#this is the first one I've done in months | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mountainsandmayhem · 2 days ago

Text

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks. Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club.

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen.

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls.

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away.

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over.

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll. “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke.

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!”

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over.

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her.

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend.

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door.

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his.

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent.

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.”

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots.

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach?

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line.

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next.

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party.

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?”

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words.

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life.

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him.

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start.

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face.

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would.

He showed up.

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same.

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours.

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious.

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd.

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon.

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends.

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far.

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to.

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout.

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer.

“Six,” you sob.

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.”

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips.

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it.

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.”

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once.

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

365 notes · View notes

bbydoll18xx · 13 hours ago

Text

A Glorious Sunrise

There’ll be happiness. Paige makes sure of it.

Paige Bueckers x Reader

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.2k

Themes: angst with a happy ending, paige is flirty and i love her for it

A/N: hiii i've been MIA but i'm back and omg guys i lowkey kinda love this. this song has been my hyperfixation for the past two months and i've been dying to write a fic to happiness but i didn't want it to be paige-angst so this is what i came up with instead.

also i'm lowkey exposing myself with this fic, and i clearly need therapy sooo PLZ BE NICE

please enjoy and lemme know what you think ;)

A single tear slides down your cheek as you close the last box of your belongings, landing on the brown cardboard with a wet plop of harsh finality. You gaze around the room, which is now nearly empty, and a sob that you had been suppressing all day manages to break through your normally tough exterior.

Seven years of love and laughter gone just like that.

And now, here you were, dividing all of your shit into boxes and contemplating if this feeling was even worth the seven years in heaven.

The empty space where the bed once stood leaves a lump in your throat. Images of being pulled into a warm, strong chest every night bombard your consciousness, and you turn away, unable to stomach it any longer.

It was a simple story, really.

You and Jake were high school sweethearts, turned college sweethearts. He had taken you to prom and twirled you around in a sparkly, pink dress. He had taken your virginity, and you had imagined your entire life together with bright, starry eyes.

College was spent between your dorm rooms, crammed into twin beds and talking about kids and houses with white picket fences. You had moved in together after college, and the two of you were blissfully in love.

But last week, Jake had come home late at night with empty eyes and shaky hands, and he had quietly told you that he was done.

And in the blissfulness of being in love, the words did not even register for a moment.

You were still dancing when the music stopped. And the world went cold, the sunshine in your life suddenly burnt out like a candle that was blown out by a bitter wind. The smoke was engulfing your cold frame, curling around you in dark, taunting tendrils.

You shiver now, looking back on it all. Your sweatshirts were all packed already, and instinctively, you go to the closet to grab one of Jake’s.

The realization hits you like a truck, and you stop in your tracks. What is his is no longer yours.

He is no longer yours.

Fuck.

No one had taught you what to do when a good man hurts you, so you were going to pick yourself up piece by piece.

“Baby, please just listen t’me,” Jake slurs, his voice coming through the speaker of your phone in loud, drunken drawls, causing you to wince. It was the first night in your new apartment, and you were already struggling with the fact that it was just you and the four walls that surrounded you.

Your voice wavers as you try to remain level headed. “No. I’m not doing this anymore,” you whisper. The other line is silent for a moment, and you think he has given up. But the delicate swoon of a woman’s voice cuts through the phone, and your stomach lurches with both dread and anger.

It had been a week, and here he was, filling the divide with random women.

Well, two could play that game.

It didn’t take long to fall back into old habits. As they say, old habits die screaming, and it had become nearly impossible for you to hold back from the distraction the steady stream of men and women provided.

It was deeply unhealthy, and you knew it. Once they would leave, you’d seek solace in the steaming shower where the water both hid your tears and washed away the filth of last night’s activities that had lingered on your soft skin.

No matter how hard you scrubbed, you could not manage to rid yourself of the bruises and the overwhelming shame that seeped out of every pore.

Your body, which was once worshipped with soft kisses and gentle touches, was quickly becoming a way to numb the pain of having the rug pulled out from under you. Dark marks litter your skin in swirling, chaotic patterns that remind you of how little worth you have.

And in the darkness, the cruelest words taunt your inner psyche.

‘Maybe this is all I'm good for anymore.’

Those very words echo in your mind as you stumble into your apartment building on an unseasonably warm morning in April. The doorman gives you a sly look as he notices last night's mascara caked into the waterline of your eyes, smudged from the long night and the rough sex that followed.

You duck your head, wanting to disappear, and you hurry through the lobby, wanting to get out of the sparkly dress that was still adorning your body.

You reach the elevator, pressing the button to go up impatiently. The doors open, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

“Wait! Hold up, I’m coming,” a voice shouts, and you turn to look in the direction of the girl.

It was like a scene out of one of those ridiculous hallmark movies. Blonde hair gleams in the early morning sun, reflecting off of the large glass windows of the lobby. The girl’s blue eyes shine with amusement as you stare up at her, momentarily forgetting your desire to remain unnoticed.

She steps into the enclosed space with you, and you let out a shaky breath. Her presence was intoxicating, and it was quickly becoming very apparent that you looked like a goddamn mess.

“Fun night?” She asks with a teasing lilt to her voice, and you blush.

“Not really,” you say blandly, surprised by your own candor. “But it was a good distraction.”

The girl studies you, her eyes raking over your collarbone where a large hickey now resided.

“I’m Paige,” she says, and you tell her your name as the flush extends over your chest, settling into it.

“I’m in apartment 555. Let me know if you ever want to talk,” she winks, walking out of the elevator. “Or if you need a healthier distraction,” she adds over her shoulder right as the doors close.

Your face blooms with color again, and your belly erupts in the feeling of excitement.

Because in that moment, you had unconsciously decided to leave it all behind.

For there was a glorious sunrise looming over the black hills that had risen in your heart, blanketing a warmth you hadn’t felt in months. And her name was apparently Paige.

Paige was on the forefront of your mind all day, and you welcome the giddiness, inviting it into your heart like an old friend.

A new motivation pours into you as you walk into your apartment, the bare walls emulating the blandness you had been feeling since the breakup. Your eyes glance towards your storage closet, and without a second thought, you begin to decorate, the pieces of you that you once had to keep hidden were now proudly out on display.

It was the first step to healing. And damn, did it feel good.

Healing is never a linear process. And as your thumb grazes over your phone screen, open to Tinder, your mind fights with your heart over falling back into bad habits.

You huff, looking around to make sure no one watches you as you stand near the elevator waiting to go back home after the gym one afternoon. Your thumb swipes across a few profiles, almost instinctively, as you mindlessly scroll to find someone worthy of your time.

You weren’t even going to fuck them this time, you tell yourself. You just needed a little attention to fill the void.

If you repeat it enough times, surely it’ll start to ring true.

“She’s cute. Why’d you swipe left?” A husky voice murmurs in your ear, and you jump, immediately closing out the app on your phone and whirl around to face the familiar sound.

“We gotta stop meeting like this,” Paige chuckles, looking you up and down, and you flush.

She just had that effect on you.

“If she’s so cute, why don’t you date her?” You ask, almost defensively, feeling the heat of her gaze. Damn her and those eyes.

“Prefer to meet pretty girls in person,” she smirks, clearly noticing the blush on your cheeks.

“Did you think about my offer?”

You fight a smile. “Maybe,” you shrug, wanting to keep your cards close to your chest. Even if you had been internally fawning over her the past few weeks, she did not need to know that.

Her smile widens, and you swear you can actually see a twinkle in her eye.

“And…?” She goads, leaning in closer to you as the elevator opens, and she leads you in with a hand ghosting across the small of your back.

“I just got out of a really long relationship,” you start to explain, faltering as she steps even closer into your space.

“Who said anything about a relationship?” Her eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to yours, tracking your face expertly.

“I–” you begin, her breath fanning over your face distracting you from being able to put words together. You lean in, your eyes nearly fluttering closed before the elevator pings and the door opens.

You suck in a breath, the realization slamming into you.

Paige squeezes your hip, as you look back up at her wide eyes.

“8 tonight. Alright?”

You nod dumbly, enthralled by the trance she had put you in. The elevator doors close, and you’re met with your own reflection staring back at you, and in the silver chrome, you watch your smile come back to life.

You arrive at her door that night, your palms slick, and you wipe them on your pants just in case she holds your hand tonight.

You were lying if you said you hadn’t spent the entire day fantasizing about Paige. You had thought about the way her hair was tucked up in a bun this morning, practically begging you to take it out and run your hands through the soft, golden locks. And you had thought about how her pink, plush lips had formed into a smirk, making you want to tell your funniest jokes just to see the curve of her smile widen.

You had thought about her hands and the way they had grazed across your skin, setting every nerve ending in your body ablaze with a feeling you hadn’t felt in months.

All of the people you had hooked up with in your sickening conquest to forget about your ex-boyfriend could not hold a candle to Paige.

And that fucking terrified you. But here you were, at her door, ready to face whatever the universe was going to throw at you.

There’ll be happiness. You just knew it.

You shake your head, scolding yourself for the internal gay ramblings, and you knock, waiting for that gorgeous face to appear on the other side.

The door opens, and your breath hitches as Paige smiles at you, reaching for your hand to pull you inside.

Thank god you had wiped them off.

“Welcome to my crib,” she jokes, leading you to sit on her couch.

You scan the room, surprised at how well it was decorated before landing back on her.

Paige had sat next to you, drawing her legs up in a way that felt strangely intimate. She crosses her hands dramatically. “So, tell me why you’ve been using Tinder to cope.”

You splutter, not expecting her to be so blunt.

“Damn, you don’t need to roast me,” you giggle, a faux pout on your lips, drawing Paige’s attention to them.

“Is it cuz of your ex?” She asks, and you nod.

“Yeah. I–I guess I just wanted to feel like I had some sort of worth still.”

Paige stares at you with a somber look on her face. She reaches up to cup your cheek, running her thumb across the smooth skin of your jaw.

“You do. Promise,” she whispers genuinely, and the simplicity of her words rip every single bit of cautiousness from your body.

And you lean in and kiss her.

Your lips move in perfect synchronicity, like two dance partners who could see inside each other's minds. You lean into her touch, her hand coming up to rest on your waist, as you nearly squirm onto her lap.

She moans as your mouth opens, letting her fall into you, as two becomes one.

It was perfect and poetic, just as new beginnings tend to be.

Time slows as you sit with each other, exploring and indulging before you finally pull away, your chest rising and falling in quick, staccato breaths.

Paige places a kiss onto your cheek, brushing her thumb across your lips to sweep away the extra spit that had accumulated amidst the sudden passion.

“Well, I’d say that was a pretty successful first session, huh?” She teases.

“When’s the next one?” You ask, a giggle bubbling up in your chest, as you lean back into Paige, who just laughs, pulling you in for another kiss.

You were going to be just fine.

Paige would make sure of it.

welllll what'd you think?? thanks so much for reading

xoxo katy

Taglist:

@oldcrdigan, @paigebuxkets, @the-other-half, @patscorner, @tndaqlifwy , @ch12334 , @double22-k , @inthedeathofherreptuation , @authentic-girl03 , @blueredg52 , @kmoneymartini , @mrsarnold , @ittiwdwysylm @hobbybound @makethemhoesmad @moshuka @jnkbueckers @bridgetloveswomen @melpthatsme @onlyhereforpazzi @cierraonline @paigebuckets6 @glamourdaya @avvwritesstufff

Want to be added to my taglist? Comment or send me a message :)

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #uconn wbb #paige x reader #paige bueckers x you #uconn huskies #wlw yearning #wlw #happiness #angst with a happy ending

180 notes · View notes

notashadowbutawave · 2 days ago

Text

finally talked my wife into watching 8x06 "confessions" with me and WOW there's quite a lot going on in this breakup scene in buck's apartment (and the infamous glee scene for that matter) that I haven't seen discussed much on this website (though maybe I'm just not finding it?) like this show is always yelling the themes in your face but...

first of all I think it's somewhat intentional that Buck is being written as kind of regressing. So far in the show, he's gotten his confidence in romantic relationships by fulfilling the role with the person that he thinks he should fulfill. with Abby, Buck had just learned about serious adult romantic relationships and how they work and was trying to Be A Partner in a complete speed run. But he learned that no amount of devotion is a substitute for functionality. with Taylor, he was trying to Be A Functional Partner - and he learned that being a partner Has To involve trust, and that trust comes from somewhere else other than just our actions - it has to come from our hearts.

Tommy is the first person he's ever dated where he doesn't know what the next steps are and that's because this isn't something he has a blueprint for - being a Partner and a Functional Partner for somebody who sees right through him and sees exactly what he's trying to do, to make Tommy never leave. Abby was completely clueless (sorry I really dislike Abby) and Taylor didn't realize that an adult man could behave so badly without utter malice in his heart. Both of them kind of make the mistake of being vulnerable to Buck's charms.

Tommy is of course vulnerable to Buck's charms but Buck is more transparently himself with Tommy as well - and what Tommy sees, then, is a person who is deeply insecure and may be trending in the right direction but ultimately still thinks there's a lever he can pull to make Tommy stay and never leave him. He doesn't know that he's not done cooking yet because every new thing he learns about the world or others makes him feel brand fucking new.

So yes, the glee scene:

Josh was absolutely gagged that Tommy was Abby's ex fiance

Buck's first instinct is to see the situation from Abby's side and go into protective mode which is adorably loyal to be fair but also like ; get a grip

I actually love Josh's framing of "you care about this person and if you want a future in a queer relationship you need to learn that we don't all come to this the same way"

Did they need a cultural reference? No. Were they going to self referentially congratulate Ryan Murphy for inflicting it on the world? Yes.

And regarding the breakup itself:

What is wrong with this fandom's sense of humor that I haven't seen a gif of "I'm the himbo" ??? Like yes babe u sure are come here

Buck is really working so hard in this scene to make sure Tommy knows that he's serious. He's like... this freaked me out but I've decided I'm cool with it. She changed my life but not like you !!!

Like bless his heart, Buck thought he was really doing the right thing by telling Tommy about Abby BEFORE ASKING HIM TO MOVE IN WITH HIM. like MY CARDS ARE ON THE TABLE??? SEE??? LOVE ME FOREVER !! it's adorable and it's also cringe as fuck.

I think the real sin of the writing here is making Buck so completely clueless that this is the wrong move. Like he's kind of an idiot (Eddie Diaz's words not mine) but moving in with someone after dating them for six months in your 30s is WILD behavior and I don't think even Evan Buckley would fail to realize that this is a bit much in this moment.

But idk being in love makes one do stupid things? I did all of my messy bitch relationship shit before I turned 30 but I guess it is buck we are talking about

I completely understand why Tommy reacts the way he does in this scene and bless Lou Ferrigno Jr for acting it with such nuance, much more depth than the scene frankly deserves. What a heartbreaker. Like you see him tense up at Buck's request

"I'm not saying let's get married or engaged, even though we would have the right, thanks to the brave people who came before, including you." such an insane thing to say to your boyfriend. Whoever approved this script was trying to take me out like with a gun.

You then see the absolute grief in Tommy's eyes like oh god this kid is killing me. He's so sweet. He's so cute. He doesn't get it. I love him. He doesn't get it.

As an aside, Eddie being stalked in the juice bar by the hot priest was absolutely incredible.

I didn't hate this episode but wow the writing does suck shit, however I fully believe it makes sense for them to break up here and get back together in the future ??? because Buck DOES have some shit to figure out. Like moving in with someone is a lot of fucking intimacy REALLY fast and baby boy sometimes you NEED to pump the brakes a little ESPECIALLY when you think someone might be THE ONE and you just figured out you like guys six months ago.

I get it and yeah the writing is tragic and the inclusion of Abby in general is just unhinged and unnecessary but like I don't hate the broad strokes here. how else does the blorbo learn if not by ritual torture by the writers. Lou is too good to not have back though. My god what a treasure.

end bucktommy endgame truther transmission

#bucktommy #911 abc #911 abc spoilers #evan buckley #tommy kinard #lou ferrigno jr

172 notes · View notes

zepskies · 1 day ago

Text

Omg really? Wow, thank you so much. That's honestly amazing to me, considering this was one of the hardest for me to write in Smoke Eater. 💞

(But after reading your wonderful review, thank you for making me cry. 🥹💗💗)

First of all, please don't apologize for the heartfelt thoughts you want to share with me. No matter how long or short, I love hearing what you think about my writing, and this is genuinely one of the best reviews I've ever received, because I can tell it came from the heart.

What's crazy is my mom and I also used to watch Chicago Fire together when she was trying to recover from surgery (where she had terrible complications and wasn't well for a long time). It became her comfort show, and I was happy to introduce it to her/have that bonding time where it kept her from thinking about her pain. But I'm so glad you thought to come here to perk yourself up after a rewatch.

honestly I have so many thoughts for each wonderful chapter but I would feel super guilty for spamming :’) this chapter in particular though, hits me harder than anything i’ve ever read before — not in a bad way!🤍

lol girl that's the best kind of spamming. I'd never be upset with that! 😂 Oh good, I'm glad it doesn't hit in a bad way. I was concerned about that for readers when I was first posting this part of the story. 💙

my mom had epilepsy, and I was her caretaker pretty much my entire life. I connect so much with this story because it, feels like i’m reading a mirror, if that makes any sense at all. with all the doctors and the worrying, it’s written so authentically, which is understandable after reading your author’s note. i’m so sorry you’ve experienced such difficult hardships and losses yourself honey, I offer my sincere condolences. and i’m sending you the biggest hugs 🫂🤍🤍

I'm sending you the biggest hugs right back, friend. I'm so sorry about what your mom went through, and what you went through too. Being a caretaker is not easy. I've seen it enough in my family that that's what I drew from in order to write this, so I'm glad it felt authentic to your experience. 🫂💞

now these lines/parts specifically had me crying like a baby lol. december of 2021, my mom had to have surgery at the start of the month. her recovery was going a little slow, but well. however she passed away overnight, 2 days after christmas, completely unexpected. the day before she had been doing so well too— she had more energy and was more mobile without needing as much assistance. came to find out later that’s something nurses call a surge? :/ either way, those moments in particular really tugged at my heartstrings ❤️‍🩹

I'm so sorry for your loss, my friend. It is blind sighting when it comes so unexpected like that. I haven't shared this publicly, but something similar happened with my grandfather this past December. His health declined suddenly, to the point we had to take him to the hospital. After seeming to get better after a few days, he went downhill even harder, and he passed away in mid-December. It's not the same thing as your situation, but I understand the feeling of "why did this happen like this?" But now he's at peace with my grandma. And your mom is free from her pain and discomfort too. ❤️‍��❤️‍🩹

this line too. I felt this way for so long after my mom died. I didn’t get the final cause for a while since she passed at home and not at a hospital, and to this day I wish I could go back. wish I could’ve done something different. but SUDEP (or, sudden unexpected death in epilepsy) is completely unpreventable so far. I just find it so cruel that this illness I spent my whole life helping her with, ended up taking her anyway and nothing I did mattered in the end. so reading that line, how she broke down, and everything she had been holding in, it really made my heart ache but I also felt less alone in a way.

And I'm sure you did everything you possibly could, just like the reader in this story. 💞 I didn't know about SUDEP, but I have a family member who takes medication for his epilepsy, so I'm going to be reading up on that. I'm so glad that this simple line made you feel less alone in any small way -- I also thought when I was writing that it not only fit what the character was going through, but that other people who've been caretakers for a family member like this would be able to identify with this feeling as well.

everything that followed, it’s like reading a reflection. I shutdown and just went through the motions afterwards too, but ohhh how nice it would’ve been to have a dean ❤️ his support, how he takes care of her, it’s so heartwarming. and it’s really comforting to read. <3

It's that awful "autopilot" thing that somehow allows us to get through the aftermath, in a way, right? If only we could all have a Dean to support us in those moments. Somehow, reading hurt/comfort fics help me feel better too though. 💓💓

a lot of my family distanced themselves afterwards which, it is what it is. that being said, the sentiment in this story of family isn’t always blood resonates with me a lot. my support system is really small, but they chose to be there for me unlike my blood relatives so, that theme in this story means so much — the way dean’s chosen family shows up for her as well, it’s so sweet. 💖

Ugh really? I'm sorry to hear that. 💙💙 But thank you for pointing that out -- that is the overarching theme of this story, a la SPN style. 🥹 Your chosen family can be just as powerful, if not more, than your blood family. And in this story, Dean's family is basically "adopting" the reader/you into it. 💕

I guess the gist of what i’m trying to say, is I wholeheartedly adore this series and it truly means so much to me 🤍 I appreciate your work so much, and I love the unique feeling each piece of your writing brings 💗💗 I know I may sound like a broken record but truly I don’t think I can ever put into words how much I love your blog. you are an absolute sweetheart, truly a light peeking out between cloudy skies 💞

Wow, I really did tear up of happiness. Thank you. 🥹🥹 I appreciate you right back for reading this story and connecting with it like you did. And I'm so glad that you enjoy my blog!! I've only been here on Tumblr for about 2 years actively, but connecting with people like you is what's keeping me here, and honestly gives me energy to write and express myself when I'm going through hard times.

This chapter specifically was very difficult for me to write for multiple reasons, as you saw in my AN, but again it makes me all the more grateful that this is the chapter you connect with the most. I'm very sorry for your loss though. I'm really touched that this story can give you some small comfort. 💞

(And no it's not too much. Thank YOU for taking the time to share this with me.)

Smoke Eater - Part 11

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

🔥 Series Masterlist

Word Count: 5,400 Tags/Warnings: Major angst warning. But also major hurt/comfort.

Part 11: “Heart of the Home”

You sat very still.

Your hands were gripped together in your lap when the doctor entered. He was tall and lean and blonde, and he would’ve reminded you of your boss, except this man had a kinder face.

You were sitting on the edge of your grandfather’s bed, hoping the doctor would say the bloodwork and scans came back fine. That they wouldn’t need to admit George into the hospital for further testing. That he could go home in the morning.

But your life had never been quite that easy.

“Okay, George. I’m sorry, but we need to admit you,” said the doctor.

He explained that while the malignant tumor of his cancer had been removed last year, the scans that had been done last month hadn’t been able to detect the bright spots now formed on George’s lungs and lymph nodes.

The oncologist would have to confirm, but you all knew where this was headed. Likely those “bright spots” were tumors.

George nodded slowly at first, taking it all in. He asked what his options were, as far as treatment.

“Your oncologist will go over those options with you,” the doctor replied. “We’re going to move you up to Oncology shortly.”

George thanked him.

And you sat very still.

A hand fell on your arm, finally earning your gaze. George’s face was oddly calm, though the worry in his eyes was for you. You realized that he’d gently called your name, though you hadn’t heard him. Your ears were ringing.

His mouth parted to tell you something, but nothing came out. So instead, he tugged you into his arms, and he heaved a long sigh.

“I guess we’re here again,” he admitted. He let out a chuckle. “The Lord does like his tests…but maybe that car accident was a blessing in disguise, huh?”

You heard his voice, but your mind was buzzing—mainly with the doctor’s words, and with a bone-deep feeling that threatened to consume you.

Your car, your fault. Options, again. Here again.

Your fault.

When you didn’t answer, George pulled away a bit to give you a questioning look.

“Sweetheart?” he tried. You laid a hand on his arm.

“You still haven’t eaten dinner, have you?” you asked. Neither had you, for that matter. “I’ll get us something that isn’t rubbery turkey.”

George blinked at you, confused, with a growing edge of worry.

“Isn’t Dean getting your meds? Why don’t you wait for him to��”

“I’m fine,” you said, already getting up to grab your purse. “I’ll be back.”

George called your name again, but the ringing in your ears was now pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You made your way down the hall to the lobby at a brusque clip, even with your neck brace on. You didn’t see Dean, but he certainly saw you as he was walking back into the hospital. Frowning, he followed and called out to you.

You slowed when you saw him, and he soon caught up with you. He rested a hand on your back.

“Hey, where you goin’?" he asked.

“We haven’t eaten in a while. I’m going to the cafeteria,” you said. Though you seemed distracted, your eyes meeting his only briefly. It triggered a small spidey sense running up Dean’s spine.

He gave you your prescription pain medication, which you took with a small “thank you.”

“Everything okay?” he asked. “How’s George doing?”

“Fine. He’s resting,” you said. And by the look of you, that seemed to be true. But he spotted the tremble in your hands when you took the pill bottle package from him. It made him stop you when you tried to keep walking down to the cafeteria.

“Okay, you wanna run that by me again?” Dean asked.

You frowned, and your brows knit together. “What?”

“Is there something going on?” he pressed.

You sighed, but you didn’t answer him. You looked exhausted, and like you’d rather swallow your own tongue than speak. You shook your head and laid a hand on his wrist.

“I’m fine. Dean, thank you for everything you did tonight, but you still have to work tomorrow. Go home, get some rest,” you said.

You turned from him again. That was your first mistake. He reached out and grasped your hand to stop you.

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said.

“What?” you said in irritation. Your second mistake was not being able to look at him.

Dean was frowning in earnest now. Worry clawed in his gut, which was also telling him not to let you walk away from him. His grip shifted to hold both of your arms and move directly in front of you. He dipped his chin, trying to get you to meet his eyes.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he said gently. “I need you to talk to me.”

You inhaled a shuddering breath. A wave was rising inside you, threatening to pull you into its undertow. Your eyes burned, red and shining. Dean finally saw it when you raised your head, what little you could. Your mouth began to quiver, looking into his eyes. And it was done.

You could no longer be still.

Dean held you when you fell apart in the hallway.

Dean called out of work the next day to stay with you and George. Gordon would be acting Lieutenant until his next shift, and Dean was sure the man would take full enjoyment out of it.

He couldn’t care about that right now though. He felt that his place was here, being your quiet wall of support while you and George and the oncologist talked about treatment options.

“Normally, at the stage we’re in, I would be recommending chemotherapy,” said Dr. Benton.

“Normally?” you echoed.

“At the rate this is progressing, the treatment would have to be aggressive,” he said. His gaze focused on George. “However, at your age, and the current state of your overall health…at this point, I don’t think the rigors of treatment would be worth diminishing your quality of life.”

“What are you saying?” you asked. Your voice cut like a whip, earning the other men’s gazes.

George was the first one to lay a hand on your arm. “You know what it means, honey…he’s saying it ain’t worth it.”

“Of course, it’s worth it,” you retorted. With your brows furrowed and lips pursed, your eyes went from him to the doctor. “Just because he’s older, we shouldn’t even try? Is that what you’re saying, doctor?”

At that, even Dean drew closer to lay a hand on your back. Meanwhile, George squeezed your arm.

Benton shook his head gravely. “That’s certainly not what I’m saying.”

“How much time would I get, if I started treatment,” George asked, before you could volley further with the doctor.

Benton met the other man’s gaze.

“I’m going to be honest with you, George. You may get a few more weeks, or even a few months. But that is a best-case scenario.”

Dean drove you all home that day, after George decided to formally waive treatment. Both men knew you were angry in your silence, but neither one wanted to press you. Dean was too wary, and George was too tired.

Once he was settled in bed, you hadn’t even left his room yet before you grabbed a notepad off his desk and wandered into the hall. You started to make a list of things you still needed from the grocery store, among other things. Dean took that piece of paper out of your hands.

“Good. I’ll handle this,” he said. “Meanwhile, you can get upstairs, take a shower, take your meds, and get some sleep.”

You frowned at him. “You haven’t slept either, Dean.”

“I’m used to it,” he said, giving you a wink and a slight smile. Overnight shifts could be a bitch at a firehouse, but Dean was no stranger to having his sleep interrupted.

“Listen to him, honey. He’s speaking sense,” George called from inside his room. The bedroom door was still open. He was settling into his bed while trying to stifle a cough. He sipped at a cup of water you’d brought for him.

Still, you looked reluctant. Dean held your arms and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Come on,” he said. “You were in an accident yesterday. You’ve had one hell of a night. You need your rest, or you’ll be no good to anyone.”

And if you pushed yourself much more, he worried that he’d have to take you right back to the hospital. Dean would rather not have that scare so close to the last one.

He brushed your cheek with gentle fingers. With the limited mobility your neck brace provided, you did your best to look up at him. Your eyes were softer.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay? All right, good,” Dean said. You held onto his jacket for a moment, leaning against him.

“Thank you,” you whispered. You felt the burn of tears behind your closed eyelids. A few of them squeezed past and slipped down your cheeks. Dean held your face, brushing the tears away with his thumbs.

“Hey, I’m here, all right? Just let me help you,” he said. “You can lean on me when you need to.”

“I haven’t had that in a long time,” you admitted. “Part of me doesn’t know how to lean.”

“I get that,” Dean said. But you both knew that there was a long and difficult road ahead. He knew he didn’t have to remind you of it. “Whatever you need, you just tell me, okay? If nothing else, I’ve got a strong pair of shoulders.”

Somehow, you smiled. You pressed your forehead against his chest and inhaled deeply, to steady yourself.

“That you do, Lieutenant.”

You left for your room soon after, but not before you brought him down to you for one more tearful kiss.

Dean then watched you climb up the stairs to your room and nearly went up to help you, but he heard George call his name. Dean ventured back into George’s room and heeded his beckoning hand.

“You hungry? I can scramble some eggs or something before I hit the store. I think I saw two more left in the carton,” Dean said. George shook his head.

“Come ‘ere a sec.”

Dean took the hint and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I just wanna thank you for everything you did yesterday. Everything you’re still doing for us,” George said. He looked exhausted, but whatever he wanted to say was important enough to fight off sleep. He clasped a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You don’t have to,” Dean replied.

George huffed. A smile made his eyes gleam brighter.

“I knew you were a special one, Dean Winchester. Knew it the night I met ya, on your very first date with her.”

Dean blinked, but his pause drifted into a reserved smile.

“How’s that?” he asked.

“Well, I’ll be honest. When I heard that black Chevy rumble like hell’s wheels onto the driveway, I thought I might have to worry about you,” George chuckled.

Dean’s lips quirked.

“But no, it wasn’t that. It wasn’t the pretty flowers, or our mutual love of killer sharks,” George quipped, making Dean’s smile more genuine. “It isn’t your job either, or the fact that you saved her. I just believe that you can see a man’s mettle in his eyes…and I saw it in you when I shook your hand that night.”

Dean took that in for a moment. His hand flexed over his knee. Then he met George’s gaze, though he didn’t know what to say. Sometimes though, honestly was the best bet.

“I’m sorry for what you’re going through,” he said at last. “I can’t imagine…”

George let out a breath through his nose. “I’ll tell you a secret.”

He pointed to a picture frame on his bedside. It was of him and his wife, Sophie, when they were around your age and Dean’s. The couple were sitting on a pier that hung over the edge of the lake in their hometown.

She held him from behind, with her arms wrapped around his neck. Her long hair was being carried by the wind, getting swept into George’s eyes. He was smiling too hard to care.

“I’m ready to smile like that again,” he said. He had tears in his eyes, but he was already lighter at the thought. “I know it’s selfish…but I think I’ve missed her long enough.”

Dean paused. Then he cleared his throat past a small well of something he couldn’t name. He wondered if his dad ever had thoughts like that.

“Well, I’ll let you get your rest,” he said. “I’ll be back.”

George nodded and gave Dean’s arm a squeeze. “All right. Drive safe. Don’t hit any goddamn trees.”

He shot Dean a knowing wink, and it almost had the younger man laughing. George’s sense of humor was something else.

Dean then left George to rest. He made sure he had his wallet, keys, and your grocery list before he left your house and went back to the car. He checked his phone and saw a missed call…from Cas.

Dean was reminded again about Azazel, the kingpin who might’ve ordered a hit on his family. Along with the recent murders and arsons, and the connection from one of the victims to your company, Savage & Co.

Dean returned the call as he climbed into the Impala.

“Dean. Everything all right?” Cas asked. “Sam filled me in about the accident.”

“Yeah, everyone’s okay…well, not really. I’ll explain later,” Dean replied. “Listen, about what we talked about at the bar.”

“Yes.” Cas said gravely. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t go to your father about this yet.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.” Dean sighed. “My girl just got some real bad news. I know you gotta keep digging into Savage & Co., but can you keep her out of it?”

“Is she all right?”

“Yeah, more or less…it’s her grandfather.”

“Ah, I see,” Cas said. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thanks, man. I’d rather her just focus on what she needs to do right now, you know?”

“I get it. And believe me, we’re keeping the investigation of Nick Savage quiet for now,” Cas said. “But if we find something, or worse, if I can’t…I’ll likely need to question her. She works directly with Savage, and from what I can tell, she’s instrumental in bringing in and maintaining several of his major accounts.”

Dean stopped at a red light and took a moment to rub a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes. “You don’t really think she’s got any idea of what that asshole’s into.”

“I’m not saying she does. But in working so closely with him, perhaps she’s noticed things about her boss, and the company. Things she’s kept to herself, out of self-preservation.”

Dean frowned. He didn’t want to think about shit like that. It made his stomach churn at the thought of you working for someone who might be doing business with a crime lord, let alone Azazel.

“Well, when that day comes, give me a heads up, okay?”

“Will do.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

Dean offered to take another day off to help you, but you wouldn’t let him. He needed to go back to work, and you were able to arrange working from home for the next few weeks.

Even Nick couldn’t refuse to accommodate you in a situation like this. He knew very well that if he pushed you too hard, you’d go directly to HR.

So he backed off, and told you to take as much time at home as you needed. It allowed you to put him, and that afternoon in his office, away from your mind to focus on taking care of your grandfather.

Though you called your best friend the day you got home from the hospital, Andréa didn’t come by your house to see you and George until the end of the week. She cited mounting projects at work and some kind of tiff with her cousin Meg, but it all sounded like excuses to you.

However, she was gracious enough to bring dinner for the three of you on a Friday night. She cut up with George like normal, and even got him laughing, until a coughing fit forced him to stop. It also took most of the joy out of the rest of the evening.

While George went up to his room to rest, Andréa later joined you in the kitchen. You were washing the dishes, trying to focus on what you were doing. But your mind was buzzing continuously with future tasks and worries. Always, tasks and worries.

“How are you holding up?” Andréa asked. She rubbed your back, and you gave her a slight smile.

“All I can do is make him comfortable, for as long as possible,” you replied. There were tears in your friend’s eyes, but she dabbed them away with the back of her hand.

“What do you need? Anything, you just tell me,” she said.

It was a little easier for you to contemplate leaning on Andréa. You had been friends with her for years, and she was like another daughter to George.

On the other hand, asking Dean for help always made you hesitate. What you two had was still so new. You worried that this was too much for your relationship, too fast.

“Well,” you sighed as you wiped your hands dry on a kitchen towel. You didn’t exactly want to talk about it, but there were things you had to start planning, even if you didn’t know the exact timeframe.

However, as soon as you opened your mouth to reply, Andréa’s cell phone rang. She held up a finger to you and checked it. To your surprise, she actually answered it.

“Hey, babe,” she replied with a smile. You heard Benny’s deep voice on the line, asking a question. “Yeah, I’m still here. I’m probably leaving soon though.”

She continued her conversation for a few more minutes, but you didn’t hear anything after that. A tension headache was sharp behind your eyes, while anger (yes, anger) rolled hot under your skin. Your lips pursed. You busied yourself with straightening up the kitchen until she continued her call for another few minutes.

“Sorry about that,” she said, finally turning her attention back to you. “So what do you need?”

You put away the last dry dish and turned to her coolly.

“Nothing.”

Andréa frowned. She knew there was something off with you, but her furrowed brows betrayed her confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you repeated. “Don’t you need to head out, anyway?”

“No, I was just…what’s up with you?” she asked.

“What’s up with me is my grandfather’s dying!” you snapped. You left her in the kitchen, precisely so that she’d follow you out. You grabbed her purse for her and went to the front door, where you stepped out.

Andréa was dismayed and confused as she followed you out onto the porch. She raised her brows at you when you shut the door and crossed your arms at her.

“I know you, and this isn’t just about that. What’s the problem?” she asked.

“You can’t seem to detach from your boyfriend for more than five minutes to just be my friend. That’s the problem,” you replied. “But why should I be surprised? Like always, you’re too wrapped up in yourself to consider anyone else.”

Her brows knitted together; she looked hurt by your words, but also defensive.

“How can you say that when you’ve been exactly the same way?” she accused. “Since you met Dean, I’d be lucky to see you once a week—”

“I call you every week,” you began, counting the list with your fingers. “You’re always busy, but you never give me a day that works for you. And when we do make plans, you usually cancel. Why? Because you’re going sailing with Benny. You’re going to a restaurant, hours away, just to try the new sushi bar beer garden, or whatever the hell. Or you’re going on an impromptu road trip, or you’re planning a summer trip to Greece. Give me fucking break, Dre.”

By now she was frowning angrily, her arms crossed. “You’re mad at me because I have a life?”

“No. I’m happy for you that you found someone. I really am,” you said. “But we clearly live in two different versions of reality. I just don’t have the time or the energy to entertain yours.”

You knew you were being too harsh. You felt incredible guilt as soon as it all left your mouth…but part of you also felt like a weight had been lifted off your chest. The problem was, you still felt heavy. Just in a different way.

Both of you were crying when Andréa left your house.

All too soon, a week became a month. In that time, Dean called you every day to check on you. He spent most of his evenings with you and George when he wasn’t on shift. And when he was, sometimes Meg would drop in.

She understood your argument with Andréa, and she respected you for taking a stand when you needed to. She even confided you that she’d had similar frustrations with her cousin lately.

But Meg wasn’t your only visitor. Ellen had come a few times to bring you lunch and dinner, even breakfast, though you hadn’t asked her to. You realized then how close Dean must be to his friends at the firehouse, along with the Harvelles; Ellen also refused to take any money from you for the food.

By the end of the month, George mainly spent his days sleeping. Pain medication made his days nearly painless, but not without struggle. You were doing your best to care for him while continuing to work full-time from home. You were also exhausted, though you refused to admit it.

Today was a better day, however, because George was awake. He was also more aware of his surroundings than usual.

He stopped you from adjusting his pillow so you would sit down on the edge of his bed. He took your hand in his, brushing a thumb over the back of it.

“I’m okay with this, you know,” he said. You pursed your lips, but he stopped you from whatever you were going to say. “I don’t want to leave you. You know that…but I’m so damn proud of you. Your Gram was, and still is…”

Your lower lip wobbled as you tried and failed to keep your tears at bay. They stung in your eyes and slipped past your defenses, down your face.

“The house is yours. But if that’s too hard for you, just sell it,” he said, heaving a deep breath. “It’s just the bones. You’re the heart. And you always have been.”

You opened your mouth to speak, but not a sound would come out. You held his hand with both of yours and stared down at them. Until his voice once again commanded your attention.

“I always thought…moving to the city ruined my daughter. That we should’ve stayed in Lebanon. That maybe I gave her too much freedom, and I failed her somehow along the way,” George said. His eyes were heavy with old heartache. And yet, they soon began to lighten.

“But the day we lost a daughter, we gained one too,” he said. Then, he chuckled a little. “And I know I never failed with you, sweetheart.”

That proved to be too much for you. He pulled you into his arms like you were still a child, and he held you for a long time while you cried yourself out.

Though he eventually spotted Dean hesitating in the doorway. He’d probably let himself in with the spare key you’d given him.

George raised a hand from your back and silently beckoned Dean inside his room. He was getting tired, drifting off thanks to the morphine.

“Hey, lookie there. The boyfriend’s here,” George whispered with a bit of cheek. You sucked in a breath and raised your head, wiping at your eyes before you turned around. Dean met you with an attempt at a smile and a gentle hand on your back.

“Just got out of work?” you asked. He’d been on a 24-hour shift, and you’d missed him. You stood and stepped into his welcoming embrace. He dropped a kiss on your forehead.

“Yeah. I’ve got the next couple of days off,” Dean said. He greeted George next and asked him if he needed anything.

“Just some water,” the older man replied.

“I’ll get it,” you said with a sniff. “Need to start dinner too.”

“I already brought some food. You like Italian, right?” Dean said, with a subtle smile. It earned your sigh and a grateful smile. He knew very well that it was now one of your favorites. Italian meatballs always reminded you both of your first date.

“Thank you,” you said, grasping his hand. He squeezed yours with a nod, before he let you go.

When you were out of earshot, George cleared his throat past a wet cough. Dean reached over and grabbed him a tissue. George took it with a nod. Again, he encouraged Dean to come closer.

“I’m not worried,” George said, between deep breaths. “You know why?”

Dean just stared back for a moment. He genuinely had no idea what the man might say next.

“Tell me,” he said.

“My granddaughter’s strong. Always has been, because she had to be,” said George. “But you’re gonna be there when she’s not.”

Dean considered the weight of that charge. The anxiety in his chest felt familiar; like the day he got his badge at the Fire Academy, knowing then the responsibility he held in his hands.

That’s a lot to put on just three months of knowing this girl, came a more selfish thought. It sounded a lot like the guy he used to be, not too long before he met you.

But when Dean thought about you, and what you’d begun to mean to him…

He realized that he only had one answer.

“Yes, sir. I am,” said Dean.

George gave a tired smile. “Good man.”

And that night, an agreement was made.

In the morning, your grandfather was gone.

Dean held you through what he thought was the worst of your heartbreak. But after that dour morning, it was like a switch flipped inside you.

In the days after George’s death, your shutters came up. You threw yourself into checklists and task after task—in funeral arrangements and planning and contacting distant relatives and friends.

This was your failsafe. Your version of “autopilot.” And these things needed to get done, after all.

But Dean worried when he no longer saw the softer side of you. Like your heart had been wrung dry.

He inevitably had to go back to work, but in between the demanding hours of his schedule, he tried to get you to slow down. He saw the warning signs of you running yourself into the ground. He just didn’t know how to help you land.

So Dean picked up slack where he saw it, often without you asking him to. He began fixing the house, one section at a time. He enlisted Benny’s help, since he actually had a small construction business. Dean even paid for the materials himself without you knowing.

And one sunny afternoon, he took a break from repaving part of the cracked and uneven driveway to grab a beer inside. You were sitting at the kitchen table with stacks of papers all around you, your cellphone on speaker as some kind of elevator music continued to ring on a loop.

“Can you believe I’ve been on hold with the funeral director for 20 minutes?” you told him in irritation. But you didn’t truly take sight of him until he came back from the kitchen.

He wore a familiar ensemble of jeans and black undershirt with a plaid shirt, rolled up to his elbows. He was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and his hands were dusty and stained from his work on the driveway. Dean looked tired, and that made you feel guilty.

Meanwhile, he frowned and popped open a beer. “You want one of these? Looks like you could use one.”

You shook your head. With a sigh, you hung up the phone. You’d try calling again later. Instead, you focused on the next item of your checklist for today.

“Food. Because we’re gonna need to eat after the service,” you inclined your head. “Okay, still need to come up with a list of caterers, because I don’t think I can cook for that many people.”

Dean nodded at that. “Let me talk to Ellen. She’ll give you a good price, and her food is good.”

You looked up from your notepad and considered him thoughtfully. You wouldn’t have thought to cater from a bar, but he was right. Ellen had great food at the Roadhouse.

“Okay, I’ll call her,” you said.

“No, I’ll call her,” Dean insisted. He set down the beer on the table and leaned his palms flat on its surface. “Sweetheart, I told you I’d help you with all this. You don’t have to do it by yourself.”

“Dean, you’ve done enough,” you replied. Your brows drew together stubbornly. “You’re paving my driveway right now, for God’s sake! This is my responsibility, not yours.”

Dean frowned, making you sigh. You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms.

“Look, we’ve only been dating for three months,” you said. And in your mind, a good chunk of that time had been spent in the worst hell of your life. “This right here? It’s a lot. I’m not expecting you to deal with all this…”

You bit your lip, and your gaze fell away from his as your insecurities took hold. The thoughts that had been plaguing you every night since this all began, on the night of the car accident.

“And…if you’d rather take a break from us for a while, I’d understand,” you said.

Your voice was more collected than you felt. But that didn’t make it any easier when Dean stared back at you, mostly incredulous. You even thought you saw a thread of hurt there, and it made your heartache worsen.

Dean came around to your side of the table. He dragged a chair back and sunk into it, facing you directly.

“You think that’s the kind of guy I am?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head. You weren’t trying to upset him, or imply that he wasn’t reliable, or trustworthy, or whatever was running through his head. You were just trying to be realistic.

You’re so pragmatic it hurts, as Andréa had often told you.

“Dean, it’s not that…” you began, a bit helplessly. “I just—”

“Just, nothin’.” His chair scraped toward you as he reached out for your hand. He made sure you looked him in the eyes when he said this next part.

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

Your gaze met his, though you desperately tried to keep your heart from rising into your throat.

“I’m not leaving you,” Dean said. His tone, his eyes, his hold on your hand was firm.

For a moment, you stared at him, unblinking, even as tears swam in your eyes.

He’s not leaving you.

Not like everyone else in your life.

You were grateful. Too grateful, even, for words.

When you finally broke down into tears, Dean realized what an idiot he’d been. Your wall of stoicism had been just that—a flimsy wall. Now it was shattered, and so were you.

It scared him just how much, as he gathered you onto his lap and into his arms. You didn’t seem to care that he was dirty and covered with sweat. You clung to him strong, and he held you back just as tightly.

“No matter what I did, it wasn’t enough,” you confessed. “You save people all the time. I couldn’t save anyone in my life.”

Dean frowned. He cupped the back of your head, and he felt your tears sliding down his neck. His voice was thick with emotion when he was able to reply.

“Oh, baby. It’s not your fault.”

“I can’t…I can’t do anything. Anything that matters.” Your voice was a broken whisper. It damn near broke his heart.

“Now you know that’s not true,” he said. “I’m not gonna let you lie to yourself like that.”

You trembled and heaved with sobs, and he continued to hold you.

Just be there, Sam had told him, when Dean had called him from the hospital. Sam reminded him again last week, when George finally passed.

Is that all I’m supposed to do? Dean thought. His brows furrowed, but he tried to hide his frustration.

He was used to people depending on him. He led a team. Before then, he’d looked out for Sam all his life. Dean had never had to help someone get through this kind of grief though. He just wanted to help you, in whatever way he could.

Because he was worrying, just like you. That whatever he did, it wouldn’t be enough.

But he couldn’t leave you.

I can’t, and I won’t, he thought. So he took a breath, and he said the first true thing that came to mind.

“You’re the strongest woman I know, you know that?” Dean said. He spoke low and steady, but with the conviction he felt. “And that’s a tall order, considering some of the badass ladies I’ve got in my life.”

A smile tugged at his lips when he considered people like Ellen and Jo, Jody and Donna. He might’ve lost his mom, but he and Sam hadn’t lacked when it came to influential women in their lives.

“But I saw it the day we met. I see it every time we’re together,” he continued. “You work hard as hell. You take care of everyone around you…”

You were still quiet, trying to stifle your crying.

Dean let out a breath. “Man, if you only knew how much you’ve been helping me. Keeping my damn feet on the ground with this whole…arsonist mess my dad’s been investigating. Digging up the past, my mom, the whole damn thing.”

With a sniffle, you uncurled from him, just enough to reveal your face. Your grip on his shirt loosened, your palm flattening on his chest. He held your hand there and turned his lips to your forehead. He sensed that you were calming down. That you were listening.

“That matters to me,” he told you.

You nodded and tightened your hand on his. “Me too.”

Your voice was still shaky, but it sounded a little stronger.

“See? You might as well face it.” Dean grinned. “You’re a badass chick with a big heart.”

You snorted in response. Your lips even twitched at a smile. He spied it when he looked down at you. And you rested easier against him as your tears subsided.

“Thank you,” you whispered. He dried your cheek with a brush of his hand.

“For what?” he asked.

“For staying.”

AN: So first off, I'm sorry for the gritty "reality" of this one. It's just where the story took me, though it serves a purpose narratively and for both the reader and Dean's character development.

But also, I think this has just been on my mind, since both my grandmother and great uncle (brother and sister) died within a year of one another due to different forms of cancer. My great uncle passed in May of this year, and my grandmother two years this past October.

Again, I'm sorry if this one was too heavy, but art does imitate life and this was probably my brain trying to express those emotions I couldn't fully make sense of at the time. George will be missed, but will still be felt in the rest of this story, as I'm sure any of you who've lost close family members will understand. 💙

Next Time:

The identity of Azazel will finally be revealed in Part 12. But first...

You nodded. “By the way, it was nice of Sam and Eileen to come. And Meg and Cas.”

Dean smiled.

“They can be your people too,” he said. “If you want ‘em to be.”

You couldn’t help it. Your tears brewed and bubbled over. And you moved slowly across the couch to twine your arms around his neck. Dean’s lips tugged at a smile, and he welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

Both of you were still wearing the same clothes you’d been wearing all day; you in your black dress and Dean in his slacks and white buttoned-down shirt, though by now without the jacket, and the shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

You were infinitely exhausted. But one thing had become clear to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank you. Thank you for today, and for every day since we met,” you said shakily.

Keep Reading: PART 12

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb

@vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#genuinely one of the loveliest reviews I've ever recieved 💞💞#reader appreciation #lovely mutuals #smoke eater feedback

562 notes · View notes

hauntedbydreams · 3 days ago

Note

imagine Vi with a gf that will do drastic things to their appearance and not mention it- like reader just shows up with new piercings, haircut, nail set etc and just plays it off to mess w/ her

"I've always had those wym?" "It was just a trim idk what you're saying"

Ok I’m obsessed w this idea bc it’s literally me, I shave and dye my hair every month and don’t realize ppl can’t recognize me when they don’t see me every few weeks, oopsi. This also ended up being very self indulgent BECAUSE I GOT A TATTOO OF VI’s NAME ON MY LOWER NAVEL 😌 I’m so down bad for her it’s not even funny (this IS a photo of MY tattoo so plz just lmk if ur gonna use it for anything)

Anyway hope u like this! (And thank u for my first Vi ask!!) requests/asks are always open!

Lil suggestive at the end but nothing too crazy I’d say…

Vi loves that you’re so all over the place, it makes her feel like you’re always changing and it’s kinda why she fell for you in the first place.

But she was not prepared for the amount of drastic appearance changes you bombard her with on a monthly basis.

You’ll show up with a random new hair color one day, walking into the gym she works at to drop off her lunch. Just strutting into the place, so nonchalantly, like there’s absolutely nothing new when in fact your hair went from brown to black with bright green highlights.

Vi’s at the reception about to head to the back with a new client when she sees you. She doesn’t even register that it’s you at first and her jaw only drops when she does a double take.

“Hey honey” you say in your regular loving tone.

“Uhh… Hi.. uh- hi baby?” Vi’s so confused but you just look at her innocently and bat your lashes. “I brought you lunch!”

“I see that” Vi looks down at the bag you dropped on the counter and leans over to kiss you on the cheek quickly. “I also see you’ve got a new hairstyle?”

You look at her surprised, “oh this?” you’re picking up strands of hair twisting them around your fingers absentmindedly “yeah I guess…”

“You guess?!?” she stares at you incredulously “it’s quite a big change cupcake!”

You fake being hurt and pretend dramatically, placing a hand your heart “So you don’t like it?”

“No, no, no! I didn’t say that! I just meant it’s so different!” Vi’s reaching over to run her fingers through your hair “I really like it”

“It’s really not that different Vi, just added the green” you brush it off, messing with her a little.

Vi swears your hair was brown and not black but she just shrugs, “as long as you’re happy!”

Then one day you’re off work early and you walk by this piercing shop every day on your way home. You’ve got a few piercings on your ears and that one on your belly button that Vi adores, but you’ve been wanting a septum for a while.

So before you can convince yourself otherwise you’re walking out of the piercing studio with a fresh silver ring in your nose.

You walk into your apartment met with the sound of Vi playing video games on the couch. Swooping down you attempt to give her a peck on the lips while she moves her head around your figure trying to see the screen “Hi Angel… one sec I just have to pass this level, then I promise I’m all yours”

You let her be and go to quickly clean your brand new piercing before she’s done with her gaming.

Later you guys are making dinner together and Violet can’t help but notice the silver ring glittering above your top lip when it catches the light. To be fair, Vi is always staring at your lips anyway, so it’s not like she really wasn’t gonna notice a piercing right above them.

“Uhhh hey babe?”

“Yeah Vi?”

“Did you always have that septum piercing?”

“Mhm” you’re humming absentmindedly as you stir something on the stove.

Violet can’t think straight, cause is she that distracted and so down bad that she didn’t notice her beautiful girlfriend had a septum piercing?!? Or is this another one of your “what do you mean I didn’t change anything!” moments like when you showed up with dyed hair and pretended it was the exact same or when you got new nails done and told her you’d been wearing them for weeks…

She swears you messing with her like this is gonna be the death of her, but… she’d never complain.

Nothing prepares Vi for your next drastic move though, cause she goes absolutely feral when u show her the tattoo u got of her name on ur lower navel.

Oh no. You’re done for. Cause she’s almost quite literally on her knees drooling, staring up at you with big blue eyes and you know she’s about to jump your bones and never let you go.

Vi knew you were going in for a tattoo appointment that day. But what she didn’t know is that you decided to surprise her with a little “VI”, the same one she has on her face, but in ink the color of her hair. The deep fuchsia pink you love.

So when you come home from your tattoo appointment, Vi thinks you just went for the bigger piece you got on your leg. So she jumps from the couch as soon as she hears you entering your apartment “Hey! you’re back!” and she’s running down the hall kneeling at your legs, lifting your trousers to see the new piece with an excited “Lemme see!!!”

You’re just as excited and giggle while she admires the work. But you keep ur mouth shut and don’t say a word about the little surprise tattoo you have of her name just above your panty line.

“It’s so cool! I love the colors and it’s so much bigger than I thought you’d go for! I love it!” Vi’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “Did it hurt? You were at the studio for a while…”

“Nah it wasn’t too bad, plus the artist was so gentle and it’s not like it’s my first rodeo Vi.” You’re rolling your eyes at her concern and she’s standing back up pulling you in for a long kiss.

“I’m gonna go unwrap the tattoo foil and wash the new ink, are you ok to start dinner hon?” You yell into the kitchen as you walk toward the bathroom. “Yeah! In a minute!”

Before you’ve even finished undressing to hop in the shower, Vi’s bursting into the bathroom claiming she needs to wash her hands before cooking. (but you both know there’s a perfectly good sink in the kitchen and she just loves barging in on you in the shower).

She’s smirking as she leans on the side of the sink “Cute panties”

You look down and immediately cover your face in embarrassment realizing you’re wearing high waisted flower-patterned cottons. It’s not your usual choice and they’re kinda reserved for shark week cause you don’t think they’re cute, but it was your best option for getting a lower navel tattoo and making sure it didn’t get irritated. “Stahppp Vi, I had to wea-“ you catch yourself before you can tell Vi about the tattoo.

She’s already sauntering over to you her hands finding their place on your bare waist making you shiver. “I don’t know… I still think they’re kinda cute..” Vi trails off as her fingers dig under the band and slowly lower it.

You’re waiting in anticipation for her to notice the tattoo at any moment, and then she does.

Her eyes go wide the second she sees it. You swear you can see her brain reset to factory settings and her mind go blank.

She doesn’t know what to say or do. Sliding down to the ground, shes now on her knees in front of you, hands on your hips holding the band of your panties down with her thumbs as she just stares at the little fuchsia pink “VI” on your lower navel.

“Vi?” You try gently, dragging the word out like a question.

“Hmm?” She’s not looking at you, just staring at the tattoo of her name on your body as she swallows hard. “Fuck Angel, fuck… is that… is that my name, sweetheart?” She’s biting her lip inhaling and ur nodding a happy “mhm” down at her.

Something short circuits in her then. The way her name is permanently on your skin. The way her name on you marks you as hers. She’s breathing heavy.

She thinks she’s drooling but she doesn’t care. She’s focusing her pretty blue eyes up on you now. You cup her face and try to play it off like you usually do, teasing her with your big appearance changes, teasing her “Oh, I’ve totally always had thi-“

Before you can finish she’s up, kissing you hungrily, her hands on your waist and the side of your neck, crowding you against the sink. Your breath hitches as you notice the glimmer in her eye and you can barely contain a little gasp when Vi’s thigh slides between yours.

“Don’t bullshit me Angel, we both know you haven’t always had a tattoo of MY name-“ she’s brushing her fingers across the fresh lettering, making you wince “-especially not here of all places.”

She’s kissing your neck, sucking on the soft skin leaving marks everywhere, slowly making her way down your body. Your hands are in her hair as she reaches your navel. She’s kissing everywhere but the tattoo, stopping to say a few words in between light pecks and little kitten licks “Fuck sweetheart… mmh, I can’t believe… you, fuck… got my… name tatted… ugh.. fuck” her voice trails off sounding so thick and needy. She’s looking up at you through her lashes and you know you’re done for.

You whimper and Vi’s vision goes fuzzy. Forget the shower, forget dinner, she’s carrying you to the nearest bed… so she can look at her name on your skin while she makes you scream it.

#I can’t believe i actually got a tattoo of her name #i’m just a girl #vi arcane #arcane vi x reader #haunted by dreams tf #vi brain rot #vi headcanons #violet arcane #vi arcane x reader #vi fluff #vi x fem reader #vi x you #request #reqs open #asks open

71 notes · View notes

historicity-was-already-taken · 17 hours ago

Text

Book Stuff!

The copy-editor sent me the full, edited manuscript

I'll be getting the galley proofs within the next month or two

I'll be able to share the cover art on 1/22

I'm foraging for blurbs

I'm writing b2b marketing essays

And publicity starts for real in April!

This is one of the coolest, most challenging thing I've done in my life and I'm so proud of myself. I feel like I'm about to share my first sonograms.

50 notes · View notes

isaiditspossible · 2 days ago

Note

Joss deserves a bit of verbal ass-whoopin even though some twitteroni's screenshots you shared are either blatantly lying or being misleading on purpose, but what's the point of sharing those infuriating tiktokers takes on Gawin? Why give clout to people who are obviously either very stupid or very malicious? Now Gawin is getting hate for being a professional actor who earned this role by winning audition. What's Gawin supposed to do according to these people? Refuse the main role in MGB and Only Friends and stay jobless forever? Leave GMM? Change Joss' politics? Real talk, have any of you ever tried and succeeded at changing political leaning of your coworker? Well, try that irl and see what happens! Now, I can't help but notice your seemingly neutral, but low-key strange jab at Gawin for him not being vocal about issues online. Are we talking about the same Gawin who is known to be chronically OFFline since... forever? Gawin who disappears from the world for months, sometimes a whole year, and his fans wonder if he's alive? Gawin who only remembers his password when P'Tha puts a gun on his head? Seriously? Why can't one of the most inoffensive guys in GMM just be left alone? And funniest (actually saddest) part, people are now sussing him because he spent a few years in high-school in Pennsylvania?? And because apparently (according to you) he's hanging out with GMM gym bros?? The "bros" I've seen Gawin hang out in gym with: Dunk, Book, Arm, Off, First. Are we even serious here?? Maybe I'm too sensitive, but it's honestly hurtful when someone like Gawin, who's never said or done anything wrong or offensive, gets dragged for no reason whatsoever. Just leave him out of this sh*t and let him be his awkward introverted self in peace. Thanks and goodbye

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

#gawin caskey #joss wayar #venting #fluke gawin #rant #i love gawin for being chronically OFFLINE

135 notes · View notes

loveesiren · 5 hours ago

Text

𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾

Thanos x American!reader

a/n: hi my babies! so this is my first thanos (choi su-bong) fic i'm posting. however, i kind of wrote this as an aftermath of a little series i've been working on of them in the games. so, once i am done hating it and editing it, i will posit it! but i hope you guys enjoy this cute lil fluff. i suck at writing fluff tbh but i tried! xx also, t.o.p is my gwiyomiii, my honeyyyy, my angel babyyyyyyyyy! i'm so inlove with him so feel free to send requests!

synopsis: nightmares of the games still haunt Thanos a year later, but luckily Y/n will never leave his side.

warnings: language, fluff, very brief mention of sex if you squint

wc: 1.1k+

You couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had wrapped itself around your mind ever since surviving the games last year, a constant shadow in your otherwise bright new life. You had so much to be grateful for—making it out alive, the money that had saved you in more ways than one, and, of course, Su-Bong. Though, to this day, you still called him T. Your T.

Never in a million years would you have imagined living in a sleek penthouse in downtown Seoul with a man you fell in love with while playing deadly children’s games. Yet here you were, in a world that once seemed as unreachable as a dream: Thanos’ World. And you loved it.

The games had changed Thanos in ways you never thought possible. He quit the drugs, buried his oversized ego, and spent six months holed up in his apartment with only you for company. It was a metamorphosis you never expected but cherished deeply. When he finally emerged from that cocoon of self-reflection, he returned to music—his first true love. But this time, it wasn’t about sex, drugs, and wealth. His lyrics delved into the rawness of his childhood, the pain of his struggles, the weight of his dreams—and you. Always you. You were his muse.

Being with the Thanos, however, was far from simple. Going out with him was an ordeal, a gamble. Fans flocked to him wherever he went, now more than ever, since he’d announced his new album. He once thrived on the chaos, basking in the adoration of women throwing themselves at him and men idolizing him. He was a star, and he reveled in the glow. But now? Now the attention suffocated him. He avoided crowded places as much as he could, especially when you were by his side.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off—God, he did. But the fear gnawed at him. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? You’d already faced your fair share of vitriol when the media leaked that Thanos was dating some American girl. “American bitch,” they’d called you, throwing their venom your way in tabloids and comment sections. But the hate didn’t break you. If anything, it hardened your resolve.

You refused to let him hide away forever. When his anxiety tried to keep him tethered to the penthouse, you were the one who dragged him out into the world. You reminded him of what life outside these walls could offer, even if it wasn’t always kind. And slowly, piece by piece, you were helping him reclaim it.

You glanced over at Thanos, his peaceful face softened by sleep, his arm draped lazily over your bare thighs. Carefully, you lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb him. Padding toward the kitchen, you glanced at the clock: 2:30 a.m. Another sleepless night. You sighed, the weight of endless insomnia pressing down on you.

You set the kettle to boil, deciding tea wouldn’t cut it tonight. The staleness of the room felt suffocating. What you needed was air. Before stepping out to the balcony, you peeked into the bedroom again, reassured by the steady rise and fall of Thanos’ chest.

The view of Seoul stretched before you as you stepped outside. The city pulsed with quiet energy, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the breeze, mingling with the night air and brushing your hair across your face. This view, this life—it was something you’d never take for granted.

Pulling out your phone, you typed a quick message to Se-mi.

y/n: You up?

Minutes passed before your phone buzzed with a reply.

Se-mi: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

y/n: The insomnia is never-ending.

Se-mi: I miss when we all lived together.

Your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Memories of those first fragile weeks after escaping the games flooded your mind. The four of you—Thanos, Se-mi, Min-su, and you—crammed into your tiny apartment, clinging to each other for sanity. For weeks, you barely left the safety of those walls. Eventually, Thanos invited everyone to move in with him, but Se-mi and Min-su had decided it was time to go back to their families. The games had taught them how precious life was. That, and your shared space wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy—especially with how loud things could get between you and Thanos when you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother.

y/n: I miss it too. I miss you. Shopping tomorrow?

Se-mi: You know I hate shopping.

y/n: But you love me, and T gave me his black card.

Se-mi: Spoiled brat.

y/n: See you tomorrow 🥰

Se-mi: Can’t wait ✌🏼

You smiled at her response, warmth spreading through you at the thought of reconnecting with your best friend. But the moment of peace was shattered by a sound from inside—faint whimpers carried through the air. Your heart clenched. Setting your tea down, you hurried back to the bedroom.

“T?” you called softly as you stepped inside.

No response. Only the faint cries that sent chills down your spine. You rushed to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Thanos was thrashing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands grasping desperately at the empty space where you should have been.

“Fuck! NO!” he suddenly screamed, his voice hoarse with panic.

“T!” you gasped, climbing onto the bed and pulling him into your arms. “T, baby…” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand found your shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist as though clinging to reality. He fought against the demons clawing at him, his breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, until they locked onto yours. His lip quivered as shame filled his expression.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb tenderly across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His shame was palpable, but you held him tightly, cradling him as though the weight of his nightmares could be eased by your embrace.

“Another nightmare?” you asked softly. He nodded wordlessly, slipping his hand into yours. He hated these moments. Hated the way his past still haunted him, dragging you into his darkness. But you didn’t mind. You’d made a decision long ago: this man was worth every struggle, every sleepless night. Some may say a few days isn’t enough time to know who is your person, but when your life is on the line, time has a way of fast-tracking love.

“M’sorry…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, T,” you reassured him, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. “You know I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

You kissed his forehead, tightening your arms around him. “Promise,” you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

No taglist yet but if you'd like to be added to future fics, let me know! :)

#squid game #thanos x reader #thanos #thanos squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game 2 #choi seunghyun #choi su bong #squid game thanos #player 230 #kpop #kpopidol #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #bigbang

49 notes · View notes

teeheeandhaha · 1 day ago

Text

Malibu

Joost Klein x reader

summary: six months after the breakup with Joost you are set to perform at Eurovision, but there’s one thing you didn’t expect: he’s competing too. When you find out through a Eurovision Instagram post—after months of no communication from him about it—your emotions erupt.

a/n: let's act like you wrote the song Malibu by Miley Cyrus I've been listening to it on repeat and came up with this

♡-------------------

Months of preparation and rehearsals have led you here—to Eurovision. But you never imagined it would come to this. Starting out as a YouTuber and streamer, you never thought of yourself as a "real" singer. Sure, you’ve uploaded a few songs to Spotify, but you didn’t exactly promote them or talk about them when someone mentioned it. It was just a side project—nothing to make a big deal about. But now, here you are, competing on the grand stage of Eurovision with Malibu—a song full of memories you wish you could forget.

It was six months ago when you and Joost broke up. A mutual, friendly breakup. You were still talking, sneaking into each other’s houses when a party got too out of hand, drinking too much, and waking up in his bed. That was until three months ago, when Joost started talking to somebody else. You’d only met her once, and it didn’t last long—just three weeks. You found it almost comical how quickly it ended. But what stung the most was that he tried to reach out to you after, but you were done.

Joost sent texts every now and then—casual, almost like nothing had changed—but you kept your responses short. “I’m fine. Hope you’re good.” That sort of thing. Eventually, the texts stopped coming. You haven’t heard from him since.

But you remember clearly telling him about Eurovision. You’d shared your excitement, your nerves, how much it meant to you. You hadn’t expected him to be overly excited, but you did expect him to acknowledge it. To care. Instead, he said nothing. Nothing at all.

As you sit on the couch scrolling through the Eurovision hashtag, you freeze. Your thumb stops moving. You blink. There it is—Joost Klein. A picture of him with his name and Netherlands next to it, proudly displayed in the official post.

He’s performing.

Jesus fucking Christ.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you stared at the screen, your heart a mess of anger and disbelief. You’d given him space to move on—hell, you were moving on too, even if it didn’t feel like it most days—but this? This felt like a punch to the gut. He knew how much this meant to you, and yet, it was like he didn’t even care.

You leaned back, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm the storm inside you. Eurovision was supposed to be your moment. A fresh start. And now, Joost was part of it too, whether you liked it or not. The thought of having to face him, especially knowing he had kept this huge detail from you, made your stomach churn.

The night before the first performance was always the wildest at Eurovision. Fans and performers alike were all gathered at the lavish pre-show party. Glittering lights, loud music, and the heavy buzz of excitement filled the air, everyone trying to get in one last bit of fun before the nerves hit for real.

You hated it.

You didn’t hate the excitement or the glittering lights or the music—it was the one thing you could never get used to. The crowds. The noise. The fake smiles and small talk. It was supposed to be a celebration of your hard work, but instead, it felt like a carnival of everything you wanted to avoid.

You’d told yourself you were ready for this. Ready for the competition. Ready for the performance. But tonight? Tonight, you just wanted to be anywhere but here. Maybe you should’ve stayed in your room, but your manager had insisted you come. Networking, they’d said. It’s good for your image.

Yeah, good for your image—if you didn’t mind pretending to be friends with people who were more interested in how many Instagram followers you had than anything else.

But there was something else nagging at you, more than the crowds or the fake smiles. The thought of him. Joost.

You hadn’t expected to see him tonight, honestly. With the way you kept your distance from him over the last few months, you figured he’d stay in the VIP section, ignoring everyone in the public crowd, just like he always did. But there he was, standing by the bar in the corner of the room, casually talking to someone, his broad shoulders leaning against the wooden counter.

Your heart skipped a beat. He looked good. Too good. Dressed in his signature style—slightly messy hair, and a casual yet sharp jacket that made him look effortlessly cool. It wasn’t even that he was just attractive; it was the way he carried himself—like everything was perfectly in place. And, that was what made you want to break something.

Taking a deep breath, you turned away from him, keeping your distance as you made your way to a quieter corner. No way were you going to let this night be ruined by him. You were here to make a name for yourself, not to fall into old patterns.

You needed space. The music, the laughter, the flashing lights—everything about the party felt like it was closing in on you. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think straight. Joost was here, in the same room, and you couldn’t avoid him any longer.

Grabbing your coat, you made your way to the nearest exit, slipping out into the cool night air, hoping to find some solace.

The fresh air hit you instantly, and you breathed it in, feeling a little more like yourself. The chaos inside felt miles away now.

You reached into your pocket for a cigarette, flicking the lighter open with practiced hands. You never used to smoke—at least, not like this. You’d occasionally share a vape with friends when they came over, or maybe grab a drunken cigarette at a party. But it wasn’t until Joost came into your life that the habit became real. He’d always be outside with his cigarette, leaning against something casually, as if the world outside didn’t matter. It made you want to be a part of it, too. Before you knew it, you found yourself lighting up as well, the action feeling strangely comforting.

You took a deep drag, the smoke curling into the night air, and tried to let go of the thoughts swirling around in your head.

But you weren’t alone for long.

“Hey.”

You turned to see it was Alanis—Joost’s best friend and one of your own, too. She gave you a tentative smile, her eyebrows furrowed in concern. Of course, she’d come after you. Alanis always had a way of showing up when emotions were running high.

“What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your tone neutral.

She leaned against the railing next to you, crossing her arms. “You okay? I saw you slip out. It’s... a lot in there, huh?”

“Yeah. A lot.” You took another drag from your cigarette, looking down at it as if it would answer all your questions. “Why’s Joost here?”

Alanis’ eyes softened, a familiar look of understanding in them. She knew how this was for you. How it used to be.

She sighed, glancing at the party behind you before speaking quietly. “Eurovision’s been his dream since he was a kid, you know that.”

You exhaled sharply, flicking the ash off your cigarette. Of course, you knew that. Joost had never shut up about Eurovision. He’d talked about it endlessly, the way it had been his escape, his hope. For his parents, he’d always say, and every time, you would nod along, because you understood. You’d been there with him, supported him every step of the way. He had always dreamed of this, but now?

Now, the anger welled up again. The same familiar frustration you hadn’t felt in months. You could feel your blood beginning to boil.

“I know, Alanis. I know,” you said through clenched teeth. “But why the hell didn’t he tell me he was performing? Why didn’t he mention it to me when I told him about Eurovision?”

Alanis’ expression faltered, her lips pressing into a tight line. She glanced around the street, clearly uncomfortable. “He’s always had this... this fear of disappointing people. You know how he is. Maybe he didn’t want to upset you, especially after... well, everything that happened.”

You shook your head, frustration bubbling over. “I know it sucks. He should have said something, you should have heard it from him, but—”

“But what?” You cut her off, tossing your cigarette to the ground. “I mean, seriously? I told him how excited I was. I told him I was going to be here, doing this. And he says nothing.”

Alanis seemed to hesitate for a moment, her gaze shifting uneasily. “Maybe... he didn’t know how to handle it. Maybe he thought it would make things worse, or... I don’t know.” She shrugged, eyes softening. “He’s still figuring things out, just like you are.”

You turned away, running a hand through your hair. “I’m figuring things out? What the hell does that even mean? What’s left to figure out, Alanis?”

Alanis stepped closer, placing a hand on your arm gently. “Look, I’m not trying to take his side. But... Joost’s been through a lot. Eurovision’s the biggest thing in his life, and I think, for him, it’s not just about the performance. It’s for his parents. You know, the ones who never got to see him achieve this. He wants to make them proud. He’s always wanted that.”

You stood there, the weight of her words sinking in. You knew all of that—knew it intimately. You had heard him talk about his parents, seen how much their memory shaped everything he did. But that didn’t change the fact that he hadn’t told you. And maybe that hurt more than the rest of it combined. He had always kept you close, shared his dreams with you... but this? This felt different. And you were angry.

You stood in front of the mirror backstage, the weight of the moment pressing down on your shoulders. The buzz of the crowd outside, the excitement in the air—it should have been exhilarating. But instead, all you felt was the crushing weight of the tension, the gnawing uncertainty.

Your fingers hovered over the makeup kit in front of you, but your mind was elsewhere. You should have been concentrating on your look, but instead, your thoughts drifted to Joost. He was out there now, performing his heart out on the Eurovision stage. You couldn’t help it. You had to know.

You put down the makeup brush in your hand, wiped your fingers on a tissue, and made your way toward the small TV monitor at the edge of the room. A few other performers were gathered around, nervously talking to each other, but you ignored them, your gaze locked on the screen.

The familiar sound of the crowd cheered as Joost’s name was announced, and you instinctively held your breath. You could feel your heart racing in your chest, your eyes glued to the screen. You knew it was happening, but somehow, watching him step onto that massive stage made everything feel real.

With a deep breath, you turned away from the screen, trying to shake off the lingering feelings. There was no time for distractions. You were here for a reason.

The stage was a sea of lights, bright and blinding, but you hardly noticed them as you stood at the center. The weight of the microphone in your hand was grounding, the feel of the cool metal a subtle reminder that this was real. You took a deep breath as the first chords of the song played softly through the speakers. The gentle strum of the guitar filled the arena, and you closed your eyes for just a moment, letting the music pull you into the moment.

The audience was a distant hum, but your mind—your heart—was somewhere else entirely. Somewhere in the past, to a time when you thought you had all the answers, before everything between you and Joost changed.

You started the first verse, your voice clear but soft, the words so personal they nearly caught in your throat.

It was like a weird cruel joke that the universe was playing on you, you had three dancers up there with you two dressed in black suits and one in a blue suit an annoying coincidence that Joost was also performing in blue, You weren't ready for all the questions after the performance something your manager tried to help you through but now with Joost here it'll only be about your past relationship with him and being put on the spot 24/7.

After the performance, your manager noticed you staring, their hand lightly pressing against your back as they guided you through the maze of people. "Hey, focus," they said, trying to get you back on track. "Remember, this is your moment, alright? Let’s keep it positive. Let’s not get caught up in—"

"Do you think they’ll ask me about him?" You blurted out, cutting them off before they could finish.

They hesitated for a moment, clearly trying to pick their words carefully. "I can’t stop the press, but you don’t have to answer any questions you don’t want to. Just... stay focused on you. Stay focused on your journey."

But that didn’t reassure you, not when you saw the flashes of cameras and the reporters hanging around the edge of the crowd, eager to ask about the relationship that had been the talk of the town for months. The breakup. The tension. The fact that, once again, Joost was right there—right in the middle of your moment.

You took a few deep breaths, trying to clear your head. But it was impossible. Every time you looked around, you saw him. There, in the distance, talking to some of the other contestants. Laughing with the same easy charm you remembered, the one that used to make your heart flutter. It made the anger and frustration surge inside you, like a storm rising.

The reporters were swarming now, looking for their next headline. They zeroed in on you immediately, microphones and cameras raised high, ready to ask the questions they knew would get the best reaction.

"How do you feel about Joost Klein also being here?" one reporter asked, their voice dripping with a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

You could feel your chest tighten at the mention of his name, but you forced yourself to smile. "I’m focused on my performance," you said, your tone sharp, but not giving away the anger bubbling underneath. "I’m here for me, and this is about my journey."

But they wouldn’t let it go. They never did. One reporter pressed, “Everyone’s talking about your past with Joost, the way your relationship ended—do you think that affects your chances here?”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Of course, they would. The press loved drama. They lived for it. And all you wanted was to be left alone, to exist on this stage without being reduced to your past.

Every question about Joost, every lingering glance in his direction, would bring the same pain flooding back. You could already feel the endless loop of questions that would follow you everywhere: Do you still talk to him? Are you getting back together? How does it feel to perform with the same intensity as your ex?

It was a sickening feeling. And the worst part was that you didn’t know if you were strong enough to shut them all down, to fight back against the narrative that everyone seemed so eager to write for you.

But then you caught yourself. You had fought so hard to get here. To this moment. And no matter how much Joost or the media tried to pull you back into the past, you weren’t going to let them steal your future.

You forced a smile, shaking off the bitterness. "I’m just here to perform. That’s all I want to do."

And with that, you took a step forward, your manager beside you, ready to shield you from the rest of the madness.

The chaos of the press, the frantic energy backstage, the constant questioning about Joost—it all started to blur together as you took a deep breath. You needed a moment to yourself, a place where you could escape the circus of Eurovision. You hadn’t prepared yourself for the wave of emotion that came crashing down after your performance.

You stepped away from the crowd, slipping into a quiet corridor that led out to the back of the venue. The cool air hit your face as you leaned against the wall, closing your eyes and letting the silence engulf you. You’d done it. You’d given the performance of your life, poured your soul into every note—but that wasn’t what was consuming your thoughts right now.

It was him. Joost.

The silence between you and Joost was heavy, more so than you had expected. His face was inches from yours, the vulnerability in his eyes making your chest tighten.

You had hoped, when you decided to take a step outside for a moment of peace, that you wouldn’t have to face this. But now that he was here, standing in front of you, you felt the weight of everything you’d left unsaid.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You found yourself asking, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “Why didn’t you tell me you were here? You knew I was coming. We talked about this, Joost.”

He hesitated for a moment caught of guard by your directness “Im sorry.. I really am i shouldve told you” he said softly, as if trying to explain away the silence. "I thought it would be easier if I just stayed out of the way, gave you space."

“Staying away? Joost, this is a big deal! You talked about this all the time. We could've done this together!” You couldn’t keep the edge from creeping into your voice. Your pulse was pounding, frustration mounting as your words cut through the tension between you.

Joost’s eyes widened for a moment before a hint of frustration flashed across his face. He stepped forward, his voice rising slightly, his hands clenched at his sides. “Really? Three months, and you haven’t even tried to make a normal conversation with me. For three months, nothing! And what about the three months before that? Sure, our relationship wasn’t the same, but we were still talking. You’d sleep over at my place every now and then! Did our relationship mean nothing to you?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as Joost’s words hit harder than you expected. He was angry, and it was hard to keep up with his pace. But the frustration was bubbling up inside you, too. It wasn’t just the breakup anymore; it was everything that came after it—the silence, the feeling of being abandoned by someone who once cared for you.

Joost’s face fell slightly, the anger in his eyes fading, replaced by something else—regret, maybe, or guilt. “I didn’t know what to do! I didn’t know how to fix it... I was scared. I thought that if I gave you space, if I just let you breathe, maybe you’d want to talk to me again. But instead, you shut me out.”

Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “Space? Joost, you disappeared when I needed you. I didn’t need space. I needed you to show up, to talk to me like we used to. But I never heard from you. And when you started seeing someone else, I thought maybe... maybe I could finally move on, too.”

He exhaled sharply, taking a step back, his gaze shifting away from yours for a moment. “It wasn’t like that. It didn’t work out, and I didn’t want you to feel like I replaced you. I never wanted to replace you.”

“But you did,” you said softly, almost too quietly. “You didn’t tell me what was happening in your life, and it felt like I didn’t even matter. I kept waiting for you to reach out, but you didn’t. And then, when you did, it was only because things fell apart with her. It felt like you only cared when it suited you.”

Joost looked down at the ground, the weight of your words settling between you. He seemed lost, not knowing how to respond. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was quieter, almost apologetic. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I swear I didn’t. I just didn’t know how to keep going after everything that happened. And now... now it’s like everything I do, it just makes it worse.”

You let out a shaky breath, the anger draining from your body, leaving you exhausted. “Joost, I’m not asking you to fix everything. I’m just asking you to be honest. To stop pretending like I don’t matter. You had your chance to tell me what was going on, and you chose to stay silent.”

There was a long pause. Joost opened his mouth, but no words came out. His hands fell to his sides, defeated. For the first time in a long time, you felt like you were talking to the Joost you once knew—the one who didn’t hide behind walls or silence.

“I didn’t want to lose you,” he said quietly, finally meeting your gaze. “I still don’t.”

♡-------------------

Pt2?????? 👀

#joost klein #joost x reader #joost x you #eurovision #joost klein x reader

35 notes · View notes

luckyartdrawer · 3 days ago

Text

100 Follower Milestone Poll! 🎉🎉🎉

Heya lovelies!!! This blog hit 100 followers oh my goodness!!!

I really can't believe it, it's so awesome to see you all here! <333 Whether you're new or old around here it doesn't matter, I am electronically hugging and/or patting all of your heads in great thanks! ✨💖✨💖✨💖✨

To celebrate, I have some options in a poll for y'all to choose what you would like to see for this milestone! I HIGHLY suggest reading the explanations of each option below the break! It clarifies some important details. Its down there so any of y'all just scrolling by won't have to worry about a wall of text! <3

Please feel free to vote even if you aren't following me!!!

Poll Options explanations:

Drop early chapters of EYED / Dreamlike: This is a Moon-centric x reader fic I've been working on for several months now and I originally planned to start posting it when I finished it or got really close to doing so. I dropped a sneak peek of it here! I find myself currently on a standstill on it's later chapters, which is why it hasn't been finished yet, but otherwise I am reallllly happy with it's messaging and pacing. (Rn I have plotted out 15 chapters but it's looking like it could be longer with how I write oops-)

The first chapters have been pretty polished at this point, so if people are really curious about this one, I don't mind to start posting the chapters up to a certain point. If this wins, I'll post the first 3 chapters for 3 sequential days, then 4 and 5 will come out in the next week, and then the last week I'll post ch. 6 for no particular reason mhmm yup I am not planning anything nefarious-

Drawing requests: This would be my first time doing something like this, and while I know I can pop out some bangers for y'all I also don't want to dig myself into a hole and leave y'all waiting for a long time. 😅So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests and draw them out! If I feel capable of doing more I may open some more slots for y'all, but I need to test my speed and my capabilities here first. Expect some lovely rendering bc I love it so, but I won't be doing backgrounds (besides simple colors) for the sake of my sanity.

Drabble requests: Most of ya here probably see me as only an artist, but I do write and actually started out as a writer first for this fandom hehe. ✨ I've been doing well recently with short stories so as long as y'all want em, I can hopefully dish em out at a reasonable pace! I, again, haven't done something like this before. So if this wins, I'll take the first 10 requests, but I feel more confident that I can do this at a reasonable pace, so if things go well I'll open up 5-10 more slots for y'all!

Rendered drawing of a dca AU: Hehe, my forte /J. I've drawn some whacky crossovers, cute sillays, and horror stuff at times, but some of y'all also know I love soooo many AUs in this fandom, hehe! I definitely do not mind drawing AUs, there are MANY I haven't drawn for, but I will be avoiding drawing other's specific AUs. I love making fanart, but this is going to thank y'all for being here, so I would like to keep from using someone else's AU -- it would feel like I'm stealing them e3e.

Plus, this is from me to thank you! And so will the goobers! I'll try to be as detailed as possible with both the characters and location <3

If this wins, I'll set up another poll to last for 3 days. It'll have some general au options like Mer, then I'll list out some crossovers I have done like Submas! Sun/Moon, and I'll add my own AUs! There will also be an option to suggest an AU/crossover! (Please don't be afraid to do so, as long as enough people have an interest in the option, or even if it doesn't win I may still make it if I really like the suggestion! <333)

Rendered drawing of Biblical dca: This means the drawing will be as realistic to the original as I can get it! Gonna do my best to do material rendering and all mwehehe! Though, I may make him extra polished/shiny to not only play with reflections, but to also say how sparkly y'all make me feel hehe ✨✨✨

If this wins, I'll try to finish the drawing within a week or 2 after I make the announcement of the poll's winner! I'll also throw out a really quick poll for 1 day to let y'all pick who will be our biblical goober: Sun, Moon, or Ruin Eclipse!

Something else: This is pretty self explanatory, but if you have ideas, comment below! (You can even if you didn't pick this option!!!) And if you see an idea you like or that you wanted to comment already said below, please reply to that person's comment to keep things easy to track! You don't have to say anything if you don't want to, just drop something simple like ✨ in it and I'll know that means ya voted for it. :) (I'll be checking to make sure people didn't vote on the same comment more than once! But you can vote for multiple ideas <3)

If this wins/has enough interest, I'll choose the most popular suggestion! Depending on what suggestion wins, I may actually do BOTH that suggestion and the winning/2nd place option on the poll!!!! ( Woah 2 for one what :O )

My choice 💥💥💥: I typically don't like making choices actually, but in the case y'all are indecisive I will step up ✨✨✨ If this wins, I'll likely choose whatever sounds best to me in that moment hehehe, you'll never be 100% sure what I'll do >:)

Moon's bald and we love him for it: Oh yeah we do! <3 This is just a joke option to let people who don't want to vote to see the results. If this wins... Uh... We'll go for the 2nd place vote! And also I'll add a bald Moon doodle as a bonus goodie. (I'm so good at making incentives to get people to vote, I know I know ✨✨✨)

Thanks again for all the love guys!!! This fandom has been so good to me and I cannot thank y'all enough for making it as awesome and welcoming as it has been! <333

34 notes · View notes

notiddygothgf · 3 days ago

Text

17. Not a Date

★ pairings: aki hayakawa x fem reader

★ ❝Is this a date? ❞

★ c.w.: suggestive content. tooth rotting fluff. the hayakawa family being the hayakawa family. denji and power need their own warning.

★ a/n: HIIII EVERYONEEEEE!!! im back from my unofficial hiatus. So let me spill the tea -- as you all may know, I'm a Premedical student, and let me tell you..... finals did my ass INNNNN!! it was a struggle to stay alive but we #survived. I haven't been feeling like myself lately, but I'm taking a winter vacation to my lovely motherland, Puerto Rico, and I am SOOOO at peace rn. It's done wonders for my creative juices.

Thank you all for leaving such wonderful comments on all of the chapters while I was away. Yes, I've been reading them, and, yes, I've been cracking up over them for the past two-ish months. Y'all are fuckin hilarious. Anyway!! To make up for my absence, I've decided to double update and feed the girlies. I'm so sorry! I didn't forget about y'all... but....

Y'all know the drill... the more you comment, the more I update! comment away!! hugs and kisses from PR!!

★ w.c: .4.1k

shameless ; chapter index

As Aki was presently in no shape to cook, the two of you decided to go out for dinner. You tried hard not to think too hard about what it meant – of course, it was hard to ignore the way he tossed a twenty at Denji and Power and told them not to kill the delivery driver (and, subsequently, to not call him unless it was a dire emergency).

It wasn’t a date. He hadn’t asked you on a date, yet, so it wasn’t one.

So why did you feel so nervous?

Picking at the seam of your Public Safety slacks – the only decent outfit you had available, unless you counted your unlimited supply of oversized clothes from your not-quite-boyfriend – you shifted in your seat. Your eyes flitted over the restaurant, its patrons, the red wallpaper; anything but the handsome young officer sitting in front of you.

Aki was sitting directly across from you, long legs spread beneath the table, donning a blue button down shirt and some black slacks. It wasn’t the Public Safety uniform you had been so used to but, still, it was nice. His hair was down, the way you liked it, framing his pretty face beneath the dim lighting in a way that had your heart thrumming anxiously against your ribcage.

Again, though, it wasn’t a date. He hadn’t said it was a date.

You were just nervous because it was the first time you and him had gone out to eat together… alone.

Your plate was empty. Aki’s plate still had a few pieces of spaghetti on it. Long, pretty fingers plucked a fork off the table and twirled the noodles around until they were all balled up. He popped the spaghetti into his mouth, chewing with a quiet hum to signify his satisfaction.

Finally, he replied to the question you had asked a minute earlier. “November 11th.”

“You’re a scorpio?” You tilted your head, flashing him a funny little smile despite the horde of butterflies loose in your chest.

“I guess,” He shrugged. He polished off the remainder of his spaghetti in one bite. “What about you?”

“Cancer,” You answered. “July 12th.”

He only nodded, smiling faintly as he wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin. The motion was casual, but there was something disarming about the way his smile lingered—warm and unhurried, like the late afternoon sunlight stretching across the café table. It made you falter, your own words catching in your throat as you searched for some confirmation, some clue in his expression to tell you what this was.

When his response came only in the form of that soft smile, the silence began to press down on you. A beat passed, then another, before you let the intrusive thought escape. “We’re supposed to be compatible.”

“Are we?” His grin deepened, and though it carried his usual dry amusement, there was an edge of curiosity there too—like he was testing the weight of your words.

“That’s what the zodiac says, anyway.” You shrugged, feigning nonchalance as you reached for your glass of water. The rim felt cool against your lips, a welcome distraction from the heat creeping up your neck. You told yourself it was ridiculous to put so much stock into something you’d read in a horoscope, and yet, your heart still beat a little faster when he tilted his head, considering you.

When the busboy came to collect the plates, Aki leaned back in his chair, his gaze softening as it settled on you. You caught it in your peripheral vision and turned toward him, only to find his expression unreadable but impossibly fond. That low hum of agreement that followed—“I have to agree”—seemed to reverberate in your chest, grounding you and upending you all at once.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your composure slipping, the warmth rising from your chest to your face, blooming like a flush of petals that wouldn’t stop spreading. Were you imagining it? Reading too much into a simple response? He had always been measured with his words, careful to say only what he meant—but what did this mean?

The thoughts looped in your mind as you stared down at the now-cleared table, the edges of the placemat a blur. When you finally looked up, his eyes were still on you, patient, as though waiting for you to catch up to some conclusion he’d already reached.

The words tumbled out before you could stop them. “Is this a date?”

For a split second, you panicked. Maybe you’d said too much. Maybe you’d made it weird. But then his eyebrows raised, just slightly, and his lips curved into something small but genuine. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” You tried to play it cool, but your voice betrayed you, coming out softer than you’d intended. “It feels like one.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, leaning forward just enough for his elbow to rest against the edge of the table. “I would’ve dressed a little nicer if I knew I was taking you out out.” His tone was teasing, but the look in his eyes suggested something more—a hopefulness that mirrored your own.

Your heart swelled at the words, a warmth unfurling in your chest that no amount of teasing could deflate.

“Do you… want it to be a date?” He asked, then.

You blinked at him, caught off guard by the directness of the question, and you wondered if he could see how your pulse quickened.

“I dunno… I mean,” You sighed, “On paper, I’m still married.”

Aki quirked a brow, “I think we’re a little far past that, aren’t we?”

You laughed – a genuine one, one that made your chest feel light. “I mean, it just doesn’t feel right – us dating before the divorce is finalized.”

There it was again. That word – divorce.

It was hard to believe all of this was really happening.

“Then, it doesn’t have to be a date,” He shrugged, as if divorce and making the relationship official weren’t a big deal. Then, as if he had sensed the way you deflated, he added, “We can go on our first date when everything is finalized – go out ‘n celebrate,” Then, he smiled, “I’d take you somewhere way nicer than this, anyway.”

You could have laughed at the absurdity of it all. In fact, you almost did. “Celebrating a divorce with your mistress. That’s not something you hear every day,” You grinned.

For a moment, a part of you doubted if this—all of this—was the right thing to do. The thought lingered like a shadow, nudging at the edges of your mind even as you tried to ignore it. Was it too soon? Too messy? Too complicated? The weight of your still-intact marriage loomed large, a tether that made it hard to feel fully present. But even as those doubts surfaced, another part of you felt freer than you had in years—like unshackling yourself from a life that had stopped fitting long ago.

A part of you wondered if – after all was said and done – Aki would leave you hanging. Leave you all alone with nothing but the wreckage of your life.

But you took one long look into his eyes, and you knew that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Half-lidded and glimmering with affection, his eyes gazed back at you with nothing but pure adoration. He was in love.

I don’t think I have anything to worry about, you thought. As long as I have him, that is.

Before either of you could speak again, the waiter approached, his polite smile breaking the stillness of the moment. “How was everything?” he asked, his voice chipper.

Aki leaned back slightly, his tone relaxed yet earnest. “It was wonderful, thank you.”

The waiter nodded, seeming pleased, and placed the check down on the table. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said before stepping away, leaving you both alone again.

You reached for your purse instinctively, fingers brushing the leather strap as you glanced at the small black folder between you and Aki. But before you could pull it closer, he slapped his card down onto the table.

“Don’t even think about it,” He grumbled, though there was a flirty lilt to his words.

“Aki, you’ve already done so much for me, letting me crash and–” You sighed, attempting to gently pry the checkbook out from beneath his fingertips. “At least let me pay for this.”

“No,” He answered without saving a beat.

You furrowed your brows, “Halvsies?”

He made a similar expression, tilting his head at you as if that was the stupidest question he had ever been asked, “Are we… friends, or something?”

“Not really,” You bit your lip, a cheeky little smile threatening to break loose. “We’re not really dating, either, though, are we?”

“Friends don’t say I love you,” Aki slid the checkbook back over to his side of the table. Leaning in, he added, “A friend wouldn’t make you cum the way I do, either.”

Your face was on fire – you were probably red as a fire truck. You hissed, “Aki.”

“It’s the truth,” He replied. It was evident that he couldn’t possibly have cared less about where the two of you were.

“What, so you’re telling me you don’t go around giving all of your friends head?” You whispered back, barely fighting off a smile.

“You won’t win this game, so don’t start,” He deadpanned. Unfolding the checkbook, he glanced over the bill, quickly slipping his card into the slot at the top. “Or I can show you just how friendly I am when we get home.”

His words made you bristle in an almost feline manner. “Who says I don’t want that?”

The waiter came by the table a second time, swiping up the checkbook as he did so. Aki looked at you with a smirk that implored you to try and pay the bill now.

“You’re a fiend,” He muttered with a shake of his head. “I just got out of the hospital, anyway. Doctor told me to avoid any…” Here, his gaze dipped, running over the length of your shoulders, your trembling hands. “Strenuous activity.”

You leaned forward, perching your chin on your palm. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you teased. “Wouldn’t want you to pull your back.”

He quirked a brow. “You’re doing that thing again.”

“What thing?”

“That thing where you test my patience,” He replied. “Try and make me give you what you want.”

“And what do I want, Captain?” You licked your lips – shamelessly, too. You were truly unhinged.

Aki visibly folded at the nickname, eyes softening. His lips parted, as if he were about to say something, but before he could, the waiter returned with the check, setting it down on the table in front of Aki with a quiet, “Have a lovely evening.”

“If you wait thirty minutes,” He purred, “I can show you.”

(You had never left a restaurant quicker in your entire life).

Aki wound up doing no such thing. In fact, the two of you made a little pit stop at the convenience store to pick up some essential items for you – including skincare and a four animal-print face masks – before going home. Now, Aki sat sandwiched between you and the couch, with you sitting in his lap, laying a face mask onto his skin. His bangs were clipped back with the stupid little butterfly clips you had picked up, and he looked adorable – jammies and all.

He pouted, “This feels ridiculous.”

“Oh, shut up,” You retorted with a roll of your eyes, “They’re supposed to be relaxing, and you could stand to loosen up a little.”

A few feet away, Denji was trying to show Power how to open a face mask packet. It was a fruitless endeavor – one that ended with her biting into the plastic and ripping it off with her teeth. While he argued with her, his own tiger-print mask was sliding off of his face. His hair was clipped in the front the same way Aki’s was.

“God, you’re hopeless,” Denji muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upward, betraying his amusement.

Aki sighed. “This is chaos.”

“And yet,” you teased, running a finger over his mask for the final smoothing touch, “You’re still here, participating.”

Just as you turned to grab your own face mask, you felt Aki’s fingers wiggle against your sides. A squeal tore from your throat as he tickled you mercilessly, his stoic mask cracking into a rare grin.

“Aki! Stop!” you yelped, squirming to escape.

“Not until you admit this is ridiculous,” he teased, his voice light in a way that sent a flutter through your chest.

“Never!” you cried, twisting in his lap and finally managing to push his hands away.

The moment you turned back to scold him, Aki caught you off guard. His hands found your waist again, but this time, they steadied you just before he leaned in and kissed you. It was soft and unhurried, like he’d been waiting for the perfect moment, and your heart stuttered in response.

Aki's kiss caught you entirely off guard. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away—when you instead leaned into him—he pressed in just a little more. His hands, still resting at your waist, tightened slightly, grounding you. The faint scent of his cologne, crisp and woodsy, mingled with the faint cucumber aroma of the face mask, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

Your hands instinctively found their way to his shoulders, and the tension that always seemed to weigh him down melted under your touch. It wasn’t like Aki to be so open, so unguarded, but in this instant, there was nothing but the quiet exchange of warmth, a wordless confession in the way his lips lingered against yours.

It wasn’t until Denji’s exaggerated gagging sound shattered the stillness that the spell broke. “Blech! Get a room!”

Power tilted her head, squinting. “Why would they need a whole room? The couch is big enough.”

You pulled away, face burning as Aki shot Denji a look that could wither a plant. “Mind your business.”

“Hard to do when you’re face-smashin’ right in front of me!” he retorted, adjusting his sliding mask with exaggerated annoyance.

You pulled back first, albeit reluctantly, though it wasn’t much of a retreat—your faces still hovered close, noses nearly brushing. Aki’s eyes flickered open, his usual calm slightly disrupted by the barest hint of embarrassment, though he didn’t let you go. His hands remained firm at your waist, keeping you close as if he wasn’t quite ready for the moment to end either.

Your breath came out in a soft laugh, the sound barely audible over your thudding heart. “Well,” you murmured, tilting your head slightly, “that’s one way to loosen up.”

Aki’s lips quirked into a small smile, his voice low and teasing. “I think I’m starting to like spa night. Let’s do this more often.”

Denji groaned dramatically, throwing himself back against the couch cushions. “Ugh, you two are the worst.”

You sighed, your gaze still locked with Aki’s for a beat longer before you finally, begrudgingly, pulled away fully. You missed the way his fingers lingered at your waist, how his eyes followed you even as you turned to address Denji.

“Alright, fine,” you said, shaking off the lingering butterflies. “We have about 20 minutes with these masks. What do you guys wanna do to blow time?”

Denji perked up at that, glaring at you like he’d just been handed ammunition. Aki, meanwhile, leaned back against the couch, his expression settling back into its usual calm—though the faintest flush on his cheeks betrayed him. You felt it too, a warm buzz that lingered on.

Aki’s arm rested comfortably around your shoulders, his thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles against your upper arm. Despite the teasing and laughter filling the room, you felt grounded by his steady presence.

“Truth or dare?” Aki asked suddenly, his calm voice cutting through the noise.

Denji blinked, his brow furrowing. “What’s that?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s a game, Denji. You pick ‘truth’ or ‘dare.’ If you pick truth, you have to answer any question honestly. If you pick dare, you have to do whatever the other person tells you.”

Denji’s face lit up with a mischievous grin. “Oh, I’m gonna make you all regret teaching me this. Alright, cool. I dare Power to take a bath.”

Power’s head snapped up, indignation written all over her face. “I never said dare! I was going to say truth!”

Denji shrugged. “Truthfully, you smell like shit.”

Power gasped dramatically, clutching at her chest. “You DARE insult me in my own home?”

“You DARE stink up my air?” Denji fired back. “Seriously, it’s bad. Like, I’m surprised we’re all still breathing.”

You turned to Aki, raising an eyebrow. “Are you going to say something about this?”

He gave a small shrug, his expression unreadable but his lips twitching with amusement. “For once, I’m with him.”

“See? Even stick-in-the-ass agrees with me,” Denji cackled.

“Fuck you,” Aki hissed. “Twat.”

Power huffed, folding her arms with exaggerated pride. “I’ll only bathe if I lose a dare.”

The game surged forward in full chaotic force after Power’s dramatic declaration. She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms smugly, as if daring someone to challenge her resolve. Denji, of course, took that as a personal mission.

“Alright, alright,” Denji said, cracking his knuckles. “Next round. Power, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Power said immediately, grinning. “I’m far too cunning for your ridiculous dares.”

Denji’s grin widened, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Fine. What’s the most disgusting thing you’ve ever done?”

Power didn’t even hesitate. “I ate a bug I found under the sink last week.”

“Oh my god,” you shrieked, recoiling in horror.

Denji looked torn between admiration and nausea. “That’s so gross but… also kinda badass.”

“Badass?!” you exclaimed, turning to Aki for support.

“She’s disgusting,” Aki said flatly, though there was a flicker of exasperated amusement in his expression.

Power preened at the response. “Thank you for noticing my magnificence. My turn again!”

“No way,” Denji interrupted. “You don’t get to go twice in a row. It’s their turn.” He pointed at you and Aki, his grin turning sharp. “Alright, lovebirds. Which one of you is gonna play?”

Aki sighed, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “I’ll go. Truth.”

Denji rubbed his hands together like an evil mastermind. “Are you guys in an actual relationship or are you just fuckin’?”

The room went quiet, the tension crackling like static electricity.

Aki didn’t flinch, his expression calm as he met Denji’s expectant stare. “That’s not really your business.”

“Hey, hey, that’s not how the game works!” Denji protested, waving his arms. “You gotta answer!”

Aki shrugged, completely unbothered. “I just did.”

You nudged him with your elbow, though your cheeks were burning. “By not answering, you’re only giving him more ammunition.”

Denji groaned loudly, throwing himself back against the couch. “You two are so boring. Power, do something dramatic!”

Power snapped to attention. “Truth or dare?” she demanded, pointing at Denji.

“Dare,” he replied instantly, his bravado returning.

Power grinned like a cat about to pounce. “I dare you to run outside and yell ‘Power is the queen of the world’ at the top of your lungs!”

Denji didn’t even hesitate. He leapt to his feet and bolted out the door. A moment later, his voice rang through the night, startling several nearby birds.

“Power is the queen of the world!”

When he stomped back inside, his chest heaving, you couldn’t stop laughing. “You’re insane.”

“Yeah, but I’m fun,” Denji shot back, collapsing onto the couch with a proud grin.

Denji's triumphant declaration echoed through the room as he plopped back onto the couch, shaking water droplets from his hair after his dramatic outdoor yell. Power cackled, her chest puffed up in exaggerated pride as though his dare somehow validated her self-proclaimed title.

“Alright, alright,” Denji said, waving a hand as he caught his breath. “Who's next? Let’s keep this going before it gets boring again.”

You raised your hand. “I’ll go. Power, truth or dare?”

Power smirked, leaning forward. “Dare, obviously. Give me your best shot, mortal.”

You grinned, eyes narrowing. “I dare you to drink this entire bottle of water without spilling it, using only your mouth—no hands.”

Power squawked in outrage. “This is an insult to my dignity! I am no dog!”

“Well, you don’t smell much better than one,” Denji quipped, earning himself a glare.

With a dramatic flourish, Power leaned forward, grabbed the edge of her bottle with her teeth, and awkwardly tipped her head back. The water sloshed everywhere, soaking her shirt and the couch cushions. She spat the bottle out onto the coffee table with a proud grin. “Success!”

“Yeah, sure,” Aki muttered, brushing a hand over his damp pants where some of the water had splashed.

“Your turn, Aki,” Denji said, rubbing his hands together. “Truth or dare?”

Aki sighed deeply, as if already regretting his decision. “Dare.”

Denji’s grin turned predatory. “I dare you to let your hair down for the rest of the night.”

Aki blinked, caught off guard. “That’s it?”

“No, wait—” Denji’s face lit up with a devilish thought. “And you have to let Power style it!”

Power howled with laughter. “Yes! I’ll do it!”

You watched, half-amused and half-apologetic, as Aki begrudgingly sat still while Power tugged and twisted his hair with zero finesse, producing a lopsided braid that looked like it had barely survived a hurricane.

“There,” Power declared, clapping her hands together. “Magnificent!”

Aki reached up to feel the disaster on his head, his expression unamused. “I’m never trusting any of you again.”

“Okay, okay, my turn!” Denji said eagerly. “Truth or dare, babe?” He pointed dramatically at you.

At this point, who gave a shit about order, right?

You rolled your eyes at his theatrics. “Dare.”

His grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to answer this question – am I cute?”

Your jaw dropped. “That’s not a dare!”

“Sure it is,” Denji said, shrugging with mock innocence. “You have to answer, or you lose. So, what’s it gonna be? Am I cute, or am I not cute?”

Power leaned forward, clearly invested. “Answer truthfully, mortal. Denji’s fragile ego depends on this.”

Aki sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose but unable to hide the faint twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

You crossed your arms, glaring at Denji, who looked entirely too smug. “Fine. You’re... adorable.”

The room erupted into laughter.

“I’m not adorable!” Denji shouted, pointing an accusatory finger at you. “What do you think I am, a dog?”

“Exactly,” you replied, grinning.

Aki, clearly enjoying himself now, leaned back with an amused hum. “Sounds accurate to me.”

Power, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes, added, “You do smell like a dog most of the time, so it’s fitting.”

“Traitors, all of you!” Denji grumbled, flopping back against the couch dramatically. “I’m the cutest one here, and you all know it.”

Aki shook his head, his voice calm but cutting. “Keep telling yourself that.”

Denji shot him a look. “Fine, Aki, your turn again! Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” Aki said without hesitation.

Denji’s mischievous grin returned. “Alright, serious question. Do you think you’re cute?”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that burst out of you. “Oh, this is good.”

Aki didn’t even flinch. “No.”

Okay then.

The bluntness of his answer caught Denji off guard. “Wait, seriously?”

Aki shrugged. “I don’t think about it.”

“Lame,” Denji groaned. He turned to you. “Do you think he’s cute? Like, boyfriend cute?”

The room went silent again, and you felt every pair of eyes on you. Your face heated under the scrutiny, but you refused to back down.

“Yes,” you said firmly, meeting Aki’s gaze. “He is.”

For a moment, Aki just stared at you, his eyes softening. Then he reached up, brushing his hand lightly against your hair. “Thanks,” he said quietly, the barest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. (Of course, it was hard to take him seriously when his hair was so atrociously braided).

“Don’t start,” Denji groaned, breaking the moment.

“You asked,” you shot back, laughing.

a/n: hiiiiiii, i hope you liked the fruits of my labor. (the real holdup was actually next chapter, which proved to be much more difficult to write)... anywho i'm not gonna say too much because I'll see y'all in the next chapter. Let me know your thoughts!! Ta ta!! xx QOTD: do you think denji sneaks into aki's room to try on his clothes when he's not home? bc i do.

credits: UNKOWN ATM. I found the cover pic on pinterest unfortch. If you know the artist, please let me know, so I can credit them properly for their work!!! This is NOT MY BEAUTIFUL DRAWINGGG. I obviously do not own csm or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

also: come find me on my wattpad if u wanna interact more!

taglist: @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505 , @acethebrave , @mitsuyeahhh , @sleepysnk , @enneadec , @noaabean , @em1e , @drakensdarling , @bertholdts--butt , @satanlovesusall666 , @mitsuwuyaa , @noctifule , @scaraphobia , @ask-the-insect-hashira , @lovingranchturkeyweasel , @bontensbabygirl , @slvdsjjk , @novacrystalli , @hanmastattoos , @kodzuksn , @hqtiny , @ohmaiscool15 , @redlittlequeen , @leivane , @goldeneagles-posts , @yeahblahlame , @no-oneelsebutnsu , @cookiesandcreammy , @cawwn , @the-haitani-baton , @littlelovebug98 , @armani78 , @mindurownbussines , @kokos-property , @violetmatcha , @hp-simp505

wanna join the taglist? | shameless ; chapter index

#notiddygxthgf ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚#shameless!#aki x reader #aki hayakawa x reader #hayakawa aki x reader #csm x reader #chainsaw man x reader #aki fluff #aki smut #denji #aki hayakawa

36 notes · View notes

cer-rata · 18 hours ago

Text

Cerata's 2024 End of Year Artist shoutouts! (part 1)

Okay so this year was the first time I'd really participated in fandom in over a decade, but I'm truly glad I did because I met a ton of great people, and even got to work on projects with some of them. So I wanted to put all of the cool visual art that I've received last year, whether it be art trade, commission, part of an event, or...fanart? Because that happened somehow?

Anyway, there are a number of other people that I worked with last year, but a bunch of that art started near the end of the year, and as such is not finished yet, hence why this post will be two parts, one now, and the second when everyone else finishes up.

No particular order, all of these artists are great, and lovely people, so do go check out the rest of their work and tell them how cool they are, yeah? Also, some are currently open for commissions, so keep an eye out for that.

(Also, this is my first time trying to do ID text, so bear with me if they're a little rough, despite being a writer, I hate words?)

So first we have @fiyaharts with a lovely illustration of a number of the my favorite Krypton and Krypton-adjacent children. Shadi is lovely to work with and fast to the point where it spooked me a little bit, go off girl.

Next we have two pieces from my favorite Evil Woman Apologist, @vivictory-draws, one of a divorced Barbara and Kara being totally normal about it, and the other of my child and blorbo that haunts my waking hours, Conrad. Love N to death, which is why I haunt her with threats of commissioning Joker/Desaad Yaoi.

...Maybe for the next list, who knows...

So next we have the art created for the last @womenincomicsminibang (which is going to be returning with a reverse bang in a few months, keep an eye out on that.)

The lovely and evocative cover was done by the talented @breakingthespacetimewall, and the scenes of Cassie trying and failing to get her life together were done by the wonderful @soop-jpg

Working with them was a pleasure and honor, and their dedication and kindness really helped me through finishing that fic, and I remain incredibly grateful for that.

The first person I worked with this last year, and the one who really helped solidify the core of a lot of my projects, @nicodrawings drew a glorious cover for my mania-induced first longfic, and also a character reference for the aformentioned disordered young man who haunts my waking hours. She's a professional through-and-through, with wonderful instincts and great communication. She's also working on a fan-comic project of her own that I think is wonderful and am excited to see continue.

I lucked out and was paired with the super chill, super talented @byeara on my first fan project ever, and they hooked me up with this super fun and detailed cover for the fic I wrote for that one kon-centric minibang. I loved working with them, and would love to do so again, logistics willing.

This jerk @vnekey made me cry by drawing really sweet, totally unexpected fanart for that mania-fic I wrote. I'm still a little speechless really, I'd never gotten fanart of any sort for any reason before, and to receive something so lovely as the first thing really touched me deeply, and honestly kept me writing through some rough patches.

...Fight me!

My first ever art trade! Kind of! @spider-jaysart is super sweet and supportive and made my...second biblically (is there a Source bible? Are there religious Coluans?) cursed son and his hapless, frankly narratively cursed best buddy look so precious that they ALSO made me cry, can we stop that actually--

Speaking of my cursed son and his narratively cursed Kryptonian, @spicy-apple-pie created this really pretty piece that's...a number of weird deep cuts smushed together into something really specific, but neat if you have the context, which nobody does :3

She was so wonderful and patient and I really enjoyed seeing her run with her inspiration, the Kryptonian mural is super neat and not something I would have ever come up with on my own.

@mediaraiz Is really stylistically flexible, and their "Blob" style really scratched that itch I had for something cute and playful, and they were so game in taking on a larger project, and then went above and beyond in making my lanterns looks truly special.

Finally (for now), @riverdeansart drew a sweet little scene of two horrifyingly stressed totally fine spacebros chilling and chatting about how everything is completely okay!

I was super vague about this one and Dean did a great job getting the vibes right anyway, and with haste.

...So yeah, that's if for now! I'll circle back in a bit when I'm forced to let more artists out of my basement everything else is done!

25 notes · View notes

darkpuppysuit · 3 days ago

Text

~Chapter 3~

Hybdrid!BTSxHuman!Reader

⚠️WARNINGS: Marijuana use, alcohol use, hybrid scenting, dirty talk (nothing too extreme I don't think, not this chapter anyway😏),

MATURE THEMES MDNI!!

It's been just over three months since the hybrids had slipped into Y/n's barn that fateful night and they couldn't be happier. Hoseok wakes up early with Y/n every morning and only after light conversation over a cup or two of coffee he goes for a small jog around the farm, sometimes Namjoon will join him only to stop in the sunflower field to watch the sun rise while he reads a book from the never ending shelf in the living room.

Seokjin wakes up a few hours after Y/n does and helps her make breakfast for the eight of them every morning bantering back and forth, asking questions, learning new things from her. He admires the motherly aspect of her personality whole heartedly. Is this what it felt like to fall for a someone? To not only see how perfect they are but how imperfect they are at the same time?

Don't get him wrong he's no saint but to him, there's just something about the simple and easy purity in being taken care of for a change, instead of being the one to take care of others that keeps him smiling at her clumsy little hands when she almost drops the bag of sugar onto the floor one morning or the way she blushes every time he bends down to her level to look into her beautiful pale blue eyes, listening to her talk even though he can hear her just fine standing up straight.

Yoongi will normally wake up the second he smells breakfast being made, shuffling into the kitchen resting his hands on Y/n's waist before nudging his nose against her bare neck before walking to the coffee pot to pour him his own cup of coffee with a few ice cubes mixed in. Finding his perch in the reading nook in the living room across from the large couch gazing out the large window, probably bird watching or something.

Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook almost never wake up before noon so most of the morning chores are done before they even get out of bed giving the three hybrids an almost completely free afternoon to do what they wanted.

Despite Jimin's smaller lean frame he's a great help with the farm animals, giving the new baby chicks names like peaches or something that just seems a little too butch for a small, soft little ball of yellow poof. Y/n is slowly teaching him how to ride a horse, starting with Dove who was thoroughly trained by Y/n herself.

She leads the horse around the open pen by the rope she tied to her bridle to guide Dove around with Jimin holding onto the straps for dear life the first go around but with Y/n's encouraging words and kind hearted smile, he was determined to be able to ride a horse like she does one day just conceivably sooner rather than later.

"Tomorrow we're going to have that bonfire I've been putting off for the last few days. Emily and John are off work on Saturday so they said they would come by with some goodies. Knowing Emily that could only mean weed and alcohol." Y/n rubs the sleep from her eyes only slightly mumbling half her words to Seokjin who is surprisingly up before she was, Hoseok having already run out the door for his morning jog.

Seokjin looks at her curiously and a little bewildered handing her cup of coffee to her just the way she likes it. "Alcohol I'm familiar with but weed? Not so much, actually not at all if I'm being honest." They both take a sip of their drinks, Y/n setting her mug down on the table walks over to the cabinet next to the stove to pull out a few pans and a pot. "Marijuana, I know it's not for everyone and there's a lot of rumors and such surrounding it but damn does it make you feel better than just being drunk. Being cross-faded is my personal favorite." He doesn't say much when she explains all the different strains and weird names, some are funny he'll admit but not out loud.

Y/n hasn't been able to wear anything other than long sleeves and chaps over her jeans since taking in the squirrely, stubborn mustang and the wear and tear the horse is giving her, being bucked off only a handful of times, she has gathered a small crowd around the fence barely paying them any mind. "Where do you think she learned all of this from?" Jimin leans over his crossed arms on the fence speaking to the moose hybrid who's staring intently at every move the horse makes including every tug and pull Y/n answers him with.

"I think she said her cousin started teaching her when her grandfather broke his hip but, whoever taught her did a damn good job, she's only fallen off once since I've been here and that was a few hours ago." Jungkook kicks the fence post with the boots Y/n had bought all of them just last week, only now being able to really wear them when he was out here with her just past the sunflower field and a few yards away from the large pond where the cows stood grazing on the green grass at the break pen.

Namjoon and Jin join the other two hybrids at the fence when Y/n is bucked forward over the mustang's head, quickly standing to her feet only for her chest to be met with a kick from the tired horse and she hits the fence with force, her hat flying off and her head hitting a post in the process. Namjoon and Jungkook are the first to spring forward, jumping over the gate one grabbing the horse by the bridle and the other rushing to Y/n's side the retriever and jaguar hybrid following close behind.

"Y/n! Holy shit! Are you okay? Y/n!" Seokjin kneels down in front of her slumped figure somehow getting there before Namjoon or Jimin could, her head hangs low and he scoops her face into his warm hands trying to get her to react. "Y/n! I swear if you die on me I'm going to burn all of your vinyl records! Elvis Presley included!" It was an empty threat but when she doesn't respond to it like she had many times before Seokjin starts to panic even more, shaking her in a desperate attempt to wake her up.

"Goddammit, someone get Yoongi she's not responding but she's breathing. Don't just stand there, go!" Namjoon yells at the younger hybrids and they both take off sprinting towards the house as fast as their legs would carry them.

Namjoon kneels next to the jaguar hybrid who is doing anything he can to get Y/n to respond to him, he puts a hand on Seokjin's shoulder and he looks at him with tears running down his face. "We should've came out here earlier, maybe- maybe this wouldn't have happened and she would be f-fine." Seokjin chokes on air as he pulls her body close scenting the top of her head heavily, fearing the worst.

A few minutes later Y/n slowly comes to her senses, her eyes flutter open with a grunt, reaching for the back of her head and winces. "Ow." Is the only word that falls from her lips when Seokjin and Namjoon help her sit up, a look of pure shock on Seokjin's tear stained face that he attempts to clean with his sweater sleeve. "Could you possibly- never do that again?" Seokjin quips with a half hearted smile as the other five hybrids come running from the house and yelling down the slope of the hill towards them.

They barely get the gate open as Yoongi slides through the dirt to kneel in front of her. "I heard you hit your head. How are you feeling kit?" Besides the throbbing in the back of her head she was fine to say the least, Yoongi and Namjoon help her to her feet and Jimin hands her the hat she was wearing.

Dusting it off on her pants she sets it back on her head straight and she sighs followed by a whistle. "That bastard is going to be glue here in the next five minutes I swear to Gods." She grunts as she fixes her belt, her scent of burnt leather and ashy cedar signaling to the hybrids she was pissed and not to get in her way.

Looking around to locate the horse, spotting it trotting in a circle on the other side of the break pen, she sets her sights on him and stomps towards him tapping him on the snout before swinging herself onto the saddle strapped to it's back and to her surprise when she pulls on the reigns he follows her every command for the next two hours, Jimin was even able to get close to the mustang without it flinching or kicking.

The next day at the grocery store in the freezer section the hybrid's stuck to Y/n like super glue giving her almost no breathing room. "Hey my boys, What do you think about meatball subs for the bonfire tonight?" Y/n turned to ask the lot of them what they thought, some of their cheeks burned when she called them her boys others stumbling over their words or fumbling with their hands or even looking at anything else other than her.

Namjoon is quick to mumble an agreement before Y/n could even catch onto their stiff movements. Moving to the next aisle over into the bread section to get some buns and maybe snag a small bag of candy along the way the hybrids had disbursed into different areas of the store looking for any snacks that would be good to munch on later.

Y/n is quietly humming to herself when there is a sudden presence behind her, the being starts to rub her back and Y/n's hair on the back of her neck stands on end because this isn't one of the hybrids she's come to love and know so well.

"Hey baby, miss me?" Y/n shivers when his nasty breath ghosts across her skin as she's frozen to her spot, staring at the nearly empty shelf in front of her.

She takes a deep breath, her body is vibrating with anxiety and her vision slightly blurs due to the tears collecting in her eyes. "Wh-What are you doing here Adam?"

Adam lays his meat cleaver sized tattooed hands onto her shoulders giving them a tight squeeze. "I've come home, I told you I'd come back when I got out or did you forget?" He turns her around harshly and her hat falls off her head and into the cart next to her. "You know what happens when you say shit like that, you never could hold a lot in that tiny brain of yours could you?"

He chuckles at her terrified expression and her clouded eyes as a tear falls onto her cheek. "I-I'm s-sorry, it won't happen a-again." Y/n stares at the ground when he waves his hand in her face causing her to flinch hard tapping the back of her already hurting head on the shelf behind her. "Tsk tsk, I'll let it slide since I just got back but," He leans in close to her ear the smell of shitty cigars and dry gin stinging her nose, he puts a death grip around the softer area of her ribs squeezing hard most likely bruising her tender body but she hardly reacts because she knew if she was to make a face, a sound, anything it would set him off like it had so many times in the past.

"When we get home I'm going to fuck you until you can't get off the bed much less twitch." His disgusting words rang through her head over and over again, her eyes misty, tears falling onto the plaid work shirt, tilting her head down further her trauma response is to lay her head on him. When the top of her head meets his chest he chuckles darkly wrapping his large arms around her.

"Good gi-" Before Adam could get another word out edgewise, a fist makes contact with his cheek causing him to fall to the ground with a thud and a loud grunt, taking Y/n to the ground with him.

Namjoon and Yoongi come to her aide running and manage to free her from his grasp but she's barely able to stand on her own shaking legs as she watches Taehyung, the soft cuddly hybrid she thought he was, throw a few more hits every time the man tries to get up off the ground.

"Tae, that's enough. I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!" Namjoon barks when he sees blood dripping from the human's brow, the white tiger hybrid stands to his full daunting height, looming over the groaning thing on the floor looking over at Y/n.

His eyes soften when he sees her trembling form, she's weak at the knees and by the look of her glossy eyes and scent of wet, soggy leather and moldy cedar they could tell she wasn't mentally here at the moment.

"What the fuck happened?" Jin shouts as he and the rest of the hybrids rush down the aisle with arms full of snacks and drinks. "Where's Y/n?" Jimin asks when he sees a different human on the floor groaning in pain. Namjoon moves to the side, the retriever hybrid catches a glimpse of her soft glossy hair on the other side of him covering her face making it hard for him to look her in the eyes. Jimin walks towards her carefully, leaning down to her level, tucking some of her hair behind her ear when she makes eye contact with him and slowly comes out of her own head.

"J-Jimin? I'm so s-sorry. I didn't- he-" Her voice was trembling as well as her body, leaning against the shelves behind the three of them, her hair falling around her flushed cheeks. "Hey, hey hush. No don't do that you did nothing wrong. Let's get our stuff paid for and go home okay? We have a party to host remember?" Y/n nods her head, taking a deep breath as Adam picks himself up off the floor with a stomp.

"She's not going anywhere with you filthy animals, if anything she's coming home with me!" He barks at nobody in particular as he's still trying to get his vision to focus. Y/n's head snaps up at his voice before she walks right up to him pointing her finger in his face, her jaw set as she rips him a new asshole.

"I'm not going anywhere with anyone! We are going home Adam, if you so much as follow us out of this store- I have a shotgun in the bed of my truck with your name on it." Though her threat was empty and there was indeed no shotgun in the back of her truck Y/n still growled it at him all the same before turning around and walking away.

Back at the house Y/n is rushing around trying to get everything ready, cooking the meatballs in the crockpot, making sure all the alcohol she bought was either in the freezer or the fridge. She sets out some snacks and makes sure there were enough blankets and lawn chairs for everyone to sit on.

Hoseok watches her run around like a chicken with her head cut off for a few minutes, sweating underneath her work clothes and just when Y/n is about to pass him for the fifth time he grabs her by the arm and pulls her towards him, their bodies colliding together as Hoseok holds her close.

"Take it easy honey. Why don't you go upstairs, take a shower and get out of your work clothes for a change? It's hot as hell outside and it's only going to get hotter next to the fire later." Hoseok winks then quickly wraps an arm around her waist pulling her body even closer to his, staring into her eyes as his gaze roams over her face, committing her shocked expression and pink cheeks to memory gently rubbing his cheek against hers.

Y/n lays her hands on his chest, the fox hybrid starts purring in her ear before he opens his mouth to speak again. "Go on, go get ready pretty." He turns her around pushing her towards the stairs, giving her ass a firm smack and before she could protest Hoseok chuckled claiming the rest of them could handle what was left.

Once Y/n was finished with her long hot shower, finally washing away all the dirt and grime collected on her soft skin her phone rings. Picking it up she answers her best friends video call. "Hey girl, you ready for tonight? Just a few more hours!" Emily squeals on the other side of the phone which causes Y/n to wince at the sudden volume change, opening her large closet to find something to wear. "Not exactly I mean I have all the food and alcohol fixed, finished, and ready to go. The one thing I have no idea what I'm doing, is picking what to wear."

Y/n doesn't know why the pit of her stomach is doing flips every time she thinks about the party that's only a few hours away, maybe because she knew how horny she could be when she was inebriated and it's slowly starting to make her sick.

Taking a deep breath as she puts on a matching pair of lace underwear and her favorite lace bra when Emily chimes in again. "Oh, wear those booty shorts I got you for your birthday last year with that pretty purple tank top that hugs your curves just right!"

She says excitedly, Y/n can't help but roll her eyes at her through the phone sifting through her closet dresser. "Why do you always dress me like a whore when we do things together?" Now it's Emily's turn to roll her eyes. "Because If I didn't you'd be dressed in your country hick clothes and we can't have that, not when you have seven hybrids checking you out on the daily when your back is turned." Y/n can't believe the words that just flew from her best friends mouth, is that all she thinks about these days?

Trying to get Y/n laid or to find someone to have for the rest of her life she didn't know but either way Emily needed to calm down. "Em, you know I'm in this for the long haul, I don't care if they're checking me out when my back is turned, it's probably just part of their hybrid instincts or something."

After a few minutes of arguing and throwing insults each others way Y/n is finally able to get dressed just as their conversation was coming to an end. "All I'm saying Y/n, is you need to ask them about the scenting part of being a hybrid because I heard it's important to their health, but it hurts like a bitch." Y/n didn't know why it would hurt so much, their scenting has been pretty mild and she doesn't mind it when they put their hands on her, it comes with the territory after all.

Meanwhile downstairs, Seokjin is making sure the last few finishing touches inside the house are done while Jungkook and Namjoon fill buckets of water from the outside spout, taking them down to the large wood pile, along with other burnable junk, incase there were a few flaming fly aways.

Hoseok and Jimin were in the living room playing some type of combat game meanwhile Yoongi had tucked himself in the reading nook like he always does and Taehyung is messing with an old camera he found underneath the stairwell when he was looking for new sheets for his bed upstairs.

Namjoon slowly follows Jungkook up the back steps sweating more so than normal when he comes in from outside, grabbing a towel from the dryer on his way through the kitchen.

Seokjin stops him before he can cross the archway into the foyer. "What's going on with you? You're shirt is soaked through and your body is literally hot to the touch." He sighs as Namjoon puts the towel on the back of the chair beside him.

"I don't really know Jin, this has never happened to me before. I keep sweating bullets and can't catch my breath when I even think about-" The wolf hybrid is quickly distracted before he can finish his sentence when Y/n comes down the stairs, her large chest bouncing perfectly underneath her bright purple tank top.

Moving his eyes downward he notices she's wearing really short jean shorts with her tiny bare feet padding down the stairs, her ankles adorned with gold and silver chains with tiny charms on them.

But what makes the air hard to breath for him and the others in the room is her golden sun kissed skin, they thought was an empty canvas, is actually covered in tattoos from her ankles up her thick thighs to her hips and from her wrists up to her shoulders with a few odds and ends littering her chest cavity.

She turns to walk towards the living room and Namjoon could barely see the beginnings of a moon phase tattoo leading downwards to what looks like a very old tramp stamp.

"Holy fucking shit. Taehyung, you sir owe me twenty bucks!" The moose hybrid pats the tiger on the back hard which causes him to grimace when he drops a small gear onto the counter top of the kitchen island almost losing it in the sink, he looks back the moose with a death glare.

"Y/n, when were you going to tell us your whole body is covered in art like a fucking goddess cause goddamn, you're something out of one of those erotic novels." Hoseok grabs her by the hand spinning her around from the archway in the living room towards the kitchen. She lets out her beautiful unfiltered laugh that rings throughout the house before coming to a dizzy stop in front of the staircase again.

"Whoa fuck, sorry I guess I'm so used to having them that I kind of forgot?" Trying to get her vision to focus again Y/n has yet to realize she was wobbling her way towards Namjoon and before either of them knew it she trips over her own feet and towards the floor but before she could hit the floor Namjoon swiftly catches her in his arms. Holding her by her lower back with one arm as the other wraps around her upper body his hand instinctively caressing the nape of her neck to keep her head from bending back too far.

Y/n wraps her arms around Namjoon's neck and when she looks up again, like something out of a movie, her pale eyes meet soft chocolate orbs. Namjoon's ears flick around listening to every gasp and oh my gods barely able to hear them as he locks eyes with Y/n. The very person plaguing his mind with her curvy breed-able figure and sweet southern accent all fucking day.

Namjoon wasn't sure what to do in this situation he was perpetually frozen, in one hand he had his alpha screaming bloody murder at him flashing all sorts of lewd and pornographic images of all the different positions he could have her in within the hour, making him sweat even more and his body vibrate with electricity.

He can feel her cool skin sizzling against his own blazing touch on her lower back, not to mention his issue downstairs. He was just hoping, praying even, that when he stood up straight no one would mention the growing tent in his pants.

Before either of them could utter a single syllable the doorbell rings, quite literally saving Namjoon by the mother fucking bell. It startles him to the point he almost drops Y/n on the ground needing to get out of there as soon as physically possible. "I should go get th-that." He helps her stand up and she quickly shuffles towards the door.

With Y/n out of the room the rest of the hybrids are staring at Namjoon. Most of them are trying to keep themselves from laughing while the others like Hoseok and Jungkook are laughing at him outright.

"J-Joon you might want to go f-fix yourself before..."Hoseok can't help but burst into another fit of laughter, hiding his face in the moose hybrids shoulder so Jungkook has to finish his sentence for him.

"Before whoever's at the door sees that." Jungkook points down at his own pants when Namjoon looks down and closes his eyes in frustration. "Don't mention a damn word to Y/n got it? I have enough problems today, the last thing I need is for you assholes to make it worse than it already is." He rushes off to his room still wiping the sweat off his brow and doing his best to keep the ever growing nausea rising in his throat down, he wasn't going to ruin her party just because he didn't know what the fuck was going on with him.

A few hours later Namjoon still hasn't come down from his bedroom and Y/n and Emily have already lost themselves and are so far gone it's hard to tell who to corral first. Her friend who likes to play with fire or Y/n who is currently going between the bonfire and the house on the back of Dove claiming, drinking and driving is how you get a ticket so why not save a cowboy ride a horse, right? Or was it the other way around?

Eventually Y/n finally sits down in one of the few lawn chairs, taking a hit off the blunt Emily passed to her when it hits her. "Where's Jooniebug? Haven't seen him since uh earlier." Her already red cheeks somehow turn an even darker shade when she vaguely mentions the incident from just a few hours ago to Emily.

Jungkook looks at Hoseok and they burst out in laughter at Y/n and her childish nickname for the wolf hybrid as Taehyung snaps a picture of her with Jungkook laughing in the background.

She looks so beautiful next to the fire. The way her tattoos glow in the orange haze, the way her curvy body moves when she crosses her legs. The smoke she blew out of her pretty pink lips dances around her beautiful round face, to think he caught almost all of her beauty on camera.

He didn't care to notice it before but everything about her is adorably sexy, even her small feet kicking in the air when she laughs at a joke her friend made is the cutest thing he's ever seen and don't get Taehyung started on her laugh. Oh how it was pure and unfiltered to his ears, he could listen to it every day for the rest of his life and die a very happy man.

"Tae?" Her addictively sweet southern accent and cute nickname for the tiger hybrid brings him out of his reverie, his eyes snapping back to meet hers and his tail standing ramrod stiff like he'd been caught doing something illegal. She's holding the blunt out offering it to him and he puts his hand up that's not holding the vintage camera and shakes his head. "No I don't smoke, sorry."

Y/n in her cross faded state doesn't take no for an answer, she stands up and takes the camera from his hand, giving it to Emily who now stands next to her more drunk than high at the moment.

She kneels down onto the blanket Taehyung is sitting on and situates herself onto his lap straddling his hips making his ears down to his neck burn with the heat of a thousands suns and the ears on top of his head to flatten against his fluffy hair before she leans in close and explains her actions to him, laying her left hand on his shoulder delicately.

"Since this is your first time this is what we're gonna- do okay- listen closely." She whispers the last part of her sentence in his ear and he nods his head yes, completely wiggin' out at how close she was. He could easily pull her in and kiss her lips raw but she obviously doesn't understand what she's doing to him right now.

Y/n rubs his head between his ears roughly sending shivers down his spine and straight down to his cock shifting his legs underneath her, his large hands hovering just above her hips.

"Good boy, now- I'm going to hit this, and then as I'm breathing it out I need you to breath in okay?" Y/n even in her inebriated state, makes sure Taehyung is comfortable. He knew he could back out at any given time if he really didn't want to go through with this. "Y-yeah I-I-I got it."

Y/n smiles at him giggling like a schoolgirl before taking a large puff off the blunt in her hands. She passes it to Emily before she hands it over to Hoseok who takes a smaller puff.

Emily holds the camera up as Y/n holds Taehyung by the jaw to keep his head in place and leans in close their lips a literal breath apart. His hands clamp down onto her hips harshly a deep chuff erupting from his chest with his eyes shut.

She gasps when he places his hands on her, sending a small shiver down her spine when she feels his chest vibrate causing her to part her lips more closing her eyes. Blowing the smoke out as he breathes the weird tasting smoke into his lungs and the flash of the old camera goes off but both of them are too lost in the moment to really notice.

Taehyung chuffs a little longer this time almost turning it into a deep growl as he squeezes her soft squishy body. Tightening his long fingers almost hard enough to leave bruises on her delicate hips when her lips ghost over his and before he knew it he had taken his first hit of weed in his life.

The fact it came from the one person he admires the most sitting on his lap holding him like a vice as if he was going to float aways any given moment. Getting him high? Now that was just the icing on the cake and all he needed was the strawberry on top.

He was about to seal his fate with whatever god chose to play with him tonight until the rough clearing of someone's throat from across the way jerks him out of his reverie once again. He turns his head quickly causing Y/n to thump her forehead against his collar bone, unknowingly rubbing against his scent gland causing his ears to twitch haphazardly and his eyes to roll back a little.

"You guys need a minute?" Emily asks as she snaps another picture of the pair of them together when Seokjin drunkenly chimes in. "Do that to me like, fuck." He takes a deep breath and sighs loudly, finishing his bloody mary that was completely full before standing up to throw the pre mix can into the fire. Making a b-line to the two sat on the ground, like a literal b-line.

Seokjin wobbles and trips over a few holes in the dirt before he makes it to the plaid blanket. "Y/n, You should probably go check on Namjoon- he- he needs to talk to- to you." Seokjin speaks through hiccups and a gag as he tastes the tomato juice on his breath, shaking her slumped figure causing her chest to rumble.

Not quite like a purr or a growl like a hybrid would but even so it causes Seokjin to retract a little and Taehyung to pull on her to sit up right noticing her eyes are closed with a grimace ruining her once smiling cheeks into a frown.

"Y/n-ie go on, I need to talk to Tae for a minute anyway." Seokjin nudges her by the shoulder, talking surprisingly crystal clear and she reluctantly gets off of the white tiger hybrid, wobbling and tripping like Seokjin had towards the house just over the hill but not before she yells back. "You owe me a drink when I get back Jinnie!"

Back inside the house Y/n is still fumbling over her own clumsy feet trying to at the very least get up the stairs in one piece. "Ouch- fuck- who put that table there?" She grumbles rubbing her hip that was just assaulted by the table in the hallway a few doors down from Namjoons bedroom, his light is still on so that means one of two things.

One, he was still awake, Y/n tries to think clearer as she makes her way down the hall hopefully there aren't anymore magic tables to get in her way before she reaches the door.

Number two, he forgot to turn the light off before completely crashing, which was odd for him because he always turned the light off after he was done reading or writing and before actually going to bed.

Y/n's hand taps the doorknob, trying to grasp it, or at least see it in the dark hallway so she could grab it but instead she rests her head heavily against the door in frustration with a soft thud.

"Why am I like this? Oh yeah, nevermind. Namjoon!" She shouts dragging out the last part of his name thinking that should wake him up and she calls him again.

"Jooniebug! Joon- Joonie?" She calls him over and over again but she hears, what sounds like a grunt or a moan she didn't know, come through the underside of his bedroom door. Somewhat sobering up she knocks on his door and opens it just a sliver, poking her head through the crack. "Namjoon? Are you alright?" She asks timidly, slowly pushing herself through the doorway towards his bed.

Namjoon lays in his bed, sweating so much part of the it is soaked with an outline of his body. His face is scrunched in what looks like pain, a lot of pain.

He's twisting and turning like he's trying to get away from something. Y/n slowly approaches his side, nearly sobering up this time as she puts her wrist on his forehead flinching away as his skin is boiling hot like the sun.

"Oh my gods, Namjoon you need to wake up we have to get to the hospital now! Oh fuck fuck fuck, I'm so sorry I didn't come sooner to check on you-" Y/n reaches for Namjoon's blanket that's been wrapped around his body haphazardly. Tangled with his long legs trying to get him up to go to the emergency room when her wrist is caught in a tight grip and she's yanked onto the bed. Namjoon hovers over her resting his large hands on either side of her head straddling her hips, successfully pinning her to the bed.

His eyes are glowing yellow, his chest vibrating with a deep snarl and his canine teeth bared like he was in danger meanwhile Y/n stares at him scared for her life.

"Namjoon it's me, Y/n." Her voice is trembling with fear yet she still reaches for the wolf hybrid looking him directly in his eyes. She gently caresses his cheek rubbing her thumb under his eye trying not to suffocate under his staggering body heat.

Slowly his eyes soften, turning back to their calming brown color. He looks at her with wide misty eyes as he'd realized what he did. "Fuck, I'm sorry Y/n I didn't- I mean-" Namjoons eyes screw shut as he grinds his teeth against one another, trying to hide his face from her.

He fights against his every instinct screaming at him to claim her, she's here right underneath him why won't he do it? "It's okay Joon, we need to take you to the hospital, you're burning up. I think you might have caught-"

"No, no I didn't catch anything- I mean- Fuck this is difficult-" Namjoon stumbles over his words because he's not too terribly coherent when he's with Y/n especially in this moment.

He has her pinned under his body and every time she squirms he bites back a moan caught in his throat. "I've never had this happen to me. I mean, for fuck sake I had to have Jimin explain it to me since he's a domestic hybrid."

He moves off of her body to sit next to her trying figure out a way to explain the situation at hand. Y/n is still dazed and confused when a light bulb goes off in her head only now remembering what Emily said about scenting for hybrids; maybe this is what she was taking about when she said it hurt like a bitch.

"Joon, if you need to scent me you have to let me know. I understand I'm- not sober- like at all right now but, you can still come to me- if it's going to cause you to be in pain like this." Y/n sits up in the bed and moves closer to the wolf hybrid and Namjoon shifts a little so he can face her when a shockwave of pain hits his chest and his handsome face scrunches as he doubles over with a whine escaping his perfect lips.

"Namjoon! Shit." She scrambles in front of him kneeling, she grabs his cheeks rubbing his cheekbones soothingly. "Hey you're going to be okay. Emily told me something about scenting earlier a-and it's something every hybrid needs to do with their owner. I mean I don't f-feel like your owner more like a friend but if that's something you really need for your health then go ahead."

Namjoon lifts his head and their eyes meet, she's smiles brightly bringing him in for a hug when he stops her. "You're willing to let me mark your skin, just like that?" His face scrunches in agony, he rests his head on her shoulder with his hand clutched to his wet t-shirt as she holds him close.

Y/n wonders why he has to mark her, isn't it just scenting, like rubbing his head against her like he was doing right now? He didn't need to bite her surely not but she hates seeing him so miserable and her questions could wait until tomorrow anyways. Right now the wolf hybrid is her only priority. "Whatever you need to do okay?"

The wolf hybrid barely catches the words that spill from her pink lips as he to pulls her into his lap, wrapping his long arms around her waist, resting his large hands on the middle of her back.

Pulling her forward as she safely places her hands onto his shoulders for stability. He buries his face into her chest, catching a hint of coconut from her perfume infused with her familiar scent of leather and cedarwood which causes a deep-seated groan shoot from his chest up his throat and through his gritted teeth as he hums.

"You're aroma is so fucking intoxicating pup, I could get lost in it all fucking day." He purrs giving her chest cavity a few kisses that turn into him licking up her chest to her collarbone where he nips at her sensitive skin.

Y/n's chest tightens as she sits on the wolf hybrids lap, not fully aware of just what she's agreed to but she lets him continue his assault on her neck when he latches on to the space just below her jaw and her hands move across his blazing skin to the nape of his neck softly pulling at his hair earning a moan from the hybrid underneath her. "Careful pup, I'm not responsible for my actions if you keep pulling on me like that." Namjoon snarls playfully as his hands continue to roam every curve of her astounding body, his iron grip will most likely leave bruises on her delicate skin.

The wolf hybrid doesn't want to hurt her but his animal instincts are clouding his judgement, his eyes have blown out so much they look black if it wasn't for the tiny slivers of yellow Y/n would be a complete goner for sure.

Namjoon wraps his arms around her completely, silently wishing there was less clothing between them as he leaves bruises on every part of her visible skin along with open mouth kisses before one particularly rough bite meets her chest cavity and she quickly pulls his head back by his hair causing him to let out a growl at her. "Shouldn't have done that pretty girl." Namjoon forcefully pushes her back on the bed baring his teeth with a snarl, his hands on either side of her head resting his hips between her legs as he stares her down.

"You have no idea what you do to me babygirl, I barely have any control over myself because of you. Wearing those sinful shorts, those tattoos of yours on full display. When you flick your hair behind you causing your intoxicating scent to fill my senses. Fuck, give me one good reason I shouldn't fuck you right now." He snarls as he dips his head into her neck once again littering her skin with more bruises absently grinding himself against her. A mental battle warring within him.

Y/n can hardly think straight, she's too busy thinking about the wolf hybrid and what he could do to her if she let him. The sheer possessiveness he has over her, maybe it was just the hormones talking or maybe the alcohol but damn she'd be a fool to accept anything less from someone like him or the other six, hell, she was just sitting on Taehyungs lap for fuck sake.

Even in her inebriated state she could feel the lust coming off of him in waves, just like now with Namjoon it was just as nerve racking maybe even more so now that he had her like putty in his hands hovering over her like he had no shame whatsoever.

"Use your words baby." He purrs hovering just above her, desire and lust evident in his tone licking and sucking at his chosen spot against her throat. Namjoon isn't very prideful on visible marks yet for some reason unknown to his coherent thought pattern he wanted, no needed everyone to see the many marks he's leaving on her fragile skin. She's staring at him her eyes heavily lidded whimpering as he speaks filthy words to her. "Everyone is still o-outside, need to get back s-soon." She stutters as Namjoon grasps her hips rather tightly with both of his hands, he noticed how she completely dodged his question but didn't think much of it, nudging her throat with his nose pausing for a moment before pulling her head back by her hair earning a moan from her soft pink lips.

"Do you like it when I pull on you like that? Oh you are definitely my type of woman." She whimpers at him urging him to mark her when he pulls himself up to meet her eyes. "I'm going to mark you now sweetheart, are you ready?" Y/n nods her head as the wolf hybrid gives her a smirk before connecting his lips to hers, it's like fireworks go off in her head, pressing her lips against his with the same fervor, earning a moan of pleasure from the wolf pulling on her hair roughly, leaning back only to connect with her throat biting down hard, his canines piercing her skin causing Y/n to let out a yelp of pain but it's soon muffled by euphoria.

Y/n feels as though she has ascended past cloud nine and she's up in the stars looking down at the world below. Namjoon is still locked on her throat sucking with a vice like grip on her body before he pulls back slightly, licking her wound as a drop of blood pools in the dip of her collar bone. "Let's get you cleaned up stay here." The wolf clambers off of the bed and into the hallway bathroom as Y/n lays there completely dazed and confused on what just happened to her. She can't think straight to save her life trying to grasp the concept of what scenting truly meant for hybrids, to think she had six more who hadn't even thought about it. She was in for a wild ride if this is how it was going to be every single fucking time.

Namjoon comes back with a warm towel and starts cleaning the blood that has now dried off of her skin before picking her up and putting her into the bed the correct way. "Take it easy pup, the hazy feeling will go away soon. Could take a few minutes to an hour though." She's thankful for him being informational because if he wasn't and she had to go through this six more times, granted she could just ask the others but she was thankful someone was telling her.

Maybe it was the initial stinging burn that started when he bit into the column of her throat or maybe it was the clouded high she felt afterwards that was causing her to currently see double. "I have to get back out there Jin owes me a drink." Namjoon rolls his eyes at her stubborn attitude and tries to get her to lay back down until she could think straight but she doesn't take sit the fuck down for an answer as she stumbles her way back outside with the wolf hybrid holding her hand being pulled outside.

A/N: So what do we think about this chapter? I feel like it's all over the place honestly but that's a writers critique on their own stuff I guess.

+ Taehyung working on an old camera and taking pictures of Y/n? Ugh yes, the way he sees her through the lens is just- ugh I love it.

+ AND NAMJOON???? LIKE EXCUSE YOU SIR!!!! I even surprised myself with that one honestly. (It gets "worse")

+ Petition to see more Drunk and Brutally honest Seokjin, uh yes please?

+ Jimin is such a good pup he just wants to be good for Y/n it's making my heart so happy, his hybrid suits him I think.

+ Anyway I'd love to hear your thoughts on it too! I'll stop talking now.

21 notes · View notes

mogruith · 3 days ago

Text

@nemo-of-house-hamartia How do they reconcile the fact that Corazan is Eilistraean and Minthara instead was Lolth-sworn?? Would it prove a point of contention between them? Would they ever return to Menzoberranzan, or have they discarded every single connection with the Underdark?

I'm taking this out of the comments section 'cause I need room to answer all this lol

You didn't realize you hit my "unhinged rant" button, so I apologize for the novel this spawned. Thank you for your interest in my silliness, it's really made my day - my week, my month, really!

Anyway, here's my rants. I'm doing my best to make it easy to read (Tech Writer powers activate!) but I'm cobbling this together over a lunch break, so I apologize if it's messy. I've tried to highlight things that give you the TL;DR.

Lolth-Sworn:

Just for a little background: Coranzan grew up a Lolthite in Eastmyr, Menzoberranzan himself. He wasn't a die-hard or anything but that's just "how things were" for him.

He rejected her after his and Z'ress' Blooding and he had something of an epiphany about it. I won't go into it here but Coran still carries some Lolthite views, such as ambition being an admirable quality among other things. So they're not too different in some values - except that they disagree on HOW one achieves their ambitions.

But boiling it down, Coranzan and Minthara have a shared goal on Lolth: that Lolth's rule in the Underdark is a blight on Drow and if they can hamper her ability to rule, they should try and do as much damage as possible.

Lolthite Beliefs:

Through the game I see Minthara giving way on a LOT of Lolth-typical concepts except maybe in her view of power, ambition, and some governance.

She feels the way her mother raised her was terrible and a bad example - which was merely the way most drow were raised. She's so horrified by her mother's way, it chills her when she sees what this does to people like her and Orin - being "lost to madness and blood".

She's so enraged by Lolth's betrayal despite the fact that she was likely raised to EXPECT betrayal from Lolth (I am reading Daughter of the Drow and was fascinated to read this there).

She rejects the Baenre name - that's a huge part of her identity. This woman is rebuilding herself from the ground up, picking up each piece and analyzing it to see if it is a value she still has and discarding it if not.

Besides the fact that she's rejected a lot of Lolthite beliefs, I think there's a pattern to it: Minthara seems to feel that the drive for ambition and power is good but the societal norms that came from Lolth should be mostly rejected. So, generally speaking, Coran is aligned with her on this.

Eilistraean Beliefs:

The biggest point of contention for them is Coranzan's belief in Eilistraee. Minthara is pretty anti-worship-of-anything after rejecting Lolth. She calls Coran "my little marionette" for worshiping Eilistraee.

However, purely by values, Eilistraee is not the worst goddess and I think she and Minthara line up in some ways - mainly in rejecting and dismantling Lolth's hold on Drow and that Drow should be self-sufficient. Eilisitraee does not teach drow to become dependent on her and do her bidding, she bids them to be free and to consider helping other drow be free (only if you choose to join the Clergy). However, I still think Minthara would feel Eilistraee expects you to sacrifice too much of yourself to achieve those goals and that it shouldn't just be done for the sake of it.

So, they disagree on this aspect, but Coran is no preacher, so it's not a constant fight. He's not trying to convert her - or anyone for that matter - and the only Eilistrean thing he does is support her life of exile on the surface. When she first joins the camp, he gives her the attention he would any drow who has recently arrived on the surface, as is his Eilistraean mission. But he doesn't bark about Eilistraee, he just acts as she'd like him to: ensure drow succeed on the surface.

Coranzan worships separately: he privately performs the evensong for personal reflection every day (if possible) and he and his sister Z'ress regularly dance in the moonlight and make it no business of the rest of the camp - but they don't hide it either.

He understands Minthara doesn't agree with it and finds it all very silly - and their disagreement deepens when she comes to understand how Coran was treated in the Church of Eilistraee (gender issues are still a thing there and it took him 150 years to become a Cleric and Sword Dancer of Eilistraee).

She would surely believe the Church of Eilistraee is holding him back. Through the story, he clearly demonstrates strength of character and leadership - a rare and now welcome thing to find in a Drow man - but the Church of Eilistraee holds on to gender-based beliefs that are weirdly in common with Lolthites and that suppressed his ambitions.

In time (a little post-BG3), due to convincing arguments from Minthara and Z'ress, Coranzan will relent to their perspectives. Although he does not reject Eilistraee entirely, he will leave the Church of Eilistraee, and he changes the way he believes - he proactively pursues taking down Lolth's prized servants rather than the passive/reactive response that seems to be pretty common with Eilistraeans.

Menzoberranzan:

I've always felt that returning to Menzoberranzan openly as an apostate is insanity. If Lolth herself doesn't fuck you up, her people will.

Nonetheless, I have stories that I'm still figuring out where Coranzan does covertly return to Menzoberranzan post-BG3 without Minthara for months at a time. They are agonizing stretches of time and he loathes being in that hateful place without her or Z'ress. But it is to gather intelligence and find sympathetic rebels - as Eilistraean Secret Moondancers would do - to help their cause and build their new House. Eventually, he'll stop going and send others in his place.

Let me back up and give context:

First off, Coranzan lived most of his adult life around Waterdeep or the Promenade of the Dark Maiden (which is in the Undermountain below Waterdeep).

So in the Epilogue, when Minthara talks about founding a new House in "your name", he is hesitant but agrees - his family hasn't had a House in a generation or so now (which is why he and Z'ress have only first names). So, he leaves the Church of Eilistraee and decides that founding a House with Minthara is his future. He believes he can achieve far greater things with her than with the Church.

His thought is to return to the Undermountain near the Promande. That is to avoid getting too close to Lolth's domain so they have a chance at surviving. So they found (with a lot of help) a place to get started by clearing and rebuilding a section of the many ruined cities of the Undermountain (which is considered part of the Underdark).

The rebels that "swarm" to Minthara's and his' cause against the Spider Queen are the collective that shape the new House.

From there, they regularly make attempts to sabotage or hinder Lolth, House Baenre, etc. with their newly made forces. Being a smaller force, they favor guerilla tactics rather than going straight to warring with the Lion's Den that is Menzoberranzan.

So, technically they live in the Underdark post-game but there's a fair bit that stands between them and Menzoberranzan.

If you made it through this... thank you, truly! I appreciate it! If you are at all interested in what I wrote, comments, asks, and stuff are most welcome! If not, thanks again and I hope you have a good rest of your day/night!

#coranzan #coranzan x minthara

22 notes · View notes

michaelmilligan · 20 hours ago

Text

The Jonmartin manifesto no one asked for but needed to get out

So, I've not been in the tma fandom for long yet, having only listened to it for the first time a few months ago. But from browsing the Jonmartin (and teaholding and jmart) tag regularly, it seems to me like most jonmartin shippers fall into one of these two categories:

They would find each other in every universe; or

It's a miracle they even got together in this universe

(Obviously, that's an oversimplification, and people who express one view in one post can easily hold a different view at another time - these are fictional characters we're talking about after all, and headcanons don't need to be consistent and can even contradict each other. This is just the general vibe I got so far.)

Anyway, I wanted to add my own two cents on the topic, because while I understand where both of these views are coming from, I think neither of them is ultimately correct.

(Putting the rest under a read more - be warned that this is NOT a spoiler-free post, so if you haven't finished listening to TMA yet and you want a spoiler-free experience, you probably shouldn't read this.)

So, before we get to my own opinion, let's first look at where the two options I mentioned above come from, shall we?

"They would find each other in every universe"

Obviously, this view is highly romantic - star-crossed lovers, finding each other again and again. It is both a good foundational basis for AUs, and a ray of hope in the face of the tragedy that is the tma finale.

Of course, concerning the finale, this is a rather different take than concerning AUs (since it would mean the very same characters finding each other again in a different world, not fundamentally different characters, shaped by said other world, also finding each other). And maybe when people express this view, they mean more the finale fix-its than AUs, though I suspect that plenty of people mean both.

It's a nice, comforting thought. And don't we all need some comfort after the finale? Yes, we certainly do. (Except for the people who read only hurt without comfort and angst, I guess. You do you, and I'm glad you're having fun, but personally I do desperately need some comfort, lmao.)

Is this view supported by canon though?

Cynical minds would say no, and personally I'm more inclined to agree with them, though as I've said, for me the truth lies outside of those two rigid stances (somewhere in between, I suppose).

I don't see much in canon which points to Jon and Martin falling in love under any circumstances/in any universe, especially considering their... let's say difficult relationships at the start of the show. But of course we must also take into account the specific circumstances in canon (more on that below) and interpretations vary, and I do very much enjoy AUs, so I'm certainly not trying to throw shade if you're on this side of the 'divide'.

Mostly, I think there CAN be other circumstances in which those two get together, outside the canon ones. (I'm writing a canon-divergent jonmartin fic myself, lol.) Let's get into that while we look at the other view, shall we.

"It's a miracle they even got together in this one"

Ah, the Martin-approved stance. One could say 'well, they literally said it in canon' and be done with it. However, that would require us to believe that the opinions of the characters are always true and correct, which. Lmao. We only have to listen to season 2 of tma to know that this is very much not the case.

And even if S5 Martin is not S2 Jon at the height of his paranoia, he's still very much a man shaped by his own life and experiences. I'm sure he would call himself a realist, but he honestly seems more like a pessimist to me. Which is understandable, given his life, and his association with the Lonely, which has often been (in my opinion accurately) compared to depression.

The thing is, Jon did treat Martin horribly in S1, and then he admittedly treated everyone horribly in S2. It was only in the course of S3 that their relationship got more, let's say, equal, with Jon no longer thinking Martin would be 'contributing nothing but delays'. (And then of course we have S4, which I LOVE even though it hurts me deeply. Then again, that's the whole show. And, obviously, S5 my beloved.)

So. Jon seemed to hate Martin in S1, while Martin was arguably already in love with the man. (Arguably. We do know that he acted catty to Basira in S2, so it's reasonable to assume that he started liking him at some point in S1, or even before the show started.) Then a lot of traumatic things happened, and they got together.

This means it must be the traumatic things that made them compatible, right? Just like Martin says in S5?

Well, one could see it that way. Jon certainly changed over the seasons, coming off his high horse and such. (In S5, he arguably gets back on it quite a bit, but then he IS the Eye's specialest little princess in a world that's literally ruled by it. And also he is slowly losing his grip on his own humanity. But I digress.)

And I do think that the trauma channeled a lot of those changes - the first time we see Jon being actually emotionally open (something he still struggles with over all seasons, because people don't just change fundamentally that quickly) is during Prentiss' attack on the Institute. They're in a situation where they might reasonably die (they even expect it, because they don't know that Elias is just rubbing his greedy little paws as he waits for things to get worse before he saves them with the gas).

I do think that moment could have been a big turning point for Jon and Martin, if it hadn't been immediately followed with the discovery of Gertrude's body, and Jon's subsequent descent into paranoia. Jon opened up, and also saw that Martin was rather competent during the attack, which could have led to them becoming closer, respectively having at least something like a normal work relationship.

But then Jon got paranoid and interpreted everything he saw negatively, including Martin's competence, which was twisted in his mind to 'What if he's just been pretending to be incompetent and is actually an evil agent out to kill the archivist'.

(Big sigh.)

Anyway, before I lose myself in the red string as well: Yes, Jon seems to 'mellow' over the seasons, especially with regard to Martin, at the same time that he's going through terribly traumatic events.

But does that mean that it's actually the trauma that's changing him and his relationships? Partly, certainly, but I would argue that trauma doesn't make you nicer or kinder. It might make you realise some things, but that doesn't mean that you can't realise those things in other ways.

And does it means that they couldn't have come together if they had met under different circumstances? Also not necessarily! I would even argue that the specific circumstances they met under were detrimental to Jon's first impression of Martin. And yes, this goes beyond the dog story.

So let's try and dissect their relationship from the start.

A theory of... something like nuance, or whatever

The starting situation

(Yes, I did have to use a Supernatural gif, thank you for asking. No, I will not apologise. <3)

Alright. So let's start with what we actually know about Jon and Martin's first meeting. Obviously, there's the dog story, though as far as I know that's not 'canon' because it wasn't actually in the podcast. I still like it, and think it adds another reason to Jon's behaviour, though I don't necessarily think it's necessary, because Jon already had lots of other reasons to tell himself that Martin wasn't worth his time.

1.1. Jon has issues. More at 11.

First of all, we learn throughout the podcast that Jon doesn't actually have any qualifications to lead an archive. He's probably 29 when the show starts (in 2016, going by the fandom wiki stating that he was born in 1987, which is reasonable given everything we learn about his age).

So, he's 29 and suddenly appointed, after four years of working in one department, to become the head of a completely different department. He does not have a degree that would give him credentials for leading an archive, nor are we told that he has ever even worked in an archive. For all we know, and that he knows, he is woefully underqualified. (This is also, I think, highlighted in S2 when Jon threatens to resign, only to then be baffled by Elias saying that he would be difficult to replace. Elias means something completely different than his skill set as an archivist with a lower case 'a', presumably, but then Jon doesn't know that.)

This means that Jon is in a highly stressful position, because he's trying to do a job he doesn't actually know how to do, while also trying not to let on that he doesn't know how to do it!

It doesn't help that Jon is also terribly scared of what all might be lurking in the shadows (or even in the light), as he himself admits during the Prentiss attack. He is extremely high-strung from day one, basically a wet chihuahua shaking in a slight breeze, while trying to seem like a strong bulldog.

We also know that Jon asked for two people to be his assistants: Tim and Sasha. They both worked in research, and Sasha also briefly worked in artefact storage, making them both qualified to help Jon with following up on statements. But I think more than their qualifications, Jon probably requested them because he knew and got along with them.

Imagine: Your boss tells you that he's promoting you into a position you're not qualified for and which you have no real clue how to do. Wouldn't you rather have people around you who you're already friendly with, and who are likely to cut you some slack if you're not perfect on day one? I know I would!

1.2. Elias is a little shit and I want to kill him with hammers (affectionately)

And then Elias transfers Martin.

I'm going off the dog story again, because again, I like it, and I think it does fit neatly into canon. If this story is to be believed, Elias neither asked nor did he tell Jon that he was giving him another assistant. He apparently simply told Martin 'you work at the archives now, congratulations' and then went back to his office to smile smugly to himself.

This is a VERY bad start for a working relationship, because not only does Martin come in unannounced, this also comes off as Elias not respecting Jon, or potentially even sending someone to report back to Elias (because Martin is the only one who doesn't have an established rapport with Jon).

Jon never verbalises this suspicion, so maybe this is too much interpretation on my part, but in any case it's cause for a lot of resentment on Jon's part, and since he can't exactly let it out on Elias (who is rarely there, anyway), he simply lets it out on Martin.

He finds reasons to do so, of course, insulting his work and all that. It's probably easy, especially in the beginning, because not unlike Jon, Martin doesn't have any qualifications to work in an archive! He worked at the library before, and we know that his degree is made up (which we can only assume Elias knows, considering he can know almost anything).

(I actually find the question on why Elias transferred Martin in the first place extremely interesting, and might get into that in another post. But this one is already too long, lmao.)

1.3. Martin is too nice, aka Jon has even more issues

This is mostly my personal headcanon, though I do feel it fits Jon's character - which is that he doesn't know how to deal with nice people.

Not kind people. Not friendly people. But nice people.

People who do things seemingly out of the mere goodness of their heart. Like bringing their mean boss tea when he never asked them to do that. Like being friendly even in the face of insults. Someone who constantly takes himself back in favour of other people and their opinions.

People like Martin is appearing to be. Appearing, because Martin isn't actually like that. He does have his opinions, and he could probably grumble up a storm in S1 about Jon, but Jon is his BOSS, and so he plays.

Martin also IS genuinely a nice person most of the time (when he's not on a revenge rampage, making his boyfriend murder people). He doesn't have to do nice things for Jon like bring him tea in S2. But he does. Because that's Martin's way of trying to reach out, to show other people that he means no harm (and that he can be useful).

(I also think that Jon's snappish behaviour, where Martin never quite knows what will set the man off, might remind him off his mum, but again I digress. :))

But I think Jon doesn't know how to deal with that, because even when he's not in the height of paranoia, he still suspects that people who are THAT nice (especially when they have no reason to be nice because he's being an arsehole to them) have a secret agenda. This is playing into what I said under 2 (the part that might be too much interpretation on my side lol), because if Jon suspects that Martin is reporting back to Elias, or is at least someone who would not be friendly if he found out that Jon doesn't know what he's doing, then he can't allow himself to relax around him, and he certainly can't allow himself to be lulled into false security (as Jon would think) around him.

Tl;dr on this point: I think Jon is wary of Martin's niceness because he thinks he might be fishing for gossip/anything he can use against Jon. And even if he isn't, Jon thinks he would be likely to use anything he learns against Jon, because they weren't friends to begin with, and Jon's behaviour has made them anything but that.

(We have to remember that this is the guy who says in S2 that he knows what it's like to 'lack the respect of one's peers', aka the kid who got bullied by at least one older kid, and likely had no or very few friends - plus he believes in the supernatural, which doesn't exactly lend itself well to getting academic respect.)

1.4. They were fucked from the start, your honour

Basically what the meme says, but yeah. The they were put in practically guaranteed that Jon would be wary of Martin, and that Martin would be trying extra hard to make friends with him, which in turn would make Jon even more wary/hostile.

And Elias made it worse, either knowingly or by negligence (not telling Jon about transferring Martin).

If we add the whole dog story to it... they were fucked. I do actually wonder if, assuming we take the dog story as canon, Elias actually somehow managed to set that up. Or whether he was at least cackling (sorry, smiling ever so silently, but smugly) in his office as it happened, or whenever he ended up knowing that it happened.

2. Yes, we've had one starting point, but what about second starting point?

As we have established above, the starting situation for Jon and Martin was... not ideal. So, would they have gotten together easily given a different starting point, like in a cute coffee shop AU?

Eh.

It's true that the specific situation they were in made it a lot harder for them to actually communicate and see each other as they are than it had to be. That doesn't mean that a different situation would have made it easy, though.

Their personalities still make it hard, though, as even without the added stress of a new job, Jon is still a little chihuahua shaking in the corner, who tries to make up for it by barking at everyone, and Martin is still the guy trying to approach him with treats and getting his hand bitten.

There are certainly specific situation that could make it easier, especially if Jon isn't scared as hell, and has maybe already learned that not everyone who does something nice for him wants to just pull on his strings. (Yes, I do think that the thing that makes Martin, according to Annabelle, suited for the Web, is the thing that put Jon on edge at the beginning. I don't know if this was intended at all, but it makes me cackle.)

The beauty of fanfic is that we can do whatever the hell we want. But I think the most fun thing an AU author can do is think 'What would have to happen, in this specific scenario, for these two to get over themselves and get together?'

Excursion: Martin, my beloved depressed blorbo who I am certainly not projecting on, haha

Because it IS both of them who need to get over themselves. Of course Jon's issues are the most obvious, and I've certainly expanded on them enough. But Martin also has a problem, and it's that he's constantly hiding his true feelings and opinions, especially anger and fear.

That makes sense, perhaps, in a workplace, though considering he's dealing with a walking, talking worm hive and a stalker boss... Let's just say it probably would have helped Tim, too, if Martin hadn't been so desperate to make everyone be friends again.

Because Martin is always TRYING to make everything better for everyone, but he's actually not helping anyone. Being nice to Jon and bringing him tea doesn't help battle his paranoia. And trying to tell Tim not to be so angry at Jon, and can't they all be friends, doesn't actually help Tim with his anger.

All Martin is essentially doing is making himself small and saying 'let's get along, pretty please' every now and then. I don't know if it would have helped if he had expressed his own fears and anger, and maybe Jon would have misconstrued that as well, too deep in his paranoia already. But at least Tim might have realised that he was not alone in all this. (His biggest problem, as he says in S2, is that he feels that no one has his back, which I think at least partly results from no one expressing the same anger, aka no one validating his feelings.)

Anyway! (Jon voice) Excursion ends.

3. (To the melody of 'What shall we do with the drunken sailor') What shall we do with these total idiots?

So, how ARE these two going to get together, if they're so woefully unequipped to deal with each other?

Well, first we need to give Martin a good helping of self-confidence. Then we need to kind of give Jon the same, since his problem ALSO is that he's unsure of himself, he just tries to make other people small to cover it up, instead of making himself small. (And isn't that a funny thing to do for someone who we know was bullied. To become a bully himself. Oh, the snake, biting its own tail...)

The easy answer is, of course: You can come up with your own version, get creative. <3

The more complex answer is: A lot of stuff, probably. Jon and Martin will certainly need time to get to know each other, and of course it depends on what situation you put them in to start. But there will be misunderstandings, and there will be hurt feelings, and I am going to soak it up all like a particularly slowburn-greedy sponge.

I feel like there are probably five million ways to get them together, and some might be cute and fluffy (if they go to therapy first, I guess, lol) and many will be full of tears. <3 (Jon voice) And I want to see them all on my desk by Friday! So get to it!

In all seriousness though, yeah, I think there's not one right way for them to get together (though canon did it well imo). But it's also a little more complex than we might give it credit to (very much including me).

4. So what now?

I don't know. I'm not your dad. Write a fic. Draw a picture. Put down your own thoughts on the matter. Or take a shower and clean up your room, young Padawan!

(Though actually, if you've read this post from start to finish in one session, what you should probably do is get up and stretch and get some water.)

And above all! And this is imperative.

Have a good day. <3

#Jonmartin #teaholding #jmart #Idk just go forth and do whatever you were going to do #These are my thoughts and maybe yours are totally different #Or maybe I inspired something! Who knows. Live long and prosper in any case.#I mostly needed to get my thoughts in order lmao

23 notes · View notes