#-- so it's not as forefront as i initially intended it to be. ah well. try again next time!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

duskspring · 10 days

Text

Chapter 1

Summary: When the opportunity arises for Terzo to avenge himself after years of waiting, of course he takes it. Amy is the absolute perfect person to accomplish this with, but he might have a harder time staying on track than expected.

Content (18+): Terzo being a scheming petty bitch, handjob, slightly sub!Terzo

Word count: ~4k words

[Read it on AO3]

There were many things Terzo felt The Clergy never gave him credit for. Yes, he could get a bit overindulgent, if there even was such a thing, he slacked off on his duties from time to time and he was absolutely guilty of not blindly following all of their wishes and orders. But he fully believed he had just as many, if not more, strong characteristics. He was very observant when it came to certain things. He, for example, always kept a close eye on Cardinal Copia’s interactions with Siblings of Sin. He’d been doing that for years.

Something The Clergy definitely did ascribe to him, however, was his pettiness. It was the feeling that rushed to the forefront of his mind when he first noticed the shift in the cardinal’s behavior. Though it was subtle, his mood seemed improved. He strutted the halls more calm and collected than Terzo had seen him in years, as opposed to always being stressed out over some paperwork or whatever else he filled his days with. And wouldn’t you know it, the change correlated perfectly with him getting a new assistant. But it wasn’t just that he was glad to have his workload relieved with the help. No, Papa had witnessed it himself; the little smiles, laughs and redder shade on his cheeks when he spoke to said assistant. Copia was into her, just as Terzo had hoped for.

Not wanting to waste this chance, he did his research and formulated a plan. The assistant’s name was Amelia, though she went by Amy. She’d been part of the church for many years, having performed most of her studies abroad, only to recently move into the abbey. Terzo had initially considered simply moving her to a position as his own assistant, but decided it would be much easier to torture Copia if he was forced to still be around her all the time. From there, he knew exactly what he would have to do if he truly wanted it all to work out. The set up was simple; visit Copia’s office more and more often during work hours, always making sure to establish eye contact with the lady and ultimately taking whatever chance he got to chat her up and make her feel seen by him. Though on occasion he got to do so outside of the office as well.

One particular afternoon, he saw her walking towards him in the hall carrying a particularly high stack of three cardboard boxes, presumably filled with old documents and files. He didn’t even realize it was her at first, until she tried looking around the pile to see where she was headed.

As she approached, seemingly unaware of his presence, he made no effort to move out of her way, freely allowing her to bump into him. Though she tried to keep her balance, the top two boxes toppled over and onto the floor, manilla folders spreading all over the black and white patterned floor as the woman stumbled down after them.

“Ah, fuck-“ She groaned, trying to recover from the impact of the packet still in her hands knocking into her stomach when she’d hit the ground. Terzo definitely hadn’t intended for her to get hurt, but she spoke again before his mind could settle on feeling guilty, “Papa! Shit, I’m sorry. Are you okay?” She straightened her posture, looking up into his eyes.

“Didn’t feel a thing. But the burden of guilt falls on me. I should have been more present.” He said as kindly as he possibly could before crouching to help her pick everything up again.

Her eyes followed his every move, already caught off guard by his willingness to help her, now anticipating any more surprises. She snapped back to reality a second later, “I appreciate your help, but it’s really not necessary. I know you probably have better shit to do.” She said, starting to collect the rest of the documents herself.

“Nonsense. What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t help a lady in need?”

She scoffed, though not actually upset, “I’m hardly a damsel in distress.” She said as she carelessly shoved handfuls of paper back into the boxes for her to sort out later.

Terzo appreciated how bold she seemed to be around him, not bothering to filter herself more than she, presumably, did usually. Most people wouldn’t dare considering his status, but although she tried being more polite, there were certain comments or words she couldn’t stop from escaping her mind.

“What the fuck do you even need these for?” He mused, reading a random paragraph of information about a man who’s name barely rang a bell, both wanting to ignite conversation and to quell his curiosity.

“I’m afraid that’s confidential.” She smirked at him, knowing damn well what his response would be.

His brow furrowed in genuine offence, “There is no such thing as confidentiality for me. I’m Papa!”

“Oh, you are? Sorry, the suit and the paint didn’t give it away.” Only now did her grin and tone become obvious to Terzo. She had been as sarcastic as the last few times they briefly exchanged words, he just wasn’t used to it yet.

“You think you’re so funny.” He grumbled, though a smile now graced his face as well. He threw more and more documents into the box next to him, acting as if it was his way to get his frustrations out.

“Maybe just a little.” Amy chuckled at his antics, continuing the clean up as well.

When they were done on the ground he stood back up and offered her a hand, which she took and thanked him for, “I assume these are for Cardinal Copia?” He pointed to the boxes as he walked over to them

“They are. But I can handle-“ She tried stopping him when she noticed him moving to pick them up, but he cut her off before she really could.

“Enough of that,” His voice sounded slightly strained as he put his energy into lifting two of the three boxes up from the floor. They weren’t too heavy, luckily, but still weighted more than he had counted on, “Let me play the gentleman. Just this once.” He winked and smiled at her, trying his hardest to up the flirtation.

She instantly gave up starting an argument, since it would only keep her away from work even longer. She only acknowledged his effort with a silent nod and the two went on their way.

“Pardon me for not asking sooner. How has settling in gone?” He asked, referencing an earlier brief chat they’d had, both to make conversation and out of genuine interest.

“It’s been really great!” She smiled at him brightly, “I have friends now, so that helps. It’s already much better than that stuffy old shack in Germany.”

Terzo laughed in recognition, “Satanas, I remember visiting there once as a teenager. I remember thinking I’d rather go to hell than stay in that devil forsaken dump ever again. I take it that it hasn't improved much.”

“Nein,” A grin slowly spread on Amy’s face, “But when you were a teenager, huh? When was that? The 30s?”

Even though he took her poking fun at him in good faith, he couldn’t help the surprised falter in his steps, “You’ve ought to get a spanking for speaking out of line. Remember who you’re taking that tone with, suora.” It was his turn to smirk, his eyes slightly narrowing with the lustful threat, even if he hadn’t fully meant it.

“You’re right,” Amy’s steps slowed down, turning her body to face him a little more, “My sincerest apologies, your dark excellency. Forgive my foolish disrespect and graciously spare me a second chance. Oh please, Papa, I so beg,” Her tone was sarcastic through and through. She stared directly into his eyes, an overly exaggerated pleading look on her face. Terzo could only chuckle at the woman’s antics, “Am I forgiven?” She asked after he didn’t say anything. She still had a playful smile on her face as she readjusted the box in her hold.

“How could you not be after such a display?” He finally answered as he brought his arms as close to his body as possible. It was the closest he could get to putting a hand on his heart while his hands were occupied.

“Enough of this already. I’m running late.” Amy's smile didn’t falter as she started walking a little quicker, as if she herself hadn’t decided to slow for the sake of a joke.

Terzo made sure to stay by her side, “In all seriousness, I’m very glad to hear that you are settling in well. Remember that if you need anything, anything at all, I’m here for you. I’m sure it gets quite drab being around the cardinal so long each day.” He just couldn’t resist the quick jab. Copia wasn’t a bad person, but Terzo found it much too easy to ridicule him sometimes.

“Don’t talk about him like that, he’s lovely,” She defended her boss, though she stayed in good spirits, “And thank you, Papa.” She added genuinely.

“Call me Terzo.” He said, right as they reached their destination. Just as Amy was about to knock to announce their presence, he simply opened the door with his elbow and walked in without warning.

“Papa.” Copia sounded shocked to see him, and seemed somehow even more shocked when his assistant walked in right after him. Terzo revelled in seeing him mentally search for answers and jump to conclusions.

“You should go easier on the lady, cardinal. She could’ve fallen down a flight of stairs with these.” He unceremoniously plopped the boxes down on top of Copia’s writings on his desk.

“Did something happen?” Copia looked at his assistant around the new blockade, concern clear in his eyes and tone.

“I bumped into Terzo.” She admitted slightly sheepishly as she set the final parcel down next to his desk and made her way back to her own.

“Terz-“ Copia softly repeated, looking at Amy like she had lost her mind, “I think you mean to say Papa.” He corrected her with shock.

The woman’s steps came to a halt. She shot a look over at the man in question, confused as she wondered if she was supposed to still use his title in front of others.

Terzo merely chuckled to break the silence, “That’s quite alright.” The statement made one of Copia’s eyebrows raise slightly, "Either way you’re lucky it was me you bumped into and not my old man,” He added to change the topic, before stepping up to her. He put a hand on her waist like it was the most casual thing in the world for them and brought his mouth close to her ear, “If it all gets too much, do not be afraid to complain to me.” With a final quick flash of a smile her way he stepped back, leaving the office without further acknowledging Copia’s existence.

Later that week, the benches before the pulpit were filled to their maximum capacity as Terzo stood in front, delivering his weekly sermon.

He always did his best to make it a show. Having grown up with his father and Primo droning on and on, explaining interesting topics in the most mind numbing and repetitive ways possible, he wanted to do it a little differently. He did his best to get everyone engaged. He would crack jokes, make music and directly involve his flock’s experiences.

On that particular day, his eyes were drawn to Amy time and time again. She looked up at him with her full focus, eyes glued to his being as she laughed and smiled along. He made and maintained eye contact where he could, wanting her to know that his attention was on her as well. She was seated close to Copia, who would also undoubtedly notice how often his head turned and stayed in her direction.

After the sermon ended he was quickly forced into an overly long one-sided conversation with Sister Imperator that may have almost killed him out of boredom. He wanted to make his next move already, unable to keep focus on any of her words because of it. When he took a quick glance out into the room, he saw that most people had left already, going back to their usual duties. Luckily for him, however, Amy was still there. Still there and giggling at whatever the cardinal had just said.

“Are you even listening to me?” Imperator snapped her fingers in front of Terzo’s face to draw his attention back to her and it took all his willpower to not shove her away in his frustration.

“I will handle it.” He sneered, honestly having no clue what she had been talking about, “Let me do my job.” He walked off, willing himself to remain composed in a room with still relatively many people, especially Amy, there, “Cardinal,” He slapped the man on the back of the shoulder just a little too harshly under the guise of a greeting, “Don’t you have work to do? Already done with all those “confidential” files?” He air-quoted the word with his hands, just trying to get Copia to leave.

“Not entirely, no. I was just- I’ll go. Amy, if you-“

“Actually, I must borrow your assistant for a moment.”

Copia tensed up just the slightest bit. Terzo wouldn’t have noticed, had he not been on the lookout for reactions exactly like that one, “For what, exactly?”

“I have some more things for you in my office, may as well have her deliver them to you.”

“Even more paperwork?” She questioned, half playful and half baffled that there could possibly be even more paperwork to be done.

“This one’s sharp, isn’t she?” Terzo joked, “Now back to work with you.”

“Of course. Sister, I will see you again soon. Right?” The question was more so aimed at Terzo than her. Copia definitely knew something was off and Papa revelled in the knowledge of what it was.

“At this pace your assistant will need an assistant. You could let her take it slow for a little bit, cardinal.” He finally stated, before putting his hand between Amy’s shoulder blades and leading her out, “This was only your fourth sermon since you joined us, am I correct?”

“It was, yeah. You really shined up there.” She complimented.

“Is that genuine admiration I hear or are you being sarcastic again?” He asked lightheartedly.

”Hey, I can be nice! I meant it.”

“If you think I did well here, you should see me at an actual show. I’ll reserve a good seat for you next time. I’ll blow your fucking mind.”

She slightly cocked her head, eyes narrowing, though not far enough for him to notice as he greeted some siblings who were walking past them. Amy wasn’t blind. She was fully aware of how he had been flirting with her. It took less than a day at the abbey to hear all the stories of his escapades with siblings, “What flattery, Terzo. You’re too kind.” She said semi-sarcastically.

“Not at all,” He began saying as he opened his door, letting her walk in ahead of him, “There’s just something about you.” He mused, letting the door fall shut behind them both.

She had reached the middle of the room when the comment made her turn back to face him, her look skeptical, “How so?”

He sighed. Perhaps it was his own impatience or need to indulge but it felt like the time was right. It was now or never, “I have a confession to make,” He lowered his voice, “Forgive me, suora, I have lied to you. I have nothing for the cardinal here.”

“And yet you’ve asked me to be here.“ Amy stated plainly as he stepped closer to her.

“I longed to be alone with you again, if only for a moment.” Perhaps the idea of him being so into her after their few brief interactions would sound completely unbelievable. Luckily for him, he was Papa. She would likely be too starstruck at the idea of him wanting her to even question it. That’s how it usually went, after all.

“Is that so?” She nearly laughed, though he read it as nervousness.

Terzo breathed out a laugh himself as he put his hand on her cheek, doing whatever he could to get her swept up in the moment, “You’re so special, tesoro. I knew it the moment I laid eyes on you,” He leaned in even closer to her, his mouth now right next to her ear, “I want you.”

“You don’t know me.” Oh, fuck. She was questioning it.

Terzo hesitantly moved back a bit, mind racing at how to salvage the interaction, “Oh… Oh, I see,” He took another few steps away from her, until he leaned against the back of his desk. He kept a close eye on her facial expressions, “There is something between you and the cardinal, isn’t there?”

“Not at all.” Amy sputtered out, genuinely shocked. Yes, she had noticed all the same small signs Terzo had, if not more, but she didn’t want to outright assume Copia’s feelings went deeper than a superficial level. Were there really people who thought there was something between them?

“You don’t have to lie to me. It’s clear I crossed a line. You are with the cardinal, I respect that.”

“No, you don’t.”

Terzo was unsure how to respond to that. She was absolutely right, in this case at least, but he didn’t want to make himself sound bad by admitting to it.

That same small smirk as before crept its way back onto Amy's lips. She certainly hadn’t expected any of this when she’d gotten out of bed that morning. Her feelings on him were definitely mixed, he seemed genuinely kind at times while also being way too cocky for his own good. Perhaps there was something she could do about that, “Did you mean it?” She slowly closed the gap between them as she spoke, until she stood in between his legs. She moved her eyes up to meet his, her hands coming up onto his chest, “Do you really want me?” Her voice was quiet, nearly a whisper, yet her tone was self assured.

Terzo let out a surprised breath. He studied her face for a moment, unsure what he was even looking for, “I meant every word.” It was technically not a complete lie. Regardless of his motivations, he couldn’t deny his own sexual attraction to the woman.

“Good. I love games, Terzo,” She emphasised his name, reminding herself of the fact that he allowed her to say it. That she could act as boldly as she was. She slowly moved one hand up his chest until it rested carefully at the base of his throat, “But I prefer playing by my own rules.”

He was admittedly caught off guard by her taking on such a dominating attitude. Perhaps that’s what attracted Copia to her in the first place. But two could play that game, “You’re not the only one with ‘rules’, tesoro,” He straightened his back, gently removing her hand from his throat, “And you’re forgetting which one of us holds the actual power.”

“Out there maybe. But in here…” Amy chucked. It was different from her usual laugh, but Satanas, what a sexy sound, “In here you are the person who both lied to get me to come with you and then practically begged for my attention. I’m just fulfilling your request. You wanted attention…” Suddenly her free hand was on his crotch, stroking him agonisingly slowly through the fabric of his pants. Terzo’s breath hitched, “Here you have it.”

Papa’s mind raced trying to think of a response. It wasn’t that he had never taken on a submissive role before, but he’d only done so with people who intimately knew him. He didn’t want to be this vulnerable with someone he mostly courted out of pettiness. And yet he could think of no rebuttal. Worse yet, it was impossible for him to stifle the groan that slipped past his lips as she continued the rhythmic movement of her hand against him.

“Do you like the attention, Papa?”

He desperately didn’t want to give in. He didn’t want to let her win the game. But, fuck the way she squeezed his cock made him ache for more. He wordlessly nodded, hoping it would be enough. Instead, her hand stopped moving and let go of him, though it still carefully rested over the area. Terzo whimpered slightly at the loss, closing his eyes and instinctively bucking his hips forward in search of friction.

“Uh-uh, Terzo,” His eyes snapped open again at the mention of his name, “Be a good boy and use your words.”

Something about the prospect of being praised short circuited his mind. He’d undoubtably question his decisions later, but for now his pride be damned, “Yes. Yes, I like your attention.” He said through gritted teeth.

Her face wore a serene smile, satisfied with how easily he was going along with her. She surprised herself with her actions, impulsively deciding all of her moves and simply hoping it would keep working. She moved her hands up to open his pants, stopping as soon as he let out a whine.

She was about to ask if he was still okay with what was happening, when he beat her to it, “Please.” His voice was pitchy, his hips moving forward again in an attempt to grind into her hands.

With that permission, Amy opened and fished the dick out of his pants in the blink of an eye. While his eyes were screwed shut, hers had their full focus on where her hand stroked him. She’d never really thought of dicks as ‘pretty’ before, but his was undeniably a sight to behold. It appeared long enough to get deep but not so much that it was intimidating. Her hand couldn’t fully wrap around him and her mind soon flooded with ideas of what he would feel like inside of her. Her movements became more enthusiastic than before, determined to break him as much as she was starting to.

Terzo’s breath came out with a sigh, “Si, suora.” His knuckles were turning white underneath his gloves with how tightly he clutched the side of his desk. Sweat started to bead on his temples, smudging his face paint there. Deep black locks of hair fell in front of his face as he tilted his head down to look at her. He looked like a mess. Just how she liked it.

They stood there, so close, staring into each other's eyes, “There’s one thing I need you to do, okay?” She tried her hardest to stay composed, “Can you do that for me?” Her hand squeezed him a little tighter, strokes getting faster.

“Yes! Yes, I’ll do it.” Terzo’s breathing was still incredibly shaky, especially with the added effort he put into humping her hand.

“Good. All you have to do… is be patient. I have a job to do and so do you.” Without another word she removed her grip from him again and made her way to the door in what felt like half a second. Just before she opened it, she looked back at the very taken aback leader of the church, “Until next time.”

The soft thump of the door falling closed snapped Terzo out of his shock. Lucifer’s wrath, he was furious. He wanted to run after her, yell at her, drag her back inside and teach her a lesson. But he couldn’t get himself to move. He had allowed himself to be outplayed so easily, he felt like a complete idiot. And yet, he was excited at the same time. Things may not have gone as expected, but perhaps this meant messing with the cardinal would be even more fun than he had first anticipated.

[My masterlist]

#YA BOY FUCKING DID IT #alright time to log off for a week #I technically uploaded this chapter last year and then deleted it again but I've improved it and now here we are #the band ghost fanfiction #papa emeritus iii x oc #ghost bc #papa emeritus lll #the band ghost oc #papa emeritus 4 #ghost fanfiction #terzo x oc #the band ghost #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #the band ghost fic

12 notes · View notes

jtrbluv · 4 years

Text

shutterbug | jjk

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 4.1k

warnings: swearing, unbearable but relatable tiger parents

request: Jungkook,, one shot,, 38 + 40 please 😊😊 @asiivnc

“you leave whenever you feel like it.” & “don’t apologize if you don’t mean it.”

A/N: sheesh, i have not posted in a hot minute! i’ve been trying to work on this single request throughout quarantine and it really only came down to these last few days where i literally had a spike of inspo and drive and well,, ideas LOL. i considered an alternate angstier ending but i am a self-indulgent mofo who doesn’t like to make myself cry even though i’m sure i cried while writing this at least once (maybe twice). there is so much jk content on my blog i wanna set aside more time to write for other members from now on until i’m satisfied! regardless, thank you @asiivnc for requesting this and sorry for the wait luv, hopefully this can make up for it !!

Jungkook was known to be heavily passionate and fully invested in whatever his life had revolved around at that moment. As a film/photography major, as well as a man that just had a strange knack for being naturally adept at whatever was thrown at him, he incessantly poured his utmost efforts into his works. You weren’t any different, as you held just as much significance in his life as the way his serotonin levels would skyrocket as soon as his fingertips touched his precious camera.

Not to be self-absorbed, but you always thought of yourself as his muse. Or befittingly for his sake, the subject of the photo that you would give the title ‘his lover’.

You were so indisputably sure that you loved the boy and even moreso that he felt the same. While being so accustomed to his own nurturing ways and devotion to you and the reciprocated energy on your part, the bone-crushing weight of college hindered all and didn’t give a single fuck about anyone or anything.

Carrying the begrudging burden of having to succeed because he didn’t take the traditional lawyer/doctor career route, was always at the forefront of his mind. Likewise, for fuck’s sake, he nearly got disowned by his own parents and it took him what seemed to be a lifetime’s worth of energy to convince him to just give him a chance. Jungkook was not planning on taking that chance for granted.

Jungkook, being the person he is, was excelling, and his name was beginning to become known in the community of photographers and videographers, and he was finally starting to feel at ease. His parents were even acknowledging his successes to the extent that they were helping him financially with school, which was a huge burden off of his shoulders. And then you suddenly crash-landed into his life and just made his life even more fulfilling and by all means, worth living in.

He knew it was a bad idea. Distancing himself from you was the last thing he wanted to do. All his parents were concerned about was the fact that you were the only thing hindering him from making it “big”, when turns out, you became the sole inspiration and muse for most of his recent works. So they gave him an ultimatum to either be cut off financially or break up with you. He didn’t understand, because his parents liked you so much and they loved the influence you had on his work. He didn’t understand. He hated it—the fact that he was basically hanging by puppet strings and didn’t have a say in what he did considering the age he was in now.

He also hated the fact that he knew they had good intentions, and were only doing this because they wanted him to be successful. Their idea of true success for his career could only be seen as the financial benefits of being a director or producer rather than being able to just pursue and learn more about the art form that he loves. There was no use of trying to persuade them, so likewise, he did not. But why get her involved into this mess too?

Jungkook tended to stray away from confrontation and hated immediate and unexpected change as much as he acted like it didn’t phase him. He figured the sooner he can gain benefit from his passion, the less dreadful this dilemma would be. Less mess. Less stress. More time to be with you. That was the intended plan.

His next course of action was to score a film internship and potential job at the rather famous, Fox Studios. By doing so, would have to win the statewide film contest— a much larger scale than he had ever involved himself in. The mere thought of him having to showcase his own self-produced work to critically acclaimed film critics made the bile in his system threaten to upchuck onto the lemon-pledge scented floors of his dorm room. Then he remembered and was reminded— by the help of you of course, that he was Jeon Jungkook, and everyone knows that Jeon Jungkook does not like to lose.

He presumed that keeping up his grades would give him more credibility to getting the internship as well, so he put more focus onto his schoolwork. The remainder of his time was dedicated to exploring his potential ideas and storyboarding out his options and what would be most effective and most consequently— worthy of winning first place.

During this very strenuous time for the poor man, you would most likely see him trudging down the halls, hair in a complete disarray or simply hidden by the fabric of his hood, his eyelids threatening to close shut almost as if it’s taking all his willpower to keep them open, chugging down another red bull with one hand while he grips the strap of his backpack with practically no energy.

I mean you thought it was kinda cute at first, but his apparent deteriorating state mostly caused you to be more concerned than anything else.

In hopes to not hinder his creative flow but still keep his health at par, you would stop by every so often to give him food and give him reassurance—he never needed it so much until now.

Jungkook never told you about the irrational ultimatum his parents had given him. He came to the conclusion that it’d be unnecessary as long as he was able to carry out his plans. Nonetheless, the pressure of the whole situation was getting to him. The love of his life, passion for working with a camera, his parents’ disapproval, and just the own personal dream to be able to tell everyone that “Fuck you, I told you I could do it, and I did,” enveloped his whole mind these days.

Time had proved to not work in Jungkook’s favor. Two weeks passed in a mere blink of an eye leaving him with only two more weeks to finish his film in time for the film contest. This time around, he decided to choose a topic that resonated more with his own personal life. The film revolves around the struggle to be able to conform to the standards and expectations that society implements onto young people, whether it’d be from mainstream media or direct connections, like family. Typically, he stuck a title onto his projects after fully completing it, but for some reason, this time, it had worked in reverse. The title itself suddenly popped into his mind one day and from there he was able to garner ideas from it. And so the title was ‘Moulded’.

A very risky step on Jungkook’s part was what you initially thought when he first told you the idea. He knew that too, which is why he did it. You knew him long enough to be aware of the influence his parents had on his life and their outdated beliefs. You also knew the potential the boy’s zeal could take him, and because of that, all traces of worry left you shortly afterward.

Two days. The film contest was in two days. Jungkook was just about finished at this point, constantly playing back frames and adding final touches, rewatching the same parts over and over again until he became satisfied. He leaned back in his chair and let out a heavy sigh, eyes finally averting from the screen of his desktop to the clock on his bedside table.

“Only 9:15?” he muses, realizing these past four weeks had completely fucked over his sense of time, “At least I’m down, color correcting can be such a bit—”

A small jolt reverberates through his desk, interrupting his verbally spoken train of thought. His eyes beeline back to his phone, the contact picture of his mom flashing on his screen. Why would she be calling me at this time?

His brows knit together as he picks up his phone and swipes his thumb across the screen in uncertainty.

“Um, hi mom?” he greets, with the obvious tone of confusion in his voice.

He can practically hear her scoff over the line, “Jungkook-ah, how’s the film coming along?”

“It’s almost done-”

“Are you still with that girl?” she forcibly asks out of nowhere, leaving him dumbfounded to the point his mouth was hanging open in return.

A few seconds pass by as he processes what’s going on. He tightens his grip on the phone at the mention of you as he confesses through gritted teeth, “Yes mom.”

“We had a deal didn’t we?”

He retorted without waver in his voice, “Mom, I’m not a kid anymore.”

“Then give it back. The tuition money,” she affirms without hesitation, “Jungkook, me and your father have done our part. It’s about time you do yours.”

“I’ve done practically everything you’ve asked. I’m doing just fine,” he monotonously states, trying so hard not to implode on his own mother at this point, “Y/N has nothing to do with this.”

There was a short pause, leaving Jungkook in the same state of dejection per usual when he had to talk to his parents, “We just want you to be successful,” her voice softens, using the same line that somehow magically guilt-trips Jungkook every time the words travel to his ears.

He shakes his head in disbelief over hearing the stupid line that seemed to control every aspect of his life, “You say that every time.”

“And we mean it every time,” she interjects, a sigh audibly present over the line, “this discussion is over.”

She ends the call as Jungkook lets out a raspy and guttural groan, slamming his phone onto his desk in frustration with such strength it’d be surprising if the cheap glass screen protector he’s had on it didn’t suffer any damage.

“Kook,” a voice utters softly from the other side of his door, “is everything okay?”

He flinches at the sound of your voice, considering you were just the subject of the conversation he just had with his mom that left him fuming with rage more than anything.

“Can you please leave Y/N, this isn’t a good time,” he objected, adjusting himself in his seat so he’d face away from the door. Even though you couldn’t see him you could still hear the small indication of irritation in his response.

It was more than apparent something was wrong with him, with only two days left until the film contest, you knew he couldn’t manage to keep his guard down, regardless of the stress and turmoil he’d been putting himself through for the past 4 weeks, “Just because you leave whenever you feel like it…” you enunciate, raising your voice loud enough for him to hear your intentions, “doesn’t mean I will.” Both of you knew the last 4 weeks had taken a toll on the relationship, it was only then that he realized how much he’d been putting it off.

The door began to emit tiny clicking noises as he slowly turned the doorknob. He slowly widens the area as he meekly steps to the side, letting you come in as you make your way toward his bed and plop down onto his sheets.

The tension had never been this thick between the two of you, to the extent where it felt absolutely suffocating and unbearable. You had never seen him in such a state of dejection as he simply sat there, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt as he nibbled on his lower lip, eyes diverting away from yours at all costs. The knit between his brows that would usually derive from confusion or frustration, seemed entirely different this time around. It was as if his mind was full of nothing but everything all at the same time.

You heave out a deep sigh as you finally break the ice, “Jungkook,” you begin, looking up to see him looking back at you to your surprise, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry for making it seem that way.”

“Don’t apologize if you don’t mean it,” he mutters only to see the flash of hurt in your eyes that makes him divert his gaze back to the floor, “I know I’ve been acting so selfish lately. I’d understand if you felt that way.”

“I hate seeing you like this you know,” you confess quietly, “I know there’s something up.”

His eyes meet yours once again, mouth slightly parted as if he was about to say something, but the silences ensues and he closes the gap once again, resorting back to nibbling the skin off of his bottom lip until it starts to bleed. Your eyes soften as you observe the boy once more. The span of your relationship had naturally led to the two of you being able to open up to one another so easily. You were both able to tell when the other was feeling a certain way and why. It just came with time and getting to know the other person more throughout the relationship. And alongside that was the ability to know when the other was purposely keeping something under wraps—this was one of those times.

“Jungkook”, you whisper just loud enough to catch his attention, which works as he gazes back up at you with all doe-eyed glory, the knit between his brows gone surprisingly out of sight for the first time since you came over. You glance at his bed—emphasizing the void of space next to you on his bed by patting the fabric and peering at the cryptic man, hoping he would get the sign to sit next to you.

Fortunately, he does. He places his hands on the armrests as he timidly pushes himself up from his chair. The chair produces an obnoxiously loud squeaking noise almost emulating the sound of your dog’s dog shaped squeaky toy (counterintuitive I know, but it was a gift from Jungkook himself, the prick). The sound causes you to involuntarily snort as you look away in hopes to hide the smile creeping onto your lips. Too bad you missed the smug grin on his face at your lackluster attempt.

He carefully approaches you as he warily lowers himself onto his bed, making sure he doesn’t make the same mistake twice. He shifts his body to turn towards you, propping his hands at his side. His eyes avoid yours once more, sparing glances at every inch of his own room as if he wasn’t already familiar with the enclosed space.

You pause and calculate your next move, eyes studying the boy’s body language. You outstretch your arm, gently grasping his wrist as you slide your fingers through his calloused palms and twine your fingers with his own, allowing your hands to rest on your knee. His eyes glaze over your connected hands, trailing back to finally meeting your own once again—they had this all too unfamiliar gloss to them, not the usual star-like specks you had been accustomed to looking at. As a few seconds had passed, you spotted the pool of tears starting to brim in the corner of his eyes. Taken aback, you retract your focus to his whole face and how his bottom lip started to tremble, hopeless. Hopelessness was what he was denoting, an emotion you had rarely if never seen coming from the man sitting in front of you.

Before you could formulate any words of comfort, he speaks up, voice brittle and wobbly, “Am I just a failure Y/N?”

“Wha— what? No, how could you ask that? Of course I don’t think you are,” you assert, unknowingly tightening the grip on his hand.

“It’s just,” he drawls out, pausing to think of a coherent way to voice his concerns, “maybe it just would’ve been easier if I complied with my parents in the first place y’know. I’ve been spending all my time and energy fighting it, maybe I’ve just been putting my energy into the wrong-”

“I don’t believe that,” you calmly interject, “I believe that whenever you put your energy into something, you have a reason behind it. You thought about it for a while, it obviously wasn’t something that just sprouted overnight,” you countered, staring off as your eyes land on his workspace, the flashing screen of his computer that reveal his last minute editing as well as the camera you seldom see the man without, “Working with a camera, creating art,” you say while clasping your free hand over the one that you were already holding, rubbing miscellaneous shapes into the back of his hand, “that is what you love to do.”

“I love a lot of things Y/N,” he simply states.

“Hm?” you let out under your breath as you notice the single tear that falls onto his cheek, contradictory to the straightforward tone of his voice you had just heard seconds before. Your body stiffened at the sight of the fallen drop.

“Did you hear me on the phone before you came?” he questions, swiping away the tears that threatened to fall with his free hand.

You take a moment to recollect the moments that preceded until knocking on his door, “No, I just heard a loud bang. It sounded like you broke something.”

“Oh, that was my phone,” he shyly admits while scratching the back of his ear, “there is something I need to tell you.”

You perk up at his sudden willingness to tell you what was wrong. Your body language conveys the signal for him to continue, and he does.

“I got a call from my mom before you came,” he starts, “she was checking up on me, knowing the deadline is coming soon and what not.”

You nod slowly in understanding, “I see, what did she say?”

“You have the right to know,” he mutters under his breath while diverting his gaze back to your interlocked hands. He intentionally grazes your other hand before taking it into his own before flashing you a small grin of reassurance, “The farther I’m advancing, my parents just constantly feel the need to strip me of everything else. You probably knew that already. You also know that I tend to just rebel and find a loophole out of things most of the time. I don’t know, lately, it just seems like they solely care about success and money these days more than my own happiness and wellbeing, and it’s been like that for so long. Anyways, I’ve been prolonging and putting it aside for awhile now, but they threatened to cut me off financially if I didn’t break up with you Y/N.”

A single tear slides down your cheek. You’re at a loss for words and coherent thought. The only thing you muster to say is whatever decidedly popped up into your head first, “W-why haven’t you then?”

The brimming tears began to fall more frequently for you as well as from the eyes of the man in front of you. He releases both of his hands and slides his calloused palms up to your forearms pulling you closer in proximity, “I said it before, I love a lot of things Y/N,” he gingerly reiterates as he swipes away the tears from your eyes with the pad of his thumb before trailing his fingers to your fallen strands of hair, tucking them behind your ear.

“I love my parents, I love working with a camera, but I undoubtedly also am in love with you,” he tenderly professes while sliding down his hand to the crook of your neck, “I know my parents never meant harm, but they have to realize I don’t either. I owe it to myself and I realize that I am capable of obtaining and having everything I want in life,” he wholeheartedly declares despite the tears that continue to run down his face, “ And it wouldn’t be everything I want if you weren’t here with me.”

He renders you speechless, tears streaming freely as he continues to wipe them away. He was much more composed now, wiping away his own remaining tears with the back of his wrist. You, on the other hand, were practically sobbing into his palm, tears spilling all over his forearm.

“There’s a reason why I chose that particular subject for the film, “ he describes, hands sliding down to intertwine with yours once again, “It serves as a testament to my parents, to my peers, to you, but also to myself,” he beams, releasing the hold on your hands as he stands up from his bed, extending a hand out to you.

You unhurriedly grab his hand, as he tugs you to stand up from his bed, leading you to sit in his own seat. He swivels the chair for it to face his computer, stepping aside so you could sit down.

“I wasn’t planning on giving any sneak peeks, but it just seems right to show you this now,” he explains, clicking through the frames until he arrives at his destination and clicks play.

It starts off with the emulation of a glitching tv screen, the audio sounds as if someone was inserting a tape into a DVR. The ‘no signal’ screen fades into the familiar setting of the beach in his hometown. Hues of blue fading into muted shades of oranges and yellows flash across the screen, accompanied by the soft crashing of the waves washing ashore on the fine sand. The camera quickly shifts his focus to what seems to appear as Jungkook being fully enveloped and underneath the sand, his head being the only thing that isn’t submerged. Flashing his signature grin, his arm emerges from the sand as he gives a thumbs-up to the camera, making the person behind it erupt into a fit of giggles. That person was you.

The scene transitions into the city streets of the suburb that was close to the college. You were walking down the sidewalk, enamored by the bustle of the people who lived there as well as the twinkling lights that were draped from building to building. Clips ranging from his family, his friends, him working, and more are compiled and presented as he talks over it. His voice begins to say, “As individuals living in a society where opportunities seem to just be knocking left and right, we all have dreams and desires. Whether they are attainable or not, that’s what makes them all the more worthwhile and exhilarating to find out for ourselves. Society, whether we like it or not, is filled with certain conjectures that they believe can assure us of these dreams and desires, what they’ve made us believe as the path to success. They mould us from the beginning. As kids, we are told to behave well, listen to our elders, go to school, get good grades, and get into a good college. As adults, we deem success as having a stable job that pays the bills, buying a house and settling down, finding the love of your life, having kids, and working tirelessly until we become worn out and old. We have these presumptions about what’s better and what’s not, what is easier and what isn’t. Regardless of how much we get told that we can achieve anything we want to in life, we grow older and life unexpectedly throws more curveballs at you to make you think that it’s not actually the case. Well, as cliche as it may sound, I’m here to tell you that it’s just not true. Do what you want. Do what you love. Be with the ones you love. Cherish these moments. Film them as keepsakes to look back on. So… what’s your story? What are your dreams and desires? What sparks pure joy within you and keeps you on your feet? Break those moulds that have been holding you down. Reach for the moon and the stars. And maybe someday with the right amount of determination, and a little bit of luck, you can get there.”

The video ends right then and there, and you had no doubt in your mind that this was his best work to date albeit only seeing a snippet of it. A smile graces your lips as you turn your head to look at the creator of it all. He looks back at you with the familiar star-like specks in his eyes, making you feel rest assured that within all the chaos, you would both get through it all.

MASTERLIST

222 notes · View notes

bjy-on-ao3 · 3 years

Note

Could you please write a fic about Adachi putting reader’s needs first on her birthday? Maybe with Adachi going down on her and trying to please her (still with all the dirty talk and degradation, though. I mean, this is still Adachi). And maybe some liiight fluff where reader teases him for turning soft. Please and thank you!!

This doesn't really suit the degradation aspect as it didn't fit real well as I was writing but I hope this is still good enough on it's own, Anon! Since this is birthday-related, I decided to break my upload schedule and upload it on my own birthday today! Thank you to Petaldances for beta'ing and catching as many errors/typos as possible! (As usual, you can find the AO3 version of all my uploads [and some things I don’t post here to tumblr] via my Masterlist blog page.)

Summary It’s Reader’s birthday and Adachi forgot to get a present, so he improvises in a way sure to gain him some brownie points.

Tags/Warnings Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, Oral S*x, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering

Brownie Points (F! Reader/Torhu Adachi)

When you had initially invited Adachi to your apartment that evening, you hadn’t meant to pester or nag him with questions. There were certainly things you expected whenever he came to visit, of course, but what you were hoping for that day was something a little different. Still, you had intended on keeping the questioning to yourself, only for it to slip out in a rush in a moment of comfortable silence shortly after he had arrived.

“You didn’t forget what today is, right?” You asked hopefully, sitting beside the man on the floor of your apartment living room.

In truth, you wouldn’t have been shocked if he had forgotten, even as much as part of you secretly hoped he remembered, as petty or self-centered as it might have seemed. Adachi didn’t miss a beat though before answering.

“Me, forget? That hurts, of course I remembered!” Adachi protested, his voice dipping into mock offense. “And I’ve even got something special for you,” he added smugly.

He would never admit it, but the date had crept up on him, between being constantly busy with work and all the rest of the tedious day-to-day junk. It had eluded his memory long enough that he had forgotten to buy you anything. Not that he felt he needed or wanted to, of course, at least not from a sense of generosity or affection. He only wanted to get you a birthday present for the brownie points, or at least that was the story he told himself.

You paused, your brow furrowing skeptically, knowing Adachi’s definitions of ‘special’. “Adachi,” you began, pausing for a moment, “when you say ‘special’, you’re not talking about your dick, right?”

He shook his head with a disappointed sigh, reaching up and grabbing your jaw between his thumb and forefinger. “As much as I know you’d enjoy that, no, I’ve got something else for you,” Adachi insisted, though you weren’t fully convinced.

“Ah, alright, what is it then?” You asked curiously, feeling your skin heat under his fingers. It was frustrating sometimes how easily even slight touches flustered you.

In a smooth motion, Adachi let go of your jaw, pushing you down onto the floor until you lay flat on your back, following you down and bracing himself above you. He loomed over you momentarily on his hands and knees, his body caging you in from every angle. Despite what Adachi had promised, you expected him to lower his body, press it flush against you and claim your lips in an aggressive, hungry kiss as he often did. To your surprise, he did none of that, leaving you bewildered when he moved down and scooted back, running his fingertips lightly along your clothes.

He paused upon reaching your thighs, kneading the sensitive skin through your pants for a time, almost contemplatively. Your attention was fixed on him, and you could hardly miss the telltale hunger already roiling in his steely eyes. Though there was something distinctly cocky painting his expression, too, as if he was already so smug just thinking about what he had in store for you. It made your curiosity burn ever higher, and you didn’t dare to stop him, wanting to see what he had in mind.

Despite being transfixed on him, you jumped when Adachi’s grip tightened a little and he moved to tug your pants down, pulling your underwear along with them. Your brow sunk again, washing some of the curiosity from your face. “Adachi, I thought I said-” you started, confused, moving to sit up, thinking he was back to his old games despite promising his dick wasn’t his present to you.

You were cut off, though, collapsing back against the floor, when Adachi, ignoring your words, lifted both of your legs beneath your knees and hauled them up. More and more, forcing you to shift across the floor, too, until your ankles lolled over his shoulders and your ass left the ground. You swallowed thickly, noticing how close your now bare cunt waited near Adachi’s face. A rush of wet heat pooled swiftly in your center, more rising to your neck and cheeks, as well.

His tongue slipped out briefly, wetting his lips in a way that magnified the hunger already present on his face. It made you squirm, wanting to press your thighs together and quiet the growing heat between them, but there was no way you could. Adachi chuckled, a sound low and sultry, so unlike the cheery laugh you were used to hearing. A sound of pure craving and self-satisfaction.

“Getting so excited already, sweetheart?” He purred mockingly sweetly. Flustered again, you turned your head away, refusing to meet his smug, stormy eyes. “If you’re so worked up already,” Adachi began as he lifted a hand, skating the tips of two fingers teasingly along your damp lips, “I can’t wait to see you once I really get started.”

You gulped again, this time moistening your own lips in anticipation, finding them suddenly so dry. You weren’t sure whether Adachi was screwing with you. Whether he was only seeing how riled up he could get you before abandoning the rouse and fucking you raw right there on the floor until you were too exhausted to care if he had decided that was an acceptable present. He had never been much of a giver in your relationship, and his needs were always at the forefront of his mind. Sure, there were many mind-numbing experiences to be had in the past, but those almost always benefitted Adachi’s pleasure, too.

Your train of thought on how unlike Adachi it would have been to focus on giving pleasure without taking his own at the same time was cut short when he bent his head, spreading your lips with the vee of two fingers. Your breath stalled, and for a second it felt as if you had forgotten how, before you remembered, though in a way that was shaky and excited. Your mouth, too, was dry, as if the hot slickness between your thighs was sapping moisture from everywhere else.

When his lips touched your cunt and his tongue flickered out, dancing fleetingly over your clit, your hips jolted up instinctively. You groaned, all the tension built up in your chest coming out in one breath. His tongue snaked out again, wriggling against your clit again and wringing a whimpered ah from your lips. Your fingers dug into the floor beside you, needing to hold on to something as his tongue stroked you more deftly.

He set a pace that was teasing almost, slow and lazy, his tongue slipping over your clit in a flat stroke, before drawing loose circles around it. With each languid motion, you squirmed and tried to resist clamping your legs around Adachi’s head. Some strokes were so spot on, they were nearly too much, making you whimper pitifully, the noises breaking with a gasp. Adachi broke his steady pace, shifting from simple licks or twirls of his tongue to sucking intently, and your breath caught again in your chest. With a sharp inhale, you rolled your hips needily, or at least as best you could, given your position.

He pulled back for a moment, watching you through half-lidded eyes swimming with a desire you had seen so many times. It was a wonder how he restrained himself when it was so plain he wanted badly to bury himself in the sodden cunt he was eye level with. Again he shattered any coherent thoughts, leaning back into you and licking a hot, slow stripe up your slit and back up to your clit. His name tore from your lips in a ragged, shaky breath, and you scrabbled uselessly at the floor once more.

You weren’t sure if Adachi was intentionally forcing you to linger so near the precipice of released or it was but a cruel accident. He continued, alternating between short and long strokes of his tongue, more swirling and sucking and small, firm flicks. Some motions wound you up more than others, and you whined and tried to rock your yourself to meet him to show how much they got to you, only to have him change pace and leave you whimpering desperately in protest. Now and then you heard, as well as felt, the soft, low rumble of laugher against your cunt, a sensation that was hot and ticklish.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t you want to cum? I can’t give you your present if you won’t let me,” Adachi teased, and you flushed hotter.

At the same time the derisive tone was embarrassing, it also added fuel to the mounting pressure and heat in your belly, and the tension in your thighs. “I do, Adachi, please, I do,” you begged with a groaned, thrusting your cunt more firmly against his mouth, as if to prove your words.

“Mm, let’s hear it then,” he insisted, turning his tormenting attention back to your pussy.

For the third time, his lips fell to meet your folds, repeating the same motions from before, but more vigorous, merciless, until you could barely contain yourself from thrashing about in your awkward position. The growing spring in your gut felt too hot, too tight, and it was almost agony. Just when the coil was beginning to come undone, promising sweet release, Adachi’s tongue slowed, and you cast a frantic, hazy look toward him, accompanying the glance with a pathetic whine.

“Adachi…” His name was drawn from your lips in a beseeching groan, long for the satisfaction he dangled so close within your reach. “Fuck, fuck, I can’t… if you stop like that,” you ground out, another small breathy gasp interrupting you when Adachi traced a finger along the outline of your cunt.

Despite having not yet reached your peak, you already felt so sensitive, and his fingers toying with you only wound you up more. The heat and desire grew worse, the throb and clench of your cunt around nothing became more difficult to ignore.

When he laughed again, there was a hint of the familiar sheepishness you heard often. “Guess I just can’t help myself. It’s your fault for being too fun to play with,” Adachi confessed, as if you were some favorite toy, while slipping his wandering finger deeper past your lips.

The digit sunk into your opening slowly, though it met no resistance from how slick you were, both with arousal and his saliva. You bit on your lip, muffling the airy gasp from the intrusion, your walls flexing around his finger. He inserted a second, just as slowly, and your body answered him again, your hips bucking upwards once more.

Amidst vision foggy with heat and pleasure, as fleeting and teasing as he ensured it was, you could still easily make out the smugness painted on his face. From the narrowed set of his gray eyes, to the predatory, proud grin twisting his lips and showing off a feral flash of teeth, it all made you shudder. It was startling, and even more arousing, to find Adachi seemed to enjoy himself so much, even when he wasn’t the one being tended to. Maybe the man liked the power of watching you squirm and melt under his whims just as much as he enjoyed fucking you senseless or covering your skin with his cum.

It was only once the pair of his fingers were hilted in your heat that Adachi lowered his head to your quivering lips again, ever more wet as he pushed you further and further, physically and mentally. When his tongue rolled over your clit again, he pumped his fingers in and out; the digits following the rhythmic flick and roll of the wet appendage. When he moved back to sucking - in a way with much more vigor that had your body quaking - his fingers curled upward, as if beckoning toward him though hidden by your yearning cunt.

Between gasps and even more unbridled moans, your breath was beginning to come short and sharp in your chest, a ragged rattle heralding how tight agonizingly tight your body was being wound, the promise of bliss waiting just beyond. “Adachi, I-fuck, that’s it, there, right there, I...I-” your words faded into incomprehensible gibberish, words half made out as his name or breathless swearts, as if the burgeoning pleasure had stolen away full control of your tongue.

“That’s it, sweetheart, let it all out,” Adachi’s were a cheeky, honeyed purr, dripping with knowing satisfaction as he rubbed his fingers more hurriedly against the sweet spot on your insides that made you nearly scream. But his words were short, to the point, and then he was back to mouthing hungrily at your cunt again, obscenely wet-sounding and noisy.

As if his permission had been the last thing you needed to come undone, the tension burst, a flow of liquid heat and relief spreading out from your center to the rest of you. Your jaw dropped and you nearly howled your pleasure, each new breath carrying an even more filthy cry. Unbidden, you rocked your hips against Adachi’s face, your legs seeking to clench together and smother him between them, but failing from the position.

A hum left Adachi’s throat as he continued to lick and mouth at your folds, moving away from your clit at one point and withdrawing his fingers. With a bold caress of his tongue, his mouth was ravaging your soaked slit, drinking up the fruits of his labor and making you shudder and convulse around emptiness, bereft now of his fingers stroking you. You whimpered, the sound plaintive, though your folds and entrance were certainly less sensitive than your swollen clit at that moment. Adachi paid little attention to the noise, lapping up his fill of your juices until he was satisfied and you were left moaning more weak little fucks and ahs.

At last, Adachi drew back, licking his lips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He slid your legs off his shoulders, settling them onto the ground, splayed around his kneeling form. You lay there, boneless and drained. Your chest rose and fell heavily, and your eyes fluttered closed as you basked in the last little bits of your ecstasy, of the ‘gift’ Adachi had given you for the day’s special occasion.

It was no surprise, though, even to your muddled mind, when the heat of Adachi’s body pressed into you after a moment. Your eyes slipped open tiredly, met with seething gray like molten iron, swallowed up almost completely by wide black circles of desire. The expression further reinforced the wonder of how he had controlled himself for so long to your pleasure alone when it was clear inside a hungry beast was fighting to be free. Though he had already eaten you out, Adachi looked as if he wanted to devour you. The expression made you shiver, and your still sensitive pussy throbbed anew, despite the tired bliss.

“How was that for something special, baby?” Adachi asked, with a grin that was half-teeth and all ego.

#fanfiction #tohru adachi #persona 4 #ao3 #archive of our own #writing #off-schedule #request #birthday stuff #anonymous #anon #asks #answers

12 notes · View notes

cornfedcryptid · 4 years

Text

This will quite literally be the only post I make in terms of the current fandom drama in DA, that only came to be after seeing this post @kunstpause posted as well as what @wardenari tagged me in and the mass of new followers I have gained from it. I only know bits and pieces of what's going on, only by those I know who are directly effected by it...so what I'm about to say may be the wrong thing to say or fall short of my intended plan.

I'm conflicted as to whether or not I should put all of this under a 'Read More' or not...or even if I should post this...or even if I should add my voice to the sea of voices, inevitably shining the light on me as well. Ah well.

Regardless what I'm about to say may be triggering to some people as it involves suicidal thoughts.

Dragon Age was first introduced to me by my 'ex' a number of years ago. During this time I was at the lowest point of my life, off and on anti depressants and ADHD meds left at right, in the vain hope that my 'ex' and I would become more than what we were. Those that are on the types of medications that alter the state of your mind know that shit ain't something you go off and on of at whatever whim strikes your fancy. To this day I can't remember 99% of what happened between when I was 24-28ish. But I digress.

At that time, I had no access to internet and only had the DA games on PS3. In them I was able to escape from the nagging voice in my head that told me everything would be so much easier if I killed myself. It's been a voice that's been following me around for over 15 years. But when I played Dragon Age it was quiet. I was able to pretend I was someone I wasn't. Happy. Whole. Not a waste of space. Loved unconditionally. It was a stark contrast to the life and relationships around me.

Once I had some semblance of internet access, I had come back to tumblr after being away a few years and fell into the fandom. It was my first ever experience in a fandom, and I had so much fun hanging out in the fringes reading what people wrote, seeing what they drew, the meta posts...all of it. It was as if I had found a safe haven from the bullshit of my life. Even met some amazing people whom I still cherish to this day, regardless of whether not if I still talk them.

Dragon Age became my oasis in the shitstorm of mental health that is the fall/winter months for me. It's become an oasis for many people, young and old. Telling someone what they can and can't do in terms of self-care is no different than any person who's offered unsolicited advice on how to deal with your mental health. It's lowkey downright insulting.

The whole reason why I'm making this post is because I am a 30 year old woman who has ADHD, and upon seeing the post while I was initially angry at the utter shittiness of the asks and disregard towards those of us with ADHD, Aspergers, and those of us that are older, I am more disappointed and sad for the person who felt the need to send them...and every other person involved in spreading the hate. I'm saddened because life, the world, those who raised them, etc. have been so unkind as to teach them that this is okay to do for whatever reason and/or the only response to something they don't agree with. The world's already a fucked up place. The pandemic only compounding it...and I understand the need to direct that feeling of hopelessness, stress, etc. upon something. But not like this. This is just hateful, toxic, and solves nothing. I understand it is easier to go this route...to direct the negative shit in/around you at someone else. It can feel cathartic. But all this does it help keep the ball of negative emotions, thoughts, whatever you want to call it within you where it grows like a cancer.

I should know...I did it in the past. I had left the fandom for the most part a couple years ago, and when I came back I saw the person who was a source of my anxiety, reason for leaving out of fear, self-doubt, and things I do not wish to divulge was still around and a prominent face. I was angry that this person got to continue doing what they were doing while I and others dealt with the effects of their insecurities. And I was scared because I feared them sending a witch hunt after me because they didn't want to see me in their space. I helped feed into the idea of calling this person out and exposing them for what they were because they had their claws in someone else. To this day it is still something I deeply regret. Not only for the stress it caused on those associated with that person, but because it marked the beginning of the end of a friendship with a person I dearly love. Because by feeding into it we let the tumor that was our anger and insecurities grow to the point it consumed us.

We were fortunate this never gained any real traction and therefore we didn't suffer any outward consequences of it. But just because it didn't go anywhere/had no real effect, doesn't mean there weren't prices that were paid.

But let me also be very clear this does not mean I do not think any of the people spreading the hate and anything else in The Mess(in all its variations) shouldn't be held accountable. We are all responsible for our actions and must hold accountability for ourselves. We must also each be aware that just because something someone has made or thinks doesn't agree with our beliefs, religion, etc. does not mean they are inherently wrong(with a few exceptions. But that is besides the point)...as well as if something goes against any of the stated above and is therefore something we can't or won't interact with doesn't mean that is universal. That type of thought is no different than...well, the Trump supporters a majority of tumblr makes fun of.

And I know taking accountability is hard. No one wants to admit they're at fault, and that it's easier to come up with a continuous list of reasons why we're right and they're wrong, even if they're ludicrous. We have been taught that in doing that it is no different than signing your own death warrant, that there is no chance at redemption. It took me a long time to realize that I played a part in the cancer that infected my friend and I. Even typing this out I feel at unease writing this on the off chance they see this and have all of that shit brought back to the forefront.

But from the sea of voices that are speaking, I do not think there is one that is speaking to you that was in a similar situation. That knows how hard it can be to just be 'Yup, I fucked up. I see that now and I'm sorry. I will try harder in the future. Please bear with me because this isn't easy for me.'

But it's okay to admit when you're at fault, because you'd be surprised at the number of people that are forgiving and understanding once you do. It's okay to let go of the negativity and anger. Don't use it as a shield, you'll only burn yourself in the long run. Don't let your ego control you. It'll only be your downfall.

And to the person I have mentioned in the paragraphs above: If you see this, I am sorry. I see now that I let my anger and fear feed into the cancer that fucked us both, and helped ruin our friendship.

#fandom discourse #dragon age discourse #the mess #tw suidice #suicide mention #da fandom critical

6 notes · View notes

mymusehatesme · 5 years

Text

Castle of Glass

Chapter Seven: Prayer

Words: 1796

Summary: A Hell Gate has opened on Earth, so you and your siblings decide to defend humanity, inadvertently locking yourselves out of Heaven. Now you must wander the Earth doing good deeds until your penance has been served. Unfortunately, your attempt goes a little awry and you find yourself a prisoner of the man they call the Hollow King…. [Female reader, angel reader.]

Warnings: None

Inspiration was this post: https://beka-tiddalik.tumblr.com/post/160726927715/a-tradition

MASTERLIST SERIES MASTERLIST

"Ah, I- I am so sorry," you stammered, backing out of the room quickly and closing the door behind you. When the latch clicked, you walked away as fast as was socially acceptable.

The image was burned into your eyes. Sam and Ruby on his throne. Her legs splayed over his, facing him. His hands on her waist. His crown on her head. Her smug grin and his calculated, teasing one.

Closing your eyes and pressing the heels of your hands into them, you tried to scrub out the image. Colors smeared across the blackness, but the image wasn't in your eyes anymore. It was in your brain and it was lodged there like a splinter under a fingernail.

Or like a pitchfork through a leg.

Maybe more like a sword through a lung.

Her stupid smug grin as her attention flicked to you.

No. You would not be bothered by this development, you determined, breathing in deeply to clear your head and altering your route to go to your chambers. If she wanted him, she could have him. He freed her from the Underground, after all. It would be only normal for her to admire him.

Normal for her to try and make herself desirable.

Normal for her to try and seduce him.

You sighed and wondered if she had goaded you into feeling affection toward the Hollow King, only to shatter those false hopes with the situation she had masterminded.

Finally rounding the corner and seeing the door to your sanctuary, you allowed yourself to slow and enter your room calmly. Jealousy was not becoming of an angel.

Jealousy was a base emotion reserved for mortals and demons.

You gently closed the door behind you and stood still for a moment. Your traitorous mind brought back the image - focusing on Sam instead of Ruby this time.

His teasing grin was for her. Testing. Analyzing. Curious.

Then he turned to you and… the smile faded. Not happy. Not analyzing. Realizing. He made a connection that you hadn't.

You shook your head again, loosening the memory and burying it for a later time. Moving across the room, you picked up a book from your stack you loaned from his impressive library and sat in the chair next to the fireplace.

Hours later, there was a knock at your door. "Lady (Y/N)," a strong, but muffled voice from the other side announced, "His majesty requests your presence."

To say you were surprised was understatement. Dean had been coming to get you for a little while now, but it wasn’t him this time.

You closed the door behind you as followed the guard out, careful to not ask any questions. He led you to the throne room (the Image pushed its way to the forefront of your brain and you did your best to beat it back) and opened the door, stepping to the side so you could enter. He closed the door behind you, leaving you alone.

The room was quiet, its tapestries absorbing even the slightest echo from your footfalls as you approached the center of the empty room. Were you waiting for him? Had you gotten here before him?

What did he want with you?

"Lady (Y/N), I wish to apologize for the scene you walked in on," Sam's voice began.

You jumped and pinpointed the source of the sound. He was sitting on a windowsill, crown rightfully upon his head, looking outside in deep contemplation. When your initial terror subsided, you shook your head and put up your hands defensively. "Your majesty, it is I who should be apologizing-"

"Please," he interrupted not yet looking at you, but instead closed his eyes in concentration, "please allow me to finish." After he recognized your silence was acquiescence, he opened his eyes and continued, "I realized Ruby was attempting to manipulate the both of us after you walked in and I saw her reaction to you." His posture was slumped a bit, as though he was trying to humble himself and ask for forgiveness, "She offered me her blood, saying it would make me stronger. Then she crawled on top of me and tried to lower my defenses by increasing physical contact."

"And the crown on her-" You clamped your mouth shut and your eyes widened as your face flushed. Those words had risen from your tongue, unbidden and unwanted. Stupid, stupid, you berated yourself, he owes you no explanation. "I'm sorry," you retracted immediately, lowering your eyes to the floor, "That wasn't my place to ask, I'm sorry."

And just as quickly, he replied, "She lifted it from my head and placed it upon hers, asking how well it fit and if her crown would be as beautiful as mine when she became queen." He was standing now, looking to you to gauge your reactions.

Shock took hold of your heart and you looked up to him in grateful surprise.

His expression was a little warmer than his usual stoniness, a little more open and sincere. He was telling the truth and he was, indeed, sorry. He nodded to himself and admitted, "That wasn't quite what she said, nor how she said it, but that was the gist of it." Back to you, he continued, "I am telling you this because I believe a rift had appeared in our mutual trust and I wished to mend it."

But it hadn't been a rift. It had been a chasm. But that had been perceived on your end of the relationship, thinking he had merely been using you for power and influence when his true goals lay elsewhere. You nodded. "I appreciate your efforts," you acknowledged humbly, "But I do wish to repeat my statement earlier - it was not my place and I apologize for my… outburst. Our relationship is strict in its guidelines and I fear I have veered from its original boundaries."

He appeared confused. "How do you mean?"

You blinked. No. There was no way in Heaven or Hell that you were going to admit you were jealous of a demon to the king. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. "Emotions, your highness," you said instead, "I am beginning to feel anger on your behalf; when you are insulted or disrespected, I feel anger."

More confusion. "I… believe that is normal?"

Shaking your head, you confided, "No. Not for me. I do not feel such strong emotions as they easily overwhelm me and distract me. Some of my siblings are very good at prioritizing their stimuli, but I, along with a few others, am not."

He blinked. “You pride yourself on being distant?”

“No, sire, when I allow my emotions to be in control, I find that I am not a person I like” you explained.

He lowered his head and considered. “Regardless, Ruby has overstepped her bounds and I cannot allow her to remain here unchecked. She will return to the Underground and Crowley will send another demon to replace her.”

You nodded and gave a slight bow, shoving your happiness down a deep, dark hole where it wouldn’t show on your face. “I appreciate your concern, sire,” you acquiesced, “Please let me know if I may be of assistance.”

Sam bowed his head and turned away to set his plans, dismissing you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you turned around and left the room.

Late that evening as you were walking through the garden, you were nearly knocked off your feet by a prayer. It was comprised more of emotions and memories than words, but a prayer was a prayer.

"Y/N…" Warm. A feeling of having eaten/drank too much. Dizzy. Blood. "Ruby…" A weight over a body pinned to a bed. "Please…" A knife's sharp edge stained red. Royal chambers out of focus. A sickly familiar grin from a fuzzy face. "Help…"

It hurt to fly. It felt as though someone tightly grasped your wings at their base and then twisted slowly, firmly, in ways your wings weren't supposed to bend. It hurt and it agonized and you felt as though you may die from such pain, but you landed in Sam's bedroom regardless. Your teeth were gritted, you were hunched over slightly, and tears had welled up in your eyes.

Sam was half-sprawled over the bed, as though he had pushed. Ruby was straddling him, one hand poised (holding him down, holding him still), and her other arm had a gash down the inside; her ruby red blood gushing from the wound and into Sam's mouth. His eyes were rolled back and he was gagging on the blood being forced down his throat.

He was trying to fight, but he couldn't with her demonic powers holding him like a puppet on strings.

"Get off him," you growled in pained anger as you drew your angel blade from its holster under your half-skirt.

Her head spun as she realized there was an angel in the room and her dark hair spun about. Then she smiled at you and laughed. "You're too late," she said lightly, shaking her head and raising her eyebrows, "It's already done. And when he wakes up, he'll be the most powerful human ever to walk this planet!" She laughed again, giddy at her perceived victory. Looking back to Sam with a fond expression, she sighed, "He'll be an excellent replacement for Crowley."

Everything hurt. You were in too much pain to move. So you reached down, down where you reserved your Grace for emergencies such as this - and you flung her across the room, intending to throw her out the window. But you were too weak and she merely cracked her head against the stone floor.

Ruby made an inhuman screech as she climbed to her feet. You placed yourself between the demon and S- the Hollow King. She had clawed her way into the palace, weaseled her way into his trust and apparently his bedroom, and now you could not look at Sam as Sam your friend, but you had to be more objective. He was the King of the Land of Embers and you were under his protection, just as he was under yours.

"You want to get to him?" You bared your teeth and tightened your grip around your angel blade. "You're gonna have to go through me."

Ruby huffed a laugh. "You're wounded," she teased, drawing her own blade, "You're in pain, you can barely move. What are you going to do to me?"

You didn't let the truth in her words bother you. You took a defensive stance and held your blade as Raphael had taught you. "As I said," you repeated tiredly, "you're gonna have to go through me."

The demon smiled wickedly and rushed toward you.

#spn fic #reader insert #dean x reader #sam x reader #angel!reader #soulless!sam x reader #demon!dean x reader #fic: castle of glass #mymusehatesme

8 notes · View notes