#was a good idea and i should probably continue that indefinitely

[coquelicoq]

just got a thank-you card specifically for a christmas card. like, this woman (my dad's best friend) sent me a christmas card, then i sent her a christmas card, then she sent me a card thanking me for the christmas card. here is what she wrote:

Thank you for the best belly laugh of 2024. The Fucking Deer card is the hit on Christmas card wall. I will keep it FOREVER and put it up every year. So from now on it will always be the FIRST card up! (and the last one down!)

here is the card in question:

[ID: Outside of a Fresh Frances greeting card, illustrated by Demi Schlehofer. The card has a repeating pattern like you might see on a Christmas sweater, featuring reindeer and fir trees. Five of the reindeer are standing alone. There are also three reindeer couples having sex, with one reindeer mounting the other. /end ID]

the message printed on the inside of the card read:

Oh deer! Wishing you a very merry Christmas!

in addition to which i had handwritten:

Help. I bought this card thinking it was a nice holiday sweater/cross stitch theme, only to discover when I got home that those reindeer are definitely getting busy. I was only looking at the reindeer that are just standing there alone but there is reindeer erotica mere centimeters away. Kinda makes sense to do this through the medium of cross stitch I guess...it comes pre-pixelated. Anyway, I have this card now and I'm going down my list of people I know trying to think who would not take this in one of the multiple possible wrong ways to take this, and I landed on you. So, congrats for being the recipient/lucky winner of the fucking reindeer card, I guess??? [paragraph of responses to specific things she had said in her Christmas card] Keep on keepin' on, and remember, reindeer babies gotta come from somewhere. Happy holidays! [my name]

[wintaerbaer]

icebreaker (jhs)

summary: When you get stuck in a walk-in freezer with your work nemesis, he has a rather...unconventional idea to ensure the two of you get through it without being frostbitten.

pairing: Hoseok x Reader

rating: generally sfw (mentions of ass and boobs though)

genre: enemies to ??

word count: 1.3k

prompt: Hobi + "Would you for once stop being a bitch!" + close quarters trope (for @animeniacss! <3)

MASTERLIST

The metal of the door is painfully cold against your fingers where you scramble at it, desperately trying to force it open.

It should be unsurprising–given that you’re literally in a walk-in freezer–but the panic setting in at the prospect of being trapped in here (and with him no less) is absolutely scrambling your brain.

No, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.

“It’s stuck?” Even the mere sound of his voice makes your blood boil on cue. If he keeps it up, you could probably survive in here indefinitely.

“Nooooo.” You draw it out as sarcastically as you can, pairing it with a dramatic eye roll for maximum snark. “I’m keeping us here for fun. Because there is nothing I would rather do than be locked in a freezer with your stupid ass.”

Hoseok levels an annoyed look your way but doesn’t respond, sidling up to try the door himself. It doesn’t budge even a hair, and he pulls back with a shake of his hands, trying to circulate heat back into them. “Shit.”

This being a shit situation might be the first thing you’ve ever agreed on. Ever since you both started working at the restaurant a year ago, you as a waitress and he as a bartender, you’ve been at odds–trading verbal jabs, dirty looks, and loathing the times when, like now, you either open or close together.

Honestly, you don’t even remember what started it at this point.

Your breath comes out in a thick cloud, fogging the space between you. “When is Namjoon coming in?”

“I don’t know.” He rubs at his arms; the thin, black cotton of his button down is likely doing close to nothing as far as warmth goes. “Maybe fifteen minutes?”

“How long does it take for frostbite to set in?”

“Why the fuck would I know that?!”

The annoyed expression he aims at you is downright lethal, and you find yourself jumping on the defensive. “That big, dumb brain of yours has to be good for something, right?”

His eyelids drop, disappointment painting his face more than anything. “Wow. Good one.” But somewhere in his posture, you think you might see…

Hurt?

No. No chance.

He whips out his phone, holding it up towards the ceiling as he peers at the screen. “I don’t have any service, do you?”

A tiny “x” sits in the corner of your phone where there should be bars. “Nothing.”

The vapor of his own breath billows between you as he turns, inspecting the confines of the freezer. “Do you think there’s a hole or something you could squeeze through?”

“What?! Why me?!”

“Because it’s your fault we’re in here!” he exclaims, raising the pitch of his voice in a poor, hyperbolic imitation of yours. “Waaahhhh, Hoseok, I can’t reach the bins on the top shelves because I’m short!”

“I am not squeezing through a hole,” you sneer. “You’re just looking to get a nice view of my ass.”

He laughs, but the tips of his ears go pink, too quickly to be from the cold. “You wish.”

With no other options for escape, you try the door again, bracing your shoulder against it and leveraging all of your weight. Hoseok quickly joins in, pressing both of his hands at the space next to you, biceps bulging.

The two of you fall back with a huff when the door continues to refuse any kind of movement. You shiver, curling your arms around yourself as he frowns.

“What do we do now?” you ask.

He sighs. Runs a hand through his dark hair. “I guess we have to wait it out.”

“We’re going to fucking freeze.”

“I…” He falters, gazing at you with nervous eyes. “I saw this thing one time. Tips on staying warm in subzero temperatures…”

His eyes fall to the floor, and you snap your fingers at his hesitation. “And?”

He gulps, shifting on his feet. “Skin-to-skin contact.”

“No!” you shout. “No, no, no, no. Now you’re just trying to get my clothes off.”

A toss of his hands as he groans in exasperation. “Would you for once stop being a bitch?!”

You feel yourself flush at his use of the word, hot rage climbing up the threads of your veins. If you had a dime for every time you’ve taken a verbal shot at each other, you’d actually be able to afford to see your favorite band in concert. But never, until now, has he dared to call you a bitch.

“Look, I know it must be hard having to go through every minute of your life with an entire tree up your ass,” you snap, “but that doesn’t give you the right to call me a bitch, asshole.”

He flinches, the movement rippling its way through his body like he’s resetting–teeth clenching and joints stiffening before he sheepishly rests his hand on the back of his neck.

“Look, I’m…sorry. Okay? You’re right. That was out of line.”

Suddenly, you’re not frozen because of the literal freezer you’re standing in, but because you never thought you’d hear those words leave his mouth.

He’s sorry?

“I know we got off on the wrong foot and that you hate me, but I am truly just trying to look out for both of us here.” He nods his chin at you, a hint of cavalier mirth slipping back into his expression. “That being said, I need you to take off your shirt.”

You’re still incredibly suspicious, but his apology has taken you off-guard. Could it be that you’ve partially misjudged him this whole time?

Could there really be a scrap of a heart somewhere underneath all that ego and contempt?

You suck your teeth, accepting the inevitable as the chill begins to work itself deeper into your bones.

“You first.”

Hoseok chews on his lip, looking unsure of his plan now himself. But then he’s reaching for his collar, winding his fingers in a downward line to undo each button of his shirt until his torso is bared to you, goosebumps erupting over his skin.

“Fuck, it’s cold,” he gasps. “Okay, now you.”

You grit your teeth against the chill and the fact that you’re really doing this, raising your hands to undo the top button, then the second and the third and then–

A woosh and a cough.

You whirl around to find Namjoon standing in the doorway, looking utterly disgusted.

“In the freezer? Really?” He clicks his tongue at you, shaking his head in disappointment. “You know, we keep food in here.”

A horrified gasp leaves your mouth as both you and Hoseok hurriedly button your shirts back up. “It’s not what it looks like! We were–”

“I know what you were doing,” he scoffs. “Do us all a favor and save it for outside work hours, okay? Now get back out here. I need help checking our liquor stock.”

And then he spins on his heel and leaves.

You rush to catch the door before it closes, Hoseok only a step behind. The warmth of the restaurant envelops you like the toastiest blanket, and the two of you stand there for a moment rubbing the heat back into your skin. It’s such a relief that you don’t even feel entirely horrified over Namjoon thinking that you and Hoseok are sleeping together.

And speaking of Hoseok–

“Well,” he says with a clearing of his throat.

“Well.”

“That was fun.”

“Not in the slightest,” you reply. “Though I can’t believe I got you to say sorry.”

He winks. “That was just to get your shirt off.” You stand there, frozen, as he strides off down the hallway, spinning back towards you at the last second.

“Nice boobs by the way.”

a/n: as always, please consider liking, reblogging, replying, and/or dropping an ask if you enjoyed! :)

[agirlandherquill]

through the puddles of ink

since it's a new academic year, a new chapter of my life and i thought, since i've been on tumblr for around eight months now that it's about time i properly introduced myself - this would shock the person i was when i first started this blog, but as it's grown so have i, and i think university has indefinitely helped my confidence - so, without further ado, here goes i'll start this properly by explaining the title of this post - through the puddle of ink

ink is important because obviously it is the basis of literature, the foundation of stories and fitting to my blog name, you dip the quill in the ink to write, to forge an adventure that tests the imagination and takes a reader to wonderful places and puddles because let's face it, ink is messy, ink is chaotic, just like me, my characters, and my writing and because through the looking glass is a very iconic title i also watched that movie in the cinema years ago, i took inspiration, and here we are now - this post is a reflection of me, the beautiful nightmares and writing gremlins that co-exist within my brain and a way for me to get to better know my mutuals, anyone and everybody on writeblr!

here comes the scary part - only for me, and my semi-awkward self - introducing myself, i've never been very good at this stuff so bear with me - and have mercy on my nervous soul,

for the longest time i've loved the sort of self-imposed anonymity of this blog, and don't get me wrong i still do adore my blog name but I thought it was about time I properly introduced myself, so, let me just shuffle some papers in the library of my mind, find the right phrasing for this and... (cue angry hitting of the keyboard) hello! my name is Erin and i'm a writer, a lover of chaos, and a semi-functioning tempest somehow existing within society - i love and ramble about lots of different things - books, shows, songs, you name it, i can waffle and sometimes i can waffle well (that is how i am now going to describe my writing, because it feels like it fits so well)

phew, i got that out, that tiny paragraph was a lot of effort (and i've beaten writers block more often than i can count)

this little post might not seem like much, but to me it's a lot, and i'm happy to have made it this far, and i'm so looking forward to continuing to grow alongside this blog and writeblr (i love you all, no seriously)

and now onto some very much needed rambling about my works, because there's a lot the lovely folk of writeblr are yet to know (and it will come, in time, but here's what i can say for now)

Ruin's Reprisal - we all know the tale of this, my oldest, most functioning (cough, using that term loosely) work - well, where to start? well, i'm on the final stage of proofreading, and once that's all done i'm hoping (let's be honest, dreaming,) to have the final draft complete and out in the great wide world come christmas/new year (that is a courageous goal, even for me, but who knows, maybe i can pull it off, just maybe)

A Deal Of Daggers - it's almost time for nanowrimo, which marks two years since the idea for this first came to me, and i cannot wait to spend autumn working on it (not that i am participating in nano properly this year, what with student-life obligations, but i'm going to write what i can) and i've been steadily chipping away with a few chapters already

those are my two main works, and probably the only works i've been focusing on over the last couple of months - and i've fallen completely and wholeheartedly in love with them all over again, as i do, every single time i open the files on scrivener

as far as my tired but over-eager to write brain can think this should be it for everything i wanted to include in this post until the next post (which won't be long, i can guarantee it),

~ Erin, A Girl and Her Quill, or whatever this hellscape would like to call me :)

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list! (i forgot to add it when i posted, oops!)

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies

[dalesramblingsblog]

OK, I think it's time to actually commit words to writing and actually stick to them. I have tried several times to write this post, and on several occasions have even managed to do so, but I've never managed to follow through on my stated commitments. For the most part this is because, well, I simply didn't want to, because I knew it would be difficult, but I think I've reached a point where it would be far more difficult not to.

Let me cut to the chase: Dale's Ramblings, on WordPress at least, will be going on indefinite hiatus. There are several factors at play here, from the fact that I simply don't find the average quality of the books at this time to be good enough to make the project as much fun as it has been in the past, to my ongoing university studies, but the main reason is... well, I'm sick.

I have, of course, known this intellectually for a while now. It's been about a year since I actually started to figure things out and realise how profoundly affected I had been by my long COVID. Frankly, the fact that I was able to write as much as I did in 2024 - 252,000 words, let's recall - even in spite of being ill is something of a minor miracle.

And more to the point, I did all that because... well, it was fun. Like, I say it's become less fun, and in an objective sense yeah it probably has; I'd rather be still reading books like The Also People than Kursaal or War of the Daleks. But, like, it was still fun. Tremendous fun. I can't stand books like Kursaal or War, but I look back on those reviews with quite a lot of fondness, and I think I've done some of my absolute best writing over this past year.

But there comes a point where you have to weigh the fun in one hand against the realities of your body in the other, and the fact is that I'm sick. I have, in all likelihood, been pushing myself a mite too hard at times, but I wouldn't have done it if I didn't sincerely get enjoyment out of every syllable. If it stopped being fun, I would have stopped, and I'm lucky enough that Dale's Ramblings has never stopped being fun.

Yet I also realise that I can't keep up this gruelling production schedule forever, chasing arbitrary deadlines for no greater reason than my own neurotic desire for neatness and symmetry.

So, then, a hiatus. We've done them before, but this one still feels harder because I desperately *want* to continue. And I will, some day; I've already committed too much energy to the idea of this project as my weird, sprawling autobiographical magnum opus. As much as it's about charting the Wilderness Years, Dale's Ramblings is just as much about charting the evolution of some scrawny suicidal fourteen-year-old into... well, we still haven't quite figured out an ending just yet.

Consider this a weird blip in our chronology then, a literary caesura, to be followed up on at a later date.

Which leaves us with the Ko-fi, as eagle-eyed readers will have noticed that I've already put up two of the three book reviews for April 1998, thinking as I did that I'd release them in March to coincide with the next anni-VARsary. I won't, obviously, but I will keep them up on the Ko-fi for those who are just dying to get a sneak preview, and you should be getting an additional 9,000 word review of The Hollow Men in the next couple days once I give it the final readthrough. Oh, and I'll probably cover Andrew Cartmel's Swine Fever for free on here as well.

There might be further Ko-fi exclusive early access reviews published in the coming months, but they will not be coming with anything like the current rate of regularity or reliability. I don't know exactly when they'll be going public, I suspect I'll want to hold the entire volume until I finish it so I can write without deadlines looming over me.

Is that greedy of me? Perhaps. But again, I'm sick and, for the foreseeable future at least, unemployed. This is, for now, the only way I pull in any sort of income that I can really call my own. If you can support the Ko-fi at all, even if it's just for one month or it's just a one-time payment, it would be greatly appreciated, but if not, I mean, I'll still be here. Just, y'know, rambling with a little less frequency or structure.

But I think any sense of structure went the way of the dodo when I ditched the dedicated "Positives" and "Negatives" sections of my reviews, really, so I think this was always just going to be my cosmic fate.

[insert-witty-user-name-here]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (two weeks ago but), thank you 💖 Currently in a writing slump so don’t have any active WIPs to share (beyond a vague list of bulleted ideas).

But thought I’d use the opportunity to share a scene I cut from one of my fics last year. The scene didn’t fit with the story but, hey, I find it silly and cute so I wanted to share it.

No pressure tags to @dewdropreader @lgwilt @blackbirdofasgard @mirilyawrites @dreamycloud @queen-of-meows @mimisempai @rins-love-wins and @loki-is-my-kink-awakening (right back at you!)

Mobius and Loki have wrapped a mission with Tony Stark and Pepper Potts…

Mobius took a sip of wine and looked at the dark blue ocean below him. The view was gorgeous. Maybe he should get that infinity pool for their vacation home Loki was always going on about. The god would definitely be demanding a remodel after seeing Tony Stark’s home now anyway. 

“That was a clever trick you pulled today,” Pepper said, coming to stand beside him. “How did you know to bait Slattery with an unfinished Shakespeare manuscript?” 

“Oh, I know you probably can’t tell from my youthful glow, but I’m a lot older than I look,” Mobius chuckled. “I’ve run into a few Trevor Slatterys in my time. They’re surprisingly opportunistic. Figured besting Shakespeare would be too hard for him to resist.”  

“Hm, I see Loki’s not the only clever trickster around. You make a good pair. I imagine he keeps you busy.” 

“You have no idea.”

“Tony thinks you make a good pair too. Although, he thinks it's because you’re opposites.” 

“You don’t?” Mobius asked, turning to face Pepper. 

Pepper shook her head. “No. I think you make a good pair because you’re more similar than you appear. You give him hope that things can be different, see the good in him he doesn’t see himself. And, I suspect, he does the same for you.” 

A contemplative silence filled the air between them. Mobius looked towards the horizon. The stars were only just beginning to appear in the purple twilight sky. A billion worlds in this timeline, safe because of their actions today.  

“Well then,” Pepper continued, “shall we see how our boys are doing? I’m a little nervous leaving them alone so long.” 

“Loki won’t hurt anyone.” 

“Oh, it wasn’t him I was worried about.” 

The pair made their way downstairs to Tony’s workstation where, sure enough, they found the two embroiled in a heated argument. 

“No, stop. Don’t touch that!” Tony swatted Loki’s hands away from some odd-looking contraption on the table before them. 

“I’m not going to break anything,” Loki huffed. 

“Says the guy who destroyed half of New York City.” 

“I’ve already apologized. Twice! Now, will you just-” 

“Ack! I said no touching!” 

Loki rolled his eyes and stepped away. He raised his hands in mock surrender before he flicked his wrist. In a flash of green magic, a piece connecting two parts of the invention fell and was replaced with a glowing piece of metal from across the room. The machine buzzed to life. 

“There,” Loki sighed, “see. It works.” 

Tony gazed wide-eyed at his invention with a cock of his head. “Now that. Hm.” He looked down at his tablet. “I hadn’t…. These readings… How did you do that?”  

“You Midgardians have such a narrow view of science,” Loki grumbled. “I simply harnessed the power within the system you built and re-routed it through a more malleable conductor. Without the restraints, the energy can flow more freely, giving life to itself, creating an indefinite loop.” 

“Huh. That… that works.” 

“Obviously or I wouldn’t have done it. Where I come from, magic and science are one and the same, and I happen to be an excellent mage.”  

Tony glanced back at his tablet once more before he returned his gaze to Loki. His eyes glistened with barely restrained excitement. “Okay smartass, how would you fix this?” 

Tony steered Loki to the back of the room where a suit labeled Mk 22 took a few unsteady steps and collapsed in a heap of metal. Loki tilted his head in eager curiosity and began to work. Magic swirled around him while he murmured explanations to Tony who seemed to hang on every word. It wasn’t long before the two were lost in their own world, debating and testing theories far beyond anyone else's understanding. 

“You’re right,” Pepper chuckled beside Mobius, “they are cute together.”  

“Huh, what was that Pep?” Tony asked. 

“What are you two talking about?” Loki interjected. 

“Oh, did I show you their wedding photo?” Mobius asked, fishing his TemPad out of his pocket. “Adorable.” 

He pulled up the photos he’d saved from Timeline 465281 and passed the TemPad to Pepper. 

“Mobius, whose wedding photo?” Loki repeated while he and Tony approached hesitantly. 

“Aw, Tony! You’re so happy, look!” Pepper shoved the TemPad, equipped with the wedding photo of Loki Odinson and Tony Stark, into the Avenger’s face. Tony’s complexion grew worrying pale while Loki’s face took on a distinctly green hue. 

“I’m sorry,” Tony began in a choked voice, “but in what universe-” 

“Universe 465281 apparently,” Pepper supplied, scrolling through more photos. “You two get your puppy to be ring bearer?? How cute is that?” 

“Might I inquire the location of the nearest restroom?” Loki asked. “I suddenly feel the urge to vomit.” 

“Nope, not in my restroom you’re not," Tony said. "Actually, I think it’s time for you to go. You’ve overstayed your welcome.” 

“For once we are in agreement.” With a poof of magic Loki was dressed back in his standard TVA suit. He straightened his tie. “Tony, I say this with the deepest sincerity, please try to keep out of trouble. I'd really rather not be called in to save you again."

“Right back at you, Bambi,” Tony quipped. 

“Ugh, I’ve already told you,” Loki seethed, barely restrained magic sparking at his fingertips, “I don’t like that-”

“Okay, let’s go.” Mobius steered Loki towards an already open timedoor. “Pepper, Tony, a pleasure. We’ll keep an eye on your timeline for a few days. Who knows, maybe one day we’ll cross paths again."

“Yeah, no. If I have any luck at all, see you never. Buh-bye now,” Tony finished. 

Mobius and Loki stepped back to the TVA. Mobius turned laughing, ready to apologize for keeping the information about Timeline 465281 a secret, but found himself suddenly wrapped in a tight hug from the god. 

“Oof, hey there Lokes. I know I get jealous sometimes but, trust me, I’m not concerned at all about you running off with-” 

“Are you okay?” Loki interrupted quietly. He pulled back with an examining gaze. “What do you need from me? I know today was difficult for you.” 

Mobius’ heart softened at the compassion on Loki’s face and he pulled Loki in for another hug. His headache had long since subsided but his brain was still foggy and he felt more exhausted than he had in months. 

 “I’ll be alright. Thank you Loki. Thank you for seeing what I have a hard time seeing myself.” 

Loki tightened his arms around Mobius and laid a kiss to his brow. “I’m just glad I was there to help you today. You are there so often for me, please don’t shut me out anymore. I want to be here for you. We all want to be here for you; you’re not alone anymore.”   

“I know.” 

The TemPad in Mobius’ pocket gave an obnoxiously loud trill. He’d never heard that sound before. Mobius flinched and pulled it out of his pocket, what was going on now? He let out a soft chuckle of surprise when he saw the message that flashed across the screen. 

728 hours worked. Caseload for Agent MMM5313 frozen. Mandatory vacation required. 

“Well,” Loki smirked, looking over his shoulder, “I see B-15 is putting her Deputy Director privileges to good use. You’re not going to try and argue with her on this, are you?” 

“No,” Mobius laughed. “I’m not. She’s right. I could definitely use a vacation.” 

“Well then Director,” Loki hummed. “Where shall we go?” 

“You know… I was thinking you might be right about a remodel to our vacation home. What do you say we give Stark a run for his money and see who can make the best Malibu beach house?” 

[chiefbeifongcanrailme]

Mission Accomplished

Here’s my submission for day 2 of Lin Beifong’s Week. You can also find it on AO3.

Pairing: Lin Beifong x Mako

Rating: T

Art made by JadeLotus💚

The last time he had checked the time, it was back in the precinct, and it was midnight then. There was no knowing what time it was now. When it came to waiting, one could never tell if hours had gone by a mere few seconds. Impatience was becoming of Mako in the same way hunger was for Bolin; all bets were off. There was no telling what either brother would do under those dire circumstances.

Lin on the other hand was infuriatingly patient. She had this knack for staring at the same spot for minutes without screaming at the nothingness.

“Chief,” Mako said, clearing his throat. “What if they gave us a false lead?”

“My source is very reliable,” she said without turning around.

The smell was starting to get too him too now. There was a thin slit between the dumpster and the concrete wall of the alley through which Lin was spying on the warehouse across the street. They were well hidden in the shadows of demolition and that giant, odor-laden container of indefinite squalor.  

“Who is your source?”

Lin grumbled something incoherent in response.

Great, so this was getting to her too.

“Should we maybe leave? I don’t think anybody’s going to show up—”

“Shut it, Mako!” she growled, still not facing him.

“I just mean, it’s pretty late and—”

“And night time scares you?”

“What- no!”

“Then zip it and let me focus,” she said.

Mako sighed and moved towards her. He crouched down beside her even though there was no way he’d be able to see through that little slit without fully invading her personal space. He had binoculars too, but what good were they without a view?

So instead, he watched Lin. He considered her carefully. She was a lot smaller without her uniform, and that incited a sense of protectiveness in him. His mind began wandering. He wondered he’d do if Lin was attacked without her armor. If she was hurt and how she wouldn’t stop fighting until her last breath. She had that grit in her eyes. That tenacity in her frame. Her face would contort into her signature scowl- which now that he thought about- was cutesy pout without her armor.

He shook his head. No, Lin wasn’t cute. That wasn’t a word anyone would use to describe Lin Beifong. But somehow, at the core of Mako’s impatience, he found that 'cute' suited her just fine. He smiled to himself as he continued watching her. He pondered on the idea that Lin Beifong was cute and he would want to protect her at all costs. Possibly even wrap his arms around her to hold her safely.

So, when Chief Beifong turned around to see Mako with a cheeky smile spread across his face looking like he hadn’t experienced a thought in his whole life, she actually groaned. She rolled her eyes and turned back to watch the static warehouse.

Mako moved closer, and Lin could feel his presence against her side. He swallowed. He was growing more and more impatient and those fleeting thoughts about Lin weren’t helping his resolve. He needed to do something. Something about the bust or something about the tingling in his belly at the sight of his boss.

He wasn’t sure which one was going to combat, but he began anyway. “Chief, do—”

“Shhh!” she hushed him. “I see movement.”

Mako leaned over her, worming into her personal space and choosing to circle back to his feelings about that later. He saw three people exit the warehouse and he recognized them immediately. Iceman Wahkan, known for his ice blade attacks, Agni Kai leader, Zinji and Jargala Omo, the leader of the Creeping Crystal Triad. It was odd that these three were having a meeting but having worked with triads before, Mako knew that they were likely coming to some kind of understanding; territorial or so.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

Lin didn’t reply. Mako surmised that she was probably going to try and take them down herself. Typical Chief Lin Beifong.

“They’ll recognize us just as easily as we recognized them,” he said, standing up a touch. “We need to call for back up. There’s a good chance they’re not alone.”

“Shh!” she yelled softly, yanking him by his hand back down to the ground. She held his hand first, technically, Mako thought. Her hand was still loosely touching his but it was only because he stiffened his palm within hers, so they’d still be touching until she consciously moved her hand away.

“They’re crossing the road,” Lin narrated what she was seeing. Of course, she had paid no mind to Mako’s skin still touching hers. As she put on her coat over her black tunic, she snatched the binoculars from Mako’s other hand.

“There's something in here. They’re entering this building to leave the city through the swamp behind,” she said, unaware of Mako’s eyes on her. The back door of this building was beside the dumpster, right where they were standing.

Mako and Lin were caught right in the middle of their exit scheme. The only thing worse than not catching criminals is letting the criminals catch you.

“Quick, we need to move. We can’t be made!” she scrambled.

However, instinct got the better of Mako and he pulled her by the door. He rammed her into the wall and with either hand grasping her waist, lifted her against his body.

“Mako, what do you think you’re—”

“Hiding in plain sight. We’ll blend into the darkness better than—”

“Jargala has great seismic sensing,” she said, wrapping her legs around Mako’s waist. It meant Mako’s feet needed to be off the ground too. He felt a brick sticking out the wall and quickly stepped on it, pushing himself further into Lin. Since there was only space for one of his feet, his other foot was hanging in the air and that brick was essentially carrying his and Lin’s weight. He hoped it wouldn’t give out. At least not until the bad guys were gone.

Mako’s face was painfully close to Lin’s. He could smell her hair, her neck, the coffee, her scent and—

There was a rattling sound. They were indeed using the back door next to them to escape. Lucky for them, the door opened outwards and would hide the two of them with their brick behind it.

Rightfully so, the door slammed open, slightly hitting Mako’s shoulder. Lin turned stiff against him and Mako’s arm pulled her closer into his body. Those idiotic sensibilities to protect Lin with his life were coming back. 

Zinji was the last one to step out also the one who shut the door to the building. And of course, they noticed two people in the alley that was supposed to be empty.

That’s when a new impulse clouded Mako’s mind. He roughly pressed his lips onto hers, vaguely aware of the three-person audience they had acquired. As if privy to Mako’s most personal thoughts and fantasies, Lin kissed him back. She whimpered softly in his mouth and ran her fingers through his hair. She didn’t want to think about what she was feeling against her inner thigh that rested on Mako’s thigh, but she kept going.

Jargala snorted. “Horn dogs.”

Lin opened one eye and just as the three of them turned away from them, she pushed Mako away and in the blink of an eye, raised the ground and trapped all of them. For Jargala, Lin raised the metallic top of the dumpster, tore it in half and embedded it in the rocks covering the earthbender so she couldn’t escape. Criminals may be learning the old Beifong styles, but metalbending would always be a Beifong original.

“Run to the satomobile and call for backup, Mako. They’re going to have a long night behind bars.”

“Chief Beifong getting it on with the rookie,” Wahkan cackled as Mako left the scene.  He was half annoyed he didn’t have to hear the rest of it because Lin did, but the idea of never feeling Lin’s lips on his again saddened him even more.

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

Mako stood by her side as the police-satos took the three criminals away. Their stakeout was a success, but Mako was feeling less than accomplished. He wanted to talk to Lin. No, he wanted to kiss her. Okay, okay, he wanted to talk about the kiss and then kiss her some more.

“They were hiding drugs inside the jennamite and distributing it amongst the triads,” Lin scoffed. “Morons.”

Mako gave her a tight smile.

“It’s almost dawn, go get some rest, detective,” she ordered. “We’ll reconvene at—”

“The engagement party!” he finished quickly. 

“What?”

“Bolin and Opal’s engagement party?” He joined his eyebrows with concern and confusion. “It’s tonight.”

“Right,” Lin remembered. “I meant I’d see you at the station. There’s no way I’m letting you off this paperwork.”

“Right.”

“Good night, detective.” She began walking away.  But before he realized what was doing, Mako’s hand reached for her wrist and grasped it, pulling her back.

“Excuse me—”

“Go out with me, Lin. I mean,” he was choking, “I would like to go out with you- I want to take you out. No, I mean, take you out like on a date not take you out like kill you or- I should just stop—”

Lin stared at him. Her bottom lip was curled out and her brows were joined together like she was worried he was having a stroke or something.

“That kiss was- well,” Suddenly, those taunting comments he missed were coming back to him. He didn’t hear them but he knew the nature of its contents. Lin would never go out with a detective. They worked together. It was unprofessional and even if Lin did entirely enjoy the kiss, she still wouldn’t go out with someone with his dating records. He was hopeless.

So, he stood there, silently gaping at her face. 

“I have to leave, detective. I am imaginably exhausted.” 

He didn’t say another word after that. He simply watched her walk away from him and disappear into the night.

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

Sparks of crimson, blue, white, and gold colored the sky. Bolin and Opal had a beautiful engagement ceremony and an even grander party. Suyin had pulled all the stops for her one and only daughter.

Something about the lights, the love or the celebration of companionship felt seemingly soothing. It wasn’t nearly as terrible as Lin had thought. So, she made her way to where a brooding young man stood with a glass of pomegranate champagne.

When her shoulder brushed against his, he turned to his side.

“You were right. I think sleep deprivation makes me delusional.”

Lin smirked. It hadn’t gone unnoticed by the firebender how gorgeous Lin looked in that green silk gown. He decided to allow himself a crush as long as he contained his feelings inside his head. He was all but appreciating beauty.

But surprisingly, she replied, “You were right too. That kiss was- well…” she shrugged nervously.

“Yeah,” Mako agreed with a shy smile. “It was a spur of the moment decision- I’m sorry I kissed you—”

“Don’t be!”

Now he turned towards her. She really was such a spectacular woman, and she was smirking at him. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest, and he briefly wondered if she could feel it from the Earth.

“Is the offer still open?” she asked innocently.

Mako smiled and looked at his feet bashfully. “Would you?" he shook his head, “Would you want to go out with me?”

“I’d like to,” she whispered and slid her hand into his. "We make a decent team." 

Mako squeezed her hand and turned back towards the fireworks in the sky. 

Chief Beifong was actually going to get it on with him. He smiled to himself at the thought. 

Mission accomplished. 

[lenna-z]

Prompt list:

Holy crap, you look like hell!

Thanks to @janetm74 for the prompt! Also thank you for always answering my questions about english!

The prompt list is here.

I don't know where it came from but this might be a little emotional... I hope you like it!

Warnings: Blood and Injury, mentioned about being under debris/dent, Explosion (mentioned), indefinite end.

-Yearn -

"Scott? Are you still with me?"

The gasping breaths from the comm filled his heart with hope.

"Yeah, Vir-gil."

He continued digging the rubble. He should have been there in just a few minutes.

"I'm almost there."

So please hold on a little longer.

He reconfigured comm. So they could hear Scott, but Scott wouldn't be able to hear them talking.

"John? What are his last vitals?"

"His blood pressure is still low and his breathing is still slower than normal."

They knew part of his arm had been burned by the explosion, the information they could get from Scott was inconsistent, which was probably due to a concussion.

Information from his uniform indicated possible internal bleeding.

"You will need to give this information to the nearest hospital here, he- he will need surgical intervention as soon as possible."

He was also out of breath, and the hellish heat wasn't helping at all.

No wonder the factory exploded.

"I already did, a surgeon is already preparing for this. Gordon is about two minutes behind you, coming with the stretcher."

"Keep Scott talking, John. I'm almost there."

He took a deep breath and started digging faster.

"Scott, are you there?"

"I- I was fly-ing."

"In the sky?"

After a gasp, the answer came.

"Hmm- It was beauuutiful."

"That's great, Scott. Do you want to tell me what you saw there?"

"There- there was a star. I- I saw m- ...mother in it."

He took a deep breath and swallowed. There was no word from John either.

Yes, it was probably a concussion.

But Scott hadn't forgotten that when their mother died, they gave her a star from the sky.

"She was- sooo beauuutiful. Like an- ...an-gel. I miss her."

He missed her too.

They were staring at that star every anniversary... god... he missed her so much.

"I couldn' see m- ou- father. I missed- him t-too."

He touched his comm.

"John-"

"Didn' Dad miss- us, Joh-n?"

God...

"I'm sure he misses us too, Scott... Listen- Virgil is coming. I want you to close your eyes, Scott, can you do this?"

"Yeah- but- ou'r- ...mot-her is no longer h-here."

"It's okay, he's coming for you. Have you closed your eyes now?"

"Me? Yeah-"

Even if he was in a position to cover his mouth and nose, he didn't think he was in a situation to, so he quickly but gently dug the last inches.

Scott's current location was wide enough to stand in some places.

Finally, when a big enough hole was drilled, he could see Scott.

"Hello lit-tle bro."

"Holly crap, Scott..."

His uniform had mostly protected him from the explosion.

He had some burns from his wrist to his shoulder.

One of the wounds on his forehead was still bleeding.

He wasn't sure if the internal bleeding was caused by the blow to the head or the steel pipe resting on his chest.

"You look like a hell..."

They could fix this. Scott would be fine.

"John, any ideas for removing the pipe pressing on his chest?"

"Almost yes. We have to wait for Gordon to arrive. And I thought you'd like to know, Kayo caught the bastard."

Kayo had come here after Scott mentioned that the manure had been stolen. After she left to chase the thief, the factory exploded...

Nobody wanted to be in that bastard's place.

"At least there is good news." Gordon got off from where he had just landed, with a stretcher in front of him.

"See, Scott? Gordon's here too, we'll get you out of here, you'll be fine, okay?" He wasn't sure if he was telling it more to himself or to Scott.

"I promised her I'd be fine- Virgil. She loo-ked upset, so I promised her."

But his eyelids were slowly sliding down.

"No! No, Scott- To who? Who did you promise, Scott?"

"Didn' father miss us, Virg? I- I miss him- so much."

A mark was sliding down his dusty cheek, and his own tear fell with his.

[fatestayyuri]

Finished Ward Arc 3

TL;DR: taking an indefinite hiatus you can all unfollow me now

okay so like. first things first; probably gonna take a break for my own sanity’s sake! not the Biggest fan of his writing and the fact that from everything i’ve heard it only gets worse from here Does Not Assure me. anyway,

tattletale is so fucking funny Victoria just shows up and goes “fuck youuuuuu” and blames her for the [????] that amy did (i still have no idea what amy did) and lisa’s just like. “yeah. whatever. stop being a cop idiot.” then fucks off and leaves. the thing about wildbow’s writing is that while lisa comes off as like. kind of an annoying (endearing) loser who feels the need to overexplain to literally everyone i’m pretty sure wildbow intended her as his take on a Holmes-like all-knowing smart person? that’s honestly way funnier than any of his jokes tbh

the thing about arc 3 is that it’s not particularly objectionable enough to be a fun hateread and the annoying bits are subtle enough and caked in enough to the character moments that it just kind of blends into a big slog. Tristan and the other one’s dynamic reads INCREDIBLY gauche and all of the other stuff i’ve seen as part of the book club don’t lead me to read it kindly. i think that’s the problem actually by reading it all at once as a group we’ve been inundated with so much Wildbow moments so quickly that i kind of stopped reading it “with love” as it were; I kind of just see the artifice of a deeply copbrained liberal sockpuppeting characters and getting them to compliment his writing.

I think a large part of this is that i don’t actually particularly like superhero settings wait no actually i just remember that like my #2 favourite web serial is a superhero one i think i just hate wildbow’s writing i think

yeah it’s like, i don’t think wildbow should write fight scenes they kind of suck. Victoria “flying brick / cop Dallon doesn’t really have an interesting enough skillset to carry 2 million words of fights around. sorry. all of it tends to boil down to “punch really hard physically or emotionally” and i’m Bored. even the fight scenes as metaphor for emotional moments is Boring. it doesn’t do enough.

and like, i can’t actually take the [whatever untitled group] thing seriously since i got spoiled that Tristan is gay and the other one is straight so like. this just comes off as blaringly homophobic in the “what if the world was made out of pudding” sense. fuck off

yeah it’s really really hard to justify continuing to read this, when i am told that it only gets worse from here. like, genuinely wondering why i should spend that time when instead i could finish reading good serials, or the VNs on my backlog, or do literally anything else

sorry Certified Wardheads (all three of you) but like. indefinite hiatus for my mental health this shit sands away at my brain. i could probably say more but like, unlike the other stuff i’ve subjected myself to (Tsukihime) i’m not even promised something like, Good good in spite of all the forks. there’s other stories where you just have to do jury duty for 40 hours instead of eating forks for the sphagetti. i have a newfound appreciation for VNs that are just boring before they get good now

[stusbunker]

Tattered: Epilogue

A Supernatural A/B/O Fanfiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Sam

Word Count: ~3250

Warnings, etc: Just some thoughts and kitchen sex

Series Masterlist

Reader

The house is entirely too quiet as I park the van. No shrieking voices wafting from the playroom or doors swinging open on the chance that I brought home snacks. I still don’t know if I’ll ever get used to it. But school days loom ahead of us for the next ten months and another twelve years after that. My babies are school aged and it tightens my chest in grief as much as it soothes my mind with the idea of free time.

My Alphas have both had their adjustment periods. However, I have been nominated for drop off duty indefinitely after Dean cried so hard he couldn’t see the road on the first day of school.

Sam’s excuse is that he prefers to run in the mornings.

Oh well, I don’t have to deal with the pick up queue and for that I am grateful. I hang up my keys as I step inside the eerily peaceful house. Sam’s in the shower, water audible even downstairs. I beeline for the kitchen and a second cup of coffee and debate what I should do before I have to run back into town to mail out deliveries for Bobby’s online parts business.

I jump when I find Dean at the table, coffee in one hand and a book in the other, which makes sense why I didn’t hear his thoughts because he tends to get lost in the story and I can’t tap into his feelings when he’s lost to his imagination.

He smirks and I try to play it cool.

He pretends to keep reading as I fix my coffee, his amusement bright on the air. I run my fingers through his hair as I brush past him on the way to my usual spot and his brow softens before he goes back to his book for real. I watch Dean read, relishing in the ordinary of the little pucker of his lips as he thinks, the shadow of stumble along his jaw, the ease in which we all exist these days. I can’t help but get a little emotional over how far we’ve come as mates, as a family.

I must be dwelling because Dean reaches out his hand, palm side up against the table and I grab onto it as he continues his literary journey and I sip my coffee with my opposite hand. Reassured and supported.

Sam joins us and disrupts the quiet with the shrill whirl of the blender for his daily smoothie. And as much as Dean hems and haws about it, he’s not actually mad. He winks at me over his probably cold coffee and I nudge his foot beneath the table. Sam sits down opposite me, smelling clean and enthusiastic.

“It’s so quiet,” he huffs a little in disbelief.

“Cherish it, it’s only seven hours a day,” I remind him.

“Right?!” Dean emphasizes using a coupon for the new fro-yo place as a bookmark. He leans back and stretches out his arms. In just a t-shirt and jeans, I get a good view of his strong torso and gorgeous arms. He holds the stretch and I pull my feet up under the table to rest against his lap.

Sam eyes me over his fancy smoothie tumbler and I consider moving upstairs, and taking them both back to bed.

Dean sinks back into his chair, hands finding my calves beneath the table and starts rubbing them gently. God, those hands. My eye lids droop in the pleasure of Dean’s grip, head lolling back as I laze in place. Sam gets up and rinses out his dishes, and when he’s done he makes his own move onto my shoulders. Sam’s hands are massive and no matter how many ways he touches me, I always feel safe.

I fall into the sensations, Dean’s thumbing into the arch of my foot and Sam working out the knot between my shoulder blades that I get from bedtime stories and too much time at a computer. It’s the happy kind of ache. Before I even realize it I’m mush. And Dean is having one of those silent conversations with Sam over my head. I can hear their intent, naked, table, Omega. But most of all I feel the pride and the hunger of their thoughts.

I can’t hold back the shiver as Dean twists the fabric of my leggings against my thighs and pulls, lifting my hips from my chair and dragging my pants off with expert fingers.

Sam leans down and kisses the side of my neck, chest hot behind me. Before I realize he’s no longer touching me, my chair scrapes against the stone floor, pulling me away from the table, baring my naked legs to them both. Dean’s out of his chair and rounding on me, eyes dark and playful. As Sam tugs at my sleeves, drawing my focus away from Dean as he rips my hoodie off of me, leaving me in nothing but my cami and panties.

I don’t know if I should lean back and keep making them work for it or stand up and take what I want.

Dean makes up my mind for me as he drops to the floor at my feet and starts kissing up my thigh. He watches me as I spread my legs open, want thickening in the space between us as he nibbles his way to my core. Sam’s not waiting his turn, instead he drapes himself over me and kisses me upside down. The fresh tartness of his smoothie still on his tongue, he invades my mouth.

I get a hand in his hair and I hold him there, meeting his every stroke. 

Then Dean’s nuzzles against my seam, breathing and lapping against the patch of slick soaked cotton.

I can’t help but rock against his pretty face.

Sam’s long fingers delve down the front of my top, sure and steady they tease my nipples into peaks. I moan into his mouth and Dean drags me further off the seat of my chair, hoisting my legs over his shoulders one at a time. I squeeze him closer, but Sam’s pulling back and I can tell that he needs more of me than this angle allows.

I blink back to reality, watch Sam’s chest rise and fall as he takes stock of the room. Dean’s threading his knuckles into the legs of my panties, teasing me with the fabric as he sucks a bruise on my inner thigh. Everything is hot and churning and none of it is enough.

“Up, Dean,” Sam barks. And they’re lifting me by my thighs and my armpits and spreading me out across the table like a goddamn buffet. Dean works my panties off, but Sam just shoves my top down,  getting his mouth on my tits as soon as he can. I arch into the heat of his mouth, snake my fingers into his hair and tug. My skin prickles with Sam’s deep growl.

Dean’s there to catch the next wave of slick fresh from the source. He slurps at my cunt and I twitch with the electricity humming beneath my skin. But they’ve only begun to pull me apart.

I drag Sam’s mouth to my own, my tongue challenges him for more. He breaks the kiss to catch his breath.

All I am and all I have is wet and empty.

I inhale deeply and reach for Sam’s waistband. He didn’t bother putting on shorts after his shower, his dick is heavy and thickening as I pull it out of his sweats. I realize I forgot breakfast, and take my fill anyway. He tosses his head back as I gaze up at him from the tabletop, all wide chest and damp hair. His huge hands clamp down on my chest and I loosen my jaw, breathe through my nose and let Sam fuck my throat.

My lips bump into the heat of his knot and I begin to drool from the fat of his shaft. I swallow instinctively making Sam moan my name. Dean pushes my legs further apart, and strokes my thighs as his soft lips pull on my clit, focusing all my pleasure on that tiny mesmerizing patch of nerve endings. He draws it out of me, and the tether of my climax starts to break loose, like a clothesline in a tornado.

Two thick, calloused fingers slide inside me and I start to cough in warning to Sam. He knowingly pulls out and almost immediately Dean is tapping against my g-spot, making me bend and writhe. And with one last wide swipe of his tongue, I explode, straining towards Dean’s face. Desperate and thrashing.

When I gather my bearings, Sam’s actually holding me down by the wrists and by the looks of Dean it’s because I decided to use Dean’s ears as handles. His usually bright eyes are heavy with betrayal as he rubs the abused skin. “Easy!” 

I can’t even pretend to be sorry. I sigh and shift against the wet patch beneath my ass. I look back up at Sam and tip my chin up, cracking my jaw wide as the pulsing of my channel ebbs away. Sam juts out his chin and sticks his tongue in his cheek, impressed with my gaul. I get my reward, my hands released and that satisfying, suffocating stretch of his cock back down my throat.

Dean, in retaliation, drags me by my hips to the other edge of the table, almost making me drop Sam. Fucker. But Sam follows, height in his favor as he rests his balls on the kitchen table and continues to fill my mouth, pumping gently as Dean drops trow and works himself up to fuck me himself. I feel and hear Dean’s actions, unable to see anything but the wood grain of the table top, Sam’s heavy sack and his slowly filling knot.

I tease Sam’s crown with my tongue, coaxing him deeper, harder.

Then I feel the welcome shift between my legs, the hot press of Dean on my swollen lips, and he’s home. They’re both home. With me. In me. Us. They move in sync, like a well oiled machine, slick and sleek and determined. Stuffing me until I come again on a silent cry. Sam’s got one hand on my shoulder, the other cupping my chin, caressing while holding me in place. Dean’s thumbing my clit, threatening through clenched teeth and I know how competitive he is, how he’s trying to rack up his come count while he’s got his hand on one of my magic buttons. His knot soon to drag against the other.

I know how sensitive his ears are, so it might be a little bit about revenge too. But it’s well worth it. I wiggle my hips and clench around his dick, taunting him back until he pulls out completely and I whine at the loss.

Dean fucking paints me with his seed, shoots over my cunt, thighs and belly. Though his knot is unfulfilled, he grunts and falls face first against the soft pooch left over from the pups, mouthing against my skin, he catches his breath.

I tremble from the sensitivity, but I still have another Alpha to satisfy. I reach down and pet Dean’s head before planting my feet on the edge of the table and shoving my chin against Sam’s pubes. My nose is filled with soap and Sam, his balls a cushion as I try to make him feed me his knot.

A noise catches in the back of Sam’s throat and he thrusts shallowly as I hum around him. I swallow and feel his wide tip catch, I keep swallowing, breathing through my nose. Growing desperate I hum deeper, try and use my tongue for better pressure.

Dean’s warm palm slides up my chest, both soothing and praising as I focus on Sam. I wish I wasn’t upside down, I wish I could see Sam’s face. Instead, I scream at him in my mind. And the bastard chuckles, stroking my chin he finally starts to really move, sharing in the work. I am a drooling, sated mess, but he’s still hard as ever.

Dean pulls himself off of my sticky body, dropping into Sam’s forgotten chair. Cautiously, I relax my jaw, easing Sam out of my mouth so I can finally face him. He grips his knot and watches me darkly, waiting to see what I’ll do next. I sit up and flick his shoulder before kissing him sloppy. His big hand holds my waist tight against him and he teases me with that sinful, long tongue.

We break apart and lock eyes. Sam smirks, so I know he’s on board.

“Dean? How should I finish Sam off?” I call over my shoulder, feeling my first Alpha thoughtful behind me. Sam and Dean have another silent conversation.

The moment stretches with anticipation and I shiver, reminding me that I am the only one completely naked.

“Bend her over the table, I want to watch her face when she comes the last time,” Dean decides finally.

I shriek as Sam hauls me off the table with a stiff forearm to my lower back, but I love it from behind so I settle face down and hoist myself up onto my tiptoes, giving Sam and his ridiculous height the best angle I can. He still has to squat to get low enough to notch at my entrance. But then he’s stretching me open once more and I sigh with the fullness.

I open my eyes and look across the table at Dean, and he licks then bites his bottom lip. Idly, he cups his junk, too soon for more, but it won’t be long. I can tell he’s making plans for the rest of our childfree hours. Sam picks up the pace and I gasp, making Dean chuckle.

Sam angles his hips down and I squeal as he drags against my g-spot, his knot burning against my swollen lips. Fuck, they’re ruining me all over again. Like always.

I fight to keep my eyes on Dean, but Sam’s really fucking me deep and my body wants to focus on all that heat and friction more than it wants to see how much my other Alpha approves. Sam smacks my ass and I clench and then it all comes crashing together inside: Dean’s jizz sliding against my belly as we further debauch the table, Sam stuffing his knot inside of me so hard, so fucking wide and my eyes burst open as I come one final time, gushing against both mine and Sam’s thighs.

“That’s it, there she is.” Dean’s husky voice makes me twitch. 

I whine but Sam’s nipping across my shoulders as he leans down to catch his breath, bracing himself against the table. Then I inevitably fall asleep waiting for Sam’s knot to deflate.

We do eventually get decent and clean up after ourselves. And all of us go with to pick the kids up from school, because that’s the kind of saccharin crap our lives have become. It’s amazing and safe, however stressful, but still floors me so many years in. 

Usually siblings aren’t kept in the same classrooms, but there aren’t enough kindergarten classes to completely separate our brood. Luckily, the administrators listened to us and let Jimmy and Sophie into the same class. Joni’s a social butterfly and we weren’t worried about her making friends.

Naturally, Joni is the first one out of the door and sprinting across the playground to reach the van. Dean rolls down my window and cheers her on. The rest of the school pours out of the doors in a steady stream of pigtails and oversized backpacks and not-yet-broken-in school shoes. Just as Joni reaches the back door Sam had slid open, I spot Sophi and Jimmy marching down the steps, hand-in-hand beside their teacher, who seems amused at whatever story Jimmy is telling her.

Sophie stops herself from eating her hair twice.

“We are having a field trip to a pumpkin farm!” Joni announces out-of-breath and ecstatic.

“Wow, princess. Lucky!” Dean replies.

Joni throws her arms around Sam’s neck and continues on at top volume. “We get to go on a hay ride and pick our own pumpkins to bring home with us!”

“Hey, I’m right here, okay?” Sam reminds her about inside voices.

“Sorry—- Can you come?! Ms. Mary says she will take any parents who can go,” she barely lowers her voice.

“Sure, peanut, we’ll look at the permission slip when we get home. Let’s get you in your seat,” Sam agrees and redirects.

Jimmy and Sophie take their time, heads bowed and backpacks so light and big they bounce off the backs of their legs. 

“What else did you do today?” I ask Joni as we wait for the other two, turning in my seat.

“Um, gym? And we had broccoli at lunch.” She makes a face and Dean visibly shivers along with her.

“Gross!”

“Daddy!” She giggles at his exaggerated face of disgust.

“What? You don’t even like broccoli?!” Dean teases back.

“But you’re a grown up!” Joni reminds him, because he needs the reminder.

“Don’t mean I have to like gross food. Dad likes that crap, not me.” Dean explains.

“Nice,” Sam mutters, climbing out of the back seat to make room for the two pokey puppies.

“Hey guys!” Sam cups their heads with his big hands, hugging them awkwardly without bending over.

“Sophie’s sad, so we need some feel good tunes,” Jimmy explains.

“Tell Daddy, okay, buddy?” Sam tells Jimmy before bending down and scooping Sophie in a tight squeeze. 

Jimmy climbs into the van and whispers into Dean’s ear, as much as a five-year-old can whisper. “She didn’t get her picture done and now she thinks the art teacher is mad at her. Back in Black, Daddy.”

Dean nods and glances at Sam and Sophie as they get settled into the van. Dean scrolls through his phone and finds the song, while I glance at Sam to see if speaking to Sophie is wise.

Sam straps her in as the familiar opening comes to life through the van’s well used speakers.

“This one goes out to Little Miss. Sophia Winchester, top of your lungs sweetheart!” Dean points at her until her sad little face cracks a smile and she sings along with Brian Johnson, getting half of the words wrong. Dean bobs his head, checks that Sam made it into the way back and pulls off the curb into the barely crawling line of SUVs and minivans.

We all join in on the chorus. And everyone is still singing along with the playlist as we pull back up to the house. We unbuckle the pups and collect their forgotten backpacks, letting them run around and relax before it’s time for dinner. One of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere, plenty of places to play. 

I watch their little heads as they chase each other in the slanting sunshine of an autumn afternoon. Three whole pieces of my tattered heart roaming free, capable of bringing so much joy and so much ache. And then there’s the two reasons they’re here in the first place, my Alphas. The reasons my heart is so tattered to begin with, not just from all the pain we went through to get here, but because they loved me so fiercely the whole time. 

And well-loved is something I’m grateful to be.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging: @idreamofdeanie​​​​ @stoneyggirl2​ @delightfullykrispypeach​​​​    @dolphincliffs​​​​ @flamencodiva​​​​ @crashdevlin​​​​ @dontshootmespence​​​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​​​  @rockhoochie​​​​ @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​​ @ericaprice2008  @wingedcatninja​​​ @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional​​​ @smi727​ @princessmisery666​​ @impalaslytherin​​​

[theredhavendelegate]

Iss. 12:

Breaking News!

(Skip to the end for update)

---

The office door slams open. “Millie! Dunc!” a gruff, mustachioed man shouts as he enters.

A young woman with short, brown hair glances up at him from her desk. Another man is seated to her left. He has an unshaven face and eye bags, and he bolts upright at the intrusion, sending an empty mug to the floor.

The moustache turns around and slams the door. He locks it. “I am being followed!”

Millie frowns, leans back in her chair, and opens her journal to a fresh page. “By-who and what-for? Don’t spare any details.”

“Put that thing away, Mills. This is serious.” The man walks past her desk and scoops up the fallen mug. He drops it on a table nearby and fills it with coffee from a room temperature kettle, then explains, “I’m Harvey Donaghue, the one and only! I’m the man who runs the papers—”

Duncan interrupts, “Except for The Broad Street Negotiator, The True-Blue Tribune, The Ne—”

“Hacks and tabloids!” Harvey shouts. He takes a sip from the mug he stole and immediately spits it into a sink near the coffee station, its stainless steel basin stained brown. “This isn’t the Candamoran blend, what is this crap?”

Millie rolls her eyes. “That is the Candamoran blend, it’s just been left overnight. Nobody drinks that ‘crap’ except for you and Lord Redhaven anyway.”

Harvey empties his mug into the sink. “Good coffee is the mark of a good leader.” He sets about preparing a fresh kettle. “Now, where was I?”

Duncan, half yawning, answers, “You were, uh, being…followed?”

Harvey snaps his fingers victoriously. “I was being followed! Right, a half-dozen mystery men, all clad in white chemical suits like the specters of a life not lived!”

Millie scribbles everything he says into her notebook, grimacing at the prose.

Harvey continues, suddenly grave, “They’re from the government, the lord’s estate I’m sure. The truth is too much for them to handle. I’m confident this time, they’re coming to shut down the presses, to silence the voice of The People.”

Duncan rubs the sleep out of his eyes and stands up. “They’re probably just fumigators. Miss Flannigan had an infestation of…something the other week.”

“And how. I could hear mice in the wall we share with her,” Millie remarks, scrawling in the margins of the page as the conversation develops.

“Quiet!” Harvey hisses.

The air is filled with the dull bubbling of the kettle, the hiss of escaping steam, and something scrabbling in the wall. There is a metallic click-clack coming from the door. Someone is fidgeting with the handle on the other side.

Millie squints toward it, Harvey kneels behind the coffee station, and Duncan glances around. “Should I get it?” He whispers.

The rattling stops.

The steam hisses louder.

The door explodes off of its hinges and 'half a half-dozen mystery men, all clad in white chemical suits like the specters of a life not lived', come barreling in.

---

Hiya, it’s me, Emmett. You know, the guy who runs this blog? I hate to break character, but this one’s important: The Redhaven Delegate is going on indefinite hiatus. I’m going back to school, and my other projects (mostly Ghost Bricks) are eating up a bigger percentage of my time and energy than I’d hoped.

When will it be back? No idea. You’ll just have to wait and see.

Until then, dear reader, take care of yourself and watch your back. You never know what’s lurking out there in the void.

---

First

Prev

[masschase]

7 and 50 in the basics ship ask meme for Matt and Casey :)

Ship ask meme: the basics

7. How often do they say “I love you”? When I write them it seems like it's all the fucking time. I think once they're out of the really early lovey-dovey stage they probably say it a couple of times a day, especially if they have been a little rough on each other workwise like... you have to remember Casey finds it really important that Matt continues to challenge her as his lieutenant so sometimes a quick "I love you" is needed once they've come to an agreement just to remind each other this is purely professional.

I think they almost always say it before they go to sleep, often right after sex when they're still kind of... entwined shall we say. But if they don't say it then he will initiate it afterwards as he knows she passes out quickly and he wants it to be the last thing she hears. She mumbles it back and then falls asleep with the light still on almost every time.

50. Would they ever break up? If so, why? Who would handle the breakup better? God I hope not! Because I write them I can't think of a circumstance in which I would write that they would unless it was an au! I feel like I imply they will die together whether that's in their 20s/30s or their 90s, and if it came down to it I think I would pick ending their story with that rather than a breakup, which I know is dramatic as hell but um... hi!

I just don't see the sticking point, I don't see why they would end things if following the path I've already anticipated for them. Their biggest instability at first is more or less just Casey's commitmentphobia and I hope I make it clear that that extends to the general idea of commitment and that her excuses for not getting into a relationship are about as flimsy as a paper bag. She will be the first to spout "If I fall in love it will be forever" and "only the deepest love will induce me to matrimony" so actually falling in love is such a huge deal that she's unlikely to give up on that.

Only thing I can think of is the pressure of life circumstances and if they started taking that out on each other. They do both tire of having to fight and run all the time at one point, but I think I've already summarised Matt's solution to that which should allow them to hide from the worst threats indefinitely.

As in real life having children would represent probably the biggest challenge, especially the jump from 1 to 3, and yes, in the nicest possible way I'm a believer that children are more likely to cause cracks in a relationship than bring people together, but that's not to say those cracks are irrepairable it just takes work. But I honestly think this would be easier on them than on an irl couple. I've said this before but "it takes a village" as they say, and they have one. I don't know if I've mentioned but Victory is the first human child born on Ragnarok which just clarifies the sheer amount of support they would have around them.

So in terms of their relationship ending I see it as more likely where one of them dies or Cass get's trapped in another Boss's universe when multiverse jumping but I feel like the former is a different ask and the latter is just a hypothetical potential situation which I've been given cause to wonder about at times.

I think how they would cope would really depend what stage they were in because honestly at the beginning he's always kind of thinking she still might leave him and his confidence in her grows over time and he'd be crushed to finally start believing then have it end. Whereas this is her first serious loving relationship so to lose him in the beginning would just close her off again but even worse this time, but going through the journey of a relationship to have it end for a good reason would be devastating to her.

I think it would cause a lot of problems work wise, I think their loving bond personally actually gives them the strength to again, challenge each other when working together. I think they would really need some distance before rebuilding their friendship and work would make that hard. I think they could be friends, and if they did have children by that point they would definitely make sure they were civil to each other, but I'm not sure they could be super close friends again. It would lead to them blowing up or getting back together depending on the reasons for the breakup.

I think Casey would lash out more verbally whereas Matt would just silently fume in response. I mean, she really holds a grudge.  I think she would therefore be the one who takes longer to get over it. She'd be able to move on sexually but struggle romantically; parallelling Johnny after Aisha's death. But maybe, eventually she could consider thar hey, at least he didn't die, and look at considering another romantic relationship.

Matt would be devastated about it of course and would heavily berate himself no matter whose fault it was, but I think eventually he would move on before Casey would even if it took some time to have the oppurtunity. He's more of a romantic but he's far experienced with love and loss and emotions.

I like to think I'm at least fairly pragmatic about them, I like to think what they have took a long time to build and that they earned their happy ending, which I'm drawn to over more idealistic ideas of love. So I think it's interesting to at least think about this stuff would happen but yeah, main universe, they don't, they won't.

They die together.

[wirewitchviolet]

You ever accidentally start gang-stalking someone?

I can't recall if I've ever told this story before, but it's relevant today so I'm telling it again. While I'm less loud about it lately than I have been in the past, standing up for and supporting targets of gang-stalking has kinda been my Entire Thing for over a decade. If you've got some huge pile of horrifying ghouls doing everything they can to completely isolate you from any sort of basic compassion or support, and I find out about it, I have a tendency to dig on into the whole mess, find out what ridiculous justification the mob of the day is using to rationalize making life a living hell for the target of the day and anyone who dares defend them, expose what absurd BS it is to as wide an audience as I can, and generally do what I can to support that target, more or less indefinitely. This is something people generally know about me, and a good number of people I know (largely people I get to know FROM this thing I do) have a similar outlook, which is nice.

And I also end up going to bat now and then for some people who themselves turn out to be quite awful. Because it's certainly not like being a victim of horrific hateful pile-ons makes someone magically a good pure innocent person or anything. A lot of those people are awful to begin with, and I swear a lot of people get this weird thing going on where they convince themselves that shouting at full on nazis sometimes gives them some sort of absolute moral authority and anything else that bothers them is equally worthy of condemnation and scorched earth tactics, and... look I could write a HUGE post if i wanted to get into all the people I have gone to the mat for who went on to become really high profile horrible people. I don't particularly want to though, because I'm still pretty committed to the principle that nobody deserves to deal with gang-stalking, and I'm sure as hell not going to find myself regretting say... comforting someone who had creeps photoshopping a nazi flag into photos of her dead sister even if she did later become real dangerous and put my life in danger.

What I wanted to get into today isn't anywhere near that extreme though. Once upon a time, there was someone I considered a friend, who for the same of not wishing ill on her, let's just call Amy, because I don't think I actually know anybody by that name this all might reflect on. When we met, Amy was really going through some hardcore awful gang-stalking stuff, lead by the usual mix of out and proud Nazis and faux-intellectual transphobes and such, so I was supporting the hell out of her. And aside from the main crisis she was dealing with, she had a lot of bones to pick over various things in media, where I'd also generally try to support her with that, even when it put me in super awkward positions where I'd end up playing diplomat between her and other friends and/or employers of mine. Then one day, I got a message from her, absolutely freaking the hell out, because she noticed that in the dozen or so supportive replies to some thing or other I'd posted on Twitter, there was some positive comment from a person she Did Not Like.

Let's call this person Benjanun, because that's her name and it's a pretty unique one, and also I'm specifically writing about her here. So... Benjanun wasn't someone I followed, nor someone who followed me, and this was back when I was pushing like 10,000 followers or so, so if Amy hadn't said anything, I probably would have continued to have no idea who she was, and Amy's fears that I might start talking to her would never come to pass. But she did in fact give me a VERY stern warning that this Benjanun person was bad news and I should immediately block her. That's... less odd if you're me, the person who just kinda voluntarily gets embroiled with all the people getting gang-stalked than it would be for most people, but still pretty damn odd. Still, I take these sorts of things seriously, so when she then forwarded along the document I diligently gave it a read through.

Now, if you've ever been the victim of this sort of gang stalking, or know someone who has, you probably have some idea what I mean when I say "the document." Hell, if you follow me, odds are pretty good you remember the start of the whole Gamergate thing enough to recall "the Zoe post." That's a textbook example of what I mean by "the document" and there is ALWAYS some variation on that when someone's dealing with gang stalking. Back in the day it'd usually be some like 200,000 word blog post or whatever, these days it's more likely to be a dedicated forum post on some gang-stalking specific wiki. This story I'm telling was something like 10 years ago, so we were still in blog mode.

So here I am, at the behest of a then-friend who we can charitably say has some serious boundary issues, reading this novel-length blog post attempting to explain how this one random woman with whom the entirety of my interaction to date was someone reposted a twitter thread of mine and her responding to it with something like "yes, exactly" or maybe it was "sorry you're dealing with that." And again, I'm me, so this is not at all my first encounter with this sort of thing. It's the standard boilerplate nonsense, mostly super-dedicated to demonstrating how thoroughly the author has researched the subject in the hope that that makes the author come off like a serious unbiased objective journalist. Apparently that actually does work on quite a lot of people. I'm assuming reading this was what radicalized Amy, and all of the many other people in the years since who I have also seen freak out and post this thing when they see any mention of Benjanun in any context. To me though, this sort of thing just tells me the author is a dangerous stalker who has spent literally years obsessing over the subject, trying to find every single account she ever had on a forum, old Geocities pages, IRC channel logs from the 90s, what the kid sitting behind her in 5th grade had to say about her, anything and everything that could be painted in a sinister light. And for real, if this is the only takeaway you get from this, please internalize that when you see some variation of the document it is very safe to assume the subject is the victim and the author is the stalker desperately seeing rationalization and co-conspirators.

Still, I'm me. I know Amy has been through some stuff, dealing with some very bad people, and sometimes stuff gets weird, so I still read the whole thing in good faith, and picking through those thousands and thousands of words, there was only one actual claim of this Benjanun here doing anything objectionable, the rest was just... proving they knew (or perhaps just highly suspected) every handle she'd ever used on an internet forum. And the horrible crime that rationalized all the stalking was this:

Back when she was a teenager (which I think was like 5 or 10 years ago as of when I was first asked to read the document so closer to 20 now, I think?) Benjanun had read a book by some sci-fi author... I guess if we're continuing through the alphabet we can call her Cathy, because literally the only time I ever encountered her name was in the document and I completely forgot what it was. Part of Cathy's book was set in Thailand, where Benjanun is from, and she found its depiction to be pretty freaking racist. So in hot-headed teenage fashion, she apparently ranted and raved about this all over the internet for a few months or so.

That's it.

WOW. I mean... there is NOTHING that rationalizes gang-stalking someone for multiple decades, but that is... literally nothing. I mean, back in the 90s I used to review video games. I remember I'd have a minor complaint about a game I otherwise enjoyed and both my personal e-mail and the webmaster account for the whole site (remember when we had those? I was the one who actually read that one for this site) would get like... hundreds of letters about it. Death threats, demands I be fired, standard stuff. They'd go to the forums on other sites would try and start weird campaigns to boycott the one I worked for. Closest I ever came to reacting to any of that besides a quick laugh at how worked up people could get was when I got one of the more violent ones from a former co-worker, who I knew for a fact actually did know exactly where I lived, and even then my thought was "damn, he's worked up, wonder if he's doing OK?"

Now to clarify, even by word of the document here, which has to be the most negative possible framing on this, Benjanun wasn't sending threats to Cathy. The whole objection really was that she was besmirching the reputation of the great and wonderful Cathy by daring to imply she was capable of writing an ignorant racist take on a country she'd never been to. I'm just gonna go ahead and assume it was, in fact, accurate criticism, because I have... kinda never in my life seen any sci-fi author write about a foreign country and not have some racist assumptions creep in, nor have I ever seen fans of such authors not get real weird about it? Pretty standard stuff.

It's not like this was the start of any weird lasting grudge either. I don't know if Cathy herself was ever even aware that this was a thing and participating at all or if it's just weird fans being weird. I can say with confidence that Benjanun let the whole matter drop back when she was a teenager because after learning about this and seeing it was clearly a gang-stalking situation (and also having Amy IMMEDIATELY cut me out of her life because I didn't ban her on the spot as was requested), I went on to get to know Benjanun, and the closest she has ever come to bringing up ANY of this is that when she's particularly under attack and quite confused, she explains people have had it out for her since some time as a teen when she'd gotten upset about something in a book, nothing more specific than that, usually apologizing for having been a bit hot-headed back then. All my info on the inciting incident comes from the stalkers here.

And like, it'd be pretty concerning if Cathy WAS personally still invested in what some random teenager said about a book of hers decades ago. It's way more concerning for random third parties to care at all all this time later. And I WOULD say I don't even have words to describe people making an actual movement out of it recruiting and policing bystanders, but... clearly I do because you're reading them.

And like, I can KINDA see how an otherwise reasonable person can get roped into this sort of thing, maybe? You have a friend, otherwise reasonable and kind as far as you know, who has had their brain cooked by one of these hate groups and is a true believer. They go around all fire and brimstone about how evil the target is, and rightly get told by people who actually know the target to screw off and stop being a bloody-minded stalker. So you think wow, this person really must be some kind of evil mastermind to brainwash all these people into becoming such staunch defenders, everyone knows my friend is cool, and you start crusading too. It's the same deal as cults encouraging proselytization knowing full well that people hate it and are going to be rude as hell to the people they're sending door to door.

So my point here is again, hey, gang-stalking- never OK! Don't do it! If anyone ever points you at some variation of the document understand that that is physical evidence that a whole lot of people are trying to ruin someone's life as a weird personal obsession, and while they aren't guaranteed to be cool, you sure as hell shouldn't trust anything from that document or the person showing it to you claiming otherwise.

Also, I'm not just going over all this again for the hell of it, I'm doing it because there is presently a big ol' fresh surge of these stalkers Benjanun has had for all this time flaring up, attacking her, attacking anyone she's talking to, and I am personally compelled to support people dealing with that. As something of an expert in these things, I have noticed a very clear pattern that the people most susceptible to this sort of treatment all tend to be trans, obviously. But the next runner up by a huge margin is cis people who REALLY habitually go to bad for trans people. Bit of guilt by association there. Lot of weird divde and conquer stuff too where people seem to really try to actively recruit trans people into attacking the few actually good allies to try and get them to quit it with the support, too.

And yeah, Benjanun here is easily in the #1 spot for cis women who genuinely support trans people I'm aware of. That thing I'm always saying about how the real thing to do is just find random trans people and give them money? She's constantly doing that, running fundraisers, helping authors get stuff published, promoting the hell out of people's work, etc. She also personally writes genuinely shockingly good books herself I'd sincerely recommend, and I assume the ones she co-authors are also quite good but I still need to get to those. And past that, she's generally a pretty chill gal (I mean less so at the moment I write this obviously, as she's actively stressed out from stalkers) with interesting if a bit spicy takes on the representation of queer women in media, often covering stuff that otherwise would be completely off my personal radar.

[edelweissacermacrophyllum]

Jesus's witty banter

Deuteronomy 33:1-34:12, Psalm 49:1-20, Luke 20:27-21:4

Jesus doesn't talk about the afterlife that much, but when he does, he describes it as pretty foreign. It's one of the reasons I don't see much point it dwelling on it. We know both that we have not enough information to paint a cohesive picture of it and that what information we do have is either very poetic and metaphorical, incredibly alien to us, or probably about something else entirely.

Many people have spent their entire lives thinking about their next one. Sunday school or youth group often brought out an incredibly long string with a little inch of red at one end. The idea was that your life on this earth was that little inch of red and the rest of the 50 meter string was just a tiny piece of eternity. I think the moral was to not steal or sleep around during the little red inch because that would land you in hell for the rest.

Eternity terrified me as a kid. I didn't think I wanted to live forever, not in hell and neither in heaven. The idea that there could be something without an end just horrified me. Now it doesn't any more because I have seen communities which I would like to see continue. I have seen work that I think would be valuable indefinitely. Like making art. Hopefully we transition past the need for doctors and lawyers.

Jesus's witty banter is probably loaded with cultural significance that I don't really get, but just in the way that it's framed in this passage, you can tell that he's saying things of great significance to the people around him. Maybe it was a passtime in those days for smart people to get together and try to stump eachother with philosophical or theological questions.

So Jesus answers their questions and challenges their philosophy on the afterlife and then goes for straight ad hominems, saying that they devour widows houses and love the praise of people. He then says that they're going to hell.

Right after this, we're told that Jesus and the disciples observe a widow putting coins in the temple treasury. When I was told this story in Sunday school it was as an example of how good this widow was for putting in what she couldn't afford. But reading it now I don't see a moral judgment being super explicit here. With so many churches scamming the poor and vulnerable these days along with the indictment Jesus just spoke over the religious elite we can probably say he would not ask the widow to make that donation. People like this widow were the ones that God's people were told to give money to, not accept money from.

If a community is healthy, we should be dependent on it. If it is predatory, not so much.

[yandere-sins]

[Yandere] How the Liyue men mark you as ‘theirs’ (+ Childe & Kazuha)

The last post blew up so I thought I’d do a continuation! Enjoy ^^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««    

Xiao

Xiao becomes your shadow.

If he didn’t hate the idea of being in public so much, he’d be more open about his presence, but this much should be enough, right? You gain a reputation that you seem more exhausted lately, giving off very strange energies, but you can’t really wrap your head around it either. More often, you find yourself in bad luck, which only adds to your exhaustion, and when you are out all day long, you attract more than your fair share of misfortunes. Sometimes you almost get hit by a falling flowerpot; other times, the item you need desperately is all sold out everywhere. Nonetheless, you never get hurt, and once you go to sleep, your problems get solved overnight, much to your surprise. It’s a very strange time for you, but it finds its peak when some treasure hoarders seem to have it bad for you, a figure you have never seen before appearing out of thin air and ‘taking care’ of this issue as well. Much, much more bloody than you can stomach, unfortunately. Still, who are you to make a sound as the figure approaches you, hesitates before picking you up, and brings you back to your home? Xiao knows he shouldn’t be there with you; shouldn’t meddle into your affairs and taint you with his karma. But what can a man in love do? He wishes he could do more to let everything and anyone know not to lay one finger on his darling, but being your shadow is quite enough for the longest time.

Zhongli

Zhongli (unsurprisingly) makes a special contract with you.

It’s what he is best at, and he just so happens to help you out with it too. Zhongli has yet to grasp all of the human’s desires, but whatever you might fancy, there certainly is one way or another to grace you with it. Perhaps you are in an emergency situation, or maybe you just really want to be on top of your skill. But if you make your want to Zhongli’s mission, you are sure to go out of it successful. He really likes the time he spent by your side, studied your thoughts and actions. And when the contract finally ends, you will go out of it with positive feelings as well. That’s when suddenly Zhongli puts new ideas into your head, just so he can be with you a little bit longer. There is still so much you can archive with his help, and you know he will keep to his duty of fulfilling what you ask. But it has its price. And when the second contract doesn’t rob you of your savings, perhaps the third one will. Zhongli has so much patience and knowledge, yet he never gets annoyed with you - not when you are such a precious darling. You believe him when he tells you, “You need me.” Because why would you not? Zhongli never fails you. “One more,” he offers after you can’t pay the last contract. One more contract to pay off all the contracts, a truely merciful offer. You trust him. He’s been with you from the very beginning, he knows everything about your plans and was always determined to get you through everything. He never fails you. “One more,” you confirm, signing the last contract with him. The punishment is too cruel, this time, your endeavors have to pay off! Your money, home, everyone around you is already gone, and if it doesn’t work out, you won’t have anything to buy yourself out of this one. But you fail yet again. You couldn’t have fulfilled the requirements because Zhongli made sure through meticulously taking everything from you and finding grey zones to sabotage your efforts that there was no way you could fulfill this contract. He’s the one who knew best after all, right? So now, you have to face what you signed, see what the consequences are. And he? He gets to enjoy you indefinitely. Zhongli lets you read your contract as much as you want while you sit on his lap, have his hands explore you, and smiles as you despair over signing away your very being to him.

Tartaglia

Childe uses his influence on other people.

His reputation is already as bad as it can be, seeing he is not only a Fatui Harbinger but also an odd fellow out on the streets. That other people don’t really like him has never bothered him much, but it sure helps a fair bit when it comes to you, his little darling. Whatever he has to do to keep you by his side, he doesn’t back off until he gets what he thinks is in your best interest, may it be: paying horrendous sums of Mora to bring you on a nice date, intimidating businesses into doing what you want or they will get other problems than just a lost sale, or giving other suitors that get too close to you for his taste a good beating. Sure, people warn you about him, but at the same time, it’s in his hands if your life gets a bit easier or much, much harder. He’s already holding back so much to not lash out at you when you feel you can’t tolerant his presence anymore - after everything he’s done, nonetheless! - but you don’t know what kind of powers you are dealing with. No one refuses Childe in a world that only he owns, but if you want to fret a bit first, so be it. What if everyone suddenly turns on you? When no business will take your services or sell you their wares? What if everyone whispers behind your back and the Millilith receive clues about illegal things you might be doing in the safety of your home? Do you really think anyone would willingly want to be seen with you anymore? But no worries, the moment you come back to him, Childe will fix all of this for you. Even if the two options to choose from are like choosing between the devil and the deep blue sea, it will still show everyone where you belong to, and even better: Show you who you belong to.

Kazuha

Kazuha monopolizes you. 

Both literally and figuratively, you will be in his grip. It takes a while until one of your friends asks if there is any other topic than your new boyfriend that you could talk about. Don’t you do anything besides being by his side and listening to him these days? You didn’t even notice that the only thing on your mind lately is Kazuha, so much so, it does seem to be at a worrying degree. At first, you don’t really see the problem in it. You just found someone you like, and there are probably rose-colored glasses over your perception of him. But when he tells you that you are all he has, and he is so glad that you are in his life and giving it back some worth, it makes you feel special. In front of you, he’d let loose, let go of his composure and speak openly with you. No one else can do that for him but you. You are the only one he can do that with, and when he smiles softly at you, telling you he loves you, it’s almost too good to be true. It wasn’t your intention to fight with your friend that day, but just because they don’t know him like you do, doesn’t mean they can just be mean and say they are getting red flags from how he makes you only be with him instead of how you lived in the past! At least Kazuha understands when you come back upset and miffed, holds you in his arms, and tells you that he’ll always be there for you, just like you are for him. It’s such a bittersweet thing to lose a friend, but even if you lose all of them, Kazuha will still be the one that always greets you back with a warm embrace and confessions of love. He really is the only one you can always rely on, even if that means he is the only one you have left around you. That just means he will get even more of your attention, instead of you dividing it on so many others and your hobbies. Instead, it’s all Kazuha, just like he wants.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Seeking Audience

https://www.patreon.com/empyreaniris?fan_landing=true

https://starr-fall-knight-rise.tumblr.com/post/182501791735/master-post

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1jzEIdDAB4omdO2JcQVMObfrhLJ5kX4ONmSsLypM1ks0/edit?usp=sharing

A shadow passed slowly over the ship’s cockpit, a great monolithic structure of ice and dust towering into the great blackness of space. Light shattered, refracted and then was redirected in a gentle pattern of crystalline spots to dapple the front of their shuttle with glowing pinpoints of light. Passing out f the shadow, a shaft of blazing blue light butted up against the windscreen forcing Adam to manually dim the visor as they flew forward.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Adam wondered, “The last time we tried this….”

“The last time we tried this was almost a decade ago.” Conn said, long, thin hand gripping the back of Adam’s seat. Adam could see the leering face of the Starborn reflected back at him on the glass of the windscreen as he said, “Besides, I’ve met your extended family, it's only fair you should have to meet the inlaws.”

Adam huffed, “I’m not married to you Conn.”

“In certain cultures we are.”

“What cultures are those?”

“I don’t know, the cultures where having children together makes you married.” Adam sighed, rolling his eyes aggressively into the back of his head.

Beside him Sunny looked on in amusement. Adam wasn’t sure why she tolerated Conn, but for some reason, she seemed to find his antics amusing, “Conn, do you really think this is the best time to be annoying my battle partner?” She said, but he could hear the wry tone to her voice which would be more an invitation to the starborn than not 

“You mean OUR battle partner.”

Adam snorted, and tried not to imagine what it would be like to be in a thrupple with Conn as the third.

“Well you know, since you seem to be the communal husband.” Ramirez piped in, “WHy don’t we make this threesome a foursome and get it over with.”  Adam rolled his eyes again. Of course if there was flirting to be had Ramirez always had to join in.

Behind him, the marin’s voice was lighter than it had been in days, but having been best friends with the marine for over a decade now, he knew when something wasn’t right.

He still hadn’t gotten over losing Maverick.

None of them had 

“All very well and good of you to invite yourselves into my marriage.” Adam began, “But I’m actually attracted to only one person in this shuttle.”

“Me of course.” Both Conn and Ramirez said

Sunny was the only one who didn’t speak up, waiting for them to finish before leaning back in her seat, “Some of us don't feel the need to prove our place.”

Adam brought them around another monolith of ice and crystal, bathing their little shuttle in a diffused and dappled pool of intense blue light.

“It’s actually rather flattering to have the three of you fighting over me, but I mean, who could blame you. I am.” He motioned to himself with one hand, “pretty awesome.” 

“Interesting, I find you both  stomach churning and repulsive.” Adam turned to frown at Celex, who st in the seat behind Sunny smirking mildly past his technicolor beard.

“You just don’t have good taste.” Adam said

“Mmmmm, no, no I don’t think so. Your wife, on the other hand, could certainly do better.” Celex winked at Sunny from the back seat and she snorted loudly.

“Because all I really want is a technicolor war criminal.” she said dryly

“Taste the rainbow.” Celex shot back causing Ramirez to choke on his own spi 

The banter probably would have continued indefinitely were it not for the sudden fluttering at the edge of Adam’s conscious mind. As one, three of them turned their heads simultaneously, listening intently to the noise that was not a noise.

Ramirez sighed, “Let me guess, psychic waves or something.”

“Shhh.” Conn said

Adam slowed the ship looking around at the dense cluster of ice structures that surrounded them, and the distant blue star hunkered within their midst. For a moment he thought he had imagined the sensation, but the fluttering came again, brushing up against the very edge of his unconsciousness, like the tip of  a butterfly’s wing.

He tried to reach out, tentatively make contact with the sensation, but as soon as he tired, it rapidly withdrew. 

“Dammit.” He muttered.

He tried to extend himself a little further, to follow the sensation, but it did its best to keep just out of reach. It wasn’t until he was almost fully extended, his mind open and stretched to its limits did he hear.

“Mmmmm that’s not good.”

It was only then did he realize, the gentle pressure being applied to his mind from all sides. He hadn’t noticed it at first, having pressed into it himself by chasing the fluttering, but now he became acutely aware of their situation. Suddenly the vast wall beyond where his mind ended and nothingness began, coalesced into something that was far greater than nothingness.

He could feel them, the pressing weight of a thousand minds clustering in upon themselves, silent and waiting.

Ad he had opened himself up to them.

He did the equivalent of mentally freezing, drawing back slightly as they pressed in. outside the shuttle had come to a halt, drifting aimlessly in the space between the crystal and ice monoliths.

They were surrounded.

Despite being alone physically inside the shuttle, they were not alone mentally.

Only Ramirez remained obvious as to their precarious condition.

The starborn pressed further into their minds, preverbially pressing Sunny, Adam Conn and Celex up against each other, back to back to back to back their minds melding together in an uneasy sort of soup, oil, with water, with syrup with mercury, all pressing together but doing their best trying not to intermingle. The sensation was strange, all four of their minds distinct and separate alien entities. Even Sunny’s mind, who he knew and understood so well, was a vast alien network unfamiliar to his own human perception, Conn and Celex even more strange in comparison.

“What now.?” He wondered, the question echoing through both the shuttle and past his lips.

“Only one thing to be done.” Conn said.

The starborn stopped retreating then, holding his ground against the menacing press of minds around him. The starborn were making their position very clear. WIth their numbers they could crush the minds of interlopers without having to lift a physical finger.

There would be no remorse.

But still Conn stood against the tide of their minds extending himself outwards to flow like water  through his distant brethren. 

He did not communicate in words, instead choosing to speak in the way of his people: a mental  melding of tho impressions and memories and feelings. It was the most honest form of communication possible, incapable of holding lies or secrets.  Adam could sense Conn’s open discomfort with his own native tongue. After years of secrecy within his own mind, the master of his own secrets, he had become accustomed to being a merchant of information, buying and selling it only at a price.

After so many years, the starborn even thought in words.

This strangeness was not lost on the starborn.

Though this mode of communication was unfamiliar and alien to Adam, it was also the purest form of communication, and while he felt like he shouldn’t have been able to understand it, it was, in essence the most open, clear, concise and honest conversation he had ever heard or been a part of: the pure exchange of information.

It didn’t take long for Conn to explain himself, no more than a few seconds as the starborn absorbed his story all at once, like  a sponge, sifting through his thoughts and memories in one large collective of thought.

In a way they were like a hive mind, each individual acting as a cell to process a single packet of information and sharing that process between each other in the same instant.

It was impressive, but also terrifying.

The communication they took from Conn was honest, and the communications they gave back was honest in return. They did not trust outsiders, but Conn didn’t have thea ability to lie, none of them did, so they knew that Conn and his entourage meant them no harm.

“We wish to speak with your queen.” Conn said, or at least that was the gist of what he said. Adam couldn’t comprehend the conversation fully without putting it into words inside his own mind 

The starborn were unsure.

“Look into our minds.” Conn said, “You know we mean you no harm, and we harbor no ill feelings towards you if you refuse our offer, buy your people have been plagued by the corrupted ones, continually for the past few years. We can see it in your minds, in our memories. Your numbers are dwindling, and it is becoming unsafe to return to the old migration grounds.”

All of that was true enough, Adam could sense it in their thoughts, the welling of fear and unease, along with a memory, the sensation of pure evil.

He shivered.

“We want to help.” Conn said

Their deliberation was rapid, sharing their honest opinions in a matter of milliseconds.

Ramirez for his part remained oblivious, looking between them with a frown on his face, “I sense by your vacant expressions that we have made contact.”

The deliberation, Adam sensed, was a hard won thing. The starborn were not a trustworthy group and didn't enjoy the thoughts of outsiders, especially not ones who were capable of concealing thoughts from each other. To them, the idea was abhorrent, almost a form of heretical, but their hatred for the void was greater than their fear of secrets.

Come.

The urge was more of a sensation rather than a thought, but it was completely understandable as Adam adjusted the engines. Up ahead of them, a lone starborn appeared, ribbons billowing in a slow undulation. He had the same white skin as Conn, the same large, Dark eyes. Adam might have confused the two for each other were it not for their mental connection. Though this starborn was significantly shorter than Conn, with stumpier fingers and shorter legs . 

He waved them forward with a thought, and Adam followed as directed, following the starborn as it maneuvered them through the maze of crystal and ice.

They felt her before they saw her. 

The press of the starborn collective was still a constant sensation at the edge of their thoughts, but as soon as they came within range of her, the sensation changed. Where the starborn were water, she was a stone, breaking the flow of collective thoughts to think as her own individual self, ancient, and slow in her thinking. Adam got the distinct impression of something incomprehensibly large.

The closer they got the more it filled his mind, a massive presence that towered over him. 

They passed out of the ice field, sweeping low over a large dome of white stone…. Or was that ice?

He had to blink a few times to reconcile what he was seeing before he realized.

That wasn’t a dome of ice at all.

But the crown of the Sarborn Queen’s Skull, dwarfing them by a thousand times, one the same scale as the starborn.

With a single thought she shook Adam’s soul within its very foundation.

“Why have you come.” 

[4joonkookie]

Crush

❈ Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (x Yoongi)

❈ Words: 6.6K

❈ Summary: (Smutty) Boyfriend!Jungkook can sense you and Yoongi are horny for each other and let's you indulge.

(Angsty) After being quarantined together in domestic bliss for a few months, Jungkook asks you to stay for good.

(Smutty & Angsty) Jungkook asks you to move in permanently. You and Yoongi almost set the house on fire when Jungkook makes an offer you can't refuse.

❈ Warnings/Tags: Plot, There's Plot., Smut, Established Relationship, Angst, Morning Sex, Dirty Talk, Loud Sex, Thin Walls, Blurred Lines, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Unprotected Sex, Sexual Tension, Flirting, Face Sitting, Cumplay, Cum Spitting, Hair Pulling, Cum Eating, Doggy Style, Brief Ass-Licking, Arguing, Crying, Commitment Issues, Threesome, Female Character with Fuckboi Tendancies, JK has a lot of money, Quarantine, Writing is Hard, Cuckhold, Spitroast.

❈ Notes: -Can be read as Part 3 of the Mirror, Mirror Series or standalone:) -Takes place Summer 2020-ish.

You can feel his eyes on you before you even open yours.

Jungkook smiles next to you on the bed, head propped on his bent elbow. “I like this,” he says.

“Like what?” You yawn and stretch and coax yourself into staying awake.

“Everyday, when I wake up, you’re right here.” He brushes bed-head hair away from your face. “We should keep it like this.”

Rolling over on top of him, “You think so?”

“I know so,” he says, as you lean down to kiss him, morning breath and all. There was a time when neither of you would have ever allowed your mouths near each other before brushing.

It seems like some alternate universe now even though it was just 3 months ago. Drowning in work, living in hotel rooms and hoping you could sneak away for a weekend with your long-distance boyfriend, if your schedules would allow it.

Then the world came to a screeching halt. Your job had been cancelled indefinitely, you’ve hardly worn anything but hoodies and sweatpants for months and you’ve gone from a long-distance girlfriend to a live-in domestic partner.

You’d never thought you and Jungkook would end up this way. You integrated together effortlessly, as if it has always been this way. Any worries you had about meshing with the other members were unfounded too. You’ve never had friends so close. You’ve never had time for hobbies or doing things you actually like.

You never thought you would end up like this.

Straddling his hips, Jungkook rubs his hands on your naked skin. He slides his hardening cock between your unclad folds, still wet and open from the night before.

He continues thinking aloud. “You should stay here.” He pushes up, pressing his shaft on your clit. “We could start everyday like this.” He guides himself easily inside and you groan, still sensitive. “I’m serious. Don’t go back to work.” He slides in and out comfortably. “Stay here.”

“Jungkook, I can’t live here,” you scold, circling your hips a few times. You try to distract him and yourself, not telling him about the conversation with your work yesterday. You could be back as little as a week.

“But you do live here. He stops his motion and holds your hips still. “You just need to unpack your boxes.”

You’ve all but officially moved in yet your belongings remain in boxes. It would be easy to empty the boxes and put things in a permanent place. Also, equally as easy to tape the lids shut and ship them back to your old life.

You ignore his comment and brace your hands on the wall above the headboard, gaining traction to move your hips. He pulls your arms down and holds them to your sides.

“I've already talked to everyone.” Holding down harder, preventing you from moving.

“You did?” His words finally hold you still.

“Of course. They said it was silly I asked because you already live here. Everybody said they would love to keep having you here.”

He pulls you down to whisper: “Especially Yoongi.”

“Shut up.” You playfully slap his chest, embarrassed.

He is not wrong. You and Yoongi had become particularly close since being here. You have a lot of fun together, cooking, playing guitar, there’s a bit of tension there. It never goes beyond playful flirting but it’s been obvious for a while now. Jungkook is secure and is sure to openly poke fun at the both of you about it.

Jungkook laughs, moving his hips again. “You guys crush on each other so hard, it’s cute.” He continues whispering. “You know he can hear you?” He points to the wall above his head.

“No!” You whisper back in disbelief. Yoongi’s room is just on the other side of the wall.

“Yes, he told me. He can hear everything,” he still whispers but thrusts up into you harder, forcing a noise from you.

Jungkook is always one to tease but the way he keeps his voice at a whisper makes you know his words are true.

He continues his harsh thrusts as he whispers. “He’s probably still in bed right now, jerking his morning wood with his ear against the wall.”

“Jungkook, stop!” You continue to reprimand him but can’t prevent a grin at the idea.

“You love it.” He lifts your hips and drops you down hard. You try to stifle the moan it elicits. “You like the idea that he’s there right now with a good grip on himself, palming up and down to the sounds of your noisy moaning.”

“I am not noisy,” you defend yourself quietly.

“You are so noisy!”, he says loudly enough to travel through the walls.

The room finally quiets and Jungkook tries to keep his own breathing steady as your pelvises grind against each other. You close your eyes and let the fantasy swim in your mind. Yoongi, slipping his hand under the waistband of his pants, listening to you.

Jungkook continues to fuel the fantasy as your bodies set a rhythm. “He’s rubbing himself raw, wishing his spit and hand was as wet and slippery as this pretty pussy.”

Jungkook takes your prudish whimpers as a challenge and flips your body so you’re on all fours and places a grip around your hips that promises bruises. He sets a punishing, slapping pace. Probably echoing through the entire house, you bury your face in the pillows.

He pulls you up by your shoulders and holds you still as he pounds into you. “Come on baby, don’t you want him to get off?”

He continues his heavy pace and you surrender as the pressure builds at your core, cock slamming into your g spot, unable to stop the moans from escaping if you tried. Your legs shake when liquid begins to gush and drip down the inside of your thighs with every thrust.

Jungkook growls, happy with evidence of his skill and he comes to the sounds of your bodies slamming together.

You both collapse to the bed and catch your breath. You lay around just a little longer, taking each other in and reveling in your safe little world.

Eventually, you both roll out of bed, throw on clothes and head out into the kitchen.

“I would bet money Yoongi’s out there right now, in front of his laptop with a mug of coffee poured and ready for you.”

You roll your eyes and brush him off although you know he’s probably right. He stops you before you can turn the door handle.

“Hey.” He holds both your hands in his. “Think about it? Really? Before work tries to take you away from me again?”

You nod. “I love you.” There’s nothing truer and your job has done nothing for you other than keep you busy. Still, you try to prepare him and smooth it over.

“You know, if I go, it’ll only be like, half the time. We’ll still have way more time together than we did before, especially if you’re not touring,” you offer, persuading him.

He shakes his head. “No. I want you here. Not sometimes. All the time.” His gaze gets sad. “Unless that’s not what you want.”

You try to reassure him. “You know that’s not true.” He nods but you see the doubt in his eyes. “So is that an ultimatum? Stay here or nothing?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.” He wraps his arms around your waist.

“Then, what are you saying?” Wrapping arms around his neck.

He takes a deep breath in. “I’m saying… I know it’s not what we expected but I love this, it feels right. I don’t want to move backwards.”

“I’m scared, Jungkook.” It’s the only way to describe the doubt that lingers in your mind.

“I don't know why. But being scared is ok. Just please, please think about it. Before you make a decision.”

The words are stuck in your throat.

You can’t because it means it’s real. It’s not just circumstances, casual or reversible. It’s real.

“I love you.” He kisses both of your hands and follows behind you into the kitchen.

Yoongi sits at the kitchen island on his laptop, as Jungkook predicted. He pushes a mug of prepared coffee for without a word, a morning ritual.

Jungkook gives you a knowing look while Yoongi continues work on his computer.

“Thank You.” You take a seat around the island.

Standing next to you, Jungkook mockingly asks Yoongi: “Will you pour me a cup of coffee, hyung?”

Yoongi senses his jest, stands and turns to retrieve a carton of banana milk from the fridge. He pours it into a coffee mug and slides it to Jungkook over the counter. You do your best not to laugh.

Jungkook smirks, checked by his elder. He sips from the mug, his eyes moving from you and back to Yoongi. Yoongi catches his glance. He knows. He feels it. It feels like a million things are being said in silence. Yoongi picks up his own coffee mug to refill it from the pot, a chance to turn his back to Jungkook.

The tension makes you wonder if they’ve ever spoken about the “crush” before. Or, worse, this morning. You know the walls are thin so, sure, he can hear you. But you wonder if Jungkook exaggerated the rest to get you off. Is that why it’s awkward?

“Jungkook, please get the pork belly from the freezer.” Yoongi directs Jungkook with his back still turned, a silent directive to drop it.

‘Is this for the recipe you’re trying today?” Jungkook finally lets up and changes the subject, heading to the freezer.

“Yeah, a little later.” He closes his laptop and stands. “I have a meeting. Are you heading to the studio?”

“Yep. Back soon.” Jungkook kisses you on the cheek and they both head separate ways.

You finish a cup of coffee and lounge around alone for a few hours, the house quiet with everybody doing their own thing in the large house. You read a few chapters from a book recommended by Namjoon and manage to take a short nap.

You imagine this is what it would be like if you stayed here. The empty house is peaceful. At least, for a few hours. It’s no trouble being alone and keeping busy but you know it’ll be more like being in hiding.

Management has always viewed you as a threat and distraction to all the members. There was not much they could do about you staying the last few months. Jungkook has some leverage now and they have to work around his wishes. As the relationship progresses, the way they already minimize and diminish you will get worse. How far can it even go when it has to be a secret? Staying here means a life of full gag order and anonymity.

You attempt to distract yourself from generating a long list of reasons to decline Jungkook’s proposal by strumming a few chords on the guitar.

When Yoongi re-emerges to the common area, you acknowledge him but continue playing.

“You’re getting pretty good at that thing.” He sits next to you on the couch.

“Thanks.” You lay the guitar beside you as this better distraction presents itself.

“May I?” He holds his hands out to receive the guitar.

You pass it over and you watch and listen as he strums much more pleasantly and skillfully. Bare-faced, messy hair and wearing clothes just to lounge around in but he looks good.

“So.” He starts as he strums between chords. “Are you unpacking your boxes or will you live out of them forever?” He asks as casually as possible.

“How do you know?” You question, nearly holding your breath.

“Walls are pretty thin,” he says, even and casual, still strumming softly.

You try to contain the redness coming over your chest and face, all of the things he may have heard this morning, circling in your mind.

You shamefully try to come up with something quick. “I’m still figuring out the details with work.” You nod unconvincingly.

“Yeah?” He says, surprised. “Jungkook is really excited about it.”

“I mean, management will throw a fit but-“ he shrugs his shoulders. We’ll back you up. They have to get through all seven of us before they can get to you. ”

You feel a pang of guilt hit your gut.

He changes the subject, sensing he’s hit a nerve. “Anyway...”

You blurt the first thing to come to mind. “So, you can hear through the walls?”

“I hear enough,” placing the guitar at his side, He looks down and stifles a giggle.

You nervously bite down on your lip. “Jungkook says I'm loud.”

He nods and runs his hand over the back of his neck. “That’s true.”

You both take a moment to snickers before you apologize. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, sounding genuine.

“What else did you hear this morning?” You ask, curious.

“Not much.” He leans back on the couch with his legs spread. You try to ignore how inviting his lap looks. “Just you being loud. He offers a teasing smile. “And some things about unpacking your boxes and…,” he trails off. “How you have a crush on me,” he finishes, nonchalantly.

You give him a playful shove and he raises both arms to block, laughing.

You wonder what else he heard. You can see the details he’s left out in his face, trying to be safe with this boundary.

“Is that what I heard?” His voice lowers as he tries to confirm.

“Yes,” you respond. “But that’s not why I spend time with you. I just like doing those things with you, being around you.”

A smile washes over his face. “I enjoy doing those things with you too. They’re just sometimes more fun because I have a crush on you too.”

You don’t respond but look down as the mood changes. His eyes lay on you differently. He has a different kind of confidence about him hearing you say it. You do too, knowing you’ve both said it out loud and Jungkook said it before anyone else.

The tension sits too heavy in the air but you let curiosity get the best of you anyway.

“When did you get off last?” You ask with a stern eye on him.

He laughs, deflecting. “Oh, is this what crushes talk about?”

You keep your gaze steady, awaiting an answer.

He lets out a defeated sigh. “Jungkook told you. How embarrassing.”

“So, this morning?” you immediately probe, unable to help yourself.

“And last night,” he contributes, shifting in his seat.

It’s a relief Jungkook had the wherewithal to whisper all that filth this morning. Also, that nothing was a secret. Jungkook is so great in that way. Acknowledging what is without being threatened and getting his ego bruised.

“So, obviously, I don’t mind that you’re loud.” His smile fades a bit and his gaze gets dark. “It’s sexy.”

Your stomach sinks. There are so many questions you want to ask but you don’t. How long? How often? What do you think about? Who do you think about?

He continues. “You like knowing that.” It starts as a question and ends as a statement. His eyes scan your face and you observe his own restraint.

It’s getting too deep. You should stop before this conversation escalates any further. The house feels too empty and too many ideas race in your mind. He takes the action before you.

“Are you ready to cook?” He asks, nearly leaping off the couch.

You both head to the kitchen and the tension settles as you get caught up in conversation about nothing-too-serious. Yoongi perfects a sauce while you load rice into a steamer. He tastes the sauce with his thumb and has a bland, questioning reaction.

“Is it good?” You try to read his face.

“I don’t know, try it.” He adds some spices and whisks further, lifting to check the consistency. You watch one strong arm whisk the mixture while the other holds the bowl still. His lips are pursed, concentrated. The sight of his arms and lips start to make your body hot.

You’ve seen him hundreds of times in the past 3 years. You’ve seen him everyday for 3 months. Still, It’s like looking at him for the first time.

This is all Jungkook’s fault. He put the idea in your mind.

Really, he activated something that was always there. You don’t know how he does it. He’s good like that too, excavating every emotion you have, never letting one be covered up or denied. You’d never realized how often you’d done that. He’s made you better, even before living together.

Nevertheless, your now crush is evolving to an ache, a craving right in front of your eyes. Yoongi is unaffected, focused on perfecting his cuisine. He’s messy, stray sauce everywhere.

He approaches where you stand by the counter, bowl in hand and you can smell him. It nearly knocks you off your feet when it fills your nostrils. Stray sauce is streaked on his forearm. You grab a nearby kitchen towel to swipe at his arm when he gets close, keeping your hands busy. They have too many ideas.

Maybe laying your hands on him (regardless of what they were doing) transfers your horny energy but your hands linger on him now and the dynamic shifts. He has that look again, lips parted, a million dirty thoughts flash across his mind in seconds. A big metal bowl is the only thing separating your bodies.

His eyes dart down from yours, guiding your own eyes to his lips, intrigued. He takes a deep breath and leans in closer, nearly hovering over you. He uses his thumb to briefly flick across your bottom lip. All the indecency in his eyes directed at your mouth. He places the bowl on the counter next to him, closing space between you.

“Try it.” He reaches down beside him and coats his thumb in the liquid. He slides the palm side of his thumb between your lips. You let them graze over but resist the urge to wrap your mouth around him.

You run your tongue over your lips to taste. “It’s good,” hardly audible.

The slight gesture causes the intensity to surge so greatly that you both seem to repel from each other. Yoongi returns to the other side of the kitchen and you both continue your tasks in silence, adrenaline still rushing, making it impossible to have a conversation.

Right on cue, Jungkook enters the silent heavy room.

“Hey.” you both say in unison, not even looking up at him.

“Hey.” He says, already sensing the put-on tones and not buying it for a single second.

“What have you been up to today?” He pecks your lips but keeps his eyes on Yoongi.

“I took a nap,” you offer, weakly. He nods suspiciously. Yoongi still has his back to him.

“How’s your recipe coming?” he asks, shooting daggers into the back of Yoongi’s head.

“Sauce is done,” you say, wishing Yoongi would speak for himself.

“Ok, What’s going on?” Jungkook finally demands.

You and Yoongi answer in unison. “Nothing,” sounding rehearsed.

“No, it's something.” His expression becomes uncharacteristically worried. “I know you’re flirting but right now, I feel like I'm interrupting something. I don’t like that.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook.” Yoongi cracks and turns around. “You’re right, it’s inappropriate.”

He raises his eyebrows, intrigued. “What’s inappropriate?” he digs.

Yoongi darts his eyes to you, mouth open but not speaking.

“What happened?” Jungkook’s voice gets louder.

You break next. “I ate sauce off his hand.” It comes out fast like one long word.

“Like, how?” looking puzzled.

“Like, off his thumb.” You extend your own thumb as if he doesn’t know what one is.

“When?”

“5 minutes ago.”

He slowly nods in comprehension. “So, you sucked on his finger. Then what?”

You fight the urge to correct him as you put such deliberate effort in NOT sucking. “Then, here we are.” You nervously tap your fingers on the countertop.

Jungkook is silent for a long time.

“Show me,” he announces.

“What?” Yoongi finally speaks again.

“Sounds harmless enough. Let me see.”

Yoongi pleads. “Jungkook, you don’t have to do this, it won’t happen again.”

“I'd feel better if I could see how ‘inappropriate’ it was.” Jungkook glares at Yoongi, wrestling to decide if he’s betrayed him or not.

There’s no getting out of it. You and Yoongi drag your feet to re-create your positions and he dips his thumb into the bowl just as before. You repeat the gesture, locking eyes with him for just a moment before his thumb touches your lips again.

Jungkook guffaws at the sight. “Did she do it like that?”.

“Yeah.” Yoongi shrugs his shoulders.

Jungkook redirects his gaze at you. “You? Did it like that?”

You narrow your eyes at Jungkook. “Yes.”

You can’t tell if you should be offended or honored by his shock at your weak cleaning of his thumb. You opt to keep quiet.

Yoongi looks thoroughly confused. Jungkook chortles and approaches you both by the bowl.

“She can do better than that.” He pulls Yoongi's wrist into the bowl, isolating his index finger. He coats Yoongi’s finger and pushes it against your lips.

You take his finger and instinctively pull him in, down to the webbing of his hand. Jungkook lets his wrist free and Yoongi takes the liberty to push in again with 2 fingers and you suck them in and let them fall out slowly. His throat lets out a low groan through parted lips.

“That’s better,” Jungkook croons.

Jungkook guides you a few steps away to the living room so only you can hear. “Is there anything else I need to know about?” He asks with a forbidding look.

You reassure him with a hand on his chest. “No, Jungkook.” He nods and kisses your lips.

“Do you want to do this?”

You’re not sure what “this” is but the way he strokes his fingers along your crotch gives you an idea.

“We’re going to talk for a few minutes,” he starts, quickly glancing at Yoongi. “Get in the bedroom.” He tugs back at your hair with force, making you gasp. “When we get in there, I want you in one of your slutty outfits, waiting on the bed.” He kisses you hard and sloppy on the mouth before releasing his grip. Yoongi's eyes are nearly bulging out of his face.

You head to the bedroom as calmly as possible. When the door closes behind you, you begin a frenzy, digging through boxes for any matching pieces of lingerie. You manage to find a set, freshen up and wait on the bed. It’s been almost a half hour, you wonder what they’re talking about.

Yoongi follows behind Jungkook and closes the door. “There she is.” Yoongi looks a little nervous. The 2 stand in front of the bed.

“Lips stay below the neck, no kissing on the lips,” Jungkook announces. You and Yoongi nod at each other, his boner appearing through his pants at the sight of you. “Can he cum on your chest?”

Yoongi glances down shyly at the question. You nod again, heart pounding.

“Anything else?” directed at you now. You shake your head, still unable to form words. Jungkook leans down where you sit on the bed to kiss you. “Relax,” he whispers before his lips peck yours.

Jungkook’s easy breakdown of “rules” and the fact they’d talked so much about this already gives you an inkling about their past.

You speak so only Jungkook can hear. “Something tells me this isn’t your first time.” You glance back at Yoongi.

“Smart girl.” He kisses you again. “But this is different. We’re not sharing. He turns you on and I like it when you’re turned on. So. Relax. I wanna turn you on and get you off.”

Jungkook removes his clothes before crawling behind you on the bed and runs his hands over your body, groping in front of Yoongi as he watches, standing by the bed.

“Look how pretty you are for us.” He pulls you head back for a kiss and slides his hand under the hem of your panties, letting a finger slip between your folds. Your knees buckle.

“Mmm, She’s so wet for you already, hyung.” He pushes the fabric away and slips fingers in and out of your wet opening. Yoongi instinctively rubs himself on the outside of his pants, watching as Jungkook pulls his hand away and brings his fingers to your mouth. You don’t let our eyes leave his before directing Yoongi.

“Come here.” You scoot to the edge of the bed.

Jungkook sits behind you, rubbing your back as Yoongi approaches.

Yoongi’s eyes roll back immediately when you grasp at the bulge through his sweatpants and stroke beneath the fabric. He takes off his shirt while you pull down at the waistband of his pants and watch his cock fall free. Pale shaft with a swollen pink tip. Perfectly placed veins, just like his arms. You wrap your lips around the tip and let saliva drip down his shaft. He places an encouraging palm on the back of your head as you slide your lips to the base and gag, bringing moans from Yoongi. You wrap your hand around his shaft and work it with your mouth.

“Wait.” Jungkook places a hand on your shoulder. The sight has him eager for a place to keep his dick wet while you service Yoongi. He guides you to bend in front of him. Pushing panties aside, Jungkook slides in with ease, arousal pooled at your opening. You continue on Yoongi, running your tongue on the underside of his balls and licking up to the tip. Jungkook gropes at your ass and thrusts softly, careful not to disturb Yoongi. Then sensation causes you to moan around his cock and Yoongi eggs your head off, breathing away an orgasm.

Jungkook takes this opportunity to fuck you at a normal pace. After some time, Yoongi palms himself, watching. You relish in being a fantasy come to life.

You’re sore, being railed by Jungkook this morning and the night before. But that doesn’t stop you or him. He unhooks your bra and lets it fall to the bed. He pulls you up so your body is flush in front of him and exposed to Yoongi, who increases the pace he has on himself.

Jungkook pulls out while still holding you close. Yoongi slows and closes his eyes, teetering on the edge again.

The wet sticky panties cling to you.

“Your panties are ruined baby.” Sucking kisses on the line of your neck while the cold panties cling to you. “Lay down so we can get them off.”

Jungkook guides you to your back as Yoongi stands at the side of the bed, pulling you to the edge so you’re spread in front of him. Your head lays in Jungkook’s lap, he still faces Yoongi.

Yoongi palms at your center, feeling the crevices over wet fabric. It’s sticky and uncomfortable and you just want them gone. Jungkook strokes your head in his lap. Yoongi holds his cock between your clothed folds, watching your face as you twitch around him. He pushes the tip at the opening, blocked by the fabric.

He continues letting his tip run up and down until he eventually grips at the crotch of the fabric and pulls it up and taut against your clit. He rhythmically lifts and releases, your pelvis rising a little bit with each pull. He continues faster and you’re now grateful for the sticky fabric that offers friction until he stops and let’s it slap back to your skin, just before you come. He’s edging you with your own underwear.

He finally pulls them down and around your ankles, playfully tossing them at Jungkook sitting behind you. He slithers his tip around your bare entrance, teasing your opening and sliding up. Squelching fills the air.

You’re eager to get him all the way inside, pushing your core down each time he’s at your opening. You whine when he pulls his cock away completely and moves to kiss at your bare breasts. He lets his teeth graze over your skin, sucking. Jungkook uses his foot to push at Yoongi’s shoulder.

“Don’t mark her,” he warns. Yoongi heeds his warning and opts to leave the area completely. He lines himself up and bottoms out inside, wetting his entire shaft with you.

You moan louder and Jungkook tugs at your nipples. Yoongi bottoms out with each thrust.

“Are you gonna come just like this, Noona?” Yoongi teases, between thrusts as if you weren’t being turned on and teased for the last hour.

“I’d rather come on your lips,” letting your finger flick across his mouth.”

A little shock flashes across his face before Jungkook laughs. “Mmm, I love a good slut that asks for what she wants.” He praises as he strokes your hair.

Jungkook makes room for Yoongi to lay back on the bed again.

“I like this “crush” thing,” Yoongi says as you hover over top of him and he attaches his lips to you straight away. His arms are hooked around your thighs as he sucks and flicks his tongue over your swollen clit. He lets out deep little moans underneath you, happy to have you squirming and whimpering above him. You rock your hips back and forth on his face and the vibrations from his voice bring you so close again.

Jungkook lines up flush behind you. “I told him how good you taste, baby. And I know he loves hearing your pretty voice.” He slips his fingers under your bum to push fingers into your opening. Yoongi moves his mouth up just slightly to make room for him and you still. He continues, “Come for us, baby,” kissing your neck.

Yoongi squeezes at your breasts and He holds you down tight on his face when you come.

You’re shuddering above him still when he instructs you to bend over, guiding you off of him. Jungkook moves to sit at the opposite end of the bed.

You present yourself to him and instantly fall to your elbows when he licks a long strip from your opening all the way up to your tailbone. Jungkook giggles at your reaction.

“Do it again.” Jungkook orders. Yoongi does, and you’re so sensitive that your thighs shake. He moves to your opening and laps at this new angle, insatiable. Just as you begin to lose yourself on his tongue again, he lines up behind you and slams you on his cock. He fills you in a different way, hands on your hips as he slides your body over himself again and again.

Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment before positioning himself so he can gag you on his cock while Yoongi thrusts mercilessly, both taking everything they want from you.

Jungkook pulls your hair back to see your face. “Such a good slut, stuffed full at both ends.”

Yoongi grunts at the words. “Fuck, I’m gonna come.” You’re suddenly empty as they fumble to change positions. Jungkook instructs you to turn over and sit up on the edge of the bed.

Yoongi stands in front of you and ribbons white on your chest, grunting through his orgasm.

Jungkook pushes your back to the bed and runs his flat tongue over your messied chest, collecting cum in his mouth. He grips your jaw from above you, signaling to open and you readily obey. He purses his lips and lets the liquid fall into your mouth, laps up more and repeats all while strokes himself.

When your chest is clean, He climbs over you so his thighs straddle your face.

“Mmmmm… show him who my sweet cumslut is.” He praises before he throws his head back and groans, stroking himself into your open mouth.

You hold your mouth open while he spills into you, swallowing and licking your lips. You hold out your clean tongue and he spits from high up once more for good measure. Yoongi sits in your peripheral vision on a nearby chair. Spent cock resting between his legs, hands laced behind his head, taking in the sight.

“Good Girl,” Jungkook whispers.

The three of you sit up straight when you hear the screaming.

“Yoongiiii!!” Seokjin’s voice wails through the thin walls.

Yoongi puts on pants and nearly flies to the kitchen. You and Jungkook quickly dress and follow behind.

You walk into Seokjin scolding Yoongi about a pot boiling over and scorching on the stove.

“You could’ve set the house on fire!”

“I… I’m sorry I got distracted.”

“Doing what?!.” Seokjin’s fury fades when he notices Yoongi is shirtless and the 3 of you have triple fucked-out looks.

“You know what? I don’t want to know,” he announces, as he scrubs the burner.

Yoongi and Seokjin finish cooking and everyone sits for the meal. You’ve done this many times now, sitting around a table talking for hours. Sometimes everyone is up all night and you reluctantly agree to go to sleep. Other times, members slowly trickle away and wake up to the same remaining people talking. Oftentimes, it was you and Yoongi.

The plates are nearly clear when Taehyung declares: “Noona, I emptied our part of the closet downstairs so you have room for your things.

You glare at Jungkook.

“Don’t look at me, I didn’t tell him to do that,” taking a final bite. Taehyung assumed.

“Actually, I’m going back to work,” blurting out, threatened by Taehyung’s (and everyone’s) assumption. “But, thank you.”

“You are?” Jungkook looks only half surprised.

“Yeah. I fly out to San Francisco next Thursday.”

Jungkook stands from the table and calmly walks to the bedroom. You politely excuse yourself and follow him. He’s not even looking at you yet but starts off before the door even shuts.

“So when I left this morning, you were thinking about it. You fuck my friend. Now, you’re leaving next week.”

You close your eyes and scoff. You can just imagine the six others just outside the door, darting eyes at each other, wondering which “friend”. It’s an unfair and irrelevant comment but you choose to ignore it, he has his own share of “unfair”.

“Jungkook, lower your voice.”

Ignoring you, “Did you even think about it?”

Blood heats under your skin. “Why think about it when everyone has just assumed? It’s like everyone gets a say but me.”

“And what’s your ‘say’?”

You pause before speaking, trying to calm yourself. “We both knew this arrangement was temporary. The way it was before was working for us.”

“It won’t work for me, not anymore.” “And this is not just an ‘arrangement’ anymore, you know that.”

“You know management does NOT want me around.”

“I don’t give a fuck WHAT they want. I’ve made it very clear that you’re not going anywhere. At least if it’s up to me.”

Your attempts to soothe yourself and convince Jungkook are failing. “So, what? I just hide out here, some house gremlin while you’re gone for weeks, months at a time? Having to be your dirty little secret? We can’t even be together in public.”

He glances down and gets closer to you. “That will be hard. I’m sorry. I wish I could change that.” His voice gets lower. “But when I’m gone…I mean, you’ve been cooking and writing and playing the guitar and you love that. You could do that. Or not. You could do whatever you want.” He stands firm. “If one of us is not bound by work, we’re officially together twice as much. Next?” He trudges forward, seeking to eliminate all of your ideas.

“I would have to move to a different country.”

“What about it? Tell me, where do you consider ‘home?’ and wherever you think that is, tell me why you chose to come here when you had to choose a place to be 3 months ago? The apartment is yours too. You could be here or there, whatever you want. What else can you come up with?”

You get sucked into his attempt to exhaust your excuses. “They offered me a raise to come back.” It sounds stupid coming out about half way through.

“Money?”, he laughs erratically, sounding unstable now. He pulls a billfold from his pants pocket and begins launching credit cards and different types of cash on the bed. “Here. Here. Here. And there’s more where that came from.”

“Ok, Jungkook,” you turn, agitated. He circles the bed to get face-to-face again.

“I’m just saying you have no excuse!” His voice gets somber and tears well in his eyes. The pain on his face makes you do the same. “So, why not then? Just tell me why. Because, when you’re here, the way you look at me, I know you feel the way I do. So why don’t you want to?”

You shake your head. “It’s not that I don’t want Jungkook. You just don’t know how things will turn out.”

He’s gripping your arms, trying to get his sense into you. “There is nothing that I'm worried about as long as you’re here. No matter what, it’s going to be fine.”

You coldly shake him off. “How do you know?!” You're yelling and crying now, really wanting to know where he gets his faith.

“I don’t know how anything will turn out, I just know that I want you there anyway!”

His face drops with realization.

His voice gets very quiet. “I guess that’s the difference between us.”

You’re too drained to argue that point. Maybe he’s right.

You make a final plea. “Please,” as you hiccup through sobs. “Can you just give me time to think about it? Instead of deciding for me?”

He pushes his forehead to yours. “I'm sorry I pressured you. I love you. It’s better when you’re here.” He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “There is no ultimatum here.” His forehead wrinkles. “Sometimes, I think if it’s something you really wanted, you wouldn’t have to think about it. But if time is what you want, take it.

“Thank you.” You hold onto each other like you might just slip away. Your sudden comfort is quickly snatched when he finishes.

“But if you’re not staying, you should go now.”

He squeezes you tight and whispers. “I love you.” Before you can reciprocate, he leaves and disappears into another part of the house. You haphazardly pack a bag and exit the bedroom, wiping tears from your face.

Yoongi approaches you as you head for the door, Seokjin following just behind. The others have gone after Jungkook.

“Noona, I'm so sorry, I didn’t mean to…”

You try to reassure him right away, hugging him. “Hey...it’s not you. This…” You search for the words to describe the situation, no fault on Yoongi. “This has been a long time coming.”

“Why are you leaving so soon?”

“It hurts Jungkook that I'm here so I need to go.” It sounds silly coming out of your mouth. If you just stayed, he wouldn’t be hurt. And neither would you.

“Do you need a car?” Seokjin asks. You nod he is on the phone right away.

You continue with Yoongi, “Could you send my boxes? I’ll have an address in a few days.”

“Of course.” He hugs you again. “Why do I feel like I’m never going to see you again?”

You don’t tell him that it feels that way to you too. “Would you just make sure he’s ok, please?”

He nods and with that you leave, severing ties with that safe little world.