the belief that 'fast is best', being 'slow' can be preferable over being 'fast', because you are enjoying the actions that cause you to work at a slower pace.

In this world, I particularly dislike the focus on "high speed" as if it is an innately positive quality. It is a neutral quality. Of course, you should be fast in some emergency scenarios. But there is no 'perfect' future, so I do not see why humans rush towards this imaginary 'perfect' future. There are no 'perfect' pictures, so there is no rush to reach such a 'perfect' state. I was happy to refresh an artist's blog in 2006 and see a new picture once every few months. Also, there were some websites in which you could view the time-lapse video of a person's drawing, and some people spent hours and hours. There was no ability to edit the video, so you could watch people redraw things over and over, scrap various ideas, focus on different parts of a drawing, and so on. Even if the 'completed' drawing looked 'perfect' to me at first glance, the person might have taken a lot of time. I had fun watching their videos. Others would draw quickly, so their videos were short. That was cool too. I didn't feel either was superior over the other.

I like a slow pace. My speed varies because life and thoughts vary. I have spent weeks on some of my favorite works. I have spent months thinking about something before finally drawing about it. In artwork, you can spend an eternity. Ideas can mutate into different ideas if you leave them alone for a long time. There is no pressure to act immediately. That is great.

Perhaps you can make things with friends who do not usually draw. You may find that they have a fun insight in comparison to the friends who are experienced at drawing. 'High experience in drawing' can also result in 'doing things only in the way that we are taught is the correct way' which can result in 'repeating the same ideas and techniques.' That is fine, but 'low experience in creating art' can result in great art because they do not follow the common 'rules' that are popularized in various art communities, so they can make awesome, surprising artwork without consciously thinking about making something 'good'.

I am 'slow' in comparison to my friends. Drawing with friends was difficult to enjoy. "Well, I will just doodle fun things at the bottom of the page. Oh, others have already painted complex things." It's alright. It became fun when I stopped thinking much while drawing. You can doodle at your own pace, true friends will not judge you. Also, if you do not enjoy drawing with others, even if you make great effort to enjoy it, it is OK. There are other activities to enjoy with friends too. I can enjoy drawing with others sometimes, but other times, I prefer to draw alone.

[tubattutu]

Held and Handled

summary: pegging your sweet boyfriend for the first time.

pairing: idol!huening kai x fem!reader

warnings: pegging, reader uses a strap on, sub!kai, dom!reader, soobin has a gf, petnames (babe, baby, hun), kai is sensitive and loud asf, as always lmk if i missed some !

a/n: merry christmas eve and happy holidays !!!!! been wanting to write something like this for a whileeeee so enjoy <3

"i swear man, that food was so good." soobin commented, taking a sip of his drink he had left over from the restaurant him and kai had just went to.

kai just chuckled, walking back to the dorm with his best friend. he kinda just zoned out as soobin talked about something he couldn’t recall, until a question caught him from his zoned out state.

“so how’s it going with y/n?” he asked curiously, sipping on his drink once more as he glanced over at kai, both of them still walking towards their dorm building. “mmh.. pretty good, actually.” kai replied, glancing down at the ground to his shoes, his hands in his pant pockets.

“really? nothing interesting?” soobin frowned, chuckling, still looking over at kai.

kais mind was all over the place, thinking and deciding whether or not he should mention what he was thinking… maybe soobin could help, maybe suggest something.

“uhh… well… i just.. i have a problem..” kai sighed, watching his feet move in rhythm with soobins. “problem? what’s up?” soobin asked, sounding a bit concerned.

“well… i guess lately whenever me and y/n do stuff it’s like.. kinda boring..” kai expressed and glanced over at soobin, the wind slightly blowing his hair. “oh? really?” soobin grinned, suddenly getting an idea in his head at the mention.

“you should try pegging.”

“pegging? are you serious?” kais eyebrows raised, surprised at the suggestion. “yeah, pegging. me and my girlfriend tried it a couple times and the first time we did it, it was probably the fastest i ever came.” soobin explained a bit too confidently. kai just made a face at that, but then started to think about it.

“well- what if y/n’s not comfortable with that? and won’t that like.. hurt?” kai questioned, frowning in confusion. “i mean, of course it’ll hurt at first but you’ll probably adjust to it. when you go visit her tonight you should talk to her about it. maybe she’ll be fine with the idea.” soobin nodded towards kai, taking a sip of his drink.

kai hummed in response, thinking about the suggestion.

— ♡

by the time he’d got to your apartment, you were already back from work. you both lied in eachothers arms on the couch, watching tv, when he suddenly remembered what soobin had suggested to him earlier that day. he sighed, unsure if he should even bring the idea up.

“uh- babe? can i talk to you about something?” he asked, stroking your hair back gently and softly, feeling the smooth strands between his fingers. “yeah, of course baby. whats wrong?” your head shifts up to look up at him from his chest, his warm body engulfing yours.

“well.. i was talking to soobin earlier today about how.. i just think lately when we.. y’know, do stuff, it just feels kinda boring and repetitive.. and he suggested something new for me to try,” he explained, a soft blush growing on his now pink cheeks. “… what did he say?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and curiosity.

“he uhh… he suggested.. like.. pegging-?” he said embarrassedly. he swore he felt like his face had became a tomato. he was so incredibly embarrassed.

it was quiet for a moment, none of you speaking for what it felt like minutes but was only seconds, before you spoke up. “pegging?” it was quiet again, only for just a second again. “yeah- pegging… we don’t have to, i was just wondering if you’d like to try it sometime or..”

“yeah, i’m down..” you agreed, nodding subtly as well. you were a bit surprised at the idea though. you didn’t really expect your sweet boyfriend to be into pegging..

“really? when should we do it though?” he asks, shifting just a bit underneath you to get comfy, his fingers running through your hair once more. “whenever you can, i guess..” you suggest, lying your head back on his chest.

“this weekend? after work?” he rubs your back softly, staring down at your pretty face.

“mhm..”

— ♡

it was finally friday. for the rest of the week kai had been thinking about tonight. he was just so excited, but also nervous. how would it feel? would it feel as good as soobin described? he hoped it wouldn’t hurt too bad at first…

he was actually pretty dedicated to it though. he even went out of his way to go to the adult store and buy a strap on so the two of you could just go straight to it.

“babe, i’m home!” you call out, placing your purse onto the island of your kitchen and slipping off your shoes. you’d knew he’d be here by the time you got home. he waited for you in your bedroom, and when you opened the door and looked over at him, he looked up from his phone and smiled at the sight of his pretty girlfriend.

“hey baby..” you smile, climbing into bed next to him and kissing his lips. it seemed like you completely forgot about what you two were gonna do tonight. he hums and kisses you back, rubbing your side before pulling away to speak. “do you still wanna try.. that thing i mentioned a couple days ago?”

his question brought the memory back up into your head. you smile and nod after a moment, kissing his cheek. “are you sure you wanna do this? aren’t you scared i’m gonna like.. accidentally hurt you or something?” you ask worriedly, rubbing his cheek with your thumb softly.

“well, i mean.. yeah, but we can just go slow at first…” kai reassured you, smiling and stroking your pretty hair. “and.. are we even ready? like do you already have the..” you hint, and he already knew what you were talking about. he nodded, reaching down underneath the bed and pulling out the strap on. your cheeks flush, flustered at the sex toy.

“oh.. are- are you sure i’m not like… gonna hurt you with that?” you question, your eyes analyzing it worriedly. he chuckled, handing it to you. “i’ll be fine hun..”

you nod, sighing and taking the strap on, your fingers grazing the fake cock for a moment to feel the material.

and soon you both were already in position. the strap on was already around your hips, meanwhile kai was already prepared underneath you with his cock leaking precum, his legs spread for you. you reached out to rub his thighs, your eyebrows furrowing in concern.

“i don’t wanna hurt you…” you spoke, still worried as hell. “babe, i’ll be fine, i promise… if you hurt me i’ll tell you..” he reassured you once more, softly rubbing your hand that was on his thigh.

his constant reassurance made you feel a bit better. you swallow nervously and adjust the length that was lathered with lube, rubbing a bit of lube on his entrance before finally sliding the fake cock into his hole. his breath hitches, whimpering, his walls clenching and unclenching around the length.

you glance up, seeing the look of slight discomfort on his face and you immediately felt worried again. you stopped moving, “are you okay baby? did i hurt you?”

“m’ fine.. jus’ burns a little… keep going slow..” he softly spoke, reaching out to hold your hand. you hold his back, squeezing it soothingly and slowly sliding in further until you eventually bottomed out. he lets out a whiny moan, squeezing your hand tightly..

once the burning sensations faltered, he untensed and swallowed thickly. “you can move now..” he confirmed. at that, you gently held his hips, slowly and softly thrusting in and out of his tight hole. he cried out from the feeling, the fake cock brushing against all the right spots.

you glance up at his face once more just to check up on him, the worry you felt faltering a bit. you decide to test the waters, moving a little quicker into him, making sure to be gentle and careful just in case you accidentally hurt him.

“y/n-“ he moaned, his breath heavy as he desperately reached down to grip onto the sheets. “faster..” he whined.

gladly, you start to move even faster, his jaw dropping open while loud moans and cries spilled from his mouth uncontrollably. “y/n-! s-so good!” his breath came out in short, soft gasps, his cock bouncing against his stomach with each quick thrust.

his moans sounded so adorable to you, so sensitive and cute. you start to slow down, letting him catch his breath just for a moment. he pants, a little disappointed you slowed down, but was thankful.

“fuck… y/n that—“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before you suddenly started your thrusts again, this time a little too fast. he almost screamed, his thighs trembling as his prostate was pounded into over and over again. he cried out your name over and over again, his eyes tearing up and his desperate moans getting louder as you reached down to stroke his hard cock. he swore he felt like his legs were going to give out right then and there. his cock finally bursted with so much spurts of cum, covering his tummy and some of his chest with his own seed.

he pants as you slowed down, your thrusts now gentle and slow to help him ride out his powerful orgasm.

“are you okay..? i didn’t hurt you right?” you ask, rubbing his thighs softly and soothingly.

“i-i’m okay.. felt so good..” he spoke almost quietly, his breath still heavy. you hum at that, gently pulling out and cleaning him up, before the two of you finally head to bed, snuggling up in each others arms.

[keferon]

Picking up from the end of The Blurr Chapter – Swerve has a bad case of survivor's guilt

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He's been to another planet.  How can he have been to another planet, when he didn't even know it existed? 

Swerve can't stop thinking about it as he wanders aimlessly out of the medibay.

He's been to another planet.  He has been to another planet.  To another planet.

He must have been.  Because he knows Jazz.  And Jazz is real.  And if Jazz is real….

Swerve's spiral of thoughts screech to a halt.  Because if Jazz is real….

The idea alone is enough to send him careening back through the hallways towards where he had abandoned Jazz and Prowl moments earlier.

"JAZZ!"  Swerve shouts as soon as he has eyes on the duo.

"Hey," Jazz says, smiling casually as Swerve skids to a halt in front of him.  "What's the rush?  Where'd you run off to?"

"Never mind that," Swerve says urgently. "Earth, you know where it is?  You're from there?  It's real?"

"Yes.  Earth's real.  My home planet.  I—"

"The Mecha program--" Swerve cuts across whatever Jazz was about to say.  "That was real too?"

"Yes.  I…are you sure I don't know you?"  Jazz asks.

"Blurr," Swerve blurts out, swallowing back the acrid fuel trying to rise up his intake.  "Was there a Blurr associated with the program? Did you know him?"

"Are you kidding me?  Blurr was the program.  Or at least that's what they wanted everyone to believe.  Face plastered on posters and billboards and merchandise.  Fastest man alive, all that.  Everyone on Earth knows of Blurr.  Doubt anyone really knew the man though, if you follow me, not really the friendly type.  Why're you wondering?  And how do you even—"

Swerve doesn't here the rest of Jazz's question.  Doesn't even really see Jazz and Prowl standing in front of him anymore.  Because….

"Oh," he groans.

Oh.

Blurr is real (was real, because he was dying, must be dead by now).

It was all real.

And Swerve left him there, dying.  Did nothing.  He had done nothing but stand there and talk at the man as he was dying.  And then left before Blurr could ask him the question he wanted to know the answer to.  A dying man's last request, not just any man's – Blurr's – last request, and Swerve had ignored him.  Swerve's last words to Blurr, the last words he'd likely ever heard had been that it wasn't real.

And maybe it hadn't been for Swerve, but for Blurr it had been very real.

The man had been dying.  How much must his words have hurt on top of all the injuries Blurr had already sustained?  Even if he hadn't known any better.  Even though Swerve wouldn't have been able to do anything even if he'd tried.  His hand had gone straight through Blurr's when he tried to reach out.

"You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you."

His own words to Blurr echo back across his mind.  He might be able to explain his action or lack thereof, but does it excuse it?  No.

Would he, could he, should he have done something different?  If he had called for a medic earlier?  If he could have stopped Blurr from running into the building that last time?  If he could have somehow pulled the man from the wreckage?  If he had installed more safety measures to Blurr's mech – measures he knew it was lacking in favor of looks and speed?

Or if he hadn't…if he hadn't left Blurr?  Would Blurr have made it back if Swerve had stayed with him?

Because Swerve remembers what Blurr had admitted just before his own words – that he had a hard time remembering.  And he'd seen Blurr's confidence as they worked together – Swerve marking the map and giving directions and Blurr pulling people out.  But without the map, and without Swerve to give directions….

Had Blurr stumbled, lost that confidence on his own?  Had he strayed, unable to remember Swerve's hasty set of directions that he'd so frantically been repeating?  Had that made him just a fraction too slow?

Would Blurr have been fast enough had they stayed together?  Swerve can almost believe he would have been.

But no, the man had to choose that moment to prove that Blurr was every bit the hero he was sold to be, and that Swerve had imagined when he stared at the posters.

Originally, he had hated Blurr for constantly having an entourage at his beck and call.  For constantly demanding people follow him around and help him and never even caring about something as basic as a name.  Had hated when Swindle bailed and Blurr had turned and enlisted him into going back into the building.

But now, now he hates more that Blurr hadn't asked for his help when he needed it.  Hates that the man had left Swerve behind.  Hates that his life had mattered more than Blurr's own – that Swerve's guaranteed survival might have cost Blurr any chance at his.  Hates that he knows now that his going would have cost nothing, that he would have survived regardless.

Fuck.

He was a coward.  He left Blurr.  First to run back into the building alone.  And then to die alone.

Fuck.

Swerve doesn't even know for sure that the man did die.  Has no idea what happened to him.  Because he left.

He needs to know.  Because he owes his memory of the man that much.  Because it turns out that for all he had thought Blurr an aft, he could never completely stop caring about the man.

Swerve squeezes his optics shut, ignoring the prick of coolant at the corners of his lids, and concentrates.  Concentrates harder than anything he's ever concentrated on before.  He's been to Earth.  Had manifested himself on a planet he didn't even know existed.  If he could do it by accident, he ought to be able to do it again intentionally.

Get back to Earth.  Find out what happened to Blurr.  That's all that matters. 

Swerve feels his hand shaking and clenches them into fists.

Get back to Earth.  Find Blurr.  Get back.

He sways slightly, pressure building across his helm.

"…erve…swerve.  Swerve.  SWERVE!"  Jazz's shout breaks through his concentration and Swerve watches as the faint, flickering projection of his human form right in front of him fades back to nothing.

Useless.  All that effort and concentration for something barely tangible that hadn't even managed to reach beyond himself, Jazz, Prowl, and this hallway.  He's never making it back to Earth.  He's never going to know.  He needs to know.  Needs to get back to Earth.

"You alright, Swerve?" Jazz is asking, looking worried.  Swerve wonders how long he's been standing there, silent in front of the others while they have no idea what's been going through his processor.

"You are Swerve, right?" Jazz asks as a follow-up.

"Yes," Swerve says, "Yes, I'm Swerve.  That's how you know me, how I know you.  And I need to get to Earth, now.  It's an emergency.  Please.  Please, Jazz."

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(Credits: The "You know that explains, but doesn't excuse you." line belongs to Keferon from their writing in the Blurr chapter.)

G O D D A M N ANON. WHO ARE YOU SHARE YOUR GEO LOCATION I JUST NEED TO TALK /J