#this is pretty much all I remember from it lol

[autistic-zukoao3]

I wanna share too.

My grandpa was raised very staunchly Catholic by parents who grew up during WW1, and had it drilled into his head that it doesn't matter if you're happy or not, so long as you're pleasing others and don't tarnish your image in any way.

My grandpa was incredibly racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, you name it. (CONTENT WARNING: childhood sexual abuse, incest)

The transphobia was made even worse because his ex-wife (my grandma) had been sexually abused by her transgender older sister for basically her entire childhood.

(END of content warning)

So, when I realized I was trans, I was fucking scared. I didn't think I'd be kicked out, but I didn't think I'd be supported either. My mom and grandpa had made it very clear that transgender people were confused perverts. I knew that wasn't true, of course. But I knew what they thought.

After Leelah Alcorn committed suicide and was buried in the wrong clothes under the wrong name, I decided I didn't want to die a girl. I didn't want to be buried as a girl. I didn't want to be remembered as a girl. This also kept me alive. Anyways, I wrote a letter to my mom and left it in the bathroom for her to find in the morning. I asked her in the letter not to bring it up until after school. She complied.

She didn't handle it well, initially. It ruined our relationship for a long time. She made it about herself and thought she had failed me as a mother, and that I only "wanted" to be a boy because she was a woman and had been "weak" too many times and I didn't want to end up like her.

Eventually, we came to some kind of understanding. She got me to get my haircut like a dude. She bought me the binders I asked for (which btw weren't body safe at all, but I figured that out after a year), and she told the school to call me by my new name and male pronouns. She fought for me to have that right in school. Finally, she was relaxed enough about it that I asked her to tell Grandpa too. So she did.

To both of our surprise, my grandpa was the first one to start using the right pronouns. Immediately. He cried too, since I had chosen to be named the same as him. This was a coincidence, but I'm gonna let him die thinking I named myself after him. He deserves that. He told me how much he loved me, and he started treating me like he would a boy my age. He started cussing in front of me, or making dirty jokes. He encouraged me to help him work on the cars (which wasn't a gender thing, but it was gender affirming regardless), and gave me advice on how to masculinize my look more. He told me that he would do whatever he could to help us pay for any surgeries, and offered to ask his rich siblings for help paying as well.

There was a downside to my grandpa's enthusiasm however. He was so proud of me for being transgender and myself despite what others think that he started introducing me to EVERYONE as his transgender grandson. Holy fuck. He was outting me to everyone and anyone who even looked at us. It was terrifying. He had no idea what he was doing. He was just too damn proud to think "maybe this isn't a wise idea". Thankfully, everyone reacted well. We live in a rural, very red area, with shitty education. Yet, it was the old white redneck men that reacted the best. Most of the time they got a fat smile on their face, said something like "I'll be damned!" and shook my hand excitedly. They always gripped too hard, but I don't think it was on purpose. Just a uh, have a firm handshake or you're less of a man, gender role type bullshit y'know?

I did tell my grandpa eventually that while he meant well, he was putting a target on my back, which he hadn't even thought about, as I said. It was pretty funny. Put his meaty claw over his mouth and was like "Oh shit, I shouldn't have done that" lol.

My mom is fully supportive now, and even my grandma is these days (only took her 10 years and almost dying from cancer). I don't want anything to do with my grandma though, for unrelated reasons.

But yeah! You can find the support in the least expected places. My grandpa is still a bit transphobic, but he's working on unlearning that shit. He even thinks the idea of neopronouns is cool, though he doesn't understand why someone would use them. But he still tries to use them once he's told.

When I came out, I was SO scared I was gonna get disowned. I wrote a letter to my parents, sent it to their emails, put a physical copy on the counter, and left the house for a few hours to give them time. In that time I tried coffee for the first time, which was a dreadful idea, and got all jittery. I kept waiting for a text or something but nothing happened.

After a few hours, I didn’t hear back from them so I went home. My parents were home and had stacked a bunch of groceries on top of the letter without opening it. They said “hi” and I said “hi” and went down stairs to the basement. I held my dog and panicked about what to do. My sister, who knew that I had written them a letter of great importance, told me they hadn’t read it yet. She also told me she could ask them to do so. I consented to this and stayed in the basement. A few minutes later my dad knocked on the door and poked his soft smooth little nerd head in and said “hey buddy” and I started crying so hard I almost vomited. He came over and gave me a BIG hug and said that it was gonna be OK, he was OK with this, he knew it must have been hard but he was here for me. He told me he and my mom had already talked years before they had me about how if they had to pick between their faith and their child they’d pick their child. It was a very sweet moment. I came out to my mom later that evening and we were both bawling the whole time.

The day after I came out to my parents, I came out to my brother @inbabylontheywept at a Mexican restaurant and he took it like a champ. That evening my mom took me for a walk and looked almost angry - she said she wanted to make sure that I didn’t use being a woman as an excuse to not go to grad school. I told her I wouldn’t and she instantly looked relieved and happier.

My dad, on the other hand, seemed to struggle with it. He kept asking me if I had a boyfriend, and I told him I did not. He kept asking me if I wanted to go clothes shopping with him and I did not. He kept asking me if I would let him go to some of my shows, and I had NO idea what he was talking about.

Finally, 6 months after coming out, of awkward misgendering and questions that didn’t make sense from my dad, he excitedly pokes his soft smooth little nerd head into my bedroom again and says “I found a movie about Your People.” My people. I was absolutely bewildered, but he was so excited and I knew he had been trying SO hard so I watched it with him. It was The Birdcage, and it was amazing. It also was revelatory in that I finally realized why my initially-supportive father seemed to be having such a hard time with my pronouns and stuff - he didn’t know what the difference between trans and doing drag was. After the movie he again asked if I would invite him to one of my shows, and I said, “Hey dad, you know how about half the world is women?” And he said “yeah,” and I said “Well, see, I’m on that half now. I’m not doing drag.” And it was like a switch flipped in his brain. He was like “omg that’s so easy? I was so confused about what to call you when?”

Anyway, my parents are charming and my family has been so kind and patient with me, I like sharing the stories of my little wins with them.

[abbyslovergirlxo]

Intrusion

Sevika x Ambessa x Reader

Word count: 3.9k

synopsis; You, the pretty enforcer are tasked with retrieving very important documents from none other than Lead Commander Ambessa Merdarda. Sounds rather easy, until you see Silco’s right hand woman bent over her desk.

(Tw; dom!Ambessa, softdom!Sevika, wlw, overstimulation, degradation, enforcer!reader, strap on, sex, biting, sub!reader, sub!Sevika, crying)

Song: Love is a bitch, Two face

Side note: lmk if you guys like this and I’ll do another ambessa/sevika one shot. tbh I’m obsessed with them so I’ll probably drop it anyways lol. Also I’ve never watched the show so if anything is inaccurate don’t hate me, the characters are just fine shit. Anyways, hope u enjoy 🫶

When you first walked into the tall building, you hadn’t expected today to be such a troublesome one. Your commanding officer has tasked you with retrieving a few important documents from Lead Commander, Ambessa Merdarda. When given the task you did well to hide your excitement but nonetheless it was there. You had seen Ambessa, as an enforcer she was starting to become a regular face to be greeted by. But you’d never come close to her and the idea of that was intoxicating. You’d heard rumors about her, the war lord who never took no for an answer and never knew defeat. You’d admired her, her ruthlessness made her one of the most praised women in the world. One day you’d hoped to become as renowned as her. Knowing it was wrong and out of turn, you wondered if you’d be able to ask her a few questions about her strategies when you made it to her office.

The walls were decorated with precise and intricate details. White and blue and gold peeked all over. Sunlight peered in through the huge windows, everything about it screamed luxury. You nodded your head off to the guards posted at the large grand doors that led to the wing with Ambessa’s office.

Your heart jumped out of your chest over and over as you neared that golden and blue door. But you found courage once you reached it, letting off two swift knocks. Silence was all that met you. You decided to be a bit patient, not wanting to barge in. But as the minutes passed you remembered your commander's voice in the back of your head, pestering you about just how important it was that you got them.

Minutes kept slipping so with a slight irritation slipping over you, you respectively knocked two more times. There was a bit more force behind it this time but respectful of course. More silence was accompanied by it. You bit your lip, anxious and worried.

You knew that it wasn’t your fault that the Lead Commander hadn’t answered despite it being known that she was in her office. But you also knew the higher ups rarely cared about ‘excuses’ like such. If you were lucky you’d get chewed out in front of your comrades.

Usually you took any consequences head on, no matter how obscene, like the good soldier you were. But something made your stomach churn to delay the delivery of something of such urgency. You took a deep breath, telling yourself that she’ll understand.

I ’m not knocking the door down or anything, she won’t mind…just open the door

You tried to have your thoughts aid your anxieties and it almost worked until you remembered the scowl on her face a week earlier when a fellow enforcer had approached her disrespectfully. Just the remembrance of such a glare sent shivers down your spine.

Somewhat cowardly, you decided to suck up whatever would inevitably be thrown at you when you showed up with no papers. Disappointed, you put your head down, ready to turn.

Until a muffled groan slipped past the confines of the large door. If it hadn’t been for how observant you were, you undoubtedly would’ve missed it. But upon hearing it you flinched. Worry and fear overtook at the idea of what it could’ve been.

Was Ambessa ok? Had someone slipped into her office and hurt her? Is that why she couldn’t come to the door?

Without so much as a second thought, you bolted through the door, gun raised and finger steady over the trigger.

Any heroism brewing inside of you preparing to ‘save the day’ instantly dissipates. The scene in front of you was so lewd that you couldn’t do anything besides immediately re-holster your gun and attempt to leave. Unfortunately the attempt was halted, the panting voice of Ambessa reaching you.

“ Close the door. Turn around.”

For a second, you let your mind roam over the possibilities this could end with. You cursed yourself for your listening skills, wishing you’d never heard that noise in the first place. You remembered your comrades talking about some rather obscene things they’ve walked in on and they found pretending worked best.

In a last ditch effort, you kept your eyes pointed at the large door. Hand still clutching the handle.

“ I was simply coming to retrieve the documents for Commander Brinman. I apologize for my intrusion, due to the noise, I assumed there was trouble. I will take my leave immediately and return to retrieve them later today if able, Commander Merdarda.”

You heard a chuckle followed by a whine to which you presumed was the brown skinned woman bent over the table, the ones whose legs shook slightly…

You shook your head slightly, cursing yourself once again for the blush that crept on your face.

“ I didn’t ask you for any of that information, little one. Close the door and turn around. That’s an order.”

Desperately you let out one last attempt. Your voice came out weak this time, that soldier formality leaving you.

“ I promise you, Commander Merdarda, that absolutely nothing that has taken place in this office today shall leave it. I swear it.”

“ Well I could’ve told you that. You don’t seem the chatty type, clearly not the listening type either… I won’t repeat myself on my previous orders.”

Her voice sounded less patient this time, so reluctantly you closed the door. The loud click sounded throughout the room, and not a moment after you turned your body to face them. Embarrassment settled on your face as you still refused to actually look, your eyes trained at the floor.

“ Eyes up here, don’t be so rude.”

The moment you looked up, she was already staring at you. Your chest rose and fell a bit faster upon seeing the sight, again. Ambessa stood proudly, muscles and chest exposed for you to see. And though her counterpart did also seem to have muscle you immediately deduced that she wasn’t in the same state Ambessa was. Her hair fell over her face, pants crumpled around her ankles as she lay there, still shaking.

Ambessa smiled at you, but it was clear that it wasn’t a friendly one.

“ Look, we have a guest. Have some manners, or do you undercity dogs not have any of those?”

The harshness yet playfulness in her tone made you shift your legs slightly, still staring at Ambessa. The woman beneath her simply grumbled something but you didn’t catch it. It was hard when your heartbeat was thrumming out of your ears practically.

Ambessa rolled her eyes, using her large hand to tug at the hair of the woman. Another grumble left her, this time clearly more strangled. Guiding her head to look up at you, you nearly collapsed onto the floor upon seeing her face. Sure a few strands still protected her but you’d know that face anywhere.

Any enforcer would. Sevika, Silcos right hand woman. Instantly you scrunch your face up at the sight, luckily Ambessa was nice enough to drop her head back onto the desk, of course not before she forced a ‘hello’ out of her.

“ What to do with you now, hm?”

That question alone was enough for you to not care that Noxus’s Lead Commander was fucking a known criminal in her office, worried about your own fate.

“ Like I said, Commander, I’ve seen nothing. I’ll say nothing.”

She frowned, almost as if she was bored by such a response.

“ I thought we already discussed that. I think you’d be much more interesting with all those clothes off.”

The blush you fought so hard to keep down came back with a vengeance. You stammered over your words but nothing actually came out. You peered over at Sevika, noticing that Ambessa was in fact still inside of her.

“ C-commander… I’m a s-soldier…”

“ Soldiers don’t like getting fucked?”

Your insides boiled at the thought. Your mind fed you images of your legs open, trembling like Sevikas, Ambessa large hands able to reach every and anywhere. It should’ve made you recoil, have you running out of the office and shouting for anyone nearby to come and see the ungodly actions happening in this very room. But it didn’t. It made your breath hitch. Desire pounced at you over and over. You’d always been trained to be the perfect, obedient, and efficient soldier. But there was nothing perfect about the way you gave in so easily to that little voice inside of your head.

You’d be lying if you said everything about the sight of them didn’t make your knees weak. You’d always preferred women but there were no women like Sevika and Ambessa where you’d come from. The disgust you felt for that Zaunite hunched over that desk held no weight against your attraction for her.

“ Well, child, what’ll be?”

“ Nobody will find out…right?”

Ambessa smiled evilly at the question. Yet she ignored it all together. She knew you were going to strip anyway. She knew it the moment you locked the door on your own will, she’d never told you to do that. And oh how she loved the look on your face as you accepted your situation, deciding that Ambessa was never going to give you such security in her answer.

Slowly but carefully you tugged at your clothes. Something Ambessa also hadn’t instructed. She held back a sly comment, picking up on how eager you were. And she didn’t miss the way Sevika clenched around her suddenly, as she watched you strip off the rest of your clothes. You hadn’t noticed either of their staring but god did you feel it.

If your parents were here they’d be so disappointed in you, hands trembling as you showcase your bare body to two women who looked like they were looking at dinner. But you had no space to harbor such a thought, not when Ambessas braid swung slightly, beckoning you over. You moved swiftly, that certain soldier walk about you.

“ Quite nice…”

Ambessa shamelessly checked you out, her eyes lingering concerningly long on your breast. You simply shrink beneath her gaze, her very presence demanding authority. And you saw no reason to grant her anything other than that.

“ How lucky I am, I’ll have to thank Brinman for sending such a pretty one. Alright Sevika, be a little useful for once. Make sure to devour her properly.”

“ Lay down for me then, pretty.”

You’d never heard her voice before. You hadn’t expected it to sound so enticing. Her low eyes and hanging hair made you desperate to be devoured, even if it was by a criminal. You nodded quickly, nervously laying on the desk, your pretty legs spread in front of a bent over Sevika. Ambessa pressed the strap deeper inside at the sight of it causing Sevika to grip the table. The sight the Wolf had infront of her made her want to eat you both alive. From her view she could see everything, your nervous face as Sevika trailed kisses up your thigh, Sevikas sweaty back exposed and flexing as she moved about. She also couldn’t miss the way your cunt clenched around nothing as the Zaunite got closer to that spot that you really needed to be touched.

As planned, the moment Sevika finally did start licking vigorously at your clit, Ambessa started her thrust back up again. Her pace was brutal, even you could tell despite the loud whines that slipped past your mouth. Sevika moaned aggressively into you, not able to contain herself.

“ Look at you two, filthy.”

“ o-oh god…commander–”

You moaned out for Ambessa despite the intense eye contact you held with Sevika. Her grey eyes bore into yours and you worried that alone might get you off faster. If Sevika had a piece of sanity left she would’ve told you to say her name, moan it out in that pornographic tone of yours. But Ambessa was ruthless, hitting her in all the right places. And this pace was no issue for her, her stamina was horrid and she had no signs of fatigue. Sevika trembled and pushed against her rhythmically, not wanting the pleasure to end.

Her eyes rolled repeatedly, struggling to hold that eye contact with you. But you didn’t mind it, quite the opposite. It made you bite your lip at the thought that every vibration that she set off into you was because of the tall woman behind her. To know every time she rolled her eyes she was closer to the edge, drove you crazy. You almost pulled at her hair, wanting her even closer. But cowardice struck your heart, secretly intimated of the strong wanted criminal from Zaun.

Pleasure overwhelmed you as Sevika continued, her face now drenched from everything you were giving her. You whined at the sight, noticing the wet glisten on her nose and chin.

Your hips bucked at her mouth over and over and over. Until that burning sensation was becoming unbearable.

Obedient as ever, you wailed out a request. Ambessa watched hungrily as your legs shook around Sevikas head, wetness dripping onto her leg from Sevikas cunt.

“ please! can I…c-can I come?”

“ I’m not the one between your legs.”

With tears in your eyes and your hands clenched, desperate to not let go until someone, anyone, told you that it was ok. Sevika nearly melted seeing the way you pleaded with her before even saying anything, your lips trembling. Her own orgasm was approaching quickly.

“ p-please…sevika…”

Through broken moans and stutters, “ yes…god yes.”

Ambessa smiled as you whispered a pathetic thank you, your body at war with itself while you finished all over her face. Ambessa could tell she was close, it was obvious from how hard she was pulling it in. Sevika still ate at you desperately despite you having come, instead of relenting she simply pulled your thighs in with her arms, trapping you.

Ambessa had told her to devour you properly, and she wasn’t going to do anything but that. She did falter at her speed for a second, once she heard Ambessa demand for her to finish ‘all over her cock’ and quote.

You whimpered out pleads and begs, but neither listened. All you could do was paw at her strong forearms which clearly was no match for you. And Sevika hadn’t even noticed the scratch marks you gave her, her own orgasm so intense that she was lost in it. And being the cutting woman she was, Ambessa fucked her throughout all of it, until she was satisfied with the alien sounds she pulled from Sevikas throat.

Sevika did stop once Ambessa pulled out, heaving and shaking. And yet she did manage enough energy to leave a few extra peppered kisses on your wobbly thighs.

“ Who would’ve known the brave enforcer made such noises?”

Her voice was one of pure velvet, it made something rush through you. Everything about Ambessa made you go crazy. Yet you didn’t respond, ignoring Ambessa who now was behind you, head in your neck leaving bruises on it. You only whined, breathing rapidly. Her rough hands rubbed all around your breast and stomach.

“ What would your comrades think? You’ve just opened your legs to a wanted criminal, quite easily as well. Did you enjoy it? Having a Zaunite eat your cunt?”

Her words were so vile and you had no answers for her. You couldn’t even think straight, let alone entertain such nasty comments. Instead you opted to begging, not caring how filthy you looked in front of them anymore.

“ can I have more, please?”

Ambessa noticed now that your begging was no longer only directed towards her, your desperation for permission now being sought out from both of them. She didn’t mind. If anything it made her day a whole lot more interesting.

She smirked into your neck before pulling away, looking down at Sevika who no longer was bent over. Instead she now stood tall too, her naked body making you blush. Sevika knew she held no authority when it came to Ambessa, it was obvious. But you? Those lustful eyes peering up at her, awaiting any instruction, so long as it meant they touched you, drove her further into corruption.

Ambessa simply stared at Sevika, allowing her to answer.

“ Since you asked so nicely. Go ahead and open these up for me.”

She tapped at your thighs that you now had shut. Obediently, you opened them. Ambessa left your side, making you miss how warm she was. You heard her rummaging through something behind you before you saw her hand Sevika a stark black toy. Your arousal spilled down your legs as you patiently watched and waited. You grew alive with anticipation as you watched Ambessa grip the back of Sevika’s neck, whispering something in her ear. It left you curious after seeing the way Sevika’s eyes furrowed and she clenched Ambessa’s wrist desperately, nodding softly.

Ambessa left her to come back to your side, this time though she towered over you, cupping your face in her hand. It was surprisingly gentle, the way she rubbed her thumb back and forth. She studied you, finding it enticing how pliable you were, legs open and ready for them to do anything to you. She wanted to leave you clawing at the floor by the time she was done with you and from the way you easily slumped into her hands, she knew she could.

All that distraction made you oblivious to Sevika having a strap now attached to her as well. Sevika walked in front of you, pulling your legs suddenly so that your cunt was mere inches away from her cock. You bit your lip, one hand gripping the table and the other squeezing Ambessa’s wrist that now sat on either side of your face.

Sevika smiled down at you, allowing you to finally get a clear view of her gapped teeth. You nearly swooned at the sight of it. You hadn’t noticed how gorgeous she truly looked with all the hair that previously stuck to her face. But now you could see everything, her plump breast, her large thighs and strong arms, and that fucking smile.

“ Just relax, sweetheart. I know you’ll do good.” She dipped two fingers inside of you causing you to let out a small moan. Sevika made sure to get every bit of them wet, it wasn’t difficult at all, the constantly leaking proving just how good her tongue had been to you. She almost didn’t want to pull out, loving how warm you were inside. But that all went out the door the moment she saw you throw you back after she drew sticky circles around your clit lazily.

“ You’re so fucking wet, I was that good?”

You nodded mindlessly, grinding your ass softly against the desk. Ambessa gripped your chin gently causing you to suddenly open your eyes.

“ Manners, little one. She asked you a question.”

“ yesss,i-it’s so good, it’s a-all sooo good…”

You struggled to get it all out, broken up but moans and wails. The speed of her fingers was blinding by now. But she didn’t want you to cum, not yet. She ripped her fingers away, giving a faux sympathetic glance.

Sevika gripped your thighs as she lined the toy up with your cunt, making a slight show of the sounds it made as it moved back and forth between your lips. You bucked your hips desperate to actually put it inside, you didn’t have to wait long before she was sinking it all the way in. She was slow to enter, sure to not hurt you. But she assumed that’d be difficult to do considering you were practically drenched.

Ambessa itched with lust as she watched the way Sevikas thrust picked up, her stomach flexing and growing wet from you. You moaned out her name hoarsely, grateful that finally something was being done.

“ So pretty… this cunt is fuckin—- ngh… perfect.”

Sevika groaned out, feeling the harness rub against her throbbing clit. She looked up at Ambessa, eyelids low and mouth hung open, panting.

“ Fuck her faster.”

She didn’t dare disobey, picking up the speed immediately. You cried out, feeling it hit inside of you even deeper. Your poor cunt clenched around it, hungry for more. Your whole body felt hot to the touch. You thought you were going to die, not sure how much longer you could hold on despite her having just started.

Sevika moved your legs so that they rose straight up, pulling you even deeper allowing her thrust to drive you insane. You felt her hot breaths against your calf, her breast brushing against your bare skin. Her moans grew louder but it was impossible to overtake yours, your throat ripping out the most obscene noises. You met her thrust as best as you could, knowing you could never get enough of the pleasure she was giving you, even if it was overwhelming.

“ C’mere.”

You felt Ambessa suddenly capture your lips, pulling your head up slightly to ravage you. She tasted like honey and you moaned into her. Her hands roamed all over, cupping your breast that bounced vigorously. She bit at your bottom lip, relishing in the way you whined her name, not commander, her name.

“ ambessaaa.”

She secretly crumpled at sound. Typically she’d have corrected you, and told you to do better with your etiquette. But she couldn’t bother with that when you were shaking now, you and Sevikas orgasm clearly close.

“ fuckkkk! m-m gonn— no!”

You screamed louder than ever, still desperately kissing at Ambessa’s scarred face. The pair admired your discipline, fighting off the orgasm that you knew threatened to spill at any moment.

“ ‘bessa! s-sevikaa! can I— cum! can I please?”

Sevika was so far gone, ignoring your question. She stuttered her thrust, biting into your ankle as her orgasm grew closer. Ambessa gave uncharacteristic sympathy, filling in for her. She leaned down even closer, whispering in your ear.

“ Sevika’s been doing such a good job, hasn’t she?”

A tear slipped down your face as you nodded, whimpering more and more. She kissed the tear away, loving how they so easily fell down your face.

“ So how about we let her cum first, have some etiquette? How about that?”

Quite sure it wasn’t a question, you only offered a pained yes. Sevika sped up slightly making you claw at Ambessa’s hand that rested on your breast. Sevika came silently, her mouth forming into an ‘o’ as she fucked herself through her orgasm while also fucking you.

You looked up at Ambessa, pleading. She shushed your cries, telling you to let go for her and Sevika. And Sevika despite being overstimulated continued to fuck you enthusiastically, refusing to not let your pussy cry for her again. And cry it did, you came so hard on her cock that you saw stars. Vision blurry and body weak, you trembled beneath both of their stares.

You heaved, struggling to catch your breath. But Ambessa noticed you trying to say something. She rubbed your face again leaving bruised kisses on your chest.

“ Speak up, mumbling won’t do much.”

“ more…please”

Sevika, whose chest also struggled to catch breath, made eye contact with Ambessa. Your mind was a heavy haze, not able to concentrate on anything. But you did capture Ambessa’s commanding voice.

“ You heard her, Sevika. Do it again.”

[dalishious]

(I can’t believe I finished this so fast… I basically blacked out and then it was done lol… Anyway, please remember that this is all just my personal opinion, and if you feel differently, that’s fine!)

Dragon Age: The Veilguard Review

Objectively speaking, Dragon Age: The Veilguard is a fun game that the average player is going to enjoy, especially if that average player is coming in without any prior knowledge to the Dragon Age franchise. I believe this is a good jumping-in spot for people who are curious about the world of Thedas. But in contrast, I have seen a lot of criticism from other hard-core fans that I largely agree with. However, it just so happens that most of the criticism I have is not enough to prevent me from overall enjoying the game. That is to say, for pretty much everything I did not like, there was also something I thought was great… Unfortunately, that makes it a little difficult to give a review. So, I’m going to do my best to keep things as clear and concise as possible by splitting up the “good” and the “bad” aspects of DATV.

The Positive

The best thing to come out of DATV is the new cast of characters that make up your companions and supporting associates. While I do think that some of them could have benefitted from more development time to flesh things out further, just judging what we ended up with, is mostly great. I especially found Emmrich and Bellara to be stand-out examples of strong personalities to grasp onto, whose personal stories really touched me in an emotional way.

DATV also has fun with some returning characters. For example, now that Solas is no longer hiding his identity, we get to see a character that both believably honours his part in Inquisition, while also providing a new, refreshing side to him. There are also a number of characters introduced in Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights that appear in the game, like my personal favourites Teia and Viago, who are an absolute delight to interact with!

I think the three act structure is good, albeit with act three being quite short. There are a few sequences that are an absolutely phenomenal mixture of storytelling and engaging gameplay, like all of Weisshaupt! I also really enjoyed stepping out of the main story every once and a while, and into Solas’s backstory through the Crossroads memories – what ended up being extra special about these is how they mirror Rook’s struggle so well, by the end. They are a nice touch.

The locations are beautifully constructed with smooth interactions of climbing, zip-lining, and essentially parkouring your way around, making them fun to explore! They also came with such distinct flavours and character in themselves that influenced a sense of truly experiencing different parts of Thedas, with different cultures.

The mechanic of building up strength with the different factions, and that actually having a huge impact with the ultimate showdown in the end of the game, makes side quests feel far less inconsequential than in Dragon Age: Inquisition by comparison. That, and they number far less.

I like that the story mode actually feels like a story mode; there were only a couple instances where I really had to worry about death, and even then, I was able to just toggle off the death with the customizable gameplay mechanics and continue on.

Finally, it would be remiss not to say that the character creator for DATV is the best BioWare has ever put out. I’d go as far as saying it’s one of the best in any RPG I’ve ever personally experienced. From the flexibility in morphing a character’s head and body between custom shapes, to the little details like sclera colour, vitiligo, and top surgery scars, makes it a shining example of what RPG’s should strive for. (My only critique here is that it would have been nice to have more skin colours.)

The Neutral

I hated the combat for pretty much the entire first act of the game. I found it too hard to keep up with, and too much like Mass Effect bullshit. I can’t say that it’s completely grown on me yet, but I don’t hate it anymore. It’s fine. So, I’m giving this a special little spot before I get into what I didn’t like all the way to the end.

The Negative

As mentioned above, I do think that there is more that could be done with some of the characters to really achieve their full potential. Davrin and Lucanis—while to be clear I still really enjoy as they are—come to mind first, in terms of those who would have benefited from more development time. Most of Davrin’s screen time just revolves around Assan rather than Davrin himself, and Lucanis is so restrained that it takes a while to really crack him open. Both of these characters have intentional personalities that make them harder to get to know, I understand that, but I feel that it would have been all the more rewarding to have more time dedicated to their company after earning their trust and possibly endearment. Instead, it feels like their romance and friendship with Rook are only half-complete, and then rushed to finish.

There are some companion interactions that are just… cringe. There is no other word for it. Now, this is nothing new for BioWare games, but I feel like the “pulling a Bharv” scene for example, was hitting an entirely new low. (If someone misgendered me and then just started doing push-ups instead of just saying “hey sorry about that, I’ll try to do better” I’d be annoyed, not satisfied.) I also felt like most of the temporary rivalries between companions were artificial in nature, rather than organically part of their characters that actually served a purpose. We already knew Emmrich likes books and Harding likes nature; we did not need a whole cutscene with them bickering about camping. (The exception to this is Davrin and Lucanis, who genuinely had room to grow as people out of their multiple confrontations, not just a one-off scene.)

The music in DATV is, for the most part, forgettable and bland. There is one piece that really stands out, and that’s “Where the Dead Must Go”, which is a real banger. I am not a fan of Hans Zimmer’s OST otherwise; I think it is phoned in, just like most of his work. I deeply wish BioWare would have just stuck with Trevor Morris. The best parts musically in this game are just Morris’s work re-used from Dragon Age: Inquisition.

There are certain parts of disjointedness that separates DATV from the past games that are just… bizarre. This is especially the case when it comes to elven lore. For example, Bellara saying she is afraid that elves will be harshly judged for the Evanrus, or Harding saying that elves are “thriving”… as if modern elves are not deeply persecuted across most of Thedas. It made me question more than once if there just was not time in development to do a proper canon-compliancy check with everything, perhaps?

I want finish this part by bringing up again that the biggest flaw in DATV is that it feels very corporate. To repeat what I said in this post: It is as if a computer ran through the game’s script and got rid of anything with “too much” political substance, in an overcorrection to be “safe”. But now that the edges have been so smoothed down to make a block into a ball, it can no longer support anything.

Conclusion

It’s easy to see a lot of creativity went into the creation of this game… but it is also easy to make assumptions on how that creativity was constrained by development hell and corporate oversight. In the end though, Dragon Age: The Veilguard succeeded in being an overall good time, one that I will no doubt be putting just as many countless hours into as the previous installments in the franchise. 7/10.

[candycandy00]

I’m Your Present! - A Togame x Reader Fanfic

Togame jokingly asks Santa for a cute girl he can play with all night long. He gets you. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. All characters are adults. Bondage. Use of toys (vibrators, handcuffs, blindfold, anal beads). Overstimulation. Praise kink.

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

Totally ripped from the hentai Eromame. I basically just rewrote it with Togame lol. I recommend giving it a watch! It’s very cute! And required yearly Christmas viewing for me!

It was just a joke, really. Just the Bofurin guys fooling around at their annual reunion/Christmas party. For some reason they always invited the guys from Shishitoren, and Togame always showed up. He brought drinks and passed them out, laughing when someone stuck a pair of reindeer antlers on Sakura’s head. 

Togame can’t remember who came up with the idea first, but someone joked that they should write letters to Santa. Most of the guys were half drunk by that point, so they all agreed. Some of them proudly read theirs out loud while the others cheered. Some very quickly ripped theirs up or threw them away. Maybe they asked for something a little too personal to share with the group. 

As for Togame, he wadded his up and crammed it in the pocket of his jacket, thinking he’d toss it when he got home. 

Now, standing in the kitchen of his small apartment, he fishes the crumpled letter out and smoothes it back out. He chuckles to himself as he reads it. 

“Dear Santa, please send me a cute girl to play with all night.”

He wads it up again and drops it into the trash. What a dumb joke. 

But it was at least a little sincere. Togame hasn’t had a girlfriend since his first year of college, and lately he’s been feeling a little lonely, and a lot horny. 

It’s probably because Choji of all people got himself a girlfriend earlier this year. And in true Choji fashion, he doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut. He’s been bragging about all the sex he’s having with his hot girlfriend, and it’s only made Togame realize how much he misses being intimate with someone. 

It’s all he can think about the last few months, and he’s been jacking off like a teenager. 

He sighs as he takes off his jacket and gets ready to turn in for the night. It’s Christmas Eve, and he’ll be expected to visit his relatives tomorrow. 

Just as he starts to turn his lights off, he hears a thump on his balcony.

You squeeze past three people carrying loads of presents, your own arms full of brightly colored packages. You stack them in the pile next to the giant sleigh, there to be sorted and packed by other helpers. 

Someone calls your name, telling you to come to the office. You straighten your red, fur-trimmed dress and walk back into the main workshop. The office is a wide room in the back where the Wishlist Management team works. Three of them are behind a counter, reading over lists and letters while the rest are either sorting through last minute mail or relaying orders to the workshop. 

“Hello? Did you need me?” you ask, stepping into the room. 

The helper in the middle looks up from a crumpled piece of paper. “We have an unusual wish here. Would you be interested in granting it?”

“Me?” you ask, taking a seat across from the counter. You’re a standard helper, usually working on gift wrapping, sorting, or transporting. You don’t usually make gifts yourself, so actually granting wishes is a little out of your wheelhouse. 

The helper behind the counter looks a little embarrassed as he slides the piece of paper over to you. When you read it, you feel yourself blush. A cute girl to play with? You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean board games. 

“Who wrote this?” you ask. Sometimes letters like this arrive from teenagers, and they’re always discarded. For the Management team to be taking it seriously means it has to be a sincere wish from an adult. 

The other helper slides a photo across the counter. “Togame Jo. Twenty-eight years old. Lives alone.”

You pick up the photo and look at this Togame fellow. To your surprise, he’s extremely good looking. In fact, he’s totally your type. Midnight black hair and kind emerald eyes. Wow. 

“Of course you’re free to say no,” the other helper says. “We can ask someone else if you’re uncomfortable with-“

“I’ll do it!” you say, cutting him off. 

He looks surprised. “Are you sure? You do know what he’s asking for, right?”

You nod. “I know. I’ll get some toys from the adult department and head on out. Thank you for bringing this wish to me!”

The other helper gives you an awkward smile and wave as you walk out the door. 

You’re not sure why, but you were instantly drawn to Togame when you saw his picture. It’s not just the lovely green eyes or the gentle smile. There’s something there, hidden just beneath his calm expression. A sadness, a loneliness, that touches your heart. You want to give him the best Christmas present ever.

When Togame pulls back the curtain from the glass door to his balcony, he’s not sure what to make of the scene before him. 

Outside, on his balcony, is a young woman sprawled out as if she’d fallen from the sky. 

He hurriedly opens the door and steps out into the cold, but before he can kneel down to check on her, the woman suddenly sits up. She rubs the back of her head and straightens her Santa hat, then looks up at him. 

“Oh, hello! You’re Togame Jo, right?”

Rendered momentarily speechless by this bizarre situation, Togame nods, then extends his hand to her and helps her to her feet. 

“Come inside,” he tells her, unsure of what else to say. It’s too cold to be standing around out here, especially in that short dress she’s wearing. 

Once inside his apartment, he gets a good look at her. She’s very pretty, with a cute Santa girl dress on. It’s candy apple red with white fur trim. There’s a cloth sack hanging from one arm. She’s looking at him with bright eyes and a smile. 

“How did you end up on my balcony?” he asks, shutting the glass door and closing the curtains. 

“The express sleigh dropped me off. I think they misjudged the distance a bit though,” she replies, still smiling. 

“Express sleigh?” The words make no sense to him. She doesn’t seem drunk. Is this some kind of Christmas prank? Before she can elaborate, he asks another question. “Who are you?”

“I’m your Christmas present!” she declares, doing a little curtsy. When Togame simply stares at her with a confused expression, she stands up straight and says, “You did ask for me, right? Someone to play with all night? We got your letter.”

Togame’s stunned face reddens. How did this woman he’s never met before know about his joke of a letter to Santa?! “I didn’t mail any letter,” he says, feeling a bit dazed at this point. He never even showed it to anyone.  

“Oh, that’s okay! Letters with sincere wishes make it to us even without being mailed,” she says cheerily. 

Togame picks up on something. “Us? Who do you work for?”

She giggles. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m one of Santa’s helpers!”

Wait. Is she saying Santa is real? And they somehow received his pervy letter?! And answered it?!

“Uh, that was just a joke,” he says, mortified that anyone saw the letter. 

“Really?” she asks. Why does she sound disappointed? She holds open her sack. “What a shame. I brought all these toys for us to play with.”

Togame can’t resist peeking inside. The sack is full of sex toys! Just at a glance he can see furry red handcuffs, candy cane striped dildos, and what appears to be vibrators. He feels heat creeping into his face as he looks back at her. 

“You’re really my present from Santa?” he asks. 

She smiles so sweetly at him. “Yes! And since you specified ‘all night long’, you have me until dawn. During that time, I’m yours to do whatever you want with!”

Togame swallows. “Whatever I want?”

“Yes!” she says enthusiastically. “So do you want your present?”

The man standing before you seems hesitant. He probably didn’t expect his wish to be granted. 

Togame is even better looking in person. He’s so tall! You really hope he still wants his present. You’ve been excited since you saw his picture, and now you’re practically dripping just from thinking about the things he could do to you.  

He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Are you sure about this?”

You nod emphatically. “Of course!”

He still seems a little unsure. It’s kind of endearing. But eventually he gives you a warm smile and says, “Let’s go to the bedroom then.”

Once there, you spread out the toys from your bag on his desk. He looks them over, glancing back at you every few seconds. 

“I can use anything I want?” he asks, picking up a huge dildo and sitting it back down. 

“That’s right,” you tell him, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes gravitate to the small red bullet vibrators. This night is for him, not you. 

“Any preferences?” he asks, looking you in the eyes.  

You blush a little from the heat of his gaze, but shake your head. “I like all of them!”

He picks up the padded handcuffs with red fur trim. “Even these?”

You hold your wrists together. “Just tell me if you want them in front or behind.”

He seems to think for a moment, then says, “Behind.”

You turn around and hold your arms behind your back. You hear his soft footsteps as he approaches, feel the warmth of his body as he stands right behind you. Then, there’s the touch of his hands as he gently secures the cuffs on your wrists. 

When you turn back around to face him, his cheeks are slightly pink as he looks at you. With your arms pulled back, your tits are jutting out more prominently, your dress struggling to stay up and over them. 

He puts his hands on your shoulders, then slowly slides them down, pulling the straps of your dress down with them. Your breasts bounce free as the fabric slides down beneath them. Togame’s eyes widen slightly. He moves one hand up to cup your breast, then lightly squeezes. His thumb circles one nipple as his other hand gropes the other breast. 

You suck in a breath of air as he leans down and kisses your neck, his lips making a soft, wet trail down your collar bone and finally wrapping around a nipple, suckling lightly. 

He looks back to your face, seeing how flushed you’re getting, and ushers you over to the bed. He sits down on the edge of it and unbuttons his pants. 

“Can you get on your knees for me?” he asks, his tone still polite. 

You’re happy to oblige, dropping to your knees right in front of him, staring at his hands as they pull out a deliciously meaty cock. You lick your lips in anticipation, the handcuffs being the only thing stopping you from gripping his shaft immediately. You look up at him with your sweetest expression. 

“What do you want me to do, Jo?”

He blinks at the sudden use of his given name, perhaps a little flustered by how intimate you’re getting. But he recovers quickly, smiling down at you as he says, “Suck my cock, little Miss Santa.”

You don’t waste any time. You lean your face forward and begin licking the hard, thick organ, from base to tip. You make sure to get it nice and wet, coating it in spit before taking the entire thing into your mouth, letting it fill your throat. 

Togame shudders and grips your hair, his cock twitching in your mouth. Maybe he didn’t expect you to take him so far so quickly. 

For a moment, you pause, just letting him feel your throat constricting around him, your tongue massaging the underside of his dick. But eventually you have to breathe, so you pull back just to get some air, only to plunge him right back in. This time you wrap your lips around his base and bob your head, sucking and licking as you go. 

Togame groans, his fingers threading through your hair, holding you firmly in place. You couldn’t pull back enough to let his cock slip out of your mouth if you wanted to. But why would you ever want that? He’s positively tasty, and throbbing so nicely. Such delectable precum is leaking from his tip, sliding down your throat. 

When he reaches his limit, he pulls your head back, and you open your mouth wide, letting the tip of his pulsing cock rest on your extended tongue. As he cums, his entire hot sticky load lands on your tongue and in your mouth, filling it full. 

After savoring it for a moment, you swallow it all, then lick your lips clean. Togame stares for several seconds, his face a little red. You know what you want from him, but you won’t ask directly. Instead, you look up through your lashes and ask, “Did I do good?”

He takes the hint, patting your head and saying, “Yeah, you did really good. Such a good girl for me.”

The words leave you dripping. You squirm on your knees, rubbing your thighs together. Your hands are still behind your back, your dress still pulled down to nearly your waist. 

Togame stands up and goes to the desk to get something else to play with. When he returns, he helps you to your feet and then stands behind you. He reaches around and ties a deep red blindfold around your head, blocking out your vision. You draw in a sharp breath. This is getting exciting!

He guides you back to the bed, and you hear the mattress squeak as he sits down again. Then he turns you around to face away from him and pulls you into his lap. 

You listen carefully, trying to figure out what he’s going to do next. The mystery is making you nervous in the best way possible. You hear only faint sounds you can’t identify, then you feel something smooth and firm touch each of your nipples. Is this…?

A clicking sound, and then one that’s very familiar to you, one you’ve been hoping to hear. The soft hum of the small bullet vibrators! At the same moment, you feel them vibrating against your tender skin, making you automatically jerk on the cuffs. Togame must be holding them to your tits. 

You’re making little breathy sounds, not quite moans but close, leaning back against his hard chest, feeling the cozy fabric of his shirt on your bare back. He’s so warm. 

One vibrator leaves your breast, and you feel him sliding the bottom of your dress up your thighs and above your hips. Thankfully you came prepared and wore no panties tonight. 

He pulls one leg away from the other, and you move the other leg, eagerly spreading for him. Then you feel his fingers on you, stroking your pussy, slipping between the folds to smear your wetness around. 

“You’re soaked already,” he says into your ear. The feeling of his breath so close causes goosebumps to form on your neck. 

“I have been since I got here,” you say back, your voice shaky as his finger circles your clit but doesn’t touch it. 

“Really?” he asks. “Do you grant a lot of wishes like this?”

“This is my first one,” you answer. 

His voice is like a purr. “What kind of work do you usually do?”

His finger is so close to hitting the jackpot. You squirm a bit in his lap. “Ahh… I usually… wrap presents… and sort them…”

You hear him chuckle under his breath. “So why did you decide to do this?”

“Th-they showed me your picture… and you looked sad. I just wanted to give you a merry Christmas!”

There’s a pause, where he stops moving for a moment, then you hear his voice again: “I want to give you a merry Christmas too.”

Immediately after, you feel the vibrator pressed against your clit, pulsing wildly at maximum power. You cry out, your body jerking with the sudden explosive pleasure. 

You cum instantly, trembling in his arms, but he’s still holding the vibrator to your extremely sensitive clit. With your hands cuffed behind you and the blindfold on, it makes your sense of touch so much stronger, and you feel truly helpless in a way that thrills you. 

“Ahh! T-too much!” you whine, reflexively trying to scoot back. But the vibrator is relentless, and Togame’s grip on you is firm. 

“You’re so cute when you cum,” he says, his voice dripping honey. “Show me again.”

The words make your already overstimulated clit throb, and only a few minutes later, you’re cumming again. Your entire body is shaking as you moan, your hands pulling at the cuffs. 

“There you go, being so good,” he murmurs, finally pulling the vibrator away and wrapping his arms around you. He holds you tight until your body stops trembling, then eases you off his lap. He unties the blindfold and lets it slip from your face, but he leaves the cuffs on. 

You look up at him. “What toy are we trying next?”

He walks over to the desk and looks over the items, then holds up a long anal bead stick. The beads are in alternating colors, red and green, and made of silicone. “This looks fun,” he says. 

You climb onto the bed, carefully since your hands are behind you, and look at him over your shoulder. “Come play with me,” you say, wiggling your ass. Your dress is just a piece of wadded fabric around your waist at this point, leaving most of your body exposed. 

Togame steps over and gets onto the bed behind you, pushing your top half forward until your face is pressing into the pillow, your ass in the air. He nudges your knees apart, and you feel him drip lube over your ass, rubbing it in and spreading it over both your holes. You hear him squeezing more out, probably onto the beaded stick, and then you feel the tip of the stick pressing against your little puckered hole. 

When the first bead slides in, you gasp. You’ve never tried this toy before, but you’ve always wanted to. The second bead slides in, then the third. There’s no pain, but the sensation is strange. Two more beads go in, and your breaths are coming faster, your heart racing.

Togame watches his adorable Santa girl twitch and quiver as he pushes more beads into her, causing her dripping pussy to clench and flutter. He’s waited as long as he can. He needs to be buried in this pretty little cunt right now. 

He positions himself at her entrance, rubbing the tip along her slit to let her know what’s coming. Her hands, cuffed behind her, are balled into fists. When ready, he pushes in, going all the way to the hilt and hearing her gasp. She’s so unbelievably tight, he almost gasps too. Maybe it’s because of the beads, but she’s clamping down on him so well he can hardly stand it. 

When he starts thrusting, she makes the sweetest sounds, little cries and moans that dance into his ears, occasionally whimpering his name. 

“Taking me so well,” he says, his hands gripping her hips to keep her in place as he plunges in and out. “Good, good girl.”

She feels so fucking good around him, so soft and warm and pliable. And she’s taking him so deep with no complaints. It’s like she was made for him. 

He reaches down and grips the handle of the bead stick, then begins pulling it out by a few beads before pushing it back in. Her pussy clenches, as if it’s trying to hold onto his dick forever. 

All at once, he pulls the whole stick out in one go. She cries out, her back arching and her mouth hanging open. He thinks she just came again, and it’s making her squeeze him impossibly hard. 

He can’t hold back any longer. This pussy is just too good. With a groan, he cums, shooting everything he has into the deepest parts of her. When he eventually pulls out, gobs of his cum leak out of her, making a lurid sight to see. 

They both pant for a few moments, then he uncuffs her hands and helps her turn over.  

She’s gazing up at him with her big, pretty eyes. “What do you want to play with next?”

She looks exhausted, spent, but she’s still willing to keep going. He’d specified “all night” after all. 

“Let’s take a quick break,” he says. 

They sit beside each other on the bed, and he asks the question that’s been burning in his brain for a while now. 

“After tonight is over, will I ever see you again?”

She looks up at him. “You can if you wish for it!” She seems happy he asked. 

He smiles. “Maybe next year I’ll wish for a wife.”

She flushes, looking away to hide her embarrassment. “That sounds lovely,” she says. 

He wraps one arm around her. “You’ve made this the best Christmas of my life.”

She snuggles closer. “And you’ve done the same for me.”

The two of them sit there a little while, just enjoying each other’s presence, before going back to enjoying each other’s presents.

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime

[k-yurieee]

'ALMOST ALWAYS' CHAPTER 4 IS HERE!! WOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! 🎉🎉

(Edit 3 : I started writing this post/reblog last week Monday. Don't worry about what day it is today. I just kept nitpicking at it and having more thoughts that I wanted to add everytime I came back to this, and time kept getting away from me because of irl events, sooo yeah. Stuff happens.)

Edit 1 : My usual yapping will be under the cut for this one, cause I might ramble on for bit longer than usual today. Yeah, I've got some things to say. They might not be particularly intelligible, but is anything I ever say on this app comprehensible? Probably not. Soooooo buckle up I guess 🤷‍♀️

Edit 2 : (also please ignore that I'm posting this like wayyyy after I've read this chapter, I had this saved and edited as a draft and thought I had posted it after editing it, before I decided to take a nap, but... Guess I was mistaken lol. And sleep deprived, but that's besides the point. Also I guess the draft didn't even save properly earlier??? Because I'm rereading the whole thing now and I'm pretty sure there's stuff I added earlier that seems to be missing now so.... That's sooo fun haha 🙃 I'll try to re-add anything I can remember 🫡)

Edit 1 (continued) : ohhhhh my gosh, this chapter was another ✨emotional rollercoaster✨ (which isn't anything new with this series, and honestly I should've expected it but mannnn, it just gets me every. single. time 😭😭😔)

Let me just quickly gush about this part first because EEEEEEEEhEEhEEEeeeee I can never NOT giggle and kick my feet over sweet moments like this, are you KIDDING me, I'm an absolute sucker for fluff, and I will die on that hill (also I just need to let myself simmer in this fluffy warmth before I divulge into my slightly more serious thoughts, I'll get to those in a second but firsttttt LOOK AT THIS ARE YOU KIDDING MEEEEEEEE👇👇👇😭😭😭😭)

'You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.'

When I tell you this made me wanna scream (wouldn't be the first time this fic affected me this way lolll) into my hands and jump up and down 😭😭😭 like girl can you PLEASE be normal (and by 'you', I mean 'I', as in ME. I need to relax lmaoooo 🙃)

This chapter... This chapter was so much. I truly am not sure how to put into proper words everything it made me feel, but I will try. Honestly I feel (and have felt) more than a bit conflicted about them (Joe & R, obvs). And I mean, that's kind of expected, right?

I want to support them but I also low-key want to smack them both upside their head sometimes (but like, in an affectionate 'why did you do that, you flippin idiot, I believe in you and know you can act better than this' kind of way)

It made me remember this quote I heard a while back that went something like "sometimes we dislike other people because we see the parts of ourselves that we dislike, in them". And it irked me because it reminded me of how I'd treated certain people in my life before, in ways that I'm not proud to admit. In one of the previous chapters, Joe had a thought somewhere along the lines of "I can't control my feelings, but I can control how I treat others", and I thought 'this is great, he knows how he should move forward, good for him, he's learned his lesson.' And I hoped it would be the same for the Reader character as well, and that both of them would implement this afterward.

And then... Then this chapter happened, and yeah, maybe they weren't in a completely committed relationship with the people who were sleeping in their beds, and maybe they 'weren't doing anything illegal', and all that, but... They could still be hurting someone else's feelings. Again. Low-key I had my face in my hands like "guys please, I know y'all can't stay away from each other, and I want you guys to end up together too but likeee there's got to be a better way to do this, pleaseeee" 🛐 😭

And maybe that's the point. They're human. They make mistakes. Sometimes they learn and grow from their past mistakes, and sometimes they continue doing the same stupid thing a million times over even if they know it won't end well for them. And it was when they made those questionable choices, when they tried to pretend that their problems didn't exist, when they constantly made excuses and kept repeating the same regrettable cycle over and over – it was during of all those moments that I looked at these characters, and I saw a part of myself. Parts of myself that I didn't like, but acknowledged was there nonetheless. It was these aspects that I could personally relate to.

This is why they feel so fucking REAL to me.

I just really hope things will end well for everyone in the last chapter because mannnn 🥲🥲😭

'But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.'

This part hurt me more than it should 😭😭😭😭

(I know I wrote more about my personal feelings than about the actual fic, but like I said before, I had written more about it - over a week ago - in this draft that didn't save properly, and my memory is generally not that great, sooo yeah. I at least know that I had some thoughts about Emily's response to the whole situation and stuff but I can't recall anything specific I'd written rn. I want to reread this chapter at some point to see if it re-sparks any of those thoughts I had last time but... we'll see lol.)

Anywayssss I can't believe there is just ONE more chapter left to this series omggggg this fic has been an experience for sure

(I'm gonna need to lie down again aren't I 🥲🙃)

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: -

Wordcount: 6.5K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“I didn’t say he doesn’t… I just said, he has never actually said it.”

Emily’s jaw dropped, and you immediately regretted saying what you just said.

“No, stop. He has said it. Forget I said anything. It’s fine.”

You knew exactly what she was going to say.

She’d alluded to it from the start. Rolled her eyes at him. Made faces of outrageous confusion that told you, how can someone behave like that, without having to say the words aloud. Without making you hear them.

“I’m just saying…” Emily started, and showed you a facial expression that made you feel stupid for even bringing it up.

“It’d be better for you to leave him.”

You laughed, like she made a joke, yet so aware that she absolutely wasn’t.

But listen, if you didn’t laugh, you’d cry, because you knew, you knew somewhere in the back of your mind that it probably was better for you to leave him.

Not a truth you wanted to face though.

There were still too many easy excuses for you to make.

So... you made them.

But Emily’s face remained quite serious.

“Emily. You don’t mean that.” You said on the back-end of a giggle.

“Are you joking? My God, it’d be so much better if you left him. Better for you, better for, well, me. Can’t even tell you he loves you? What is he on?!”

You shushed her, and looked over your shoulder in the general direction of your bathroom and listened for a few seconds. The shower was still going. He couldn’t have heard her.

Good.

Not that Emily’s general opinion was a huge secret. But still. It was nice if the peace could be kept for the night.

“He does tell me that.” you argued, much softer. “Just...”

“Just does it when he’s about to hang up the phone? Just a quick, casual, love ya, when he’s saying goodbye?”

“Well, he–”

“Or does he only say it when he’s about to come?”

“Emily.”

“Oh, God. You’re so beyond help, I don’t even know what to tell you anymore.”

For a moment, you avoided eye-contact. Pressed your lips together and looked around the room whilst your friend tried her best to get it into your head that Joe really just wasn’t it.

“You know you’re in second place.” Emily said, suddenly much more earnestly. “You don’t deserve to be in second place.”

Which was a nice sentiment. A thing a best friend was meant to tell you. A bit like a parent calling their baby a genius because they accidentally made a bit of babbling sound like a real string of words.

“Well,” you said, taking a deep breath in and giving Emily your best smile. “So is he, so I guess we’re even.”

He wasn’t.

These were two different leagues.

But suggesting that Emily was in first place with you was the quickest way to make her feel appreciated even though her advice went untaken.

It always did.

Emily was a good friend and always gave excellent advice. And you were a good friend because you always listened to what she had to say. Or, you thought you did. Would tell yourself you did.

But then you simply wouldn’t follow any of it.

You hadn’t taken her advice when she’d told you to stop fucking around in a fourteen month situationship.

“I like how this just… works, don’t you?” Joe had said one evening when you were wrapped up on his sofa together. You’d made a comment that someone had flirted with you and had asked if you were single. You hadn’t known what to tell them.

Joe had just shrugged then.

“Let’s not push for something if it doesn’t need it. Something not broken doesn’t need a fix, does it?”

And you’d disagreed then. Had hoped that he’d grow a little protective and would’ve gone, um what do you mean of course you’re not single. For a while you also hadn’t wanted to define anything, because fuck commitment, right? But it had been over a year and Emily said that you should ask him to just fucking label it already.

You hadn’t.

You also hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy wasn’t going to make you happy.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you that she thought this guy was ultimately just there for a bit of fun, but not really much else.

Hadn’t taken Emily’s advice when she’d told you to just leave him already when you told her he had never sincerely told you that he loves you.

“I know you’re smart enough to know that it’s absolutely wild that he’s not said–”  

“It’s because you just hear all the bad things, I’m sorry. I should also tell you about the good shit.”

“Oh, yea? Like what?” Emily challenged, and in the silence that followed, you heard the shower turn off.

“Like... look! Look what he got me!” you said, picking up a bag from a dining table chair.

Your friend looked at it for a moment, blank faced, and then narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

“Got you? Like, he went out and bought that for you? Or, was that sent to him by the brand, and he just passed it on?”

You looked at the bag you were still holding, then gave a small shrug. “I don’t know. He still gave it to me.”

It was a nice bag.

“Not exactly the same is it.”

No, it wasn’t. But... you know. You could pretend it was.

“Still counts.”

“Okay. If you think so.”

You didn’t think so, not after what Emily had just said, but you were willing to accept it for the nice gesture, and that was all you cared about. Or, what you told yourself was all you cared about.

“I think so.” You definitively told Emily, breaking into a smile to really sell it.

Just when she was about to roll her eyes at you and maybe try her hand at talking a little more sense into you, Joe called you from the bathroom.

You left Emily on her own for about a minute before joining her again.

“Okay. Let’s go. He’s not coming.” You grabbed your coat and found your bag. The one Joe had given to you, but hadn’t spent a penny on.

“He’s– what?”

“He thought of something that still needs doing. He’s not coming.”

Emily stared at you from where she was sat, watching you hurriedly wrestle your arms into the sleeves of your coat as she slowly caught up to speed.

“So, I’m sorry, but have we just waited for him for ages for fucking nothing then?”

You ignored her tone, finding your phone, your keys, and then Emily’s coat as well.

“Let’s go. If we hurry, we might beat the rain.”

You chucked Emily her coat, and she almost didn’t move her arms in time to catch it. With the front door already open, you gestured for Emily to make her way through, calling, “Bye! We’re off!” into the flat.

Emily, under her breath, very mockingly sing-songed, “Love you!” in that same tone as she walked past you, making her point once more.

You didn’t repeat her, but instead rolled your eyes at what you decided was a joke, and then loudly said, “Don’t wait up!”

You didn’t wait for Joe to answer before you slammed the door shut.

It’s been weeks.

Months, technically, although it doesn’t feel it.

“Please be home, please be home, please be home,” you mutter to yourself as you rush your way down his street. “Please be in the fucking country, for just this fucking once…”

You’d texted and had gotten no coloured ticks from him. So then you’d called, but it just rang for ages before you were eventually sent to voicemail, and that’s something you don’t do. Especially not now. Not about this. Hell would have to freeze over before you’d leave a voicemail message. You could delete a text thread, or a voice note. But, a voicemail? Once a voicemail sends out, there is no undoing that.

Maybe you’re crazy, but what you’re doing now feels safer.

It’s after midnight, dark, the streets wet from earlier rainfall, but you feel wide awake. You’ve got Emily’s words ringing in your ears still, and you’ve not been able to shake them yet.

Her advice.

Or, well, it was more just her opinion. She had expertly dressed it up as a fact, though, which is probably why that one sentence still held you in a vice grip.  

Telling her about how you’d had a few… moments, with Joe, since you’d broken up with him, turns out, was the wrong thing to do.

You just really wanted to tell her about the wine.

The expensive bottle you’d satisfyingly dunked into his kitchen sink.

It’s been weeks by now, but you still think about that all the time. And every time that you do, you feel pure glee spark inside of you.

You thought she’d be the same.

You thought she’d absolutely love it.

But then, after you had told her all about that night, she’d just looked at you with so much disdain and disappointment, it startled you into rambling excuses, none of which sounded true to your own ears, let alone hers. She then had shook her head, and sort of muttered something to herself that you asked her to repeat.

It’s those words that haven’t left the forefront of your mind since.

You didn’t ask Emily to clarify herself. You hadn’t gotten into an argument, either. You had just… moved onto a different topic. A lighter, easier to digest thing to talk about.

It left those words to rein freely, left those words at liberty to inflate themselves until they were all you could think about, and the feeling had clawed at your chest for the rest of the day. The rest of the night.

You hadn’t been able to answer the question, what’s wrong, that you were repeatedly asked until it made you upset.

“Nothing’s wrong! Stop asking me what’s wrong! God! You asking me what’s wrong a million times a minute is what’s wrong!”

Something is wrong though.

Obviously.

You just left someone in your bed for this.

Ringing Joe’s doorbell is a quick action, fingers pressing that familiar button before you can have any doubt of what you’re doing. It takes longer than a few seconds before you hear a small beep.

“Joe? I texted you, can you reply to my text?”

A silence follows, and for a moment you think maybe the intercom doesn’t work properly, or maybe he just hadn’t heard you.

“I– I sent you a message, check your phone–”

A loud click of the door unlocking and a loud shrill buzzing sound interrupts you.

“No you don’t have to– just text me back, will you?”

No answer follows, but the loud buzzing persists. After a few more seconds of it, you know Joe’s just holding down the button until you go inside.

That wasn’t the plan. 

With a frustrated grumbling sigh, swearing under your breath, you push yourself into Joe’s building and make your way to his front door.

In the lift you decide you won’t let the doors close properly when they’ll open on Joe’s floor. You’ll tell him from half inside the lift that he just needs to check his phone.

You just want an answer.

But then the lift doors open and one foot steps out as you lean into the hallway, expecting to see Joe waiting by his front door, yet he isn’t.

You make an angry face, nose pulling up and showing your clenched teeth with a frown. You’re in a building where people are asleep so you can’t make any noise, but you absolutely would have otherwise. Joe leaves you no other choice but to get out of the lift, and begrudgingly, you make your way over to his doormat.

When you get closer, you can see how the door’s been left open.

“Hey,” you whisper-yell into the flat, “Joe?”

You get no answer, and take a few careful steps inside to find him standing in his kitchen in a T-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs. He’s got his back turned to you, and is seemingly busy cleaning up mess he’s left out from dinner.

It’s the fucking middle of the night.

It’s dark in Joe’s flat, the only light in the room coming from his under cabinet LEDs, and it’s weirdly warm for the time of night, you think.

“Hey, I–” you start, voice low because it’s late, but you quickly get cut off by Joe.

“Did you close the door?”

You blink a few times and watch Joe very carefully load some things into his dishwasher, making little to no noise at all. No plates softly clashing, no rattling cutlery.

“What? No. I–”

“Will you close the door, please?” Joe asks, but it sounds like a demand. Sort of cold, a little detached.

“All I’m here to say,” you try again. “Is that I want you to check your phone...”

Joe stands up straight and finally looks at you. Whilst maintaining eye-contact he slowly closes the dishwasher until it latches, machine clicking shut, and when he then just... keeps staring at you, you throw your head back like an annoyed teenager, and reluctantly do as you’re told.

You go to close his front door.

In the kitchen you hear the tap go, and when you join Joe there again, you can see how he’s filling up a glass with water.

Joe is about to take a sip when he suddenly decides against it and lowers the glass.

“Water?” he then asks, and holds it out to you with a stretched arm.

You’re slightly confused, but you take it, and then watch Joe reach for another glass from a cabinet and fill that one for himself.

“Thanks, but…” you place the glass on his counter and hold two hands up to Joe. “I’m just here because I need an answer to a text.”

Joe, with his mouth in his own glass, sort of looks at you a moment as he gulps water down.

He looks tired.

Which, yea, that checks out.

You fucking woke him up, didn’t you?

There’s so many reasons to declare yourself clinically insane right now, but you’re holding onto the notion that this is actually all totally normal with all of your might. If you pretend to believe it, you might just be able to trick Joe into it as well.

But Joe just looks at you like he’s waiting for you to give the real reason of why you’re there.

“So, if you could just, check that. Answer it. That’d be great.” You force a polite smile and step back. “That’ll be all.” And you turn to leave again.

“You’ve been crying.” Joe stops you in your tracks.

You turn back to him.

“No. Well, yea I was, but that’s not– I’m fine, that was about something else, not this. You don’t have to– stop, I’m going to go, please... respond to my message. I’ll read it when I get in, and that’ll be that.”

“Wait.”

Joe picks up the glass of water you’ve just put down and gives it back to you. When it’s in your hands, he even gives it a little push upward to ensure that you have a sip.

“I’ll go get my phone.”

And he’s so calm and agreeable that it feels rude to do anything else but take a sip and wait for him. You watch Joe walk out of the room to go get his phone, and it’s a lot of opening and closing doors, everything done as quietly as humanly possible. Then, you suddenly notice how hot you feel in your coat. It’s really fucking warm in here.

That’s new.

That’s... weird.

When Joe comes back, he closes the door behind him again and looks at his phone as he unlocks it.

“Why did you call me?”

“Just–”

“I’ll read the text.”

In silence, you stand and watch Joe open his texts and read your message. Messages. There’s several. Then, he starts typing back, and, this is what you came here for, but now that you’re standing in Joe’s kitchen in the middle of the night, having pulled him out of bed for this, you almost want to tell him he’s being an idiot. He can just as easily answer your question in person.

His message sends, and your phone buzzes in your pocket.

Joe places his down and gives you a tired stare.

“Yea, okay. Th-thanks.”

“Read it.”

It startles you.

“No, that’s…” You’re so stupid. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Read your message.”

You feel like a fucking child that’s being scolded by a parent.

Guilt.

Regret.

Self-inflicted, which makes all of it so much worse.

Every feeling sits dark and sticky and bitterly uncomfortable in your gut, clinging to all the edges, stretching longer until the shadows overtake all of the previous excuses you had for being here.

You shouldn’t have come.

You shouldn’t have gone to wake up Joe over something so insignificant and, well, dumb. It’s embarrassing, and you want to leave.

“You’re here now. I’m up. Read your message.”

You inhale deeply. Hold it there for a moment.

He’s right.

The damage has been done.

You’ve dipped a toe into this strange pond, and now you might as well canon ball yourself right into this uncomfortable mess, no matter how cold the water might be.

The only way out seems through.

You pull your phone from your pocket with a clammy hand, and fucking damn it, you’re sweating underneath all of your layers.

“I didn’t mean to… I shouldn’t have woken you up.”

Joe just lets his eyes drop to your phone before he looks right at you again, his very stance issuing the orders.

Read the fucking text.

You see the notification and open your phone with face ID. Your own messages to Joe catch your attention first, before you see his reply.

“Were we as good as we’re going to get?”

“What we were together”

“Was that really as good as it can get?”

“Ever?”

You didn’t have to send the same question in various different ways, but that’s what had happened.

Emily’s reaction to the stand alone get-togethers you’d participated in with Joe hadn’t been what you’d expected. You’d hoped for a level of girl power encouragement. For a loud get it girl, or a, yea babe get what you want.

Instead, you’d gotten a sigh and shake of her head, followed by a soberly mumbled, “You really do deserve each other…” that you’d asked her to repeat.

Before she’d always said that Joe didn’t deserve you. That was always the point she tried to get across. The idea she tried to sear into your brain. Joe was beneath you, and you were far above. Always.

And then suddenly, now you are no longer too good for him?

Suddenly you’re on equal footing, and you deserve each other.

What the fuck.

You look at your own messages and realise in that very second that you have no idea what kind of answer you are after from Joe. This isn’t a coin toss situation where you know what side you want that coin to land on the moment it get’s thrown into the air. Fear strikes you lightning fast. No matter what Joe is going to tell you, it’s going to be wrong.

What the fuck are you doing at Joe’s flat?

And why is it so fucking hot in here?

The only way out is through.

You read Joe’s text.

“Darling it’s late, let’s not do this over text”

A non-answer.

You look up at Joe, who is now leaning against his kitchen counter, legs crossed at the ankles, arms crossed over his chest. His head tilts to the side a little and neither of you speak.

It’s oddly unexpected that the guy in his underwear exudes more confidence than the girl bundled up in heavy layers of clothing.

You frown and read the message again.

For a second you debate what to do next. What to say. If this is going to be the end of this interaction, or if it’s going to be just the beginning.

It’s late, though.

You inhale deeply. Slowly.

Then, resign.

“Okay.”

Because honestly, what were you really even expecting from him?

Your soft little defeated okay isn’t what Joe expected though, you can see it in the minor change on his face. The eyebrows that quirk up slightly, his jaw that loosens, the eyes that round out...

“I’ll um...” you say softly, letting your phone sink back into a pocket before pulling at your sleeves to let them cover both hands.

Joe steps forward and bends to look at the clock on the oven behind him before he says, “Well. Since you’re here. Might as well.”

He gestures an arm at his dining table. At one of his chairs. It’s hard, but you do your best to ignore the memories of the last time you were there, sat in one of these chairs. Well, technically, you hadn’t sat in one of the chairs... Joe had sat on one of the chairs and you–

“Am I going to get an explanation of what’s going on?” Joe asks as he pulls out a chair for you.

Finally, you remove your coat.

“It’s a long story.” You say, then think for a moment and add, “No it’s not, actually. Emily said–”

“Ah. Emily.” Joe sits down in a chair opposite. “How is Emily doing?”

“Shut up. She’s fine.” You exclaim, voice a little raised in defense, and you’re immediately shushed by Joe. He holds up a hand as he perks up, and you get the message, lowering your tone as you add, “This isn’t about her.”

“It’s not?”

“No. She just said something. I…” you trail off for a second.

Your head’s a scrambled mess of doubt and insecurities and it doesn’t help that all you’ve done in the past few hours is overthink every single thought that’s popped into your brain. It’s a bit of a journey to retrace your steps and go back to the start of all of this.

“We were talking, and suddenly she... she said something and I’m just… I wanted to know if you think that… if you think what I texted you is true.”

“You just… wanted to know… if I think…” Joe narrows his eyes up at the ceiling as he thinks, slowly repeating your words.

It’s condescending.

Patronising.

Joe’s making fun of you.

“All right, be fucking honest or–”

“No, no. I’m sorry. Sorry. It’s nearly two in the fucking morning,” two already big eyes comically enlargen, but don’t make you laugh. Wrong audience. “But, yea, you’re right. Honest. I’ll be honest.”

You take a deep breath in preparation of what he’s about to say.

Were we as good as we’re going to get?

“Imposing question, though.”

Yea, you’re aware. It’s why you hadn’t been able to sleep and had eventually decided to just get up and out of bed, leave the boy you had in there on his own, and make your way over to Joe’s.

“I don’t know.”

Wild how you feel about five inches tall whilst simultaneously feeling like you’re taking up too much space in the room.

“You don’t know.”

Typical.

“Well. No, I… was it as good, wait, what was it?” Joe looks past you and sees that he’s left his phone on the counter. “Was it as good as it could be?”

You exhale through flared nostrils, frustration forcing your eyes shut for a moment.

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get for us?”

“Were we as good as it’s ever going to get... I mean, I think so? I– But–... you tell me. Were we?”

And Joe’s right. It is late. You have spent hours thinking that question over, and you couldn’t answer it when you weren’t as tired as you are now, so it’s useless to even try at this hour.

You shrug, and for a moment, it’s quiet. You don’t know how to go about leaving now. You came here for something you aren’t going to get and so, fucking now what?

“Why um... why have you been crying?”

“Oh, I...” your fingers find your sleeve to rub. “I was asked why I couldn’t sleep, and I... well, I couldn’t really explain, so...”

Joe frowns in confusion, not understanding.

“I don’t know, you try listening to someone say shit like, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong I can’t help you, fifty times in a row, and try not to fucking snap.”

They’d been tears of angry frustration, mostly with yourself, and they’d actually surprised you. You hadn’t expected to cry, but, you felt hurt by words your best friend said to you, so you guess that does add up, actually.

Something slowly dawns on Joe before he then leans back in his chair and nods, scrunching his nose, and he whispers, “Jasper.”

“Jasper.” you confirm, and it makes you chuckle a little before a yawn breaks it up.

Joe watches you. Lets his eyes take you in. It’s the middle of the night and you’re very clearly going through something, but he hasn’t got the answers to the questions you’re asking him, and he hates it.

Wishes he could help.

Wishes the questions you wanted answers to weren’t so impossible.

Joe watches you yawn. Watches your eyes blink slowly as you stare into space for a moment. It’s so quiet, he can hear his clock tick on the other side of the room. Then suddenly, you smile.

“I told Emily about the wine... about how I was a complete bitch and poured that bottle right down your drain.”

And Joe can’t help but feel more amused at your smile than feel annoyed about his expensive wine being wasted. He won’t let his face show it though.

“Bet she enjoyed that.”

“Yea I thought she would, but... she just... she said that we deserve each other. Whatever that means.”

Joe watches your fingers rub along your sleeves. Knows what that means.

“That’s not true.” he suddenly says, voice low and sincere.

“Oh, right,” you huff a laugh and half-heartedly joke, “I don’t deserve you, of course.”

Joe doesn’t laugh.

“No, I mean... well, yes. Technically.” Before he continues, Joe shakes his head in an attempt get his thoughts in order. It’s late. “But not in the way you just said it. In that... you probably deserve better.”

“Probably?”

“Yea. And so do I. Probably.”

Hmm.

You silently mill that over for a second. Aren’t sure what to make of it. If there’s even anything to agree or disagree with there.

“But, who’s to say. All we know is that we weren’t the best before.”

Joe stresses that last word and then lets the words float in the air for you to draw your own conclusions from. It’s certainly true that you weren’t the best together - hence the break up that eventually happened. But Joe’s expertly sharing the blame, which is not a fun truth to face.

The before saves it, a little.

The before makes it sounds like Joe’s talking about two people who no longer exist. Like, those people are gone. That door is closed. And look at you now. You’re a whole new set of two different people. It’s a different world, and you’ve changed. Grown. Learnt.

Who knows what you’d be like now.

Joe can’t predict the future.

And neither can you.

“Hmm.” you hum, eyes trained on the surface of the table, body flushed with conflicting feelings you don’t know how to put into words. Instead of stumbling through words until you find ones that make sense, you remain silent and pull at your sleeves so there’s more fabric for your fingers to run across.

“Hey,” Joe leans forward a little and catches your attention. “Are you okay? Do I need to be worried about you?”

You smile and let it take over your whole face as you shake your head no before you bring your hand up to cover another yawn.

“No. But I should go. This was never meant to be– she just… I don’t know, Emily got into my head and I didn’t know how to get her out.”

Joe contemplates in silence. Wonders if he’s okay with the idea of you walking out and going home right now, in this state. It’s almost three o’clock.

“I don’t make the best decisions after midnight. Sorry.”

You push your chair back and get up on your feet, the plan being to give Joe a quick polite hug goodbye before you make your way back to his front door.

You’re tired, but you know the second you step outside into the cold air that will make your lungs feel sore, you’ll wake up enough to make your way home without any problems.

But then Joe decides you can’t just go.

You can’t just leave.

He’s stuck.

You’re stuck.

You’re stuck in it, together, in this muddy sludge of whatever the two of you have become now. One of you is going to have to step out of their shoes and escape, and Joe thinks it should be you, because you’ve escaped this quicksand of a relationship before. You know how to get out.

It’s weird that you willingly came back.

Keep coming back.

And it’s awful that Joe just keeps inviting you in. Welcomes you with open arms every single time.

But he wants you to stay. It doesn’t have to be like before. Things can be different. Better.

He decides he’s not just going to let you leave, so when he stands up and you go in for a hug, he takes hold of you by your upper arms and starts moving you towards his sofa.

Says, “Come sit for a second.”

And no resistance comes from you. Joe thinks it must be because you’re tired. You’ve cried and you’ve worried and you’ve let all of it eat away at you until you decided to reach out to him, and now, he wants you to stay. He’s not a fan of how, from a certain angle, it looks like he’s taking advantage of the situation, but... you’re both adults.

He’s not doing anything illegal.

Well.

There’s a girl in his bed.

It’s why the flat is warm and why all the doors are closed. Joe shouldn’t have let you inside. Shouldn’t have made you come in and shouldn’t have made you close the door behind you. Shouldn’t have given you a glass of water and shouldn’t have sat you down.

He doesn’t want you to leave now.

There’s a girl in his bed.

And you’ve got a Jasper in yours.

Joe’s closeness to you will come at a price, he’s aware. But it’s one he’s willing to pay. One he’s got the cash for, no problem. Name the sum and he’ll double it.

He’s got you by the arms and is walking you over to his sofa. You are stopped just before you’re about to step onto the area rug.

“Shoes off,” he says, like he gives a shit. You know he doesn’t, but listen to him anyway, and know that taking your shoes off means you’re not going anywhere. At least not for a while.

You get turned around and get sat down, and immediately, you feel far too comfortable. The seat’s too soft. The cushion’s too fluffy. Memories of the hours spent snuggled up on this sofa shoot into the forefront of your mind and you want to warn Joe that it’s not going to take much for you to fall asleep.

But before you can, he pulls a throw blanket from the other side and hands it to you, and you realise that getting comfy and cosy is actually the goal here.

There’s a guy in your bed, who you’ve just… left. Didn’t tell him anything. Just got out, got dressed and left.

You take the blanket from Joe.

It’s probably a good idea to at least let him know something. Send him a text. Let him know you’re okay. But that little voice of reason in your head gets drowned out when Joe sits down next to you and helps sort out the blanket so it covers you both.

“Sit for a second?” you ask through a soft half-suppressed laugh as Joe settles in beside you, your thighs touch underneath the throw. “Am I staying the night?”

“I don’t know, I don’t control what you do. I just want to sit for a second.”

Joe stretches an arm behind you that you think he’s going to rest on top of the sofa, but it moves your head forward a little as it grabs hold of your bicep to pull you in a bit more.

“Joe...” you warn, but it sounds lighthearted and sleepy.

“What?” Joe acts all innocent, but you can hear his amusement when he adds, “Just for a second.”

Joe is still shuffling in his spot, using his other hand to sort the cushion behind him, then pulling the blanket and tucking it under his leg, followed by him using his chin to fix the bit of flipped cotton of his T-shirt sleeve – it’s a lot of faffing for someone who wants to sit for just a second.

He’s nearly done, a centering sigh half way out of him when, suddenly, you feel how he pipes up a little and see how he looks across the room. His phone’s still on the counter, and for a second, Joe debates getting up to go and get it.

You determine on his behalf that he doesn’t need his phone by draping your arm across his stomach and snuggling up.

It’s warm in Joe’s flat.

And this little nest is perfect.

“Fine.” you mutter softly. “Jus’ for a second.”

Joe pauses for a moment as he looks down at how you let your nose brush his arm, your eyes already closed, and he grins as he sinks back down into his sofa.

You don’t make the best decisions after midnight.

Neither does Joe.

Maybe you do deserve each other. Maybe you don’t.

But you deserve this, you think. And you mean that in the best way possible. You deserve to be comfortable, and cosy, and toasty warm in a dimly lit room with a man who smells really nice.

You deserve to cuddle up next to someone who truly values your presence and genuinely just wants you to be there with them for a little while.

You deserve the soft tickling fingertips that delicately dance across your hairline, lingering there for far longer than ‘just a second’.

You deserve the barely whispered, super soft “Love you.” spoken so tenderly and punctuated with a gentle kiss pressed to the top of your head, it makes you tighten your arms around him.

You fall asleep in the soft glow of the under cabinet LEDs with the knowledge that the next morning is bound to be awkward. But this is still infinitely nicer than trying to fall asleep with Emily’s words on your mind. It’s difficult to think about impossible-to-answer questions when you’re wrapped up in strong warm arms that want you there, so you allow yourself to sink and to drift until dreams fully take you.  

A loud bang of a door slamming shut wakes the both of you with a violent jolt.

Two pairs of tired bleary eyes look around the room, and there’s a fleeting moment of confusion. Your mind scrambles to piece together where you are and what just happened, but all your mind can focus on is how dry and heavy your eyes feel as you blink to adjust to your surroundings.

“Oh, fuck,” Joe croaks, groaning as he goes to sit up. He looks over his shoulder, then rubs a heavy hand across his face before he goes, “Yea…”

You feel disoriented and frazzled, and move to sit up just enough to look over the back of the sofa with squinty eyes to see what Joe is even looking at.

All you see is an open door to the hallway that leads to his bedroom.

“What was that?” you ask, thinking maybe something dropped or knocked over somehow. When Joe gets up and walks over to his bedroom to check, you think that’s it. Something fell because gravity finally got a hold of whatever Joe had been precariously balancing on a bookshelf.

But then you hear Joe audibly sigh and dejectedly go, “Yea, she won’t be coming back.”

That takes minute to land.

It’s too early for your brain to comprehend what just happened, but slowly, puzzle pieces click together.

Oh.

Oh, that’s fucking detestable, isn’t it?

When Joe walks back out, he’s wearing joggers and is holding a ball of socks, and you hope there’s a different explanation than the correct one you just concocted. He looks at you for a moment, and you can tell by the look on his face that he feels awful.

Right.

Emily can fuck off.

You don’t deserve each other.

You deserve better than this.

Okay, so, yea, admittedly, you aren’t really one to talk, seeing the personal choices you have made over the past eight hours. But the choices Joe has made in that same span of time are just as bad, if not worse.

You decide to give into the feeling of wanting to lay back down rather than to face whatever this morning has on offer for you. You disappear from Joe’s sight, and cover all of your face with your hands that press and pull at your skin.

This is such a mess.

“Emily can fuck off.” You mutter into your own palms, hoping Joe can translate that and connect the dots of your disdain for him in this very moment.

You should leave.

Should check your phone for any messages or missed calls, and you should leave.

Never come back.

Learn your fucking lesson already and never set foot into this flat ever again.

But then Joe leans over the back of the sofa, and with knitted eyebrows that show off every single line on his forehead, he softly asks, “Do you want a coffee?”

You drop your hands.

Look up at him. The kind face. His short hair sleep messy. Jaw line. His mouth.

You should leave.

“Um…”

Oh... oh no.

“Yea…”

Fuck.

So close.

“Yea?”

You almost had it.

“Yea. I could use a coffee.”

Almost.

---

The Taglisted

@alwayslindie, @babybluebex, @capricornrisingsstuff, @chaoticgood-munson, @cowboymcflurry

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@emotionaldreamer, @everythinghasafacee, @ferfan14, @figmentofquinn, @ghost-proofbaby

@gri959, @hanahkatexo, @hazelenys, @jewellethief, @joesquinns

@keikoraven, @kennedy-brooke, @lovelyblueness, @loves0phelia, @mandyjo8719

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@solzi1420, @songforeddiemunson, @sweetberry47, @take-everything-you-can, @thebellenouvelle

@tlclick73, @werepartnersnow, @witchwolflea, @xxladymjxx, @yunirgo

add yourself

[kandadze]

FoF rewatch ep 3: or, Gone sleuthing (gifs and loose thoughts)

Before we begin, let's take a second to appreciate our beautiful elven boy and his (absolutely adorable) tiny bright blue horns hair clips (while he's roasting ZYZ for being sarcastic at the prospect of the rest of the squad losing their heads in 5 days' time... that's why you never sign a binding document in blanco, folks!):

Speaking of signing binding documents, let's look at the Great Demon acting all cool while literally at the feet of our archivist:

This moment, the way it was lit and the angle at which it was shot, is just everything:

(Look at him, so pleased with himself:)

And now let's take a second to appreciate ZYZ's slow blink at ZYC after telling him about the life contract with WX:

Overall, knowing how the story progressed, ep 3 is the last one where humor definitely outweighed the angst, and any hints for our characters' backstories were merely sketches. We get a lot of running around collecting clues, with Bai Jiu being the main comic relief, the girls not far behind, and everyone roasting the hell out of ZYZ while he only sometimes nips back, pretty jovially, and mainly at ZYC.

(Damsel Bai Jiu, desperately in need of smelling salts)

The girls:

The boys doing their sleuthing in their own ways:

Also, this is the first ep with our characters shown outside of the city, in nature, and it's so beautiful:

"All demons are ugly." "Nonsense!"

(Reader, it was indeed nonsense.)

ZYZ: talks about white hair being beautiful to demons

ZYC's Petty Little Bitch mode: activated

(But soft, reader, here's proof that our lovely ZYC has since matured lol)

Right in the middle of the sleuthing shenanigans, we have a beautiful conversation about dreams, human nature, how everyone wishes for something, how everyone has something they want to escape from. We get a mention of the Truth Eye, together with a blink-and-you'll-miss-it wistful look from ZYZ that makes so much sense later.

We find out that ZYC doesn't dream; in WX's memory, we hear ZYC's explanation of why he fears to dream, and for the umpteenth time on this rewatch, I went (say it with me), foreshadowingggg!

Aaaaaand we get introduced to our sexy possessive demon, though we have no clue who the heck he is at this point, only that he knows ZYZ and is clearly uhhhh conflicted about him.

Also holy shit but only now on the rewatch did I realize what the illusion Ran Yi tried to use on ZYZ was - and why ZYZ was so freaked out... (all together now: foreshadowing!!!! I swear if I took a shot each time I say it while rewatching I'd put myself in a goddamn coma.)

Huh, Ran Yi thought ZYZ had the Truth Eye... on the first watch we still don't quite know what that is, only that it helps to see through the illusions, so it would make sense that ZYZ has it. Rewatching, and knowing that he doesn't, *and* what happened to it... makes for a nice little circle going back to LL's introduction.

Speaking of the devil, the possessive demon is gonna possess (*and* also look good while at it):

And our demon hunter now knows that there's definitely something... fishy going on in the Qi manor:

Ahhhh I forgot about the low maintenance pets exchange! XD All the kinks unlocked in this drama istg...

Huh, I also completely forgot about him catching the arrow!

ZYZ flashing back to the younger, softer LL just as he half shields WX from what he knows is a completely different animal *now*, is absolutely not hitting me in any feels, nope:

(There's also something to be said about the fact that ZYZ is not surprised by LL possessing some (not so) random dude, so even on the first watch we're bound to assume that it happened before and ZYZ is not a fan. We don't get to see any of those instances, but one sentence from ZYZ is enough.)

WX immediately recognizes LL's name but still thinks it was him who killed her shifu, simply because being tossed aside like a rag doll by him is the last thing she remembers from that day...

I was close to screeching at my screen when he activated the true seeing in her, and not only is he ::gestures at the whole of him:: but then she looks to the side and ZYZ looks like *that*, and the effect is still not lost on me on the second viewing:

They made sure to end almost every ep with a well timed cliffhanger, but since we don't have to worry about that anymore, on to ep 4!

I'll just leave this pretty shot here before I go, because those swirly things are so cool (and so unsettling when put in context):

[fruvittea]

whispers in the rain part three ✧˚ · .

— ✺ pairing: jay x reader x jake

— ✺ genre: slice of life, angst, suggestive, fluff, childhood best friend, love triangle, college au, slow burn

—✺ synopsis: jay is your childhood best friend. that’s all he will ever be. a summer with jay and his friends changes how you feel for him when jake comes into your life. and jay begins to think that was a mistake.

—✺ warnings: also the members are aged up a bit, specifically niki, so he can have alcohol LOL

—✺ word count: 1.8k

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | ...

The vacation was in full swing, and Jay was happy—genuinely happy. He watched you laugh with Jake during breakfast, the two of you whispering about some inside joke from your trip to town the day before. You look radiant, your eyes shining with a sort of joy he hadn’t seen in a while. And for some reason he couldn’t keep his eyes off of you. 

She’s finally having fun, he thought to himself, and the warmth of pride settled in his chest. You deserved this. You deserved to branch out, to meet people who made you smile the way Jake did.

The rest of the group buzzed with excitement about their plans for the night. “Let’s hit the bars downtown,” Jungwoo suggested, scrolling through his phone. “I found this place with live music that looks pretty fun.”

Niki, ever the instigator, clapped his hands. “Finally! Time to turn up.”

Everyone agreed eagerly, including you, and before long, the house was alive with the sound of showers running, music blasting, and the chaos of young adults rifling through their suitcases for the perfect outfit. 

Jay didn’t think much about the preparations until you emerged from your room. He was leaning against the counter, scrolling through his phone, when he glanced up and froze.

—

You had been having so much fun while on vacation. Being in a place you have never been before. With people you are beginning to know. It all has been wonderful—sun drenched mornings, lazy afternoons, and laughter filled nights. And tonight you were going out and having fun. But something felt off. 

Jake is so incredible—funny, kind, and so attentive it made your chest ache. He has a way of making you feel seen, his compliments coming so naturally. You couldn’t help but wonder if he memorized them or not. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had made you feel this special. 

And yet, there was a nagging thought in the back of your mind that refused to leave. 

You haven't spent much time with Jay. The whole reason you said yes to even going on this vacation. It was Jay. 

It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d been around, always somewhere in the background, but things were different. Normally, the two of you would find little moments just for yourselves, creating a bubble that on one else could break into. Now with this trip, it had popped. He seemed content staying on the sidelines, happy to let Jake take over. 

It wasn’t like you wanted Jay to monopolize your time, but his absence felt strange. Unsettling. You…missed him.

Still, Jake made it hard to dwell on that too long. He had a way of drawing you in, whether it was with his quick wit or the way that he listened so intently whenever you spoke. He made you feel lighter, freer, and you couldn’t help but bask in his attention. 

But tonight wasn’t the night to focus on such things. Everyone had agreed to go out, you wanted to have fun and you spent more time getting ready than usual, carefully perfecting your look. A leopard print top that hugged your figure, a black mini skirt, and slim black boots with a thin heel. You took your time scrolling through Pinterest trying to figure out what makeup look to do until finalizing on a sultry smokey makeup look that was just enough for tonight. To save yourself time from curling your hair, you simply straighten it, letting it fall down your back. 

You gave yourself one last look in the mirror, put on some lipstick, and walked out into the living room where Jay was leaning against the counter waiting for everyone to come out their rooms. 

—

Jay blinked twice. 

He watched you straighten your skirt and adjust your bag. 

“Is it too much?” The nervousness in your voice made him take a deep breath in. Your eyes sparkled with your makeup. 

“Wow, y/n you look amazing,” Jungwon said, breaking the silence. You looked to your right to see him dressed in a simple black button up tucked into black pants with a belt. “Don’t worry you didn’t do too much, it is perfect.” He flashed you a smile putting his hand on your back before making his way to the living room. 

The whole time Jay had his eyes on you and couldn’t help but have a slight reaction to Jungwon’s flirtatious hand placement. He swallowed hard, quickly looking away. His mind wrestled with the thought that popped up unbidden: She looks beautiful. He shook it off. Of course you looked beautiful. You always did. That wasn’t new. What was new was the tight feeling in his chest, the inexplicable urge to tell you to stay home. He ignored it. 

“Yeah it’s not too much. You look good.” He said. 

“Alright, are we ready? The Uber is on it’s way!” Sunoo flashed his phone before making his way to the front door.

“Wait, I thought someone was driving?” You turned to go to the door.

“Pfft, no, we all wanna have fun tonight.” Niki gave you a wink before following Sunoo out the door. 

—

The streets were alive with the energy of the summer nightlife. Strings of lights adorned the lampposts, and music spilled out of every bar you all walked passed. The group was all smiles, dressed to impress and ready to have a good time. 

After a bit of wandering Heesung found the bar with live music and snagged a table near the stage. The bang was setting up, and the air buzzed with anticipation. 

Jake, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for you. You thanked him with a smile that Jay couldn’t help but notice lingered a second too long. The group ordered drinks, laughing and shouting over the noise as they debated what to get. Jay stuck to beer, while you opted for a fruity cocktail that came in a ridiculous glass. 

“Cheers to the best summer yet.” Sunghoon raised his glass.

“Cheers!” Everyone echoed clinking glasses. 

The band started playing, and the music was infectious. It wasn’t long before people were swaying in their seats or getting up to dance. Jake leaned in closer to you, his arm brushing yours as he pointed out something about the band’s ead guitarist. The way he leaned in to whisper jokes, his breath warm against your ear, made your cheeks flush. 

But even as you laughed, your eyes kept drifting to Jay. 

He was quieter than usual, sticking close to Jungwonn and Sunoo, his playful demeanor subdued. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances of him from across the table, the way his eyes lingered on the band playing, his fingers drumming his glass like he was lost in thought. 

Little did you know, Jay caught the little interactions between you and Jake from the corner of his eye. Jake wasn’t doing anything wrong—he was being a friend, perhaps a little more friendly to his liking, but still he wasn’t doing anything wrong and for some reasons he couldn’t stop watching. 

Sunoo nudged him. “You good Jay?”

Jay blinked, realizing he hasn’t said much in a while. “Yeah, just enjoying the music.”

Sunoo gave him a knowing look but didn’t press further. 

—

As the night went on, the drinks flowed, and everyone got a little tipsy. The shy inhibitions that had lingered earlier were gone now, replaced by laughter and the occasional bold move. The boys had gone all over the place, chatting it up with strangers, and ordering more drinks at the bar. 

Meanwhile Jake and you were laughing as something together not leaving the table ever since you entered the bar. And then he leaned in, his lips closed to your ear.

“I forgot to mention how beautiful you look tonight.” His voice so low only you could hear. 

“Don’t make me laugh Jake, thats the alcohol talking.” You turn you head to meet his eyes. 

“Partially so, but hey, drunk words are sober thoughts.” His smile sends a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t help but turn away bashfully as he reassured you he meant what he said. 

Out of your view was Jay sitting at the bar sipping on his second beer. Jay’s jaw clenched. “You’ve been staring at them for the last ten minutes,” Jungwon said, sliding into the seat next to him.

“What? No I haven’t.”

“You have,” Jungwon said plainly, sipping his drink. “You’re happy for her, right?” That she’s having fun?”

“Of course I am,” Jay’s response was immediate. Too immediate. 

“Hmm.”

Jay turned to him, frowning. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungwon shrugged. “Nothing. Just…it’s funny how you’re the only one not having fun right now.”

Jay opened his mouth to argue, but Jungwon was already walking away to an almost drunk Heesung and Niki, leaving him with his thoughts. Jay downed his drink before quickly asking for another. 

He tried to focus on the band, on the rhythm of the music, on anything but the way Jake’s hand rested on the back of your chair or the way your laugh seemed louder when Jake was the one making you smile.

It’s fine, he told himself. He just missed his best friend a bit and that was all. This is what what you wanted. She’s finally branching out.

—

At some point, you excused yourself to go to the restroom. Jay saw his chance and followed, waiting just outside the hallway leading to the restrooms. When you emerged he caught your arm gently. 

“Hey, you okay Jay?” You smiled as you felt his hand reach for you. 

“Yeah, yeah of course! Are you okay?” He asked. 

You looked at him, surprised. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”

He hesitated. “I just…you’ve been spending a lot of time with Jake. I wanted to make sure he’s not, you know, making you uncomfortable or anything.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Was this his jealous way of saying he missed you? “Jay, Jake’s been great. Why would you think he’s making me uncomfortable? 

“I don’t know. I just…I worry about you.”

You smiled softly, and for a moment, Jay felt like the two of you were back in high school, just you and him against the world. 

“I’m fine Jay. You don’t need to worry about me so much.” 

But I do, he wanted to say. The words hovered on his tongue, unspoken. Instead, he nodded, stepping aside to let you slip past him. You put a reassuring hand on his forearm giving it a gentle squeeze before making your way back to the empty seat beside Jake. He watched as you walked back to your seat, where Jake was waiting with that easy smile of his. 

Jay stayed in the hallway for a moment, leaning against the wall and taking a deep breath.

Maybe Jungwon was right. Maybe he wasn’t as okay with this as he thought. 

✴︎🪷𓈒͏ུུ̑̑. ཉ — by @fruvittea

💌 pm me if you want to be on the tag list

[yoonmetogether]

Not In the Cards Interlude pt. 1

pairing: gambler!Yoongi x gambler!fem reader genre: mafia, strangers-to-lovers, age gap summary: how it all started. you won all of his money at poker, he hates you for it, but you find yourself hiding in a closet with him. (This is rlly e2l2e2l lol) warnings: alcohol, mild derogatory language, yoongi's an asshole, reader antagonizes him, motorcycle riding, gambling, smoking, drinking, smut, quickie in a janitor’s closet (i guess i have a problem??), insane bickering, usage of sl*t, yoongi and those red chopsticks from haegeum, a smidge of violence (not towards each other), implied parental absence, scars, reader mentions a minor injury from a car crash wc: 10.2k minors dni. 18+ only thanks to my beta reader @yoonglesyeobo and also to @syllviere for their help and support! <333

prologue l part 1. play nice l interlude. strangers 1/2 l interlude. strangers 2/2 l part 2. l

You picked a great time to fly back home - smack dab in the middle of monsoon season. Of all the light things you packed in your backpack and duffle bag, you forgot an umbrella.

And the first thing you did once you set foot on the mainland soil of your Jeju pit stop, was ask your driver to take you to the Sehwa beach on the east coast. But the cash you had got you only about three-quarters of the way there, so you were dropped off into the one part of town you’re familiar with. Memories of happier times dance around the streets as you walk down them, on your way to the place you know best. Even though it will remind you of how things once were and never will be again, you go because it’s the only place you know where you can earn money without really having to work for it.

You’re soaked to the bone when you walk into the bar. The lights are low and dimmed with a green hue and floating smoke. It’s loud with banter as men get drunk on this gloomy Friday night.

You find an ATM near the bathrooms and withdraw 700,000 won.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you lost?” one of the pretty waitresses asks as she approaches you in a short apron and even shorter skirt, lips painted a vibrant ruby. Her silky bob is curled just above a black choker around her neck, and she glances down as you slide your wad of cash into your wallet, sliding it in your jacket pocket.

“Uh, no. Can I get a drink and a seat please?”

She looks at you with apprehension laced in her polite expression. “There’s a much quieter bar a few blocks down the street. You might have a better time there.”

“I appreciate that, but I’m actually looking to win some money.”

“I see,” she says after a pause, giving you a onceover. “Are you old enough?”

Yeah, an illegal gambling ring probably wouldn’t want to get tacked on with another charge of hosting minors if the cops were ever smart enough to come snooping around a place like this. You pull out your ID and hand it to her, watching as she holds it up and you know just what she’s looking for because you’ve used a fake to get in here before.

The corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile as she passes it back to you. She turns around and beckons you forward with two fingers in the air, leading you through the bar and as you trail behind her, nostalgia walks with you.

At the bar was where you took your first shot, had your first cigarette, in spite of your brother’s protests, and the den downstairs that you’re heading to was where you won your first real hand at poker. It’s still the same old musty, dusty, probably moldy basement that you remember, but now the ghosts of your past linger in the air so it’s hard to go through without getting a little misty-eyed.

As you step off the stairs, the waitress is surveying the room. It’s much more crowded and loud than upstairs since there are high stakes all around. You strain your neck, looking for an empty chair but they’re all occupied by men with too much time and not enough money to lose.

���Well, all of the tables are full right now, but I can set you up with a drink at the bar while you wait for an opening.”

“What about the table in the back?” Her eyes narrow.

“That’s for more experienced players.” Leaning against the railing, you hum, check your manicure.

“I’ll cut you twenty percent of my win if you get me in there.”

Her eyebrows lift in surprise. “You’re that confident?”

“This is where I learned how to play pro. I win more than I lose.”

She looks you up and down again, like she can’t figure you out.

“Make it twenty-five.”

“Deal,” you grin and she mirrors you, flashing her teeth.

“Follow me.”

You pull your damp hoodie further over your head in an attempt to shield your face as you follow her through the maze of tables towards a door in the far corner of the low-ceiling room. It’s slightly obscured by the counter and sheer, moth-eaten curtains that match the shitty wall color, and you thank the waitress when she pulls them to the side to direct you through. She then leads you into a small hallway but pauses right before the second door frame.

“I have to tell you, these men aren’t exactly their mothers’ favorite.”

You shrug. “Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

“Alright, well if you change your mind…”

“Thanks, but I won’t. I owe you that big tip.”

She smiles. “Don’t let me down, girlie.”

“Is there room for one more, gentlemen?” Her voice carries over the cocksure babble of the middle-aged men surrounding the round, green-felt table, littered with scattered poker chips, worn ashtrays and crystal glasses of whiskey. You’re met with a thick cloud of smoke as you approach an empty seat at the table. They all fall quiet as you pull down your hood, revealing your wet hair and the fact that you are not one of them.

A collective muttering of derision rises as you pull out the chair but you act completely unbothered, unzipping your drenched coat and shrugging it off. You fish your wallet out of your jacket and pass all of your cash to the attendant who exchanges it for chips.

“What do you know about poker?” one of the men prods.

"Plenty. Deal me in. What’s the ante?”

“I think you’re wasting your time,” another cuts in. “You should go see if they have a kiddie table.”

The men shove elbows into each other in raucous laughter at your expense but it doesn’t affect you at all.

“Let her play.”

You look up at the new voice. Gravelly. Gruff. Tempting.

Shit. How did you miss… him? The youngest man in the room, the one with parts of his face shadowed by the god-awful, dim lighting, has not taken his eyes off of you since you walked in. You can tell by the way the bumps on your skin rise every time your attention flickers in his direction and your eyes catch. His hair is orangey, as much of it that pokes out from under his black beanie, and he’s wearing a black varsity jacket with white stitching on the front that makes him stand out among the rest of the men’s unflattering suits and loose ties.

He lifts his cigarette, takes a drag, and blows it out, blinking between you and two black poker chips he taps on the table.

You glare at the subtle smirk on his lips as he says, “Easy win.”

This will be fun.

The first few rounds you do get shit hands, but you bet on them anyway, enduring the condescension that leers from the entire table each time. The only one who doesn’t laugh is the one you can’t stop stealing glances at, the one who just nonchalantly smokes and places bets and looks at his cards, and occasionally stares right back. Makes your heart flip. You’ve noticed, though, from watching him a few times, that when the flop is laid out and it’s time for the first bets, if he blinks a little erratically while staring at his hand, he folds soon after. You fold on a two-pair after checking, and the players get a kick out of that when you reveal that you had a potentially winning hand. You pretend to be super bummed. But now you’ve got them right where you want them.

So far, you’ve bet the majority of your money but you’re fairly certain that won’t matter in a few minutes. In your hand, you hold an 8 and 2 of Diamonds. On the table, lies a ten of Spades, six of Clubs, 4 and Queen of Diamonds, and three of hearts. You school your expression. One more diamond card and it’s a flush. You look up and it seems the majority of the table has folded, but ‘kiddie table’ man and ‘beanie with a mean stare’ man are still in the running. Both of their hands have been good so far, but ‘beanie with a mean stare’ has won most of the rounds. This is the last one and you’re running out of time to win all of it back. You feign a nervous glance around the table before you check. ‘Kiddie’ checks as well and you wait for ‘mean beanie’ to follow suit but instead, he scoots the rest of his chips in to raise the bet. Huh. He’s getting cocky, going all in. He only blinked once when the dealer laid down the flop, so you suspect he has a good hand. But not a great one, so you’ll raise the stakes. The men mutter in amusement when you match his bet and he lifts a brow, but the rest of his expression remains neutral. The dealer asks if that’s the final bet, and when no one responds, he flips the fifth card. Your heart jumps. 

A nine of Diamonds.

‘Kiddie’ goes first and displays his three-of-a-kind. Hm. Not bad. You glance over to ‘mean beanie,’ waiting for him to make the next move but he only stares at you, unblinking, a thin line between his lips. You take a deep breath and put on a sheepish smile while flattening your cards near the center of the table so everyone can see.

“Is this a flush?” They all still, and you fail to fight off a grin when their many pairs of eyes go back and forth between the river and your two low rank cards that add up to a high rank hand.

‘Mean beanie’ is now staring at his cards, a noticeable tick in his jaw and you know you’ve won. He tosses them down with a quick flick of his wrist and you can’t help your smirk at his obvious dejection.

“Oh, a straight?” you observe his 5 of Hearts and 7 of Spades. “How nice.” You tilt your head mockingly. “You almost beat me.”

He frowns and you feel enthralled, resisting the urge to blow him a demeaning kiss. With a content sigh, you lean forward to scrape your scored chips towards you, holding your arms out like a hoop to move them all because there’s just that many. You stand as an attendant appears to retrieve your chips to count and trade for the table’s cash. You think you’ll get a nice hotel room to shelter from the storm.

“It was a pleasure playing with you gentlemen,” you say politely as you stand. “I’ll enjoy spending your money.”

The devilish grin you send to all of them lingers on ‘mean beanie’ who is now refusing to look at you. There’s a pep in your step as you stride up to the attendant behind the counter on the side of the room, waiting for him to cash you out.

You watch as the men file out, glaring at you and muttering bitter curses amongst themselves. You shrug it off. Serves them right for underestimating you just because you’re a young woman. You may have been putting on an act, but men run the world.

Shouldn’t they have been smart enough to pick up on that?

‘Beanie’ is the last one to go, head ducked as he pulls out his phone. He’s still in the hallway when you exit, backpack stacked with 10 million won. His foot is on the bottom step as he types furiously on his device.

“Hey, good game,” you say in a light tone as you pass him, but there’s too much sass in your smile to seem genuine. “And you’re right. That was an easy win.”

He lifts his head slowly, eyes narrowed in a vicious glare, pockets his phone and takes a step up. It makes your heart speed when he comes nearly face to face with you, and you can see him in this mildly better lighting.

“How’d you pull that off, huh? You count cards?” He’s pretty much seething but fucking hell, he's attractive.

“No,” you blink innocently, living for the ferocity in his darkened eyes. “I just count on men to be dumb enough to believe a pretty girl like me doesn’t know how to gamble. Thanks for being so full of yourself that you can’t see through a sham like that.”

His jaw ticks as his glare rakes up and down your form.

“You’re full of yourself, too. You’re not that pretty.”

It’s a cheap shot, but it’s obvious he’s just trying to make himself feel better by hurting your feelings because he has nothing else.

“Aww, you sound like a sore loser. Do you want to go back in there? Try to win some back?”

“I’m done playing for the night.” He still hasn’t gotten out of your face and the scent of his earthy cologne with traces of cigarette smoke is doing unhealthy things to your blood pressure.

“Understandable. It would suck to get your ass beat by a girl twice in a row.”

He's radiating with vexation but it doesn’t intimidate you in the slightest. If anything, it’s making him more attractive, which makes you think you should do some deep, serious internal reflection. His nostrils flare just before he swivels on his heel to face the steps.

“Oh, by the way, I noticed that you blink a lot when you get a bad hand. You should work on that.”

His head jerks to you, seeming to take offense to that. He looks you up and down again, grimaces, and starts up the stairs.

“Maybe with your money, I’ll buy some expensive makeup to doll myself up better!” You call up.

“You’d need a lot!” 

Fucking liar. You cackle as he jogs up the rest of the way.

******* Upstairs, he’s already out of sight. You relocate the waitress who greets you expectantly, an enthusiastic grin breaking out on her face when you pull out your winnings. She gives you a small cheer and while you sit at the bar to count out her cut, she makes you a drink on the house.

Once you finish your drink, you check the time and realize you shouldn’t hang around here for much longer. And you’re starting to feel the effects of jet lag now that you’ve got your money problems squared away. But of course you left your jacket downstairs. You ask the waitress if you can go get it.

“Sure, but come right back.”

In the hallway, you falter when you hear a one-sided conversation, spoken by that low stony voice that tickles your brain. You peek your nosy head around the corner, pulse spiking with a thrill when you see ‘beanie’ standing on the other side of the room, next to another hallway.

“The fuck do you mean it didn’t go through? 

As he listens on the other line, he hangs his head, fingers digging into his eyes in what appears to be frustration before dropping them on his hip.

“Shit, are you serious?... Can you just send me some for a plane ticket? I’ll pay you back... Fine.” He sighs dejectedly. “See you back home.”

He curses again, louder this time, and you take that as your cue to saunter into the room, pretending you don’t notice him as you head for the table.

“You stalking me?” You blow a raspberry, leaning down to grab your jacket from the chair and hold it up for him to see.

“As if. You’re not that interesting. And you’re a sore loser,” you tack on. “Not my type.”

(Straight up lies.)

“Well, you’re fucking annoying.”

“Thank you!” You exclaim, hand on your chest like you’re honored. “I’ve worked so hard to be.”

He glowers at you and you really want to laugh. Why is he so angry? It’s not like you stole his money. Tricked him? Maybe, but you can’t exactly be fair in a place like this. His head shakes as he passes by you for the exit.

“So I really won all of your money, huh? And now you’re strapped for cash?” He pauses, slides narrowed eyes your way, and stuffs his hands in his jacket.

“Mind your business.”

“What? It just sounds like you’re in a tough spot, especially with the big storm coming later. I’d hate to think that you’re stranded in torrential downpour with nowhere to go all because some mid-looking girl took your money.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grits.

“How is that patronizing? I’m just saying, I’m sorry you fell for my dirty little trick, but I can help you out if you want.”

He strides into your space and you step back, heart pounding when he gets in your face again. There’s a dangerous look in his eyes but you’re not at all threatened.

“I don’t need shit from you.” You tip your head up and bat your eyelashes, sneaking a glance at his lips, pink and plush and enticing. 

“Okay,” you shrug nonchalantly, failing to fight off a small smirk. Warmth creeps up from your cheeks to your ears when his blown out pupils flash down to your mouth. And the tension in between you transforms with a feral magnetism.

His tongue darts out to his bottom lip and your eyes widen a fraction at the sight.

“You’re really aggravating, you know that?”

“You can walk away.” His head tilts at your challenge and the magnetism grows when he doesn’t move.

Just then, your heads turn towards the stairs when voices and footsteps start to descend.

He grabs your arm and tugs you around the corner and to the end of the hallway, whipping open a small door and stepping inside before pulling you along with him. Your nose wrinkles at the odious smell of industrial cleaning agents.

“What are you doing?”

“Shut up,” he hisses, tugging you away from the door to the adjacent side of the small and dark closet. “No one’s supposed to be down here now that they’ve closed things up.”

“Oh,” you whisper, settling against the wall. “You don’t really strike me as the type to follow the rules.”

“I’m not,” he grits, voice deep enough to not be heard easily. “But I know that consequences still apply if I get caught.”

“Well, this isn’t how I expected to spend my Friday night,” you huff with a cross of your arms. “Holed up in some janitor’s closet with a common criminal.”

“You’re one too, y’know. You committed a felony just by stepping foot in here. And then another, when you won all that money.”

You mimic that last sentence in a childish tone and his chest heaves in a huff.

“Will you be quiet?”

“Am I pissing you off?”

“You have been since the first goddamn minute you walked in.”

“If I annoy you that much, you could’ve just hidden in here yourself and left me out there to get in trouble.”

“I still have time. I could push you out now.”

“Do it then.”

A silence follows, like he’s contemplating. Hesitating. That magnetism comes back to buzz between you.

“Or maybe, and I’m just spitballing here, you wanted an excuse to get me alone in this dark, tight space?”

He scoffs. “You’re delusional.”

“Hm. Then why are you so close? There’s more than enough room for the both of us to have space.”

When he doesn’t say anything, a smidge of unease pinches your gut when you think you’ve gotten ahead of yourself and misread things. You can’t help that his whole broody, pissed off vibe turns you on for some reason. So you move to get away from him, create some space now that you’re embarrassed but his hand finds the crook of your elbow and stops you. Heat floods your cheeks for a whole different reason.

“What are you trying to get at?” You smile, heart pounding with nerves because you know his rejection would sting like hell. But you’re not about to let his attitude shit on your confidence.

“C’mon, you’re not that dumb.” His fingers dig into your arm, not enough to hurt but enough to feel that you’ve pinched a nerve.

You gasp when he pushes your arm until your back hits some metal shelves and you stare at the silhouette of his face, his hand lifting to hold onto the shelf next to your head. Blood rushes in your ears when he leans in so close enough that his warm breath fans down to your chin.

“You wanna be fucked in here like a slut? Is that it?”

Holy mother of fuck. The way he said that - husky, dark, low but so intense has to be a sin.

“Can you even get it up this late at night, old man?”

“Who the fuck are you calling old?” He spits. “You’ve got to be at least 30.”

He better be joking! “What does that make you, then? 45? 50?” 

“Try 27.”

“Huh. You’re still a lot older than me.” You don’t find that hot.

“By how much?” he queries, a bit of apprehension in his tone.

“5 years.”

He exhales sharply, a breath of relief. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Is almost 30 too early to have ‘dysfunctional’ problems?”

Large hands on your hips force you to turn around and face the shelves, and you plant your palms on it with a gasp when he grinds his clothed erection on the swell of your ass.

“Does this feel ‘dysfunctional’ to you?” he growls, grinding against you again, slower this time but harsher so you can feel all of what’s swelling in his pants. He’s big, because of course he is, and you figure by the end of this, you’ll be the dysfunctional one.

“I-I don’t know,” you stutter, throat suddenly dry.

He sighs and leans into you, chest barely brushing your back, and you gasp again when his hand returns to the shelf above your head, ducking his chin to breathe down your neck as he rolls his hips once more and mutters darkly into your ear,

“Do you want to find out?” A shiver bolts down your spine, and your center starts to throb with sinful desire.

Getting fucked on a Friday night in a cleaning closet by a common criminal is definitely not something you expected to be doing on your trip back home. But you don’t want it to go in any other way.

“Mhmm.”

“Is that supposed to be a word?”

“Yes!” You whisper yell.

“Yes, what?” he emphasizes, tone gritty and a touch dominating.

“Yes, I want to find out.” He chuckles, and it’s like a jolt of thunder worthy of a hurricane storming through every seed of your nerves.

Quiet passes for a minute and you think he’s in the middle of changing his mind, but  then he manhandles you to the other side of the closet away from the door, and you put your hands out to feel that you’re pressed into a set of shelves holding big ass rolls of paper towels or something.

He tugs at the hem of your pants. “Take these off.”

“Why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’m giving you a chance to change your mind,” he murmurs.

Oh. You hesitate only because that was unexpected. But you weren’t planning on changing anything. Without a word, you undo the clasp on your jeans and reach back to find his hand, taking note of the insane electricity that surges through you once you touch him, and bring it back to your waist, silent permission that he can continue. Nothing is said as he slides your pants down your ass, and you wait for him to work on his own but instead you feel his fingers trickle on the inside of your upper thigh, and your breath hitches as he inches closer to your heat. You spread your legs and arch your back to give him indication to touch you. He cups your mound, and you lurch forward with a moan, grabbing the shelf to hold onto for dear life.

“You better stay quiet,” he grumbles. “Because if you get us caught, I’ll tell them I found out you were counting cards.”

“And you were fucking me as punishment?” you challenge over your shoulder, but the vitriol in your sneer is extinguished when he glides a lone finger between your folds.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “You’re already wet. Being a dirty slut like this turns you on?”

You don’t answer, brain malfunctioning when he starts rubbing circles over your clit, and you duck your head as it increases your arousal. A whiny moan floats out when he teases your hole and hums to himself. Your back arches when he slips a digit in, shushing your louder moan as he adds another and pumps in and out to work you open. You have to hold your breath every now and then to keep your noises to yourself.

As he keeps finger-fucking you, there’s some shifting and then a slap of something falling on the floor, followed by the sound of foil tearing.

“Did you just get a condom out of your wallet?”

“No, I pulled it out of thin air,” he deadpans dryly.

You roll your eyes. Men. Always staying locked and fucking loaded. And he called you a slut? You open your mouth to convey this to him, but you figure one more smart-ass comment will deny you of what you’re craving.

You salivate when you hear him undo his belt and unzip his jeans. He steps back with a faint moan, and you imagine him finally pulling himself out to roll on the condom. Shit. You know you’re in for it.

His hand finds your waist again, and he spits, loudly, before tapping his tip on your center, gathering your arousal. Your body jerks at the sensation of his head dragging through your folds and over your clit before coming back to prod your entrance, making you tense up in anticipation.

“Are you going to change your mind? Last chance.”

“No, I’m good.” There’s a lapse in movement and in words but then he pushes in and- fuck! It’s a stretch. You moan over a bitten tongue as your eyes squeeze shut, urgently trying to adjust.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not up for it,” he mutters quietly when your cunt refuses to cooperate, thanks to a mix of nerves.

"I am, damn it!”

“Then fucking relax.”

So you deflate your lungs, using the idea of just how good it’ll feel once he fills you up for motivation to do as he says. You let your body go almost entirely limp and he must notice because he digs his nails into your waist and guides himself in, agonizingly slow, expanding your walls with girth so fulfilling.

A low growl resonates in his chest when he sinks in all the way, fingers flexing on your naked hips as he gives time for you to adjust. His hard dick twitching within tells you that he needs a second too. For a few minutes, he fucks you at a snail’s pace while you try not to lose your shit. Then he pulls out to bend his knees, and thrusts back into you, breathing shakily as he increases the pace.

He doesn’t take his hands off of your waist. Doesn’t grope your tits, or cup handfuls of your ass, just holds onto your hips to keep you in place, occasionally uses them to adjust his stance behind you. A part of you wishes he would because you know his large hands could work wonders on your skin, but at the same time there’s a modicum of respect coming from his restraint. You don’t know if that’s what he’s going for or if he just genuinely doesn’t want to touch you - which, ouch - but you’re pretty sure most guys would take you letting them fuck you in a closet as automatic permission to touch all parts of your body whether you asked them to or not, but apparently he’s not one of them.

There is one place, though, that you desperately need him to put his hands on and for whatever reason, he’s not.

“Are you gonna play with my clit anytime soon? Or did you, in your old age, forget where it is?” He huffs, dark and indignant in your ear.

“It’d be nice to get off at some point ton-” A pair of fingers gets shoved over your tongue, cutting you off.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Your eyes roll back at the rigid and domineering grit in his tone, and your back arches to press further into him, needy, wanting. His other hand leaves your hip to replace his fingers with a balled-up piece of fabric, and then he snakes them down to the front of your waist. You have to clench down on whatever fabric he used to muffle you when he easily finds your aching nub and spreads your saliva over it before stroking in agonizing circles. Your teeth clamp down on the mysterious material.

His hips, on the other hand, start to smack against your ass with animalistic determination, like he wants to fuck you as fast as he can so he can get this over with. Which is fine by you, because it feels so fucking good. The force of his thrusts paired with the tips of his fingers rubbing your clit in rough, calculated strokes has your nails scraping on the wall due to the overwhelming pleasure building within you.

He starts to fuck you at a different angle and you almost cry out when he spears against your spot.

“There?” he asks, rocking in the same place experimentally when you clench around him. Your thighs start to shake.

“Mhmm!” you exclaim, voice muffled. He doesn’t stop fucking you there until you come, and even though you already can’t see shit, you definitely black out for a second. The material in your mouth isn’t helping your breathing situation but it’s preventing you from crying.

He hisses and then yanks out, lets go of your waist, and you involuntarily drop to your knees.

“Shit, my fault,” he mutters, but you’re focused on peeling the cloth out of your mouth. You weakly pull your jeans to your hips and turn around when he curses again, reaching out to find his dick as he jerks himself to completion. He stops and rips off the condom, thumb sliding over your chin and into your mouth to drop it open.

“Gonna come,” he growls. You nod and stick out your tongue, and using his thumb as guidance, slides his thick mushroom head past your lips, filling your mouth with hot ropes of cum. He emits some kind of purring sound as you swallow it all down and your eyes roll to the back of your head.

He steps back again and sighs heavily as he tucks himself in and fixes his belt while you wipe your mouth with the inside of your shirt. When he bends down to pick up his wallet, you wait for his hand to offer you help up off the floor, but he just turns around, leaving you to stand up on your own on shaky legs.

That’s not the vibe you were starting to get from him, but okay?

Swinging on your jacket with a bit of shame, you walk up behind him where he’s listening at the door for anyone outside, and realize that you just let this guy fuck you in a weird-smelling closet and come in your mouth before you even got his name.

“I’m Angel, by the way.”

“That’s nice," he says flatly.

“Did you flunk preschool? This would be the part where you tell me your name.”

“I'm good.” You scoff, taken aback. 

"Geez, dude. After all that, you can’t even tell me your name?”

"Nah. Not like we’re ever gonna see each other again, right?” That stings. He doesn’t have the courtesy to do something normal after doing something so unorthodox?

“Whatever, prick.”

When he opens the door, you toss the fabric at him and shove into his shoulder, not looking back as you hurry towards the stairs, taking two at a time to get away from him. The waitress gives you a wary look as you stomp towards her, offering an embarrassed apology while you gather your bags. You thank her, pass her a few more bills, and make an escape to the bathroom. You refuse to look in the mirror as you get yourself together. What the fuck were you thinking?

But as the universe would have it, he’s outside under the awning because of the rain, scrolling through his phone and smoking a cigarette with a foot propped on the wall.

Without slowing down, you walk by him, pluck the cigarette from his fingers and continue down the block. At the corner, you stop abruptly, and lift the stick to your lips, take a drag, then toss it into the street, staring right at him. He frowns and with the hand not stuffed in his jean pocket, raises his middle finger and you shoot him one right back, blowing out smoke and holding back a cough. You flag down a cab with a heavy weight in your chest that crawls up to your throat and threatens to imitate the storm pouring from the clouds above.

The rain follows you into the crowded restaurant and you do your best to shake it off of your clothes and shoes before you go in. An older male server rushes by carrying a tray of soju and shot glasses, beckons you further inside and gestures over to the far end of the room where a small empty table sits in front of the window. As you weave your way towards it, you pass by groups of friends, some couples, all having a good time staying out of the storm together. It makes you a little bitter and a lot lonely.

You sit down with your back facing away from the reminder that you’re the only one occupying a two-person table and order a bottle of soju and a hot bowl of noodles that will take away some of the wet chill clinging to your skin. As you wait, you lean back in your chair, arms crossed, and stare outside, reminiscing about old times. Old friends. Just a part of memories now.

As the server sets down the bottle and a glass, a motorcycle zooms by. The engine sounds like a single-cylinder with a good torque. A Ducati maybe?

A few minutes after you take a shot, you head to the bathroom and when you emerge, passing by the bar, you’re stopped in your tracks by the face of the man who makes your heart pound abnormally. He’s sitting a few barstools away from you, beanie gone, revealing orange hair and roots that could use a touch up, with a black and white bandanna tied under his chin, like it was being used as a mask. Was that what he stuffed in your mouth earlier?

You stare at him as he sips some dark liquor out of a whiskey glass and when he finally notices, he, for some reason, doesn’t look that surprised to see you.

“You again,” you scowl. “Who’s stalking who now?” He shrugs.

“This is a small island.”

Your eyes roll at his shit logic.

“Well, sorry to have ruined your whole ‘we’re never gonna see each other again’ bullshit.”

He doesn't reply, just frowns into his glass. Feeling hot all over, you stew as you stomp back to your table to retrieve your wallet, fishing out a large bill that you slap on the counter once you return to the bar. The bartender comes over and you make a point of looking over at the prick while you say,

"His drinks are on me." You linger your gaze on him, fighting your tongue when his jaw only clenches in response, and head back to your table in a huff.

You try to let it go and not sear holes through his back, instead focusing on your wonderful meal and full glass of soju. He can go to hell.

It seems that the universe has other plans in store when mid-bite, you feel a presence approach and you think it’s the server coming to check on you, but when you look up and the presence stops at your table, your heart skips at the musk that pummels your lungs and puts you in a chokehold. Because it’s the same one that enveloped you from behind not too long ago, strong enough to mask the stench of cleaning supplies. And the source of it slaps a familiar lone bill in front of you under a veiny, slender hand. He stares down at you with an unreadable look in his eyes. Glancing at the bill, you make no move to take it back or acknowledge the fact that he didn't let you pay, even though you just won a bunch of his money. What is this guy playing at?

"Take it."

"No," you shoot back, resuming your meal for an excuse not to look at him. 

He sighs and you think that's the end of it.

But then he scoots into the seat across from you. Your heart flatlines when he glances at you, barely acknowledging you or your shocked expression, and cards a hand through his hair, flipping his bangs away to showcase his forehead, clear of blemishes. Isn’t that fucking typical.

“Um, can I help you?”

“The kitchen’s closing soon and I want to order something,” he says casually as he gets comfortable.

“And you’re sitting at my table because? I thought I was annoying.”

“You are,” he replies, still not looking at you but at your bowl. “But all the other tables are full.”

You scoff and take a sweep of the restaurant, desperate to catch him in a lie - surely people have left and freed up spaces since you got here. Nope. The seat across from you was the only one empty. But why does he have to be the one who fills it?

“You could just go somewhere else.”

“It’s pouring out there.”

“Afraid you’ll melt?”

He flickers a small glare your way, then moves it behind you when the bell over the entrance announces a customer’s arrival. He’s acting indifferent, like he wasn’t just a complete dick, and you don’t know what to make of it.

“So does this mean you're done being an asshole to me now?”

“You think I should be nice or something?”

“That would be a start.”

“Aren’t you not supposed to be nice to strangers? Didn’t your mother ever teach you that?”

That draws a cloudy expression over your face. “I’m sure she would’ve if she was ever around.”

He looks at you and you can see a smidge of his hostile demeanor fall away. Your attention drops to your lap, waiting for him to give the little pity party you’re used to people throwing you when they find out you have an absentee parent. But he doesn’t, just shifts in his seat and lets a little tension out of his shoulders.

“Yoongi.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look across again, thrown for a loop. “What?”

He shrugs, juts out his bottom lip in what you think is a pout. “You wanted my name, right?”

He looks shy and, dare you say, cute saying that. 

“Was that so hard? You know that makes us not strangers anymore,” you point out with a widening smile as he glowers at you.

You reach for the soju bottle but he leans forward and snatches it away. Puzzled, you withdraw your hand, but he gestures to your glass and mimes a pour. There’s uncertainty stitched between your brows as you pick up the glass and hold it out with two hands while he pours a shot. You can’t help but notice the scar etched in a jagged line across the back of his right hand turning the bottle, and you look away from it so you don’t gawk. But you’re curious.

Even though you don’t yet fully respect him, he is still 5 years older, so you turn to the side to knock the shot back. When you’re done, you silently offer to return the favor but he shakes his head, fills your glass once again and sets the bottle down, leaning back in his chair with his arms folded across his chest, glancing between you and the table with a dart of his tongue over his bottom lip.

You stare at the liquor, tips of your fingers dancing around the rim of the glass as you debate how much of your sobriety you should hold onto for the night.

“You’re not drinking?” you ask after you down the shot, wiping your chin.

“I’m driving.” You hum in acknowledgement.

“Are you gonna eat?”

He shakes his head. “I’m good.”

“I thought that was the whole point of sitting at my table.”

“I changed my mind.” Liar. He’s been eyeing your bowl ever since he sat down.

“You’re a shit liar. No wonder I cleaned you out.”

He flips you off and you just sigh. A lost cause. You catch the scar on the back of his hand again, the skin raised but healed.

The atmosphere between you since his gesture has slowed things down, setting a new pace that’s strange but not entirely unwelcome. The liquor spreading warmth in your chest loosens your inhibitions, bringing forth your curiosity.

"What happened to your hand?”

"Bar fight,” he replies a little too quickly. You don't believe that.

"Some bar fight." He rolls his eyes at your sarcasm but then his attention flickers back with a tick of his eyebrows when you lower the collar of your sweater, exposing the skin just below your right clavicle that displays your own gash.

“I got this when I used to race during my first couple years at university.” You smirk when both his brows shoot up, clearly not expecting your story. “I was drifting and my component spun out and drove me off the road and I smashed into a guardrail. He was fine, but my windshield shattered and a big piece of glass just wedged in right here.” You press a finger against the very visible healed stitching. “It hurt like a motherfucker, dug into my bone and all that, but the scar came out pretty bad ass, don’t you think?”

He tilts his head, as if not expecting you to sound somewhat proud of your preventable injury. “I’m sure you were smart enough to stop racing after that.”

“Yeah, but I still went to functions and stuff. And then one night, cops busted our spot and a bunch of us got arrested. I spent a couple days in jail and my brother had to come bail me out.” You pause to think about how irate Jin had been, flying halfway across the world to pay your bond, dragging Namjoon along to fight for you not to be charged. Jin chewed you out the entire time, about how dangerous that was and how you could’ve killed somebody and yourself. Of course you knew that, but you’ve always proved to be a damn good driver, only racing on empty roads after memorizing every wind, bump, and bend. You never let him see your scar because he would find a way to never let you see the light of day again. But then he made you transfer schools and you lost touch with your racing friends.

“And what was that you were saying earlier about being stuck alone somewhere with a felon?” He muses sarcastically.

Glossing over that snide remark, you launch into another anecdote, regaling him in the story of the first time you ever raced when you lost horribly to your brother and he never let you live it down. And the time you were the getaway driver when your brother and your friends decided to add to the graffiti collection under a bridge near school.

“I think you’re oversharing,” he intervenes when you bring your spiel to a close.

“Would you rather sit here and talk about the weather?”

“I’d rather not talk at all.” He looks down as soon as he says it and your eyes droop into a frown. Well, so much for that. Leave it to a guy to pull stupid shit like that.

“Right,” you mutter, leaning down to pick up your bag. “All I’m good for is a fuck.”

You get out your wallet and a large chunk of the cash that you won, leaving a sum for the bill on the table. As you rise, you fold a larger wad in half and slam it down next to his hands. He glances at it before dragging his gaze up to you, blinking a few times as you harshly stare him down. You sniff, swing your bag onto your shoulder, and turn your back on him.

“Stop.” You do and turn, slowly. “I know I’m an asshole, but I wasn’t implying that, okay?”

Blinking at his response, you step up to his edge of the table. You tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate but when he doesn’t, a mildly disappointed sigh leaves your lungs.

“If that’s your idea of an apology…” He stares up as you hold him in suspense. “Then I’ll take what I can get.”

The tiny quirk of his lips has you plopping back in your seat, albeit a bit reluctant. As you set your bag back down, he slides the cash back over.

“But I’m not taking your money.” You frown.

“Well, at least order something to eat, I don’t mind treating. Unless you have that weird masculine thing where it’s offensive if a girl pays for food.”

A light smile threatens to break out on his face and you think it could be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.

“Nah, I’m never one to turn down a free meal.”

He finally orders and you try not to watch him eat, finding it endearing the way he rests his fingers holding chopsticks against his cheek while he chews. So you just return to quietly sipping your drink and watching the rain beat down on the pavement, illuminated by the street lamps. Occasionally, bumps rise on your skin like they did earlier when you feel his eyes on you. You just let him stare because it makes you feel warm.

The bowl slides to the middle of the table and Yoongi sits back with a satisfied sigh.

The bell rings and Yoongi’s expression drops completely. He straightens in his seat, pulls the bandanna up over the lower half of his face and a dreadful feeling sinks into your gut when he grabs the chopsticks and holds them with a tight grip, veins popping and knuckles paling. You look over your shoulder and become washed with anxiety when you see a few men from the poker game heading straight for your table.

“Get your bag,” Yoongi mutters, shifting so his feet are turned to the side. Swallowing thickly, you bring up your backpack and wrap your arms across it, pressing it into your chest.

“So you decided to catch up to her before us. Well done, my friend,” the man says, clapping Yoongi on the shoulder. A cold front moves in on the tips of your fingers, settles a tundra in your gut and freezes you in your seat when Yoongi doesn’t look at you, just stares at the man above him.

Was this all just a ruse? He was just keeping you here so his friends could come and mug you? You’re not that naive.

Right?

Just when you start to doubt all of your life choices, Yoongi smacks off the man’s hand, leans forward with his eyebrows furrowed at you.

“I’m not with them.” Your heart races as you look between them. For once, you feel backed into a corner.

“Yes, you are, pretty boy. Because if you’re not, then it seems to me that you both plotted to set us up and that means you’re both in trouble.”

“No one plotted anything. I’ve never met him before,” you declare, catching onto their lie, washed over with relief.

“You just underestimated me and that’s not my fault.”

The man looks at you with an ugly lip curl.

“Oh, yes it is. You never should’ve been there in the first place, so hand me and my friends back our money and this all goes away. No one gets hurt.”

Yoongi’s jaw moves like he’s grinding his teeth. “That’s not what I heard,” he mutters.

Your clutch anxiously onto the sides of your backpack, not wanting to know what he means. You slowly reach under your chair to grab onto your duffle, ready to run at a moment’s notice.

He bends down to lean towards you. “Give me the money. Now.”

“Get out of her face, man,” Yoongi spits, standing with a hand on his shoulder to push him back. You stand as well, holding tightly onto both of your bags as you look back at the door, but for all you know, there are more men out there waiting.

You jump when the man attempts to snatch your bag but withdraws with a shout in pain, and you don’t expect to see Yoongi piercing his shoulder with the chopsticks. He yanks them out, keeps them in his fist, and shoves back the two men who crowd him, sending them into the tables behind. Dishes crash and customers leap up in exclamations of surprise, and Yoongi takes the opportunity to get behind you, hand flattened on your spine to compel you in the direction of the kitchen.

He seizes your duffle bag so you have an easier time moving, and you both ignore the protesting shouts from the chefs and servers as you run through the hot kitchen. As you stumble outside, the rain cascades over you, and your heart stops for a moment when you realize you have no plan to escape. But then he wraps his free hand around your forearm, glancing up as more shouts echo from the restaurant. He pulls down the bandana.

“This way.”

You both take off down the block, and in the midst of the sprint, Yoongi drops his hand to instead curl his fingers around your wrist and leads you across the street.

The scent of rain washes over you as your feet hit asphalt, a few honks blasting from cars you dart past. Yoongi puts himself between you and the vehicles that shout profanities at him and you can’t help the laugh that escapes you when he shouts right back and throws up a middle finger. You slide your hand into his palm to give him a good tug so he won’t end up in another squabble with an irate driver and he turns back to you. For some reason you’re smiling and when he looks at you, your heart races but it could easily be mistaken for exertion. But when you spot the crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells you he’s smiling too and your pulse skips a beat, you know it has nothing to do with running.

You have no idea where he’s taking you. But at this moment, you trust him with your life. It’s freeing. And it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before.

You run until you reach the end of the block where a black Ducati motorcycle is parallel parked in between a stretch of cars and he picks up a matte black helmet from the back and holds it out to you.

“Here, put this on. Hurry up.” The fiberglass is covered in droplets of rain. It means safety, but from this man who gave it to you? Who keeps throwing you for a loop?

A dilemma.

“Why did you come after me?”

“What?” he half-shouts over the loud pattering of downpour. “We don’t have time-”

You step up to stand face-to-face with him and he blinks confusion down at you, mouth open as his chest heaves, panting, orange hair darkened and drenched. You glance down at the chopsticks are still trembling in his hand. Adrenaline. He snaps them in half and throws them into the street where they get carried into the storm drain.

It’s raining, but there’s a fire. You repeat your question, keeping the helmet down at your side so there’s not more than an inch between you. He holds your gaze - doesn’t blink or look away. Darkness surrounds you, but there’s none in his eyes.

“I just did.”

He gives no reason, so neither do you when you bunch the front of his soaked black crew-neck and yank him into you, into a kiss that will be seared into your mind like a core memory. He doesn’t lean into it for a split second, like you caught him off guard, but when he does, grabs the side of your face to take over and opens your mouth with his tongue like he’s always meant to taste you, it’s messy and desperate, teeth clacking and mouths moving uncoordinated. It’s the hungriest you’ve ever been kissed. Drinking in the rain, drinking in each other, the helmet slips from your fingers and you don’t notice for a second until he breaks away from your swollen lips and holds it up to you.

“We gotta go.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, regret taking over. He shakes his head and places the helmet into your hands. You frantically look over your shoulder where a few men are catching up, pointing their fingers and shouting as they spot you.

“Come on,” he urges and you slip on the helmet, facing back to see him swinging his leg over the bike and starting up the engine. He sits with your duffle slung around his neck in front of him, chin on his shoulder as he glances back just as you slide behind him.

“Hold tight.” He barely gives you enough time to circle your arms around his waist before he kicks off the curb. The bike roars to life and he speeds it away from the pavement, taking off down the street and into the night. Full of possibilities. You rest your head between his shoulder blades, unable to see the way his fingers tighten around the handle bars. Staring off to the side, you watch the night go by, road illuminated by street lights and blurred out by the rain, and your heart hammers at the adventure of it all.

The engine still purrs when it comes to a stop, now far enough away from danger. The rain has reduced to a drizzle and your heartbeat thunders within the fiberglass. You flip up the visor so he can hear you marvel,

“You stabbed him.” For you. He stabbed a man for you.

“I know.”

“That was fucking metal.” His chuckle travels through his chest, so you can feel it in your own.

“I’m glad you think so.” ******* “So, where you headed?” he asks once he comes to the next stoplight. The smell of salt wafts in the air, tell tale sign of the beach.

“My hotel.” “Do you know the directions? I’m not google maps.”

You laugh against his back and tighten your hold around him. His muscles tense up beneath you. At this point, you think you’d let him take you anywhere, but you’re still feeling bad about the kiss.

“You don’t have to take me all the way there. Just drop me off at a bus stop, it’s around here somewhere.”

“Buses don’t run this late.” You know for a fact that they do, but you don’t want to dispute him. Especially if it means you can hold onto him like this for just a little longer. Damn. You hated him just a little bit ago. Crazy how fast things can change in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll take a cab then.”

A rev of the engine fills a pause. “It’s late.”

“What?” He clears his throat, talks over his shoulder.

“I said it’s late. And it’s raining. I’ll just drop you off.” A spread of heat in your chest makes this chilly night a bit bearable.

“I thought you’d be itching to get away from me.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” he mutters, hanging his head, sounding dismayed. Or bitter.

“What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Trust me.”

“You just want gas money, huh?” He huffs and tosses his head back, strings of wet hair allowing you a glimpse of his undercut.

“Just give me the damn directions.”

******* All too soon, the venture comes to an end when he pulls into the lot of the beachfront hotel. Quietly, he parks and shuts off the engine and it takes you a second to come down from your rush and realize you’re still holding onto him when there’s no reason to anymore. You snap yourself out of your daze of wishful thinking that this night will never end and remove your arms, immediately missing his warmth and touch. A little too quickly you move off of the seat and he straightens as you stand, removing the helmet and you miss the way he watches you shake out your hair. When you meet his gaze, your heart starts racing again, butterflies multiplying beneath your diaphragm as he stares at you for a moment before glancing down to the helmet you hold out to him. He accepts it with a subtle nod and rests it in his lap while you internally panic, trying to find something not stupid to say so this whole ordeal with him doesn’t end.

“Well, thank you. I half-expected you to ditch me on the side of the road and ride off with my money.”

He leans forward with a soft snort, resting his wrists on the center of the bars, and your heart starts to do gymnastics at the notion that he finds you amusing because it gives you hope that he’s interested enough to not leave yet.

“I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“No, but you’re pretty close.”

“And yet you got on my motorcycle.”

“You told me to trust you and I do.”

“You just said you expected me to ditch you and take your money.”

“Half-expected,” you emphasize. “There’s always room for doubt.”

Just the corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile and you don’t want to see it leave.

“Speaking of room, do you have a place to stay?”

“Not around here,” he shakes his head, leaning back to stuff his hands in his jacket pockets. “But I have a friend across town who’ll let me crash, so I should probably get going.”

Tonight, with this man, has been an entire amusement park of emotions. From obscene attraction, to utter loathing, to being enlivened and now to just being plain disappointed. You don’t want to get off this ride just yet.

You squat down and drop your bag to the ground, digging into the front pocket for a pen and notepad. After you find one and rip out a page, you straighten and stride up to the bike without looking at him, writing down the number of your room. You fold it up once you’re done, passing it over, and watch him hesitate before accepting it.

“In case you change your mind,” you say, pointing at the page with your pen as you cap it. “Or if your friend doesn’t want a felon crashing on their couch.”

“And you wouldn’t mind a felon crashing with you?”

“I let a felon fuck me in a goddamn closet. What do you think?”

He holds your stare for a moment before a subtle amused smile breaks on his otherwise neutral expression.

“Well, that’s good to know,” he says, shaking his head, and looks at the note for a second longer, then stuffs it in his jacket.

You sense an impending ‘but.’

“But-” You hate being right. “I think I’ll be okay. You should head inside, it’s starting to rain again.”

Not knowing what else to do besides stare at the ground and contemplate if you should write down your number too, you awkwardly hold out your hand, and then upon realizing how weird that is, quickly change your mind and retract it. Embarrassment flooding your cheeks, you reach down to snatch up your bag and turn around. You don’t wave, don’t say anything because what else is there to do? You don’t want to say it was nice to meet him because you’re still trying to figure out if it was, nor do you want to say ‘see you’ because you’re not sure if you ever will after this. 

You don’t look back, and as you head towards the main entrance where you can pick up your room key, the sound of the motorcycle revving into gear echoes around you and it’s only when it disappears in the distance do you turn around, wishing you weren’t watching him go. More like you were still on the back.

.

.

.

thanks for reading!! let me know what you think! i love to yap!!

xxx - claret p.s. i wrote the poker scene after watching a ten-minute wiki-how video on how to play texas hold 'em lmao

masterlist

taglist: @rinkud @taegijns @viankiss @polarnightmyg @futuristicenemychaos @busanbby-jjk @lixies-favorite-cookie

[rumplestiltsbear]

ty for the tag!!! also bia the ship name "paladin" is so cute :3

last song: "octavia" by jamila woods (it's after octavia butler and references parable of the sower, which is pretty cool)

currently watching: arcane!!! the animation is beautiful and so are the characters. jinx, isha, and sevika's little family is precious to me, i can't get over the parallels between vi and jinx and then jinx and isha.

three ships:

ged and tenar from earthsea, romantically or platonically. they complement each other so perfectly. tenar learning to be her own person with agency regardless of whether that means appearing powerful in the traditional sense. ged figuring out that his worth isn't determined by his powers. he saves her and she repays him decades later. they subvert amatonormativity and traditional gender roles but they do it very very softly and i love them for it.

i might be weird for this but petyr and varys from game of thrones? they deserve each other. my hc is that petyr is demi and varys is a sex-neutral ace (the ace part is canon :))

jayvik from arcane!!! i have too many thoughts about them

favorite colors: hot pink and olive green

currently consuming: nothing atm but earlier i had some top tier pomegranate seeds :)

first ship: honestly i don't remember but the first one i remember clearly was probably bluestar and oakheart from warrior cats

last movie: tampopo! amazing japanese movie about a ramen shop. a weird mix of things that should be a little disturbing but all blended together they don't feel strange at all. to me it's like a cross between a ghibli movie and the weirdest fucked-up little fic you'd find on ao3. highly recommend

currently working on: my novel! i haven't had that much time to work on it lately but ohh my god. i'm utterly obsessed with all of my ocs and each time i procrastinate on writing the part i need to write i end up generating a new character backstory or ship or plot point. which is honestly a pretty great problem to have. i could talk about my ocs for hours but i'll restrain myself lol

@ineffablake @bookscorpion73 @checkeredcookie05 @falcon-forest @rantsofabookworm @bredisfun @lord-of-the-fliess @finleyforevermore @redrosesandcharmingsouls and anyone who wants to!!

Tag game: tag nine people you’d like to know better.

Tagged by: @oneshoulderangel

Last song: At the moment, I have "Losing Your Memory" by Alan Star stuck in my head, which I suppose makes it my current song, not my last song. Hm. I get songs stuck in my head very easily, but the last one I had there for a significant amount of time was a mashup of different language versions of "Les Rois du Monde" for about a week. "Lehetsz Király", the Magyar version, is probably my favorite of them. It's worth a listen.

Currently watching: Normally, the answer would be "random mostly terrible old movies/shows" or "nothing much", but I currently have a hyperfixation on the musical Roméo et Juliette and have been watching it in multiple languages. (Thus, the song).

Three ships: This is hard. Maybe as a result of being on the ace and aro spectrums, I'm more likely to care about which characters are interacting than whether it's romantic or platonic. Here goes:

Kedivere/Bedikay. It can be romantic, platonic, or queerplatonic, but whichever way, I'm here for it. I probably spend too much time thinking about how in Cullwch and Olwen, when Cai gets mad at Arthur and marches out, Bedwyr stays behind, keeps acting like nothing's happened, and isn't the one to avenge Cai's death. The feeling of betrayal on both sides has a lot of unexplored potential. And the version where Bedivere dies and Kay fights to bring his body back safely while mortally wounded himself... And the version where Bedivere survives Camlann and Kay isn't said to fight in it, so they might be left together after their world has fallen apart...

Platonically or queerplatonically, Galahad and the Grail Heroine. I really like the tragic Grail Quest friendships, but I like theirs most, maybe because there's something weird and otherworldly about them both. I like it when characters are strange and endearing and doomed by the narrative.

Ever since reading John Matthews' retelling, which I read before the original, I've had a soft spot for Caradoc and Guinier. The Story of Caradoc is very disturbing, and I have some major qualms with Caradoc over a detail Matthews cut out, but all the same, there's a reason these two have the best track record with magical fidelity tests. Each of them would go to the ends of the earth for the other, and together, they're stronger than any curse.

Favorite Color: Blue, particularly royal blue and some teals.

Currently consuming: Black licorice with chocolate.

First ship: This is a hard one, since through elementary and most of middle school, I tended to go along with whatever I thought the author's intentions were and was more likely to unship something. The first non-endgame ship I got invested in was Sonya/Nikolai in War and Peace. I didn't like Nikolai, but Sonya did, and she was my favorite character, so I wanted her to be happy. The first non-canon couple I thought was meant to be together was also in War and Peace: Marya Bolkonskaya and Julie Karagina. My eighth grade self did not think their letters could be interpreted platonically. I still don't.

Last movie: If the musical doesn't count, the last movie I watched was Quest for Camelot, which was awful. Though not Robot Monster-level bad, Robot Monster has an elegance to its simplicity which Quest for Camelot lacks.

Currently working on: Various fics, most of them Arthuriana or CotRK-related (I am woefully behind on the Badfic Bingo), and (theoretically) an epic-style poem, though I haven't gotten much of it written for quite a while now.

Tagging: @gawrkin, @emperorcandy, @wildbasil, @gorewound, @knightsofsomethingorother, @ladyminaofcamelot, @tasosotaso, @amashelle, @gingersnaptaff (I have no idea who's been tagged so far, apart from the people on @oneshoulderangel's post, so I apologize for any multi-tags)

[cloudyskydreams]

Heeyyyy can I request how would skeletons would react if the reader walked up to them and said “oh i can take you” and they would say “in a fight right ?” And the reader is just smiling silently how would they would react?

Hii I know you as the resident papyrus lover lol. Thanks for requesting sorry it took so long to get to it! This one was fun and Blues kinda got away from me lol. My cat would NOT stop bothering me for pets while writing this,

Undertale:

Sans:Laughs it off. He gets what you mean and he thinks it's pretty funny. "heh that's funny kid" Might blush lightly as he imagines it for a second and it's kind of out of nowhere depends how much you caught him off guard with it.

Papyrus: Has absolutely no clue what you mean. "TAKE ME WHERE HUMAN?" Just stands there confused as you smirk at him. You gotta be a bit more vulgar to get this one flustered he's a little oblivious y'all.

Underswap: Blue: Absolutely understands what you mean but pretends not to because he thinks it's funnier. "I WOULD BE MORE THAN HAPPY TO TRAIN WITH YOU!" He's got a innocent look on his face but he'll definitely remember how sure you sounded about how you could take him when he has you pinned underneath him begging.

Stretch: It takes him a second but he chuckles and gives you his best flirty look as he blushes carrot orange. "im sure you could honey" he's a bit flustered as he wasn't expecting it and thinks about the scenario the rest of the day.

Underfell:

Red: Also takes him a second but he smirks big when he gets it and gives you a hungry look "ya wanna find out if ya can doll?" He's 100% taking that as an invitation the horndog he is and will be more than happy to see if you really can take him.

Edge: He rolls his eyelights but smirks and pulls you closer. "Are You Sure About That Pet?" he whispers right in your ear causing you to shudder. He gently nips your earlobe before he takes a step back and simply walks away leaving you in shock.

Horrortale:

Axe: Has to think about it for a solid minute before he's chuckling. More than willing to take you in a fight or bed. "heh I dunno bout that… lamb" he thinks you're cute approaching him and saying that outright. Definetly writes this interaction down in one of his journals and chuckles over it when he reads them over.

Willow: A bit more aware than Papyrus so he gets what you mean and his entire skull flushes pale range. "Oh…" A little surprised you'd want him in general he's flustered, shocked, honoured, and a little bit horrified all wrapped in one. Quickly absconds but is lost in thought thinking about the interaction the rest of the day.

the fiend herself

[ginervacade]

Honeybee and Ladybug

Sebastian Vettel x Reader

Summary: The Grid Kids wonder why Seb and Reader decorate with Bees and Ladybugs. The answer? Jenson Button and Y/N is a sap. Seb just loves his wife.

Warnings: none that I can think of? There’s a tiny, skippable period joke ( as is customary to this blog)

Author’s Note: My first attempt at RPF! ( it took forever because I was being a chicken about it lol.) I was wanting to use “little ladybug” as a pet name in some sort of writing and the Jenson Button girlie in me said “ I have an idea!”

SECOND, MORE IMPORTANT AUTHOR’S NOTE: This fic is heavily inspired by the lovely @pucksandpower and her ADORABLE Grid Kids series. ( particularly Gentlemen: A Short View Back To The Past) I did change the reader’s past occupation Go read her series, it is the cutest thing ever and you will giggle the whole way through!

Onward to the fic!

*****

“ Mom?” Lance said as Y/N sat back down on the couch, watching as she pulled the little pillow into her lap and held it close.

“ What’s up babydoll?” She replied, smiling as he leaned in toward her from his spot in the floor. There were plenty of chairs, she noticed again as she ran her fingers through his hair, yet he always seemed to prefer the floor. She suspected it had to do with being able to stretch out and move around, as Georgie and Lando sometimes did the same.

“ This is not me saying I don’t like it, it’s very cute,” Lance began and Max chuckled, mumbling something along the lines of “This should be interesting.”

“ What’s with the insects theme in your decorating?” As if to prove his point he gestured to the little pillow she held, which was embroidered with a little bumble bee and a lady bug.

Now that the rest of the boys thought about it, they were sort of everywhere. Canisters in the kitchen for Seb’s coffee and Y/Ns tea were a honey bee and ladybug respectively. There were nature photographs of the two on the bathroom walls. Charles remembered the guest room being all done up in bees and ladybugs too. Y/N had a vent clip in her car that was a sparkly ladybug. The key hanger by the door was a pair of flowers and she and Seb had matching key chains of the two insects that slotted into place to light on the flowers. Her favorite blanket, old and worn out by now, the one she wrapped around them all whenever they were feeling overwhelmed, had ladybugs on it too.

“It’s not just insects though Lance,” Mick pointed out.

“ It’s always bees and ladybugs,” said Lando, then the realization seemed to dawn in his eyes, “ Wait, do they represent you and Seb?”

“ Yep,” she replied, smiling fondly at her husband.

“ Aaaw, that’s cute!” George cooed.

“ I get the bees for Seb, everyone does that, but why are you a ladybug?” Charles piped up.

“ Haven’t you guys ever heard Jenson call her “ his little ladybug”?” Max asked, making air quotes around the phrase and mimicking the retiree’s voice.

There was a chorus of laughter at that.

“ You boys up for a story?”

****

“ Why do you always wear dresses to media days?” Jenson asked, looking her up and down in confusion. She was in a short dress, tight at the top and flowy at the skirt, and a simple pair of black heels. Her hair was back, the ends curled and adorned with a large blue bow that matched the dress. She had on pink lipstick. Every media day she showed up looking like this put together little lady, it kind of drove him insane.

“ I just like them. I like feeling pretty.” She replied simply, shrugging her shoulders.

“ You like making me look bad is what it is,” Jenson laughed, gesturing to his jeans and team kit.

The next morning when she walked in for quali day in a red dress with black polka dots Jenson rolled his eyes. Tossing an arm over her shoulder he cheerily announced, “ Good morning my little ladybug. Let’s get a 1-2 today, yeah?”

Y/N giggled a little too much for Sebastian’s liking, leaning into the touch, the bridge of her nose turning pink as she mumbled something like “ That’s always the goal, isn’t it?”

Sebastian hated the little schoolgirl, hero worship crush Y/N didn’t seem to realize she was harboring for her teammate and mentor.

Looking up to him he’d understand. He’s older and more experienced, he looks up to him too. But Jenson is also Jenson Button. Tall, charming, conventionally attractive, but a known playboy and flirt. Sebastian thinks Y/N deserves better than to fall for all that.

***

“ Oh shut up, I did not,” Y/N says, blushing.

“ You definitely did, love.” Seb’s grin has the boys giggly too, “ Does it help knowing I was very jealous?”

“ A little bit,” she concedes, still blushing, leaning into Seb’s side earning Aws and coos from several of the boys.

“ The crush only lasted about half a season, but the name stuck.”

“ And spread like wildfire through the paddock,” Y/N agreed.

****

In Brazil when they did Secret Santa she smiled as she read the little note.

To our little ladybug, since you’re always cold.

“ Oh I love it!” She said, running her fingers over the ladybug adorned blanket. “Seb look, it’s so cute and so fuzzy!”

“ It is.” He said.

She giggled again, then on impulse “ like your hair,” she said, messing it up to make him turn that adorable shade of pink.

They missed the fond smiles they were getting from Micheal and Mark.

****

“ Then half the grid picked it up.”

“ You boys have probably heard more than Jenson use it, just without the possessive marker so you didn’t notice. It used to irk me that he said my with it.” The word sounds icy in Seb’s mouth even now.

“ It was just his name for me originally. Was someone a little possessive, hm?” Y/N teased.

“ Absolutely,” Seb replied, with no shame, “ I did not like anyone else trying to claim my girl.” This gets more giggles and a wolf whistle out of the boys.

“ We weren’t together yet honey,” Y/N said, confused smile on her face.

“ Liebe, I was pining long before you knew.”

Mick, George, Charles, and Lando all awed some more.

“ Like a bee for pollen?” Max joked to a chorus of groans.

“ Actually I do think I’ve heard Nando say it,” Lance said, remembering how Alonso had pecked her on the cheek last time she’d been in the paddock with a “ Hola Ladybug.”

“ Rosberg too,” agreed Charles.

“ And Webber,” Lando added.

“ Lewis too,” George and Mick said at the same time, recalling multiple “ hey there Ladybug! Missed you”s whenever she entered the Mercedes garage.

“ It was cute till Jense devolved it,” Y/N said with a fond eye-roll.

“ Devolved?” Mick asked, peering up at them like a confused puppy.

Seb just laughed.

“ Oh please, you still adored it. He just wanted to have his own special nickname for you.”

“ But I swear it was like he forgot my actual name for a whole season!”

“ That’s true, everything was Bug.” Seb conceded.

“ Easy on the breaks in turn 4, Bug.” She said in a dramatic but better than Max’s impression of the former world champion. “ Where are you going, Bug? Stop staring, Bug. Focus, Bug. Bit understeery today, Bug.”

“ Oi! You’re bleeding, Bug.” Seb added with a chuckle.

“ Oh I about killed him for that! Could you yell it a bit louder Jense? I don’t think the Ferrari garage in Albert Park heard you!”

“ Oo,” George winced, he and Max the only two who seemed to understand. Y/N just laughed.

“ Really though, every sentence. Why’s your hair down, Bug? Ask him out already, Bug! We’re gonna get a 1-2 today, Bug!”

“ Then I made one comment about Bees dying off.”

“ And I called you Honey, exactly one time, and Micheal ran with it.”

“ Honey Bee and Ladybug.” Seb squeezed her shoulders, “ and the rest is history.”

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Finally we’ve got the season two AUs!

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️ (this one is so much fun!! First of all I was so completely entertained with Buck and Eddie misunderstanding each other. It was so funny! Also loving reading about trans-Eddie and his backstory! It works really well as an exploration of his character and I’m really enjoying it. And mermaid Buck who just was reminded of the word merman 😂 Love me some unexplained plot-developing magic and can’t wait to see this one play out!)

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼 (okay I know this one is technically very much in season three territory but it all stems from an AU season two so I’m counting it :p So excited to meet baby Jane!! And loving that established Buddie and can’t wait to see everything play out with Shannon!)

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟(lol it took me a bit to remember that this one is also technically an AU of season two because of just how alternate that universe is. I can’t believe this one’s almost done! I’ve absolutely adored it! Such a wonderful fire fam story that I’ve loved so much! Very excited to see it all wrapped up in the epilogue!)

I hope you have fun writing Cal! I’ll definitely be having fun reading!

- PCA <3

HI PCA!!! Thanks for sending in more <3

I am going to start with this one because I am hoping to finish zombie fic soon and this is my only request for it. So thank you!

84 for 🧜‍♂️ (Ah yay thank you!!!!! This one has been SO fun to write):

tagging @steadfastsaturnsrings

---

Eddie can tell this is sort of a sore subject for Buck, and changes topic. 

“So what are you looking for?” Eddie asks. 

“I’m not too picky,” Buck shrugs. “Just not further away from the ocean than I already am. And, uh… I don’t know. Something between the fire station and you would be nice.”

“Between the fire station and me?” Eddie asks. 

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs, cheeks heating a little. “I mean, I’m sort of here all the time, anyway. Might as well cut down the commute.”

Eddie smiles. “Okay, then. Let’s narrow down the search range.”

A bit later, Buck brings them each a coffee from the kitchen, sleeve riding up on his wrist as he hands a mug to Eddie. Eddie looks at the clear skin of his arm, curious. Fair enough. There had been a lot of bruising and scratches there yesterday. The result of trying to rescue a terrified dog from a house fire. 

“Went for a swim last night,” Buck says, shrugging. 

“And it healed you?” Eddie asks. “Just like that?”

“Yeah,” Buck shrugs. “It always erases minor stuff. Haven’t encountered anything bigger though, so I don’t know how far it goes.”

“That’s pretty sick,” Eddie admits. 

“Doesn’t work on a hangover,” Buck grumbles. 

“Maybe the ocean knew you deserved it,” Eddie laughs. 

Hell, maybe it did. 

🌊

A few weeks later, Buck is moving into a ground floor unit in a building between work and Eddie. A bit closer to Eddie, just based on pricing. There were two units available in the building. The second floor walk up was a bit cheaper - not hugely, but enough to consider it - but when Buck thinks about who really comes over, beyond his sister, it’ll be Eddie and Chris. And the ground floor would be way easier for Chris. So that’s what he chose. 

He doesn’t tell Eddie this. Just makes the decision. But the first day he’s moved in, with proper furniture that he actually owns, he has them over for pizza and video games, and he knows he’s made the right choice. 

Unfortunately, he doesn’t get to enjoy the new apartment for very long. Sooner rather than later, the world sort of ends. There’s a bank heist, which the 118 is framed for. Buck is terrified, being a suspect. Dragged down for interrogation. What if they do some sort of test on him that reveals what he is? Eddie looks sort of sick too. Probably not for dissimilar reasons. Just wildly different results. 

The 118 is cleared. But Bobby is not. Or at least, he’s cleared of the robbery, but he’s still under suspicion. The LAFD is looking into his past. Poking around at all his trauma; the loss of his family, rehab, all of it. Buck doesn’t think it’s fair. Doesn’t think it’s any of their business. 

Apparently it is.

Bobby is put on suspension pending the results of the inquest. Chimney is made acting captain. And it all sort of overlaps with a disaster. Or, rather, many repeated disasters. Serial disasters. A package bomber. The city is sort of in collective panic. 

Buck is concerned, of course. But not really about anyone he knows. Not at first. At first, the people being targeted seem to be all too wealthy for him or the people he loves to fit the pattern. A judge, an attorney, etcetera. But then a package is discovered at Athena’s house, and even though no one is hurt, Buck can’t help but feel sick about it. Her son discovered it; her child. Bobby could have been there. Bobby. The thought of Bobby being hurt makes him want to writhe. Stresses him so badly he can feel the phantom sensation of scales running up his spine. He knows Bobby is fine. That he wasn’t even there. But he still feels physically ill. 

He doesn’t have long to feel sick about it, though. He doesn’t have long to feel anything but panic and pain for very long. Because the next victim of the package bomber, as it turns out, is him. 

---

57for 🔼 (It definitely started in S2 so you're right! And yay! Thank you!!!)

---

That makes him freak out. Or at least the possibility of missing it. Not that Buck can blame him. She’s not even Buck’s kid and he sort of feels like if he wasn’t trying to keep Eddie calm, he’d be freaking out a tiny bit, too. 

It’s not all bad freaking out. Some of it is positive. He’s a bit like a yoyo. 

“We’re really going to meet her,” Eddie says, excitedly to start. “She’s really going to be here.”

“She is,” Buck grins in response. 

A few minutes later, as traffic seems to plunge into doom territory, Eddie is filled with despair. 

“I made it home from Afghanistan to be there when Chris was born,” he laments. “Afghanistan, Buck! That’s three continents of travel. I had a half day layover in Germany. I still made it home in time. But now I won’t make it across town for Jane?”

Oh boy.

“Eddie, you’ll make it in time,” Buck promises, willing himself to be right. “You’ll definitely make it. I will turn on the siren, I swear.”

“That’s technically not allowed, Buck, I-”

“I’m the one driving,” Buck shrugs, and turns it on. 

Immediately, cars start moving out of the way.

“Okay,” Eddie sighs, fitting a headset over his ears. “Alright, good idea.”

“Told you I got you,” Buck smiles.

“I feel like I’m going to puke,” Eddie admits. 

“Well, don’t do that. It’ll delay us,” Buck teases. 

Eddie just groans. 

◀️

Shannon really can’t believe Eddie is going to miss this. If she wasn’t currently experiencing active labor - a much more active labor than her previous experience - she might not be so pissed about it. She understands he was out there, on a call, saving people. Which is good. She won’t die without him, but the people out there in accidents sure might. Whatever. But he should be here. He promised he’d be here every step of the way, and this is a pretty big step. Also, he did this to her. He should at least be here to have his hand crushed and to be snapped at. 

“He’s on his way, okay?” Maddie promises. “He’s rushing over.”

Not fast enough. 

Not fast enough, because the last time she was checked out, she was told she’s almost ready to start pushing. And even though last time she was told she could start pushing, it took hours and ended in forceps, she’s been assured this is progressing fast and easy. There is nothing easy about it, thank you. But she believes the fast part. She can already just tell, compared to Chris. Their daughter is eager to make an entrance. Which is fine with Shannon. It’s the opposite of what she’d feared. 

She just needs Eddie to be here for it. 

Shannon’s worried. She’s sad at the prospect of him missing it, mostly for him. But she’s also in a lot of pain, which turns all that to frustration.

“If he’s not here,” she tells Maddie. “I’ll kill him.”

---

66 for 🧟 (THANK YOU! I am very excited to wrap it up)

---

 It wakes her, but slowly. Sunlight warms her face. The other thing warming her is Chimney. He draped over her middle. His chest against her back. She feels completely at ease, right here. 

Sometimes Maddie has a habit of gaslighting herself a little. Her brain intrusively suggests she shouldn’t trust her instincts. That they were her problem to begin with; the reason she got hurt. That if she’d been smarter, she would have avoided it. And maybe she’s not being smart now. She’d thought that when she got in the truck with Eddie. She thought that when she started getting closer to Chimney. She’s fighting off thinking about it today. It’s just not true. Every decision she has made has kept her alive. 

When the sun eventually wakes Chimney, too, she feels him take a deep breath, then lean forward to kiss the back of her head. She smiles, pleased.

“Good morning,” she says quietly. 

“Yeah,” Chim replies. “A really good one.”

Maddie’s smile widens. There’s a lot to like about Chimney. So much. But one of the things she thinks she appreciates most is how he makes her feel good without being overly complimentary. None of it feels like attempted flattery, or trying to butter her up. He’s completely just sincere with her, in whatever he says. Another reason to trust him. She can recognize now how a lifetime of her parents’ criticism left her vulnerable to Doug piling on empty compliments. How that led to a frantic need to please him again when they went away. 

Maddie is stronger than that now. She survived the outbreak. She escaped the husband who would have kept her trapped in hell, and then killed him when he would have killed her. She made it across the country, found her brother. She learned how to survive, how to fight against threats she would have never expected a year ago. She helped make bombs to defend against a home she would have never expected, either. 

So Maddie feels safe now, more often than not. Even when her brain tries to fight her on it. Even when she’s scared. She’s safe. 

She rolls over in bed and looks at Chim. He takes a deep breath.

“Hi,” he mutters.

“Hi,” she replies. “Thank you.”

He gives her a funny, confused smile.

“For what?”

She shrugs a little. “I don’t know. For being here when I showed up?”

His cheeks redden a little. “Well, uh… Thank you for showing up.” 

She laughs brightly. “Anytime.”

And when Chim kisses her again, something inside Maddie just feels entirely, perfectly settled. 

October 11th, 2018

They’d expected Shannon and Taylor to come back around this time. They’d said monthly visits for Shannon and Chris at a minimum. More if they could help it. And Shannon wasn’t going to travel alone. Not while Taylor was around. Hen still wonders if Shannon knows Taylor is in love with her. 

What they’re not expecting is for Shannon and Taylor to show up with a child. A child that wasn’t mentioned last time. A little girl. 

[prettyoddfever]

Hi! Do you have a list of ever official PATD DVD out there? I'm looking to collect interviews and concerts on DVD! :]

the ones that I had:

pretty. odd. ones

obvs the AFYCSO box set

this one from Target

However, there were some unofficial ones that I really suggest avoiding. They were so bad that it's literally offensive lol. Ok ugh now I started this tangent so I might as well just explain...

THE THEATRE OF IMAGINATION:

It honestly would take effort to mangle the band's short history as much as this "unauthorized documentary" did. The whole thing is a shitshow. For example, they say that the band's first UK headlining tour included a spot in the Reading festival. Those two totally unrelated events weren't even in the same season.

They continually show pictures & footage from completely different events than what they're talking about too. And what's frustrating is that they obviously have enough content... they just couldn't match it up?? It's seriously a hot mess. It was released around the start of the Pretty. Odd. era and I mostly just remember a lot of fans saying stuff along the lines of like they could tell a better history in 5 minutes off the top of their head. There's also no new info in here that we didn't get from other interviews, personal accounts, articles, etc.

THE LOWDOWN:

They literally just ripped the audio off of common Panic interviews that were on youtube (and still are) for the interview cd.

In the unauthorized biography, a woman drones on & on with background music that sounds like aliens are about to appear at any minute. It's annoyingly hard to listen to. She uses a lot of words to convey very little… and all of it is very basic info even the most casual fan would know because she’s literally just paraphrasing Panic's early interviews and turning every single printed quote from them into some kind of dramatic narrative. Except she somehow manages to confuse herself and absolutely mangles the band's history while spouting nonsense. It's terrible. There’s a big disclaimer on the back that the band had nothing to do with it.

I did think the cd insert with the super pixelated random picture was funny, though:

[this-machine-runs-on-coffee]

What app do you use? I want to see which notes it tells me I can do just so I know from more sources

That's interesting! I can't hit most notes in the ballad of Jane Doe, I personally struggle with it quite a lot. I think the site I used was lying when it said F5.

E6 sounds like a really high note, and Idk if it's the final one or the one when she goes slightly progressively very high (ex. Before "a melody floats through the air, when silence falls does no one care?")

Also I'm not sure if hitting C3 is a hard note or not. I can hit it pretty easily now without warming up that much earlier, I just gotta prepare myself and remember to focus on using chest singing if I haven't sung low notes before that and sometimes I just have to slowly go down if I haven't sung anything earlier, but if I've sung something then it's pretty easy to hit. B3 isn't tho, I can't do it. Not yet. I couldn't do a C3 a few months ago, so who knows if I'll ever be able to do it. I hope so. Maybe even lower, but that's a bit of a far goal, lol.

Honestly that's fair, not wanting to try new techniques out of fear or getting hurt especially when you're resting because you're in pain is very understandable. I hope you aren't in pain anymore soon and that you can get back to singing as soon as possible if that's something you want

I hope you get to hire a vocal coach soon!

YES I KNOW THE BALLAD OF JANE I LOVE THAT SONG, IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITES I LOVE IT SO MUCH. I WISH I COULD SING IT BUT I CAN'T HIT THOSE NOTES. not yet at least but I don't think I can or will ever be able to but who knows

I LOVE THE BALLAD OF JANE DOE

You've sung for barely a year and you can hit Jane Doe's notes? You are amazing wow I wish I was as good as you, I will try to be

I've been trying to sing from January so idk, it is almost a year but I've had fun discovering how to sing lower so I'm not mad or sad I'm taking this long, it is fun after all. I don't practice much because I feel embarrassed of being heard, but at this point people don't seem to care about it so I might sing a little more, though I might also not because I feel embarrassed by the fact they can hear and judge me, which is why I did not sing in the summer, as everyone was home.

Also one year if I don't count that year in which I sung when I was still a preteen, when I learned how to sing high notes because they valued us for them but I did not sing for years from that point on

I can also scare people because they don't expect me to be able to drop my voice that low randomly lmao so that's an added benefit

HEY YOU

YEAH YOU

DONT SING THE SUPER HIGH NOTES IN THAT SONG WITHOUT CLASSIC TRAINING

HEYYYY

WHAT DID I SAY?

NO

YOU’LL HURT YOURSELF

ITS A BAD SIGN THAT YOUR THROAT HURTS

GOOD

YOU CAN SING THE REST OF THE SONG DW :)

(Yes I am talking to myself)

(Yes I am talking about the ballad of Jane doe but this applies to everything)

[amphibimations]

A Clockwork Orange.

[prolibytherium]

Cuz I know you man! Also you casually mention RPGs like, a weird amount.

(The Gang Tends Bar themed carfire for @its-always-ziney-in-philadelphia Valentines Zine)