#1. yeah except you do have to acknowledge the thing that is actually in the news right now. the reason we're talking about this

[lo1k-diamonds]

SX Seoul Series | Jungkook Entry 💜 Bubbles (Part 1)

PAIRING: Jungkook/Reader

SUMMARY: You're back in town and your first stop in a night out with friends is a new club: SX Seoul. You had no plans, but when you see your ex, everything changes.

WORD COUNT: 11.6k

GENRE: Exes to lovers, smuuuuuut, angst, making up

RATING: Explicit

WARNINGS: exes, explicit sexual content, in public, oral, slight degradation and rough cause you are both hurt

PARTS: [1] [2]

(You can also read it on AO3)

----

You smiled at the bouncer on your way inside the club and brushed a strand of dark hair behind your ear. Your group called you to follow as you got lost looking around the newest club in Itaewon. It was purposefully dark with red neon lights in wavy lines flowing in the direction of the dance floor but not before a huge sign with black and white stripes coaxed your attention with promises expanding over the several floors: SX.

“Come along.”

You smiled at your best friend and followed her and her friends to a reserved club area not too far from the bar. The Tech House music was making your ribcage hum comfortably and you sat on a couch before she turned to you again.

“I know the bartender on our side tonight! I’ll go say hi for a second!”

You nodded and watched her go as you took the space around you comfortably. The other girls were chatting, cross-checking who was there tonight and who they knew. You were used to hanging with girls like them — fun and wild at parties and clubs. You didn’t know them because you’d been away for a while, but you trusted your dearest friend to keep good company around.

Either way, you were there to have fun and enjoy being back home. You took a deep breath, the familiar scent of sweat and alcohol latching itself onto your skin before you even contemplated dancing. Everyone else was already doing it, flowing like a perfect wave in that crowd and you’d join them soon enough.

The lights were flashing all around to the generous beat making you tap your foot, and you contemplated getting up without waiting for your best friend when you saw him. Fully dressed in black in a way that avoided light and dancing so closely with a girl your guts burned with furious jealousy.

“Right? I’ve heard about him,” a girl gushed to your right. “He’s very hot.”

“You’re joking, look at that sleeve,” another one replied and your eyes immediately traced his arm. It was fuller now. “I wanna ride that bad.”

“Do you think he has other tattoos?”

“I’ll tell you tomorrow,” one answered and they all giggled and laughed around. Your eyes never diverted from him or the way he was dancing with that girl, firm hands gripping her waist over a sparkly deeply cleavaged top.

“But you know, I’ve heard he fucks without kissing. Without even acknowledging you.”

Finally, your eyes turned to the girl sharing all the gossip and you wondered how she knew that.

“First-hand experience?” You asked with a teasing smile, just making conversation. They didn’t have to know how truly interested you were in knowing.

“No,” the other girls turned to hear more and you could see they were all charmed by the picture the girl was conjuring. “Not my kind of thing.”

The other girls teased her reply for a moment while you paid them little mind.

“Yeah, right. Look at him,” another one laughed openly. 

“He’s fucking sexy and has this cute smile,” one said almost wantonly. She was possibly voicing everyone else’s thoughts. “Face it, who wouldn’t want to touch those curls?”

“He can get any girl on her knees.”

“And a bad boy? Get serious. We’d all be lining up.”

“What if he changes?”

“What if we’re the one?”

They all giggled except you, starting to regret not having a drink in your hand.

“Guys like him don’t change.”

“Actually,” the girl with the gossip leaned forward. “Rumour is he was in a committed relationship and that when she dumped him, he did a one-eighty and never dated seriously again.”

Your friend neared you all with a tray of shots and a wide grin, “Who’s not dating seriously?”

“Whoa, what a bitch,” one replied, leaning forward to grab a glass.

“Who would waste that?”

“If I could tap that, I’d hook him around my little finger.”

Your best friend looked at you quizzically and you just twitched the corners of your mouth. You grabbed a shot glass as well while the gossip girl explained everything to your best friend. In an instant, her eyes shot to yours but you were purposefully avoidant.

“What’s his name anyway?” One of them asked, turning her back so they could toast.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

Your eyes immediately fell back on him and you ignored your friend’s worried looks. You cheered with the girls to a good and steamy night and drank the shot without much thought. It burned on its way down, but you were already burning from before, so no biggy. Who cared who he danced with, you were there to have fun too.

Your best friend called your name with a tinge of worry and all you did was smile, “I’ll go grab another round.”

You got up and adjusted your short strapless dress to make sure it covered your ass before trying to get in between the crowd to reach the bar. You didn’t have to go that far, but you couldn’t control your curiosity. As you moved in closer, you could see how he seemed taller, more built, and so buff. He had let his hair grow longer and it curled wildly around his ears, giving him an edge you found yourself liking a lot. Your lower belly was tingling already as you eyed him with hunger, especially those firm hands.

You were so hot that you were sweaty and by the time you leaned against the bar, you finally noticed something wasn’t right. The girl he was with was waving something small and flat between two fingers that she hid very quickly, and whatever it was got him angry. You knew that disgusted lip pull, and it made you smile.

He turned away from the girl and you instantly faced the bar, giving the whole scene your back. You were curious, hot, and bothered by the mere fact that he was there, that you got to see him, that there was a possibility that you would talk. It had been a while. You shouldn’t be curious, but the tingly sensation down your stomach wasn’t interested in shouldn’ts.

It was then and there that you almost took a deep breath and committed to not look his way the rest of the night. Your curiosity shouldn’t be enough, the girls gossiped way too much so you had all the information you could need, and there was really no need for your paths to intersect.

But fate wouldn’t have you choose that road tonight, it would seem. You turned to the side, curious as to where he would be, and you smiled. There were only two people in between you and an outstretched arm with a full sleeve over the bar counter. He was too close to be ignored, and you just couldn’t.

You made your way to him and luckily the two people between you had just gotten their drinks and were ready to leave. Jungkook didn’t notice you getting near because the bartender was listening to his order and you just leaned on the bar counter by his side.

“Order for me too, will you?”

He turned to you and his face was worth a million words. His lips parted to make way for air, but he wasn’t breathing, and that was when you noticed the lip ring. His skin was perfectly immaculate, the sweetness you’d recognize anywhere in the tender swell of his cheeks. Higher, his normally lovely eyes were wide in shock as he took in your presence. His eyebrows twitched and you noticed another piercing, which along with the new ones on his lip made you smile as you leaned to support your head on your hand. He was still figuring out if you were a ghost while you were in wonderland, wondering what had happened to all that sweetness.

“Here you go,” the bartender placed a whiskey cola on the counter and you turned quickly before Jungkook could react.

“Can you get me one too, please?”

You were already waving your credit card and the bartender acquiesced without wasting a beat.

It was the moment Jungkook needed to grab his drink and shug half of it like he was dying of thirst. Or maybe he just really needed a drink after seeing you.

“Thirsty are we?” You asked, reaching for the glass from his hand and taking a couple of sips while never breaking away from his darkened eyes. The ice-cold drink had you blinking for a second, thankful for the refreshing sensation down your chest. “You always liked them sweet.”

You placed his glass near his hand again before turning to smile at the bartender retourning with your card and your drink.

“You’re here.”

It wasn’t a question and if you weren’t interested in reading his lips, you might have missed it. So you smiled, letting the nostalgia fill you up in a nice kind of way. You had missed the little twitches of his lips while he mused or the way he scratched his nose bridge softly when he was embarrassed or at a loss.

“I am. How are you?”

His eyes were focused on the drink and he scoffed at your question, reaching to drink the rest of it. That was the first time you doubted this could end well. There was a bitterness in his features that dragged yours out of the deepest corners of you where you wished it would remain buried.

“Why are you here?”

Your lips twitched, “New club in Seoul.”

He sneered, “There were many new clubs in Seoul over the last year. Never crossed you before.”

“You know I wasn’t here.”

Your eyes locked and yours had all the meaning they could have. You weren’t in Seoul, so you couldn’t have crossed ways before. But you were here now.

He looked down and licked his lower lip while kicking the bar pensively. You let him process the fact that you were there in the flesh while you drank. When he looked up at you again, you caught his eyes and passed him your drink. He took a second but he grabbed it, turning to the bar to down it while you leaned into his ear.

“Dance with me.”

He looked out of the corner of his eye at you and you pulled back, waiting. You weren’t as crazy as anyone could assume, you knew the options. He could outright laugh in your face and move away like you were a plague, and it would hurt, but you would understand. 

You kept your eyes locked on his, riding that heartbeat as you waited. You also knew that he could take you up on that offer, dance with you, and who knew what else. And it wasn’t as much as for the mystery, or a challenge, or anything of the like. You didn’t want him for any of those vain reasons. You wanted so much more.

He gave you a short nod and placed your empty glass next to his, with only the ice left. You gave him a cheeky smile before turning to go deeper into the crowd, far away and in the middle so that your best friend wouldn’t see you and advise you to be wise and think twice. What could you tell her; the moment fate challenged you with the chance of meeting him, you instantly lost.

You never turned back to check if he was following, you just assumed he did. You stopped with the flashing lights, sweating bodies, and thrumming music all around you, and you closed your eyes. You wanted his hands on you, his arms around you, his waist so close you’d be indistinguishable. You craved his presence, slick pooling at the thought of it alone.

So when two firm hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back flush against a firm chest, snaking arms holding your stomach and going up your sternum like they owned you, all you could do was freefall into him, releasing a moan that you knew he could have never heard, but he surely felt.

He hid his nose in your hair, lulling you two to the beat, and you melted against him. He was always a good dancer, the way he rolled his hips to guide yours reminding you of far sweeter times. His hand reached your chest and rested there, and you thanked the dark, the loud music, the crowd, the alcohol, the moment. It was in those moments that the deepest desires came out, hiddenly safely away. Only the two of you knew: how he was brushing his nose and lips on your neck, and how you were grabbing his arms to close around you tighter.

“When did you come back?” His lips were so close to your ear that a wave of shivers ran down your neck.

“Two days ago.”

His arms around you had you losing yourself further and further. You couldn’t care less what the music was or where you were. All you wanted was that chance and you were greedy.

“Are you alone?”

You sank your nails into his skin, “Youngjoo is here.” He didn’t react but you knew he would remember your best friend. “Are you?”

You forced the words out of you. You almost didn’t want to know, especially after what the girls were gossiping about. Maybe they were wrong and he was dating someone seriously. But then he would have never been dancing with that girl before, so maybe the rumors were true. And on that end, you had very mixed feelings.

He didn’t answer but he didn’t move away either. You loved everything as it was: every inch of his skin glued to yours, his lips ghosting your neck, his hands seconds away from groping you and making you beg.

But eventually, you needed more. You needed an answer. You’d beg, gladly, but not if he had his thoughts on someone else.

So you turned in his arms, the short dress allowing you to easily glue your bodies together as you hid near his ear. “Answer me,” you cooed, brushing his neck with your fingers until you were embracing and grazing his scalp with your nails. You leaned the side of your face on him, his sweat not bothering you for an instant. It reminded you of what it was like to feel him that close while on his lap. When he would fuck into you, sweetly and strongly until every breath was a moany whimper, and you buried your fingers just like that to keep him close. His delectable scent would invade you then and envelope you tightly in everything Jungkook-related until all there was left was his coarse words tensing the coil in your—

He breathed near your ear and you lost your breath, sighing instantly after when he said nothing.

“Answer me,” you asked again. This time you nuzzled his ear and pressed yourself even closer, “Tell me what I want to hear. Tell me you’re by yourself, that you have no plans, no one waiting at home, nothing stopping you from doing this,” you let out all your deepest desires, carried out by the close and delirious moment. 

His hand was pressing up your spine and nape as you spoke until it latched onto your hair but it didn’t pull you away. You had moved by yourself to be as close as you could, breaths fanning each other’s faces as you waited for his reply. 

You waited and longed, and tried not to rub your body flush against that familiar warmth that you were craving like the air you breathed. Unmistakably, your body betrayed you by leaning closer and closer until your noses grazed briefly, and that was when you felt the pull. His hand pulled your head back by your hair and you opened your glistening eyes, teeth deep into your lower lip with utmost desire, only to find his dark eyes and rigid expression. And that was enough to shake you and put out in the open everything you wished had stayed hidden: he was angry.

Suddenly, you remembered very well the last time you saw him. How much it hurt him, and you. How much of a coward you had been. How much you didn’t deserve a drop of his attention, let alone his time, touch, or warmth. 

He let you go slowly as memories you thought no longer haunted you came rushing back, making you swallow a lump. And you smiled, because how could you not? He was angry, so very clearly, and you deserved it.

Your bodies were finally separated and despite the happiness in your chest at having had the chance to see him, your knees were weak and your legs wobbly. You couldn’t do this.

“I’m sorry,” you voiced, hoping that your expression conveyed how much you meant those words. For now. For before.

And you turned to leave with a deep breath. Were you running away? Yes. In a way, from the anger you created in him and the regret in yourself. From the chance of being rejected head-on, which you knew you had coming but you had never been the brave kind, so you couldn’t face it. You could even agree he deserved to have the pleasure, but you were far too selfish to let him have it. No. You’d remain the bitch who dumped him and couldn’t face the consequences, which was exactly why you were leaving. 

It was chilly outside but it didn’t matter, you were too hot from all the emotions — the excitement and the shame and regret. You stepped to the street where you knew that among the cars stopping and passing you’d eventually catch a taxi dropping people off and took out your phone to text your best friend that you were leaving.

You had just hit send when someone grabbed your arm and you offered resistance, ready to fight whoever dared to try to grab you and—

Familiar dark eyes faced you back and you instantly let your body fall to his chest. His jawline was still firm as he clenched it, angry eyes stiffening his face, but you still let yourself get drawn in like a magnet to a polar opposite. You knew he was mad, knew he had reasons to hate you, despise you, treat you worse than the girls he fucked without kissing or acknowledging, but fuck were you—

He stepped back and dragged you along and you offered no resistance. You had no idea where he was taking you as he walked you down the street tightly by the arm, hiding his grip between you as you walked. You looked up at him, ignoring if you’d trip and fall with such high heels. He looked angry, and you cursed yourself for thinking it looked hot as hell on him. 

He pulled you into a dimly lit back alley that led to a residential area and stopped you just behind a hidden corner covered by a parked car. Your back hit the wall and you looked up at him while grabbing the chain strap of your bag over your head so it wouldn’t be in the way. 

That thought repeated itself — he looked hot as hell. You didn’t like that he was angry with you, but that tension on him was sexy as fuck and you wanted to be the one to relax him. To let him take out his frustration on you until he was vulnerable and sweet like you always remembered him.

Those were the thoughts in your mind when you raised your hands to touch him but he slapped them away harshly. You didn’t have time to react about it though because a second later he caged your face in his hands and crashed his mouth to yours, pressing you between him and the wall. 

The cold wall was nothing when you were burning inside out. His mouth was hungry on yours and you paid him back in kind, getting your tongue to meet his just as eagerly. Your hands gripped his shoulders closely while you tried not to let the lightheadedness get you, but it was too late. All you wanted was happening right now, you’d keep kissing him and reaching for him until the end.

His hands lowered to your curves as his lips trailed down your jawline and you moaned when he squeezed your chest harshly. You pulled him closer, you wanted it all, and when he humped his erection to your hip, all you could think to do was beg.

“Yes,” you breathed, feeling how hard he was through both your clothes, from head to base. “Fuck me right now. Please.”

His lips quickly came to yours, if to shut you up or not you couldn’t tell. Either way, he gave you enough space to reach his waist, unbutton his pants and grab his cock firmly. He rutted your hand with wanton groans into your neck, and you felt like the world was yours. If you could have him, then you wouldn’t complain or whine ever again. If that thick cock would stretch you again like you wished so badly, then you’d shut up about everything wrong in this world because absolutely nothing would be wrong ever again.

Maybe he heard your prayers because suddenly he grabbed your hips and tapped them for you to instinctively jump on his lap. You supported yourself on his shoulders while he kissed you and let you play with his lip rings, rolling your tongue over them. Meanwhile, you could feel but not exactly know what he was doing at your waist level in between your two bodies. Only when he put the condom wrap near his mouth so he could rip it open with his teeth did you realize there was a good reason to interrupt your make-out session. 

You let him have his focus while he put it on, lazily brushing your lips over his forehead, right until he searched for your panties only to rudely pull them to the side and push himself inside you almost instantly. You groaned with a hint of a whine at the burn, but soon he made you jump on his lap, piercing his cock fully into you and you let your head fall back. Fuck, had you missed this.

You didn’t have time to let the pleasure reach every corner of you, but your enjoyment was not cut short. His hips snapped into yours and your chin dropped, eyes hooded when you realized that was how you were going to get him. He did it again, grabbing your shoulder and hip into place and the corners of your mouth twitched. You almost smiled before biting your lip as he started a paced rhythm that didn’t give you a second’s rest. 

His angry eyes were on you as the slaps echoed into the night along with your stifled moans until you couldn’t care. Who cared if someone found Jungkook fucking your brains out? You wanted him to, dreamed of it, remembered it, had wished on all your lucky stars you would one day get to feel that way again. And now? Fuck if you cared who caught you. That thick cock ramming into you was the sweetest thing—

He grabbed your hair to pull your face to kiss him and you kept on moaning into his mouth. His tongue didn’t meet the reception he wanted, and you blamed the way he was fucking into you so hard you couldn’t even focus on breathing. Maybe it aggravated him or it just gave him his next idea, but in a second he was kissing down your neck, which had you grabbing his head close so he would keep going.

Suddenly he yanked the upper part of your dress and as it didn’t have stripes, the elastic gave in and let the fabric slide. He did the same on the strapless bra, not stopping his hips for a second, until your chest was out in the open, bouncing with every thrust.

He buried his face between your tits, licking and bitting for a moment in which you knew you were dripping slick down both him and you and you fucking loved it. Your haze was so up in the clouds you couldn’t be bothered to come down until he did something that shook your heart.

He tightened your legs around his waist, leaned in an angle so he could hold you firmly against the wall, and fuck you in a way that rubbed your clit just like you loved it. Instantly, the way he dragged over it and reached deep inside with his cock had you moaning breathlessly. Then he straightened up, carefully perfecting his movements until your mouth was open and you were jumping on his lap with him to the best of your abilities. He knew he had you in the right spot, you were squirming but desperate to stay close, moaning and completely lost, trying to sink your nails into his skin but weak to the sensations leaving you adrift. He reveled in that, with such pride swelling inside him he didn’t know what to do with himself aside from grabbing both your tits and squeezing them harshly.

He felt the way you tensed around his cock and he knew he had you. With every snap of his hips, your eyes closed further, your moans became breathy, and your legs pulled him more in. He knew he could squeeze you to the point it bruised without as much as a whimper, but he stayed clear from doing it, taking pleasure only in the way his cock was so deep inside you that he knew you’d never forget it.

You took your hands to his over your chest and then it hit you that only he could do you like this. Only he knew every little thing that you liked, only he knew how to grope and squeeze without hurting you, only he knew exactly how to fuck you into oblivion every time. Because it was him.

Fuck, it’s him. After so long—

You tried reaching for him, but your hand dropped to his shoulder as you let the orgasm shake you and steal away your inhibitions if there ever were any. You closed your eyes and felt his body press closer to you, almost as if to hide you from the world as you moaned and cursed him for releasing you like this. He fucked you through it, then hid in your neck when it came to his, grunting and holding you tightly. You grinned and petted his head when he stilled, blissful with having him tucked deep inside you again.

Until he cursed into your neck and you weren’t sure if it was out of giddiness, delight, relaxation, or relief like it would have been for you, or if it was because he was pissed at himself.

When he let you down a bit more abruptly than you anticipated, you were left only with a stronger doubt.

He turned to the side to get rid of the condom and you took the time to put your bra and dress back in place. When he turned back to face you, you had already grabbed your bag from the floor and were just looking at him. Your lips twitched — he looked so fucking handsome with that spark in his eyes. 

He cursed, then ruffled his hair for a moment before looking at you again, “I’ll take you home.”

You pulled your hair neatly back and pursed your lips, “I’m staying at Youngjoo’s. I don't have a place yet, so we… wouldn’t have privacy.”

He openly snorted, “You're assuming I want seconds.”

You sighed with a light shrug, “Isn't that what we just did?”

His derision fell through as his features hardened again but you didn't budge. You did what you did and didn't regret it for a second. You were both adults and he followed you, there was no point in pretending you didn't want each other. That was what you asked for and what he had given you, whether that made him angry or not.

But you didn't want to antagonize him. You gave him a short nod, “It's okay, I can—”

He clicked his tongue and gave you a dry look before giving you a nod to follow him. You considered for a second if you should — if it made him so angry, maybe you shouldn't. But tonight you were giving 0 fucks about shouldn’ts. You were doing what you wanted and what you wanted was your hands on him for as long as possible. 

So when he stopped next to a red motorcycle and opened the seat compartment to get you a helmet, you smirked. You wouldn't tell him, but you missed exactly that — hugging him while he sped between every single obstacle and your hair flowed behind you with the wind. When you were free to go mad fast but remained safe as you could only feel with him.

He sat first, putting on his helmet expertly and starting the motor in a well-rehearsed move. You had seen him do it before when you were still together, but there was a certain magic in seeing that even if he changed, some things didn’t.

He leaned his head ever so slightly to glance at you and you smirked, finally getting on behind him and gripping him firmly. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you were feeling daring — and he looked back. He checked on you, despite the derision and silences. You took the small win.

“You remember where Youngjoo lives?” You ask in a bit of a shout as he is looking at the road to finally get on it.

He didn’t answer you, but seeing the direction he took, you immediately assumed he remembered. And with this, you allowed yourself to just lean closer, wrap your arms tighter around his torso, and relax. Inhale his scent unapologetically by sticking your face into his shoulder maybe a bit too much; the helmet was big and he surely felt it. Palm his chest and torso over his jacket; you hoped he wouldn’t get too distracted. You were petty, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop and get angry with you or snap your hands away. Knowing this was perhaps the last chance you’d ever have to touch him, so you did. Wrong or right, it didn’t matter to you. You’d remember this later and all the little sensations and you’d be happy you did.

You were lulled by his warm body and the drum of the motor raging on, so you paid little attention to where he was going. All you knew was that when he stopped and pushed a button for a communal garage to open at the foot side of an apartment complex it was not Youngjoo’s place.

He rode more softly through the cars parked underground until he found his spot and stopped. You didn’t ask questions, you didn’t need to. You stepped out of the bike and handed him your helmet, and he took it and put it back, the both of you quiet. You made sure to remain quiet and you followed him, small as a mouse, into the elevator lobby, then inside one where he pressed the seventh floor, and even when the doors closed with only the two of you there.

Your mind was roaring on about him bringing you to his place and the only reason he would have to do that, and your chest would soon explode. With every passing minute ever since you laid eyes on him, it felt like you were living a dream. Only in dreams did you think you’d ever have the chance of being near him, so no matter what, you were winging it. Living the moment, even if all of this turned out to be an angry fuck, you’d gladly get on your back.

He typed the code to unlock an apartment door and you followed him inside, cheekiness left outside in the night right before you got into the bike and decided to make the most of your time with him. He threw the motorcycle keys on a table you couldn’t see because it was dark and turned on the lights, making you hold your breath. He had moved to that place, that much was certain, but even his space didn’t remind you of Jungkook as you expected it to.

You had only taken the step to peep into his home, you meant to turn back and take your shoes off as it was respectful to do, but he was a step ahead. You stepped out of the way to exchange places with him right after he got his jacket on the hanger, but he had something else in mind. His hands followed your movement to your waist, and as soon as you looked up, eager lips were searching for yours.

You instantly melted against the wall, hands raising to run through his hair as you let yourself dive into that contentment again. While you were relaxed, he was clearly impatient. His palms traced your curves in wide but quick movements, so firmly you knew you could have already been naked, he was learning the same. His tongue was inside your mouth almost as quickly as his body pressed to yours, stealing your thoughts and any possibility you ever had to change your mind. Not that you would, and you were sure he knew that. Your hands were gripping him close, your breathing was heavy and dragged and you weren’t fighting his kiss in the slightest, on the contrary. Your tongue was inviting him, your body was arching to expose more skin, you were taking what you could and you’d give whatever he wanted.

But then he broke the kiss and looked down, forcing you to stop as well. You looked at him under wanton fluttering lashes only to find him with that same stiff and reticent expression you had seen before. 

Your first heartbeat stung — you could guess why he was hesitating and there was nothing you could do about it now.

The second revolted you — you were there, weren’t you? In his house? He brought you here, so why worry? Why hesitate? Why overthink?

The third got you annoyed — if he was that hesitant, why bring you there in the first place? Why bother?

The fourth rilled you up, and that was when you spoke, “What’s wrong?”

He refused to look up at you but never moved away.

His breathing was calming down and you spoke without thinking, “Changed your mind?”

His eyes finally moved to yours and you saw his anger. And again, like a well-rehearsed exercise, all you could think was how you were right there.

“I’m here,” you said quietly, reaching for the curling strands of hair under his ear.

He didn’t move, eyes fixed on the corner of your lips, and you knew he was forcing himself to stay like this.

“I can leave,” he finally said. “You can sleep here and I can leave.”

“Why?”

He finally looked up at your eyes as you let your head fall back to the wall in a languid movement.

“This is your place, why leave?”

His jaw tensed and you could swear you saw a vein pulsing.

You sighed, “You brought me here so here I am. What do you want to do? Fuck me until morning? Gladly. Just sleep? I’m sure you have a big bed. Drink until we pass out? I’m down. Talk?” His eyebrows twitched and you nodded. “Not sure how that would work, but we can. Or not. I won't say another word if you don’t want me to. Just stop this internal struggle of yours. Do what you want to do.”

You were as comfortable as could be between him and the wall and just waited for his decision. Your eyes stayed on his pensive expression, taking in the little details before going down to trace his wide shoulders and biceps. He was definitely more buff and you wondered if it changed things a lot or—

“You can shower first.”

He backed away from you and you couldn’t help your expression sobering up. He looked almost apologetic, hiding something deep inside while showing you something you could only call a mask.

But you knew him. All those women thirsting after him, wishing they could make him smile and fall for them didn’t know him like you did. For better or worse, all they had were rumors while you had memories.

So you nodded and stepped towards the bathroom, but not before turning around midway, “Please don’t leave.”

The look you gave him was enough — pleading whereas his eyes flickered with an emotion you had not yet seen on him. But even if you wanted to press it and ask, you didn’t. At the end of the day, it was still his choice and you were well aware of it.

You took a calming shower, cleaning the sweat and alcohol from your skin with a shower gel that smelled of him and wondering what your next step should be. You ended up deciding that if he had left despite your request, you would call a taxi and go back to Youngjoo’s. You honestly hoped as you toweled yourself that he would tell you to leave and be clear about it instead of leaving to give you space at the expense of his comfort.

You glanced around the bathroom and ignored your discarded dress and heels in the corner, searching for something else instead. Your eyes fell on a black tee thrown over the laundry basket but that didn’t quite make it in. You grabbed it and brought it to your nose, shutting your eyes instantly with a longing grimace — it smelled of him. You couldn’t bring yourself to admit the mess of feelings that his very existence created in you, but the tears in your eyes were enough.

You quickly put it on, looking at yourself in the mirror. He always enjoyed oversized clothes, which on you looked like two of you could fit. Your lips curved as you smoothed the fabric over your stomach, his scent gracing your senses every time you took a breath. Nothing beat that comfort.

You turned to leave the bathroom and hoped to find Jungkook still there. You hoped he’d let you keep the tee, though you wouldn’t be opposed to taking it off if it would be replaced with his strong arms—

The scent of coffee hit your nose quickly once in the living room and your brow furrowed. Not because it was coffee, Jungkook liked coffee, but because when you neared the kitchen, your guts twisted. On the counter, you saw a fuming mug and the cinnamon smell instantly teared you up. That plus the bottle of soymilk and the honey pot pushed to the back told you many things: he had those things he never really drank before laying around, he remembered your favorite latte, and he made it for you.

Your eyes jumped to his back; he was looking outside the kitchen window and by the intense coffee scent around him, you knew before he turned that he was having a black expresso.

He looked at you and your guts turned; all you could do was look into his eyes while your fingers gripped the hem of his shirt on you. You were tearing up in a way you couldn’t control, everything was too much. He didn’t leave. You were there, in his life, in his home, wearing his clothes, having your favorite drink that he prepared for you because he still remembered how. That meant he had to care, even if just a little, and you didn’t know what to say but—

Your chin trembled but before you voiced anything, he finished his coffee, put the empty cup in the sink, and passed you to enter the bathroom. The door merely clicked closed and you covered your eyes, trying to reel your emotions back in. You stepped to the counter to grab your coffee and as soon as the taste hit your tongue, your heart shook, creasing lines between your eyebrows as you teared up.

You didn’t want to have hope, but your stupid heart was turning a deaf ear. You never had hope before, you knew you fucked up and never handled things properly, and for the way you hurt him, you knew you didn’t deserve any kindness. You scoffed at yourself and drank more to have the comfort of that warmth down your chest as if it came straight from him. You knew and it made no sense but you were still there and you were willing to delude yourself for a moment longer.

So you took your mug and the opportunity to look around while you heard the shower noise faintly in the background. His place was bigger now and you looked around with a smile on your face. He had the same black leather couch, the same grey bean bag, and the same shoebox by the entrance. The fact that he had a projector screen instead of a TV made you smile, he spoke for ages that he wanted to do that if he ever moved out. But as you took in the rest of the place, your smile broke a little.

On the corner, there was a barbell weight set, dumbbells, a pull-up bar, and resistance bands. He used to work out before, but now you knew why he looked bigger — he definitely worked out more now. You pursed your lips with the sweet latte comforting you as you sipped it slowly; you didn’t want to think about why he was making that effort.

You moved on to peep at his desk, interested in what he was working on, and you stilled. He still had his gaming keyboard, mouse, and desktop, but now he had books about photography on the desk. He always liked photography and filmmaking, but the new camera and microphone spoke volumes about what he was working on at the moment. You searched around for the easel he’d always have with a recent work in progress or his sketch notebook but you couldn’t find them, and so you pressed your lips. You loved it when sketched you, always when you least expected it, showing you beautiful versions of yourself you only started believing because of him.

You finished the coffee, eager for the sweet trace to link you back to him — you wondered what happened to—

You turned when you heard the bathroom door opening, you never noticed he had stopped showering. Your thoughts tripped over themselves at the sight of him: wet raven hair ruffled by a towel you couldn’t see, dark eyes set on you as if he wanted to make sure he was seeing right, soft golden skin covering wide shoulders and swollen arms, chest, leading to firm abs that were always there, but not as marked. Your eyes lowered, but the black towel was hanging on to his hip like you could only envy.

You raised your eyes to find him serious, looking at you, tense features on a tense body. 

“Thank you,” you smiled at him, waving the empty mug before placing it down. You swallowed a lump at the view of him walking towards you, despite his demeanor. “It’s my favorite—”

You weren’t startled when he grabbed your head and crashed his mouth to yours. You were praying for it to happen, and the burn running down your chest from the way your mouths tried to consume one another had you melting instantly. You wanted him, you weren’t hiding it, and whatever way he wanted to touch you worked as long as he did. As long as those lips pressing yours covered all of you. As long as his tongue fighting yours soon spelled your pleasure at his whim while his fingers pressed marks only he could trace on you.

Your hands moved to those wide shoulders that had your knees wobbly and he pushed them away before forcing your head up to face him better. He wanted your focus on your kiss only and you didn’t mind, but the temptation to grab him and scratch him was overriding your senses. You tried again, but this time he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you with him. You gripped his shoulders for support, finally sinking your nails in the soft muscle just like he was taking small bites out of your bottom lip.

Your ass hit something and when he pushed you on it, you just briefly freed one hand to throw whatever was on the dining table behind you off to have some space. You moaned with the bites he was leaving down your neck while you focused on keeping him close with your legs wrapped around him. He fumbled with the tee shirt to get his hands on you and quickly grabbed your chest in a push-and-squeeze motion that had you moaning and humping him. Fuck, you missed this. No one could ever mess you up like he could, you always turned into a whimpering wet mess with him.

He scratched down your stomach to your hips, squeezing them harshly, then pulled away. He grabbed the hem of the shirt and you raised your arms instantly to let him strip you.

He stepped back and threw the shirt on the floor, hungry dark eyes eying you from head to toe.

“Fuck, look at you.”

A subtle line showed between your eyebrows; his tone was abrasive in a way you weren’t familiar with. But the way he stepped back between your legs while getting on his knees was much more in line with what you knew. Him in a praying position tracing your skin with open-mouthed kisses while he groped and scratched every inch of you was one of the reasons you couldn’t forget him. You couldn’t let go of what it felt like to be desired by that man. The thought alone had you wet and whimpering, the only difference was that now you’d experience it again after only dreams and hopes.

His mouth kept tracing kisses on your inner thighs, just like he knew would drive you crazy, but you didn’t whine about it. No, you wanted it to last. Whatever he’d give to you, you wanted everything. You weren’t beyond begging, but you wouldn’t just with a little bit of torture. No, you knew how that mouth would move on you, how his tongue would lap at the perfect rhythm. You could wait for perfection.

He slapped your ass on one side, opening your leg further with a whimper from you. He repeated the motion on the other side and only then did you notice you were squeezing him between your legs. It made you smirk as you looked down — you could see his dark eyes with a few wet hair strands over them, the hint of teeth as he grazed your sensitive inner thighs. He could spank you all he wanted, you wanted him to. So you smiled and pressed your lips, clearly telling him that you’d keep your mouth shut.

He bit down, getting a deep moan from you. You were clenching around nothing, dripping with slick, and you were sure he noticed.

“Since when are you so patient?”

He sounded annoyed and you giggled wantonly, so fucking amused you couldn’t help it. “I’m patient when it’s worth it.” You could feel his hands pressing your skin, going to the swell of your ass to squeeze, and you nearly sighed. “I wouldn’t dare rush perfection.”

He scoffed but dropped his mouth on you instantly, having all your cockiness evaporating on the spot. He ate you like only he did, grabbing your squirmy self still while he made out with you. His tongue lapped at your clit in a fixed rhythm that you couldn’t explain and seconds later you released every square inch of air from inside your lungs with a deep moan. He knew you liked a stable slow rhythm, but keeping your thighs in place was irking you. It was right there! If only he’d let you move. Just a centemeter right— No! Just one or two to the left and you’d be lost to those sensations you hadn’t felt in months.

You whimpered, but you couldn’t talk while he did that to you. You reached for his hands on your hips and squeezed them, both looking for support and for a way to be free. His humming to your core had you sucking in a breath, but what broke you were his words.

“Stay still, bubbles. Let me get you there.”

And he licked you faster, keeping pressure on you with his mouth that had you whimpering and tensing up like a coil about to spring. Every lap of his tongue increased your tension, pitched your moan, and stole your breath, to a point you thought you’d explode. You sat up in your tension and grabbed his hair, ecstatic. It was him with his face half buried in you, eating you, getting you there, calling you by your pet name like nothing changed.

That thought alone pushed you to the edge and you hopped on the train. Steadily and surely, Jungkook would take you there just like he promised. Just like you wished.

So you started moaning louder, half derailed, “Fuck, baby. Fuck, you’re so good.” You could barely breathe, but you wanted him to know how much you loved this. “Take me there, please, I’m—”

Your voice broke because you suddenly were cold. You were panting and shocked, but your first instinct was to look down at him and loosen up your grip on his hair.

“Are you okay?”

He faced you and stayed silent, with your slick covering his nose, mouth, and chin while his digits dag at your hips. Your worry was clouding you, having your hand brush his cheek in search of an answer that only came when he stood up and turned away. Then, you blinked to reality and looked down and around. You were confused. Not because he stopped, but because he insisted on staying quiet and to himself.

You got up and were about to speak your mind when you saw that the towel had fallen to the ground. That gave you the impulse to walk up to him and look down shamelessly — he was so hard he was pointing at you. You raised your eyes and found his on yours, darker than before. He was tense and angry, that was clear, but he was hard, having rubbed his hand over his face to clean your slick off him. But then, why was he licking his lips and his lip rings, where your taste was probably stronger?

You took a deep breath and placed your hands firmly on his shoulders, pushing him steadily. He let you, walking back at your will until his calves hit the sofa. You tapped his shoulders once and he sat down. His hands were on your hips and started tracing circles absentmindedly, and you leaned closer to pet his hair. His sweet caresses were enough to soothe you, to become sure of something you weren't sure you had the right to be sure of. But it didn't matter — he chose the wrong night to be indecisive. You were willing to choose for you both.

You kissed his head before getting on your knees in between his legs. He gave you a dark cold stare and with anyone else you might have cowered, but not with him. You waited a moment with your hands over his legs, but he never gave you clear permission, incentive, or rejection. So you took the option that suited you best and leaned in.

You trailed your lips over his soft and built thighs, kneading the firmness with a whimper caught in your throat. You kissed closer and closer, releasing sighs left and right and paying little to no mind to what he would think of you for it. You both had always been like this: crazy for one another, praising and worshiping as quickly as you would use and abuse. You had never had another relationship like it, before or after, and to say you missed it would be an understatement.

But you weren’t going to sob over past mistakes right now. No, what mattered now was to not make a stupid mistake like not kissing, licking, and scratching every inch of him until he either begged or complained or you lost it.

You moved ever so closer to his crotch but stopped by his balls first, giving them wide-tongued licks that had him sighing. You glanced up to see his eyes closed, wet hair dripping down his shoulders, and the first hint of relaxation from him. That’s it, you coed in your mind. Fuck did you miss seeing him falling apart, you craved it and you’d do it.

You kept licking and kissing and as you moved up his shaft it occurred to you that it didn’t matter that you hadn’t come. It didn’t matter if he had given up or even why. You weren't opening your mouth around his tip and licking it with hunger because you wanted something in return.

You moaned as soon as that taste hit your buds and your thoughts became a blur. You bobbed your head mindlessly, drooling over him, using the expanse of your tongue on his tip, taking whatever you could no matter how because you fucking missed it. That taste, that hardness, the hand that came to grip your head but remained light as a feather, and finally, you looked up. His eyebrows were knit in pleasure with his mouth agape, tongue peaking through, and licking his lip ring while grabbing your head in a firm yet loving gesture — that was it, the prize. He was finally relaxed as you bobbed your head and drooled all over him and the perspective of making him weak exhilarated you in a way that had you going harder, firmer, stronger. You didn’t notice, but you were breathing in between his cock touching your throat, your cheeks stayed hollowed, and your hand accompanied your every move over his shaft while you played with his balls. When his precum invaded your mouth, all your thoughts went out the door.

You gripped his cock firmer and moaned all over it, adjusting your posture to focus even better. Fuck, did you want his taste in your mouth. You touched yourself to the thought of it before, of him, but now being there on your knees with his grunts finally adoring your ears, your focus was all on him. You could come later to the memory of that very moment, all he had to do was let go and shoot warm ropes of cum down your throat.

But he recoiled away and guided your head away. You had no idea if he pulled your hair, but you knew he never asked you to stop. The only sounds out of his mouth were grunts of pleasure and you had seen his face — he was on cloud nine with you. He liked it, he was weak for it, for you and the way you did it, so why?

You looked up, an arched eyebrow quizzically raised, but he had his bicep covering his eyes while his chest heaved up and down. You were done with him stripping away everything you wanted from you, so you got up and got on his lap with a knee on either side of him. You thought he might have shooed you away or told you to get off, but no. His hands went instantly to support your hips and you were even more irked.

“Why?”

He opened his eyes and the stiffness was back to his pleasant features. That had you pouting with tears in your eyes. Maybe you could figure out why, but you didn’t care — you leaned forward and brushed his cheek gently. He brought you there, he wasn’t rejecting you, pulling you away, or anything like that. It was time he made a decision.

“Why push me away?” You insisted, letting your nail graze his sweet cheek gently. He recognized that tone in your voice, and that was why he answered.

“I was about to cum.”

“So?”

He didn’t answer, his eyes only hardened, and you looked down at his erect cock between you. There were so many things you could say, and so many paths to choose from. You could get angry, whiny, blow him anyway, ride him, and you considered every option. But you kept reverting to that anger behind those beautiful dark eyes. And as you both faced each other, you knew why he was mad — because you hurt him the year before. Because what you were doing was maybe a source of conflict, it sure could have been for you as well if you didn’t still…

Well.

Your expression softened as you leaned to close your lips near the skin of his forehead, “Take it out on me.��

He didn’t move or respond and you just dragged your lips soothingly over his skin in small peppered kisses.

“Please,” you whispered. “Take it all out on me. I want you to.” You dragged your nails up his neck and he leaned his head forward. “I need you to.”

His hands gripped your waist as he seemed to hide in your chest and you sat closer to him. You petted his beautifully longer hair, still wet under your touch, and sighed when he pressed your back to keep you close. You smiled and kissed his head, taking that as a yes. So you waited like that until he decided how he would do it.

Your answer came when he glued his mouth to your chest and started nibbling down until he caught a nipple. You didn’t hide your sigh — he was a tits kind of guy and he always loved yours, worshiping them in every sense of the word. And you had always loved him for it and for the way he could leave you a moaning mess with his attention there only.

So you hissed and sighed with his mouth, tongue, and teeth driving you insane. To return the favor, you reached down in between your bodies and found his rock-hard boner. Your spit was drying, but not yet, so you jerked him off gently through your pitchy moans.

You could feel him twitching in your hand. You knew he loved your tits and got lost in licking and biting them. You knew he got crazy when you played with him at the same time, playing with his weakness while truthfully wanting nothing more than for him to play with all of you.

So you leaned down by his ear. “Come on,” you whispered in a low tone. “Take it out on me. Do it.” You gripped him a bit harder, earning a stronger bite from him that had you instantly hissing and clenching around nothing. “I want to feel you.” Your hand never stopped and he seemed to be listening to you — only his tongue was moving. “Hard. Deep. Fuck it all out on me.”

You buried your nose in his hair and waited, never stopping your hand on him. You’d prefer he fucked you senseless, but even jerking him off would be nice if that was his mood.

But you doubted it was, and indeed, it wasn’t. He let go of your abused nipple and faced you for a second. He didn’t comment on anything you said, he only grabbed you firmly by the hips and stood up, taking you with him.

You gasped mutely and hugged him strongly, only to realize that he was carrying you without an ounce of effort. He was truly stronger, which could mean he would fuck you harder—

He dropped you on his bed, making you whimper and your tits bounce around, then moved away. You sat up, worried about him just leaving, but then you tilted your head. He was adjusting a full-body mirror that was purposefully facing another wall to show the bed. You saw your reflection on it and mused over why he had that mirror set like that and took the time to change it. 

He neared you while rolling a condom and you looked at him, breath slowing with the perspective of what would happen now. He traced a hand down your hip and you laid back, but he immediately gripped both your sides and turned you around. You puffed, half annoyed half melting at being handled like that, and got on all fours for him. You thought he’d toy with you and you’d patiently wait for what you wanted most, but he didn’t. He instantly put his cock at your entrance and you groaned, gripping the sheets with the desire bursting through you.

“You want it?” His tone was quiet but sure, almost cold. His hand struck your ass but you only gave him a gentle moan. “Get it then.”

You bit your lip and moved back, opening your mouth with the familiar stretch that had you curling your toes. You went slowly, thankful for his resistance that allowed his cock to brave more and more, inch by inch, until you felt full. You knew he wasn’t totally in, and he reminded you by jerking his hips once until he bottomed out. You gave him a little whine and he chuckled.

“There. Didn’t think you had forgotten how I fucked you a second ago, but I’ll remind you.”

He snapped his hips into yours and you knew he wouldn’t be gentle, but you didn’t care. He was doing what you asked, finally connected to you, giving you the pleasure of your dreams. It didn’t matter if he was treating you roughly, you asked for it. You wanted it, you needed it. Him, his anger, anything he would give you.

“Look at you,” he grunted before gripping your ass better. “I haven’t even started.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head to face him through the mirror. You gave zero fucks about how vulnerable you were, needy, greedy, whimpering, and begging for more even though you knew how much more could come. No, you looked at him. At his focused expression telling you this wasn’t as easy as he made it seem. At his flexed abs, tense thighs, and buff biceps. At his hand on your ass, squeezing. At his eyes moving from yours to verify your position — not only if you looked good, but at your knees and elbows sliding. For your comfort. It had to be, right?

You were tucked in his grip, so when he went harder, you had nowhere to go. You took his hips slapping against you and moaned loudly, abandoned to the feeling that only he fucking you could tear out of you.

“Can’t take it?” His voice was mocking. “How’s that?” You couldn’t coherently answer. “Are you that desperate for a proper dicking?” 

“Wasn’t that what you did before?”

You barely got it out but he heard you, not stopping for a second. “Clearly wasn’t enough. Your boyfriend must be doing a really sloppy job.”

His voice was tense, you wondered if bitterness was in the mix, but you were too high to think about it.

“No boyfriend. Maybe that’s the problem.”

His hand struck your ass so hard you whimpered a cry. In a second, he was rubbing that area and gripping you closer, fucking you harder. It made you see stars and you couldn’t get enough.

“So whiny,” he grunted, “so needy.” 

You scoffed. He was the one fucking you as hard as possible.

“Do you always moan like that?” You felt his nails on your asscheeks. “Any cock can get that noise out of you.”

You grinned, “No, only yours can.” You expected another slap but it didn’t come. “Never met anyone who can fuck me like you.”

He smacked the other asscheek harshly and gripped you so hard that the constant hit of his cock deep inside you almost short-circuited your brain.

“But you searched.”

He was speaking between gritted teeth, but you were in no condition to notice. “So did you. Fucked how many right here, on this bed?”

He smacked your ass again, but looking through the mirror you could see he wasn’t just angry now. His eyes were closed as if in pain. But you were too rilled up to stop.

“Looking for what? Any tight cunt?” He was getting sloppy and you couldn’t shut up. “Or did you really think anyone else could get you this desperate?” You fucked yourself on his cock against his rhythm and you could swear he growled. But who cared, he was snapping his hips to yours again. “Why so quiet?” His hand striking your ass had you arching for him, but not quieting down. “Tell me. Do you cream yourself this easily with—”

He pulled your hair, forcing your back to arch and take him deeper. Your mouth opened, instantly melting in ways only he could cause until you shivered when you felt him near your ear.

“No.” You opened your eyes in his silence to find him looking at you through the mirror. If your opened mouth spelled how deep he was buried inside you, then his eyes told of how desperate he was. “Only you do this to me. Only you drive me this fucking crazy.”

He connected his nose to your shoulder despite ramming into you wildly and grunted together with you. You couldn’t stifle your moans, your curses, or your prayers. But you yelped when suddenly he let you go and rolled you over. He got between your legs and immediately slid inside, earning a sigh from you and a plea.

He pulled your legs over his shoulders and leaned down over you, seeing your eyes widen. You extended your hands, what for you weren’t certain, but he grabbed them and pressed them to the mattress on either side of your head.

His hips restarted their rocking and you moaned desperately. You squirmed, and moaned, and said his name, and begged, and squeezed his hands, and all the while he never stopped fucking you. He was sweating, it was dripping over you, but you couldn’t care. All that mattered was that he was as deep as possible inside you, torturing you with how good it felt, and you were there for it. Loving every moment.

“Fuck— You’re so deep—”

“You like it?”

His tone was gentle, almost as if he wished for nothing but to please you. You were lost. You wished for nothing else but him.

“Yes— Yes—”

You were desperate, at the edge of your emotions with tears in your eyes and he saw it. “Tell me what you want.”

“You!” Your answer was instantaneous, at the end of a moan. “You, fuck, please, you, just you—”

“I’m here.”

You gripped his hands and anxiety crossed your features for a moment, “Please.”

He kissed you, relenting his rhythm, only to whisper to your lips, “I’m here, bubbles.”

You opened your teary eyes to look at him and your heart shook. His eyes were sweet despite the pleasure and effort mingling in his features. He was looking at you, really looking, really seeing you, and he was there. He wasn’t taking it out on you anymore, he was really with you, like he once was. 

You didn’t want to delude yourself, but the way he continued, staying close to your face to peck your lips and your cheeks, was swelling your heart too much to be contained. You moved with him, lulled by that movement you longed for for too long. That thought alone got you on the right tangent and you made sure to tell him through moans, looks, and your hands in his. He nuzzled you, sweat dripping down, and answered every plea and moan with signs of his own pleasure.

You let it grow inside you until you knew you couldn’t be contained, and neither did you want to. You opened your mouth to tell him and nothing came out, but he got it.

“Come with me.”

He grunted his words before kissing you and you whimpered and moaned your overwhelming pleasure without breaking away. He groaned into your mouth and pressed your lips firmly when you were both done, panting, sweaty, and spent.

You didn’t think about what would happen after that; truthfully, you wished time would stop. For a moment you believed it could be true — he stayed inside you with his mouth on your neck just suckling as you enjoyed his weight over you. You were drifting away, so utterly relaxed, happy, and fulfilled.

Until he pulled away and your heart cracked.

You couldn’t open your eyes immediately, you weren’t ready to face it again, not after the way you were just together. But when you finally opened your eyes, you were surprised.

Jungkook looked tired and sleepy, but that was it. He was extending his hand for you and you grabbed it. He pulled you up and dragged you to the bathroom, pointing at the toilet and turning to handle the condom. You peed but your mind latched onto nothing, you didn’t want to ruin that bliss.

He took your hand again and pulled you back to bed, opening the sheets before pushing you gently with an arm around your waist. You sighed and leaned back into him. He was holding you to his chest as he covered you both with a sheet and you could swear that was all a dream. All of it.

[Next part>]

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #bangtan sonyeondan #bts #ao3 fanfic #SX Seoul #kpop smut #bts jungkook #jungkook smut #smut #bts x fem!reader #bts x you #bts angst #angst with a happy ending #no y/n #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #lo1k-diamonds writes 💎

[mimsynims]

Fool For Love

part 2

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part 1

~~~

Author’ Note: For one, I’m still on my first play-through and this will definitely stray from canon, but hopefully some things will give a nod to some of the actual events in the game. (Also there will be no Wyll or Minthara because I haven’t gotten to know them for…reasons 👀)

(As for when this takes place, I’m thinking around late act 1, early act 2-ish)

~~~

Astarion x reader/Tav

Tags: (mild?) angst, pining, pining while fucking, jealousy, eventual happy ending

Summary: You thought knew what you were doing when you let Astarion into your bed. He doesn’t have feelings for you, and vice versa. Only… Now you do. And the question is, how will you deal with it?

~~~

“Have you been crying, Tav?”

Fuck. You should’ve known Karlach would notice. “Yes,” you admit, knowing it’s no use lying. “Nightmare,” you add, because it’s not entirely untrue.

“Ah, yeah, that’ll do it.” The hand Karlach places on your shoulder feels reassuring. Supportive without a speck of judgement. “I’m here if you ever want to talk about it, you know.”

You smile, because you don’t know what you have done to deserve such a great friend like her. “Be careful,” you laugh, “otherwise I might take you up on that offer.” Gods knows you’re in need of someone to confide in. It’s just that you’re not a hundred percent sure she’s not one of Astarion’s other conquests.

“My tent is always open for you, Tav. I hope you know that.” Karlach’s soft smile quirks into a grin as her eyes shift to look at something over your shoulder. “Oh, hi, Fangs. Trying to sneak up on Tav, are you?”

“And a good morning to you too, Karlach.” You don’t need to see him to know that he’s rolling his eyes. “Of course not, I just did not want to break up what looked like an intimate moment.”

Strange. Underneath the snark, Astarion almost sounds… jealous. That doesn’t make the least bit sense, so you brush the notion away.

“Nothing intimate about it,” you press out. “Just Karlach being a good friend.” One deep breath, and then you turn around to face him. It takes all of your determination, but you make sure to keep a neutral expression. Except you catch his eyes narrowing, and too late you realise that he, too, notices the small but telling signs of the tears you shed not even an hour ago. Unlike Karlach, he keeps his thoughts to himself, because of course he does. You’re not even sure why you’re not surprised, but deep down you knew he wouldn’t acknowledge it.

You momentarily stop breathing when the truth slams into you like a blow to the gut: he doesn’t care enough to ask. Or if he does, asking could mean complicating things he wants to keep simple.

“Tav?”

You hear Astarion addressing you, but you’re stuck inside your own head now. Of course he doesn’t want to know. Freedom and survival are the key factors driving Astarion in everything he does, and getting entangled with you beyond pleasure and safety — and feeding — could compromise both of those things. While he probably does consider you a friend at this point, it’s only surface-level. In all honesty you can’t blame him. After all he’s been through, trust doesn’t come easy to him.

You could hold a grudge for the lies he told you, but the truth is, you went into this with your eyes wide open. You could’ve called him out on it, but you were so curious about what it would lead to that you let him believe that you were fooled.

“Tav?”

A cool hand on your arm snaps you back to the here and now.

“Sorry, did you say something?” He’s eyeing you warily, and you wonder fleetingly how he would react if you told him the half-lie about the nightmares.

Astarion’s brow twitches as he opens his mouth to speak. “Tav–”

“Gooood morning, everyone!”

Gale. Of course. “Good morning, Gale.” Not letting yourself ponder what Astarion might’ve been meaning to say, you fling yourself at the opportunity of a new topic of conversation as if it was the last potion of healing in an otherwise empty pouch. “Aren’t you chipper this morning?”

“I saw a falling star just before going to bed last night, and it felt like a sign that this day would be an exceptionally good one.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Speaking of.” Lowering his voice, Gale slides closer to your side. “I was thinking of doing some stargazing tonight. Want to join me? The sky should be clear enough for it.”

You can feel Astarion’s eyes on you. “Sure,” you hear yourself say, immediately regretting it.

“Perfect!”

“What’s perfect?”

Saved by the Tiefling. “Gale says tonight should be perfect for stargazing.” When you turn around to face her, there’s no Astarion in sight. That should feel like a relief, and yet, you can help but worry. Why that is is beyond you, but the guilt is still there, confusing you even more.

“That’s not–”

“Why don’t you join us? We can ask the rest of the group too.”

“Excellent idea, Tav!”

“Mm, yes. Excellent.”

Gale sounds disappointed, but it’s better this way. If you were more callous you would use Gale to try to get Astarion out of your system and out of your heart, but that is out of the question now. During your weeks together, he has become a friend. They all have.

Perhaps you can find yourself a handsome druid when you all go back to the Grove to trade with the merchant Arron later today. If for nothing else, you desperately need to work on your flirting game because it has never been your strong suit to begin with.

“Tav?”

“Yes, Halsin?” You don’t know it, but the druid can tell that something is troubling you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, never been better.” If you keep saying it out loud you might perhaps believe it at some point.

“Right.” His seemingly all-knowing eyes scan you up and down, making you feel like he can see into the deepest parts of your heart and mind. You’re not entirely sure that he can’t. “I heard from Karlach that you’re going to the Grove,” he continues after a moment of heavy silence. “I have other business to attend to today, but I wanted to ask if you could do me a favour while you’re there.”

Your body relaxes with relief. “Yes, we are. What do you want me to do?”

The fictitious druid can wait for another time.

~~~

#astarion ancunin #astarion x reader #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic #bg3 spoilers #bg3 tav #bg3 astarion #fic wip

[gotham-daydreams]

Weird to say, but I think I'm pretty forgiving of Damien. Yeah, he's rude and ignores the reader, but he probably does the same to everyone else lmao. With Dick who pays careful attention to everyone, it's a betrayal that he would neglect the reader because he should have been an older sibling. Plus Damien is like ten, it's kinda hard for me to hold him accountable when he grew up without knowing better and he's just emulating older members of the family. I'm pretty sure this is how youngest sibling privilege works lol

Yeah, I completely agree! Even then, it can be difficult to know that what you're doing is wrong when you see the people you admire and respect doing the same thing.

Like you said, Damian, in reality, is probably rude to everyone else and ignores them from time to time too. Though for the sake of the "Not [ ]" series, he just so happens to ignore the reader a little more when compared to the rest of the Batfam. Which can still be chalked up to him just following the mannerisms of the family without even thinking much about it.

Regardless, neglect is still neglect and what happened to the reader still isn't right- but I do kind of agree with you that Damian probably holds the least amount of capability. He's young, and you can't really expect him to fully be aware of the effects his actions have on other people, especially when that person:

1. Hasn't expressed how negatively the whole situation has effected them, and they don't exactly appreciate their entire existence getting ignored by so many people. (Which is valid and understandable! Because how can you expect someone who's been ignoring you for so long to not only listen to you, but even acknowledge you enough to notice you have something important to say? How can you expect someone so seemingly set on ignoring you, to care? You can't. So the reader stays quiet, but it is something worth pointing out, I feel.)

2. Again, sees that everyone around them pretty much does the same thing. So it's more of a "if they're doing it, it must be for a reason, so I'll do it too" (since Dick and Bruce are also ignoring you, and Damian actually cares about both of them).

Damian is the least aware that what he did was wrong to begin with because no one told it was, and those around him almost seemed to enable that behavior by continuing to do it themself.

I'd like to believe that maybe his behavior would've changed if he knew how badly it was effecting the reader, but that's also to assume that the others wouldn't. Though who knows?

As for everyone else? They're way past old enough to know that what they're doing is wrong. The neglect as a whole was a "team effort", and even if they won't consider it that, it basically was. All of them neglected you except for Alfred, and they all did it over the course of nearly the reader's entire stay at the Manor. If anyone should've known, it should've been them, and depending on your interpretation of the situation and everything - some are more at fault for neglecting the reader when compared to others.

Especially if they seemingly didn't ignore and tried to spend time with/bond with other members of the family, but the reader just didn't make the cut time and time again.

Like you said — Dick is easily one of the worst offenders simply because he's loving and all this stuff to the Batfam, but just not to the reader —and especially when compared to Damian who was just none the wiser for the most part.

#talking daydreams #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #yandere dc #neglected reader #sibling reader

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 6

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

“Oh would you look who decided to acknowledge I exist?”

Steve didn’t hold back his eye roll at Robin’s words since she couldn’t see him. He’d decided to call her on the walk to his car after work, just to update her on things and make sure she was okay if he wasn’t home right after work.

“We just saw each other yesterday.”

“More than 24 hours ago, Steve.”

“We are two separate humans, Robin.”

“But only one brain. Look at you separating a whole brain. This is why I couldn’t concentrate today. You took it with you.”

“Are you done?” Steve sighed. “If you’re done, I need to talk to my best friend.”

“What’s wrong?” Robin’s tone went from slightly annoyed to concerned, which meant she’d never actually been that annoyed to begin with.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to let you know I’ll be home late.”

Please don’t ask, please just accept it, don’t ask, don’t ask.

“Why?”

Fuck.

“Just stopping by Eddie’s for a bit.”

He was met with complete silence. He pulled his phone away to make sure the call hadn’t been dropped. It hadn’t.

“Robs?”

“Steve. I’m saying this because I love you.” Oh boy, here we go. “I’m worried.”

“There’s nothing to worry about. I’m just hanging out for a bit and then coming home.”

“You’ve practically lived with him since Saturday!”

“Okay, just because I slept over…”

“Twice! In a row!”

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Uh huh. It doesn’t mean anything except you have barely been home and you literally went to subspace and dropped and probably subspace again with this stranger who did one nice tattoo and suddenly you’re ready to fly to Vegas and forget me!”

Ah. Steve let himself feel guilty for a moment before he remembered her insistence just a few weeks before that he needed to find other friends besides her, be social, maybe find a boyfriend.

Well, now he was doing some of that and she had a problem?

“I’m just enjoying my time with someone new. This is what you’ve wanted me to do forever, right?”

“Not like this!”

“Oh, I’m sorry I’m not following your rules for my friendships.”

“This isn’t a friendship, this is some weird sexual situation that’s gonna end up messy and you’re gonna end up hurt. It’ll be Nancy all over again.”

That hurt. Robin had been the one to get him through the Nancy heartbreak, always offering whatever support he needed while he worked through his disappointment that turned into an identity crisis that turned into a bit of a change of personality. She never judged him for his response to it. She was the perfect friend.

Having her throw it at him like this left a sour taste in his mouth and a hollowness in his chest.

She’d never spoken to him like this, not even when they got into stupid little arguments about cleaning the common areas of the apartment that sometimes escalated more than they should. This felt like she was jealous and taking it out on him.

Jealous of what though? She never seemed interested in having an actual relationship, and she was out all the time, leaving him to fend for himself in their apartment.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt, Steve.”

“Yeah, well. I appreciate the concern.”

Steve hung up. It wasn’t the mature thing to do, he knew that. But he was hurt, and he didn’t want to make things worse by letting the hurt out on her. He would talk to her when he got back home.

They were best friends, platonic soulmates. They’d get past this.

But for now, Steve turned his notifications off on his phone, got in his car, and drove to Eddie’s house.

– - – – – –

He made it inside with no issues, putting the key back under the mat once the front door was unlocked.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket once he was inside, ignoring the many texts from Robin to send a quick text to Eddie.

Made it home. Gonna make spaghetti. That okay?

He was looking around the kitchen to find all of the things he’d need when his phone started buzzing.

Eddie was calling.

“Hey, thought you’d be with the client.”

“I am, but it’s a friend. She’s taking a break. How was the rest of your day?”

Steve didn’t want him to know about his fight with Robin, not when most of it revolved around how quickly he was becoming attached to him.

“It was fine. Um, spaghetti’s okay? I just figured you probably had stuff for it.”

Eddie didn’t immediately respond, and Steve tried not to let himself worry.

“Spaghetti’s perfect. What happened, sunshine?”

How did he know? Steve was notorious for hiding his feelings from people, he’d been a champion for most of his life out of self-preservation.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Steve was putting everything into being convincing.

Eddie was at work, he didn’t need to deal with Steve’s problems.

“Stevie, did something upset you? Do you need me to come home?”

God, of course he would offer to hurry back. He was so nice and Steve didn’t deserve it.

“Steve. I will leave right now and come back, just say the word.”

“No, no. I’m okay. Just had an argument with Robin. I’ll be fine.”

“I’m sorry, sunshine. What will help?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t think he could really talk about it right now. He didn’t want Eddie to feel like he had to talk him through it when he was with a client.

He started to feel worse.

“I think maybe I should head back early tonight. Make sure I see her before she goes to bed.”

“Okay, sweetheart. I’ll be done here in an hour. You don’t have to cook anything, I’ll just grab us something on the way.”

“No. It’ll keep me busy. Can I cook please?”

He didn’t mean to sound so whiny, or practically beg, but it must have worked because Eddie gave in.

“If you really want to, you can cook. But I want you to go change into my clothes first, okay?”

Thank God Eddie couldn’t see the redness of his cheeks spreading down his neck.

“Okay. Can I wear your hoodie?”

He knew it would smell like him, and he knew it was soft, and he knew it would make him feel a million times better.

“Yeah, sweetheart. It’s on the bed. I’ll text you when I leave here, but call me if you need me before that.”

“I will.”

“Good boy. See you soon, sunshine.”

Steve felt warmer, lighter, more like he could handle the feelings Robin brought up. He knew if he could feel like this for a little bit, he could easily handle whatever conversation they’d have when he got home.

— — — — — —

Steve was so focused on the sauce he was making, he didn’t hear the front door open or footsteps come through the living room and into the kitchen or Eddie walking up behind him.

He felt strong arms wrap around his chest from behind, a soft kiss placed on his temple.

He leaned back against the warmth of Eddie, the calm he exuded taking over the whole kitchen.

“Welcome home, Eds.”

“Mm. Could get used to that,” Eddie said as he kissed Steve’s cheek, then his jaw, his neck.

Steve was doing his best to stay focused. He was cooking dinner, right.

He started to lean forward, but Eddie pulled him back again.

“Babe, I have to cook,” Steve giggled.

“Not done,” Eddie said against his neck, teeth barely scraping against Steve’s pulse point and causing him to let out a moan.

“I don’t.” Kiss. “Want this.” Kiss. “To.” Tongue.

Fuck.

“You keep cooking, sunshine. I’m just gonna enjoy my appetizer.”

“But I made garlic bread,” Steve pouted, pulling away as much as Eddie would let him. “For an appetizer.”

Eddie pulled away and looked at Steve, blinking at him as if he were confused.

Then he broke out in a huge smile.

“You’re trouble, sunshine.”

And to Steve, that sounded like he was saying something entirely different.

— — — — — — —

They didn’t talk about Robin.

Steve put their food on plates while Eddie grabbed some beers from the fridge.

It was very domestic. Comfortable. Nice.

Eddie insisted on sitting right next to Steve, one hand on his thigh for the entire dinner. His thumb was rubbing back and forth, his fingers sometimes drew designs on his knee, and he tapped rhythms into his skin until it felt like Steve was part of the song.

It was easy.

They talked about their days. Steve gave him the full play-by-play of his meeting with Will and Eddie kissed his cheek when he was done and told him how happy he was that Will liked it.

Eddie told him about his appointment, Chrissy, who he’d been good friends with since high school. He’d shown her that tattooing was a way to love her body when she’d been diagnosed with an eating disorder. He promised her he’d do any tattoo she wanted for free if she went through the intensive rehab and therapy process, and four months later, she came by his shop and became his favorite client on top of one of his best friends.

Steve leaned his head on Eddie’s shoulder as he spoke, smiling to himself as he realized that Eddie was just a caring person.

He cared about everyone in his life in a way that Steve had not been familiar with before Robin.

He cared the way Steve cared, and he made Steve want to show it more.

He made Steve want to be bright in a way he’d never wanted to be before.

Eddie made him feel like he could shine.

He felt the impending rain cloud of leaving his side, though. Facing Robin would be a storm he didn’t want to weather tonight, feeling a bit overwhelmed already from his day of emotions.

It had started so good. It felt good right now.

“You got quiet on me, sunshine. What’s goin’ on in that pretty head of yours?”

A lot. So much. He didn’t know how to answer without putting everything on the table, and he knew he couldn’t do that right now. He didn’t want to cry either and that was getting more likely the more tired he got.

“Just thinking.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Anywhere you want is fine with me, sweetheart.”

Steve could tell him a little. Maybe talk about how much he wanted to stay by Eddie’s side. Or how he didn’t know how he was already so attached, but the thought of not having Eddie around was already devastating.

How much he could love him if he was given the chance.

“I’m scared that Robin’s right.”

Well, that’ll spark a conversation he didn’t want to have.

Nice job, idiot. You’re gonna end up spilling your secrets.

“Right about what?”

Eddie’s arm was now wrapped around Steve’s shoulder, hand resting against his arm where his fingers were tracing designs that Steve would tattoo on his skin.

“She said this is gonna end bad. I’ll get hurt. She didn’t want me to come tonight.”

Yeah, that’s not giving too much away.

Eddie’s fingers froze against his arm.

“She thinks I’d hurt you?”

“I guess.”

And a part of Steve believed it too. That was part of why he felt so shitty. Eddie already held the power to hurt him and he didn’t even realize it.

“Stevie, look at me for a minute.”

Steve pulled away, letting Eddie’s arm fall, but quickly finding his hand to lace their fingers together for extra comfort.

“I know this is gonna sound crazy, and it’s okay if you don’t wanna stick around after, but,” Eddie’s eyes were shining. Was he going to cry? “I’ve never felt like this with anyone. I’ve never wanted to spend every moment with someone before you. I missed you so much today, it was like I was being torn in half. I know it’s crazy. I know. But you’re important to me. I don’t know what will happen, I don’t know what you want, I just know that I wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt you.”

Steve could feel his lip quivering. He knew he had tears in his eyes.

He was in deep and the only way out was through.

“I don’t know how to explain how much being around you has changed me. Just in the last two days I’ve felt like someone I didn’t even know I could be. Robin’s worried because,” Steve took a deep, steadying breath. He had to be honest. Eddie deserved it. “I jump into things quickly. I’ve always been like that. I commit hard and fast and I end up hurt every time. She was around for the worst one with my ex-girlfriend. She’s worried this will be like that and thinks you’re just using me for the sexual aspect of it. Well, she thinks we’re using each other, I think. And maybe if you were different, I would be. I’m not always a great guy. But it’s just that you’re you. You’re the kind of person who will always get the best me because you deserve someone who makes you feel the way you make other people feel.”

The words just didn’t stop coming.

Steve would’ve been more nervous about it if he wasn’t watching the fondness seep out of Eddie’s pores.

His every movement revolved around Steve’s own, his touches gentle and electric.

His hand was cupping the side of Steve’s neck, his eyes staring into Steve’s soul, even though he’d just laid it out on the table in front of them.

“You deserve to be the best you because it makes you feel good. But if I can help you find that, then I’m all yours, sunshine. As long as you want me.”

Steve leaned forward, resting his forehead against Eddie’s.

He closed his eyes.

His phone started ringing.

He planned to ignore it. He knew it was Robin and he wasn’t quite ready to face her yet.

But he knew if he didn’t answer, she’d worry. Maybe dramatically call 911 to do a wellness check.

He didn’t want to put Eddie through all that.

He grabbed his phone and answered, letting his head rest against Eddie’s chest.

“Yeah?”

“Steve. Listen. I’m sorry about earlier, okay? I didn’t mean that. I’m just worried about you. I want you to have someone who makes you happy, but I want you to be safe and-“

“Robs, I know. I’m sorry I freaked out.”

Eddie’s hands were moving up and down his back slowly, adding pressure to his shoulders where he was most tense.

“Are you gonna be home soon?”

Steve resisted saying that he was home.

He realized he’d said it twice to Eddie; This felt like home. He’d never really had somewhere that felt like home. Even with Robin, he knew they were roommates because neither of them could afford rent on their own.

But here, he felt like he could safely recharge, relax, be himself, float away and find his way back. And he could do it all with Eddie.

“Yeah. I’ll head out soon.”

Robin was silent as Eddie started playing with the hem of Steve’s shirt.

“You could just stay. If you wanted. I mean I have your location and you’ll text me in the morning so I know you’re alive.”

Steve considered that this might be a test, that Robin was seeing if he’d give in easily and not explain anything else.

But Robin isn’t the type of friend to test him like that. She was never anything but honest and straightforward, never would expect him to make a choice like that to win her love. That’s just not who she was.

“I could stay tonight.”

Steve looked up at Eddie, who was smiling and nodding down at him, hands never stopping their comforting movements on his back.

“I’m gonna stay tonight.” Steve smiled into the phone as if Robin was able to see. “But tomorrow, I’m coming home after work and we’re having a long talk. We’re gonna order pizza and we’re gonna drink enough cheap wine to have the worst hangover ever on Wednesday morning. Okay?”

Robin let out a quiet chuckle. Good. Laughter is good.

“Okay, dingus. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“You got it, Robs.”

When Steve hung up the phone, Eddie pulled him tight against his chest, letting Steve find his place with his nose against his collarbone.

He breathed in his scent, smiling to himself at how quickly he relaxed into it.

“Sounds like things went well.”

“Mhm. Things’ll be good.”

Eddie kissed the top of his head.

“Let me clean up the dishes and then we can go to bed.”

“No, wanna stay here.”

“Here, in this chair?” Eddie snorted. “I don’t think either of us actually want that, sunshine.”

“Don’t wanna move.”

“How about I carry you?”

“Yes, please.”

For some reason, Steve didn’t exactly expect him to actually lift him in his arms and carry him. But he did.

He had him in his arms like he was a new bride being carried over the threshold, and Steve was blushing from his head to his toes.

Steve looked up at his face, taking in the way Eddie had a near-constant smirk when he was doing things like this. Like he was having fun and liked doing it.

Eddie dropped him in bed, laughing at the ‘oof’ Steve let out from the impact of hitting the mattress and pillows.

He stared down at Steve with that soft look he gave him before. Like Steve was actually making his life brighter, like it was a beautiful thing to have and know Steve.

No one has ever looked at him like that.

“Stevie.”

“Hm?”

“I really want to kiss you.”

Steve gulped.

“I really want you to kiss me.”

Eddie didn’t question it or wait, and his wet lips were against his with a passion Steve had never experienced in his life.

He forgot about everything except the way Eddie’s lips fit perfectly against his, slowly opening his own up so he could lick into his mouth.

He ran his tongue along Steve’s bottom lip, smiling into the kiss when Steve let out a loud moan.

Eddie’s hand was in his hair, tugging on the ends just enough to keep Steve present as his other hand ghosted down his side and squeezed his hip.

Steve could stay just like this forever and it wouldn’t be long enough.

He’d never have enough of Eddie touching him, kissing him, caring for him.

He wanted it always.

He let out another moan when Eddie’s teeth bit down on his bottom lip, sucking it between his teeth and lips like he was trying to eat him.

Steve would let him.

But just when he thought he was going to stay like this all night, Eddie pulled away, nipping at his bottom lip one more time before he separated from him completely and stood up.

“Gonna go clean up. Be a good boy for me and stay right here. No touching yourself.”

Steve hadn’t really thought about doing so until he watched Eddie walk away and glanced down to see that he was hard. Incredibly so.

Suddenly, his only focus was on getting relief from how hard he was. How had he gotten there from a kiss?

It was like every touch from Eddie was equal to 1000 touches from anyone else. If Eddie touched his cock, he was done for. He’d embarrass himself beyond belief.

Maybe if Steve didn’t think about it, it would go away and it’d be fine.

Maybe he could just give himself a little touch. Eddie wouldn’t know. It’s not like he was watching.

But Eddie said not to.

Steve had to listen to Eddie.

He could distantly hear Eddie washing dishes in the kitchen, dishes clanking around while the water ran from the faucet.

He could feel the heat of the sweatpants and hoodie he was wearing, causing him to break out in a sweat.

Eddie didn’t say he couldn’t take his clothes off. He just said he couldn’t touch himself.

So Steve removed the hoodie and sweatpants in record time, unable to focus on anything except the cool sheets under him and the hard length nearly poking out of his boxers.

He hoped Eddie would touch him when he got back. He couldn’t sleep like this.

Too on edge, too close to falling the wrong way off the cliff.

He didn’t even register when Eddie entered the room again, his thoughts stuck on how good it would feel to have Eddie’s hands on him again.

Then Eddie’s hands were on him again. They were cupping his cheeks and forcing him to make eye contact with him.

Eddie was shirtless already, straddling his lap.

Steve didn’t care how he got there, just that he was.

He couldn’t help the whine he let out when Eddie’s cock brushed against his.

Oh, he wasn’t wearing pants either.

Steve hoped this was going where he wanted it to.

“You look so beautiful like this, sweet thing. Like I could eat you right up,” Eddie said before leaning in to leave a trail of kisses down his neck.

He paused right where Steve knew his freckles were and let out a small laugh against his skin.

“These are the cutest things I’ve ever seen.”

Steve whined. He needed Eddie to kiss them, kiss him, kiss anywhere. He needed his lips on him every second of every day.

As if he could read his mind, Eddie gently kissed his freckles. Steve could feel his smile against his skin.

“Please kiss me,” he let out, needy whimper following his words.

“Am kissing you, sweet thing.”

And he was. Technically. But Steve needed to taste him again, needed their mouths connected so he could feel his breath in his own lungs, taking and giving oxygen Steve so desperately wanted to give and receive.

“Need you, please,” Steve added, as if that would make Eddie do anything else. “Please, please.”

Begging was not what he thought would happen tonight, but his mouth no longer had a filter as he felt Eddie’s hips roll against him.

The friction was almost too much.

Steve was going to cum. Right there in his boxers after barely making out and like, two barely there touches against his cock.

“Love hearing you beg,” Eddie said as he trailed his lips and tongue and teeth down Steve’s chest. He licked at one of his nipples, blowing cold air on it after. Steve shivered, but not from the cold.

“Feels so good,” Steve managed to get out.

He could tell he was becoming more incoherent, his moans getting louder despite Eddie hardly doing anything at all to him. He’d be embarrassed if he didn’t know how hard Eddie was above him.

Suddenly, Eddie’s lips were back on his own. He sighed into it, relief at being given what he wanted letting him relax further into the bed.

The relief only lasted for a moment, though.

Eddie was pulling away and laying down next to Steve.

No.

“No,” Steve said, turning his head to pout at him. “More.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows at him.

“That doesn’t sound very polite, Stevie. I can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask nicely,” Eddie sounded bored. Was he bored?

No, he wouldn’t have gone from interest to bored that quickly. Would he?

“Here’s what’s gonna happen. You listening?”

“Mhm.”

“Good boy. You’re gonna get on my lap and you’re gonna get yourself off. No hands.” Steve was already moving, but Eddie put his hand on his chest to hold him still. “No boxers. You use your safe word if it gets too much.”

Steve didn’t know how this could be too much, but he was too far gone to do anything but agree.

“Okay.”

Eddie removed his hand and didn’t stop Steve this time when he got up and straddled Eddie’s thighs, the reverse position they’d been in before giving Steve a head rush. He helped push Steve’s boxers off, holding him steady when his legs nearly gave out when he kicked them off.

Eddie didn’t touch him at first, letting Steve find the position that worked best for him and watching as he tried to find the perfect level of contact.

He couldn’t though.

“Oh, sweet thing, you can’t get it right can you?”

Steve whined and shook his head, feeling tears of frustration building behind his eyes.

“You want me to help you?”

“Please, yes, help,” Steve got out between pants.

Eddie’s hands were on his hips, warmth spreading from the place they touched Steve’s skin throughout his body. His grip was strong, nearly leaving fingerprint bruises in his skin. Steve wished he would.

“More.”

“More what?”

“Fingers. Harder.”

Finding the right words was hard. Steve was doing all he could to keep his eyes locked on Eddie’s face, vision going a bit blurry from the cloudiness in his head.

Eddie understood though.

His fingers gripped harder, and Steve knew he’d be done for soon regardless of the friction on his cock.

“You want help getting started, sweet thing?”

“Mhm. Mmm,” Steve was incoherent. He knew it, but he couldn’t do anything but let Eddie have full control.

Eddie used his strong grip to move Steve’s hips back and forth a few times, the feeling of Steve’s bare cock against Eddie’s clothed one nearly enough to send him over the edge right away.

He was moaning uncontrollably.

“I’m not doing it all for you,” Eddie said, letting go of Steve’s hips and watching as Steve stuttered in his movements. “C’mon. You were so desperate for it before.”

Steve didn’t think about how he was naked and Eddie wasn’t, how his dripping cock was getting Eddie’s boxers messy, how Eddie was smirking at him as he struggled to keep up the pace Eddie had started.

He only thought about how he had to get relief and make Eddie proud of him for doing what he asked.

Steve’s hips moved back and forth, rolling down every time he pushed forward so he could feel Eddie’s length against his own.

It was too much and not enough and Steve didn’t know how long he could keep this up.

Eddie was watching him, talking him through it, but not touching him.

“That’s it, sweet thing. Doing so good for me,” Eddie let out a moan when he started moving faster. “That’s it, sweetheart. Making me feel so fucking good.”

Steve wasn’t even registering his own pleasure anymore, only able to hear the way Eddie’s words were getting breathier, moans louder.

“Gonna cum for me? Want you to make me messy, sunshine. C’mon,” Eddie started tilting his hips up to meet Steve every time he rolled his hips down.

It was so much.

There was nothing but Eddie. His voice wrapped around him like a warm blanket as Steve felt the pull in his stomach letting him know he was close.

“Mm, Eddie, Eddie-“ Steve was babbling and he couldn’t stop. He didn’t care. He didn’t think Eddie did either. “Gonna. Gonna be good.”

Eddie let out a loud moan and sat up enough to kiss Steve’s lips.

Steve was done for.

He came so hard he almost couldn’t even feel it, the pleasure making his vision go black and his body go numb.

He could feel Eddie rut against him a few more times before he let out a groan.

He couldn’t open his eyes to see, but he knew Eddie must’ve finished too.

“So good, sunshine. Did so good for me, can’t believe I’m so lucky,” Eddie was whispering into his ear, soft breaths making Steve shiver against him.

Steve felt Eddie moving him so he was laying down in bed.

Then cold air shocked him into opening his eyes and letting out a pained whimper.

“Shhh, sweet thing. Just grabbing a washcloth. Gotta clean you up and take care of you, yeah? You did so good for me,” Eddie said as he pecked a kiss to his forehead.

Steve wasn’t quite floating now, but he recognized that he’d been on the cusp of it before Eddie walked away. He still wasn’t aware of most of what was going on, just that he’d never felt so good in his life and he hadn’t even had hands on him.

Whatever Eddie had done to take Steve apart was incredible.

When Eddie came back with the washcloth and gently wiped his stomach and chest, Steve tried to speak.

“Love that,” was all he was capable of, but it was a start. Eddie would get the gist of it.

“I’m glad. Loved doing that with you,” Eddie said softly as he got into bed next to Steve. He immediately pulled Steve on top of him, and Steve nearly gasped at Eddie being naked under him. “Feeling okay?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

He’d never felt better.

As he drifted to sleep to Eddie’s soft whispers, Steve thought about how he could possibly love someone so much so quickly.

Chapter 7

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #grumpy sunshine trope #tattoo artist eddie munson #guidance counselor steve harrington #dom eddie munson #sub steve harrington #ao3fic #myfic #chapter 6

[to-fly-with-clipped-wings]

A Sea of Sorrows -> Act 1, Part 1

Act 1: the Fall of the Gods

Dear Percy. This was the year the Gods fell from Olympus, and I fell from you. I miss the us from that year. I wonder, did either of us know what was in store?

Series Summary: A chronicle of the moments you fell in love with your enemy, Percy Jackson. An epilogue to your fate and an epitaph to your grave.

AKA in a universe where you are a traitor to Camp Half-Blood. This is an ode to the boy that led to your downfall: Percy Jackson.

Series Masterlist

Percy Jackson Masterlist

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

i. Against all odds, you would say that you were looking forward to the Yancy school trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

Yeah, you didn’t really care about art or architecture or the weird little naked statues of the gods (you definitely didn’t appreciate that), but you were looking forward to your first extraction mission as a demigod — even if this little outing of yours couldn’t be considered a quest, and even if it was long overdue.

See, the thing was. Being undetermined was a disease in the world of Greek mythology, and it was a disease that followed you like the plague. it was a curse when your Godly parent refused to claim you, refused to acknowledge you. You were cursed from the start, cursed to run around, seeking kleos, and for what?

For absolutely nothing.

That was something no one let you forget. From your spot on the floor in Cabin Eleven (there wasn’t enough space for you to have an actual bunk), to the brown mass of curls on Grover’s head that frantically kept glancing back at you to make sure that no monster had snuck up on you during the last thirty seconds he hadn’t been looking at you. It even took Chiron about three years worth of convincing to let you go out, as he used the same reason (excuse) over and over again: you aren’t claimed. You don’t know how to defend yourself. It is too dangerous.

That’s what it always boiled down to. 

You weren’t claimed, fine. You could live with that. Probably. You didn’t need to be claimed to be able to fight either. Since your mother’s passing four years ago, you had become a year round camper so you had more training under your belt than, say, ninety percent of the Apollo cabin. Yet, even they were allowed to leave camp and get up to all sorts of nonsense. 

Were you not enough for your godly parent to look up from whatever divine duties they needed to do? Were you not good enough for your godly father to come down to save your mother when she was on her deathbed? You weren’t even sure if your father knew your name. 

You weren’t claimed, and it bothered you. And clearly, it bothered the entire camp too. Not being trusted to do quests or missions, being sent pitying glances from your spot at the Hermes table, limiting your value to who your godly parent was as if that was the only thing that made you, you. Maybe you should’ve just been grateful you were a demigod at all, although sometimes you seriously doubted that. Perhaps you were even just a mortal girl with exceptional Clear Sight. 

Who knew? (Well obviously the gods did, but they were stuck on their thrones in Olympus doing who knows what.)

Anyways, you forced all those stray thoughts out of your mind. It did you no good to wade in your sorrow, especially if no one else thought it was enough to care about. You despised your father, but you could keep it to yourself (for now). 

You sent Grover a small smile when he glanced back at you again. 

Next to you, Percy Jackson, pulled a face. 

Percy was a thirteen year old boy. With staggering sea-green eyes, black hair and tan skin, he was the half-blood Grover had called Chiron out for. For a year, it had been you, him and Grover fighting your way through the hell-hole that was Yancy Academy. Between failing classes, cheating off each other during tests (and failing those anyways because apparently both of you sucked at academics equally) and throwing dirt into Nancy Bobofit’s eyes, whenever she threw her weird bits of peanut-butter-and-ketchup sandwich on Grover, you would say that you and Percy were probably each other’s closest friends. Throughout the year, you and Percy had become each other’s anchor. You shared the burden of academic challenges, often finding peace in the fact that if you were going to fail, at least you’d do it together. 

There was a certain comfort in Percy’s company, a sense of acceptance that was rare and maybe even precious. He never looked at you with eyes of thinly veiled judgement that others often did, nor did he offer unwanted pity, that felt more like a burden than a comfort. It was probably because he had no idea of his demigod heritage, but with Percy, you were just you. Unclaimed, perhaps, but never unseen. 

You liked Percy’s company, and considering he was your best friend, you were impatiently waiting for the day Chiron gave you the all clear to return to Camp Half-Blood. There you and Percy could spend your days picking strawberries, sparring, whatever it was you two wanted to do. And hopefully, Percy would end up being unclaimed, or maybe even the son of a minor god, so you could ride out your days in the Hermes Cabin forever. Maybe one day, you would even be promoted to getting a bunk. That would be especially great. 

“Excited for the trip, Major?” Percy grinned at you. 

(Major was the name Percy had started calling you out of the blue when the two of you first met. You didn’t know what was going through his head when he’d thought of it, or if had even been thinking at all, to be honest, but it unfortunately stuck.)

You sighed, tilting your head on your seat so you could glance at him through the corner of your eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

Ahead of you, Grover squawked when Nancy Bobofit threw another bit of her sandwich at him. 

“I’m going to kill her,” muttered Percy, his eyes darkening at the red-headed girl. You patted Percy’s knee, trying to stop him from leaping at Nancy on the bus. She sucked, but it wasn’t worth Percy getting expelled from Yancy just yet.

Chiron — sorry, Mr. Brunner, led the museum tour.

It wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen before. Ancient Greek armour (that you knew weren’t that ancient), pots with little dancing figures painted on them, steles with, to no one’s surprise, weird naked statues of gods running across them. It was really nothing special, just the usual artsy stuff mortals were crazy for, but you did get a kick out of Percy snapping at Nancy when Chiron was rumbling about something to do with Greek depression or something.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Percy gave her his nastiest stink-eye.

Everyone laughed. You nudged Percy’s shoulder, and he turned his gaze to you, kicking your shoe in retaliation, before remembering that Chiron and Mrs. Dodds were still there, and they didn’t look all that happy with Percy’s interruption.

Mrs. Dodds was an interesting character. She despised Percy with all of her being (not heart, you weren’t sure if she had a heart), but you would say she had a soft-spot for you. Like whenever she gave Percy after-school detention for blowing up a bin or something, you would turn, smile at you and give you this weird melted candy bar that tasted oddly like hot fudge and sea salt?

While the chocolate was a much appreciated gesture, you didn’t enjoy the way she snapped at Percy, and you agreed that there was something off about her. Like in the way she wasn’t exactly… normal? But you doubted anyone would listen to you anyways, and if Chiron hadn’t picked up on it, then it probably wasn’t important.

“Mr. Jackson,” began the centaur in disguise. “Did you have a comment?”

“No, sir,” said Percy, his cheeks burning red.

Mr. Brunner pointed to one of the pictures on the stele. “Perhaps you’ll tell us what this picture represents?”

Percy looked to where he was pointing. He nodded slightly, indicating that he knew the answer to that question (if he didn’t that was fine anyways, you would’ve just whispered it to him). “That’s Kronos eating his kids, right?”

“Yes,” Mr. Brunner said, raising an eyebrow. “And he did this because…”

“Well… Kronos was the king god, and —”

“God?” Mr. Brunner asked. 

You flinched slightly when Percy said it; you didn’t think the gods would be willing to hold back if they caught him making that little comment. The gods had incredibly short fuses, and it was often their temper that caused the most destruction — like when Ares shot that one archduke back in 1914 and started World War 1.

“Titan,” Percy fixed. “And…he didn’t trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—”

“Eeew!” squealed some girl from behind you. Honestly same, random girl, same.

“—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans,” Percy powered through, “and the gods won.”

Nancy Bobofit mumbled, “like we’re going to use this in real life. Like it’s going to say on our job applications, ‘Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.’”

You didn’t like Nancy much, but there was probably some merit to her question. The gods cared so much about themselves, that one day they probably would manage to hijack mortal job interviews into a pop quiz of ‘what is Aphrodite’s favourite brand of perfume’ or ‘write a one thousand word essay on why Zeus is most supreme god, explaining clearly why his brothers Poseidon and Hades suck ass.’

You rolled your eyes.

“And why, Mr. Jackson,” Brunner said, “to paraphrase Miss Bobofit’s excellent question, does this matter in real life?”

“Busted,” Grover muttered. 

“Shut up,” hissed Nancy, her face even brighter red than her hair. 

Percy looked pensive for a moment, the most pensive you’d ever seen him apart from when he needed to decide between blue cookies or blue jelly beans. “I don’t know, sir.”

“I see.” Chiron sighed. “Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan’s stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld.”

Kronos. The name sent chills up your spine. The Titan lord who had once ruled before the gods, now a whisper from the past, yet his legacy lingered like a shadow. As Chiron recounted the tale, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of foreboding, a sense that the history of the gods and Titans was not as distant as it seemed.

Your gaze shifted downwards to your trembling hands. You clasp them together to try and steady them. The tales of gods and Titans, of heroes and monsters, they all seemed like distant echoes of a world you were forced into but never truly belonged. You felt the weight of your unclaimed status, a constant reminder of your place, or lack thereof, in this mythological tapestry.

You watched Percy. His fate was yet to unfold, and you couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. He had a path, albeit unknown to him, but you… you were adrift in a sea of uncertainty, a ship without a sail.

The gods, those mighty beings who played with the lives of mortals and demigods alike, they were the root of your turmoil. How easy it must be for them, to watch from their celestial thrones, to judge and to ignore the pleas of their children. Your mother, a casualty of their indifference. She was a life that could have been saved.

And yet, despite the anger that simmered within you, a rage that threatened to boil over with each passing day, you found yourself paralyzed. To hate the gods was one thing, but to act against them? That was a line you weren’t ready to cross. Not yet.

So you clung to the fragile hope that one day, perhaps, they would see you. That one day, your godly parent would claim you, would acknowledge your existence. Until then, you were a torn heart caught between the desire for vengeance and the need for acceptance.

In the days to come, I would stand by you as you discovered the truth. But, when the weight of your destiny became too much to bear alone, my greatest regret was that I could not stand beside you. Your bond was a testament to the strength that friendship and loyalty could bring. Mine was a testament to the darkness and hatred of our world.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

ii. The days after that were a tumultuous mess. You hadn’t understood them yourself.

There was an emergency call back to camp. You and Grover had pulled up to Percy and his mother who were at Montauk Beach, stolen his step-father’s car, drove it all the way to Camp Half-Blood in Long Island, got attacked by Minotaur of all things (it was your first time seeing a monster in real life), then Mrs. Jackson had gotten killed Avengers: Infinity War style and finally, Percy had somehow slain the beast.

He had passed out for a couple of days after that. You took care of him in the infirmary, spoon-feeding him ambrosia, checking his temperature and redressing any bandages. Sometimes, Annabeth Chase, daughter of Athena, would come in to critically assess Percy with her storm-grey eyes, as though he had mortally offended her or something, before telling you to readjust his pillows and stalking out.

Annabeth scared you a bit (a lot), but with the arrival of Percy and the possibility of him being the one to take her on a quest outside of camp, she had begun to hang around you more often. She was very passionate about architecture, and was also pretty funny when she didn’t look like she wanted to slit your throat. 

You were pretty happy that Chiron had recruited you and Annabeth to show Percy the reins at Camp Half-Blood.

(Although, you weren’t entirely sure why he had asked Annabeth as well, considering that Percy knew you better than he did her, and she had the tendency to freak out new campers. But you guessed it had to do with your ‘lack of understanding of Greek mythology because you were undetermined.’ Like you could control that)

Anyways, you and Annabeth caught Percy up to speed about Camp Half-Blood, and you were only about half-way through when Clarisse La Rue, daughter of Ares, stumbled across you and decided to graciously give Percy the ‘half-blood initiation ceremony’, which was really just sticking his head in the toilet. Before you could fist-fight Clarisse however, what happened after that was what you liked to call The Great Toilet Incident of ‘05, which you were certain went down in camp history and cemented Percy’s place in the darkest parts of Clarisse’s pitch black heart.

“I’ve got training to do. Dinner’s at seven-thirty,” Annabeth said flatly, still dripping wet. “Just follow Major to the mess hall.”

You looked at her in surprise. You didn’t know how she picked up the nickname. You guessed that Percy really did talk a lot in his sleep.

“Guys, I’m sorry about the toilets.” said Percy, not sounding very sorry.

“Whatever.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

Annabeth looked at Percy sceptically. 

The toilet thing probably was Percy’s fault, but you found yourself opening your mouth to defend him anyways. “He doesn’t know how to control his demigod side yet. He only found out he was one of us hours ago.”

She gave you a crippling stare, before sighing and nodding. “Percy, you need to learn that this is your home now.”

“No it’s not!” he protested, crossing his arms.

“It is, Percy,” you offered him a meek smile. “It’s our home, for kids like us.”

“You mean, mentally disturbed kids?”

“I mean not human. Not totally human, anyway,” you said. “Half-human.”

“Half-human and half-what?”

“I think you know,” prompted Annabeth.

“God,” Percy’s brows furrowed for a moment before his eyes widened with realisation. “Half-god.”

You nodded. “Your father isn’t dead, Percy. He’s one of the Olympians.”

“That’s…crazy.”

“Is it? What’s the most common thing gods did in the old stories? They ran around falling in love with humans and having kids with them. Do you think they’ve changed their habits in the last few millennia?” Your tone grew bitter as you spoke and you glanced at the ground, trying to hide your glare.

“But if all the kids here are half-gods—”

“Demigods,” Annabeth said. “That’s the official term. Or half-bloods.”

“Then who’s your dad?” 

You raised your head to look at them. You thought that he probably should’ve been able to guess Annabeth’s godly parent by now — she was basically her mirror reflection after all.

“My dad is a professor at West Point,” Annabeth said. “I haven’t seen him since I was very small. He teaches American history.”

“He’s human,” you summarised to Percy. 

Percy looked confused again.

“What?” snarked Annabeth at him. “You assume it has to be a male god who finds a human female attractive? How sexist is that?”

“Who’s your mom, then?” Percy crossed his arms.

“Cabin six.”

“Meaning?”

Annabeth straightened. “Athena. Goddess of wisdom and battle.”

Percy regarded her, and then turned to you. “Who’s your parent, Major?”

“Ah, well.” You laughed nervously, scratching your cheek. “Er, you know how the kids back in cabin eleven were talking about being undetermined? That’s me. That’s why I’m still stuck in the Hermes cabin, because I haven’t been claimed yet.”

Percy’s eyebrows shot up, and he took a step closer, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer, something that didn’t need words. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his voice as steady as a ship in calm waters. “Being undetermined doesn’t make you any less of a demigod, right?”

He looked at Annabeth who nodded sincerely. Even if she hadn’t agreed, you didn’t think for a second that Percy would have cared. That was just the sort of person he was.

“And who knows,” he continued, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that seemed to chase away shadows, “your godly parent might claim you any day now. Until then, I’ve got your back in cabin eleven, alright Major?”

You felt a swell in your chest, a tide of emotion that left you momentarily speechless. You were touched. It astounded you how Percy could be calm — gods, somehow comforting you when he had just been through what were the worst few days of his life. You couldn’t help but crack a smile. Percy had this way of making the world seem okay, even when it felt like you were holding up the sky. 

“Thanks, Perce,” your lips split into a smile. “I’ve got your back, too.”

The two of you grinned at each other before realising Annabeth was still there.

“Do you know who my father is, then?” Percy asked.

“Undetermined,” Annabeth said, “like I told you before. Nobody knows.”

“Except my mother. She knew.”

“Maybe not, Percy.” Annabeth frowned. “Gods don’t always reveal their identities.”

“My dad would have. He loved her.”

You watch Percy, his face a mix of hope and confusion, and you can’t help but feel a surge of protectiveness. The gods, they’re so distant, so wrapped up in their own affairs that they forget the very children they bring into this world. They claim love, they speak of duty, but when it comes down to it, where are they? Not here, not when Percy needed them, not when his mother needed saving. Not when anyone needed anything, but themselves.

It’s a harsh truth. The gods are selfish, caught up in their eternal games, their politics. They don’t bother to save a mother, to comfort a son, to reveal their identities and embrace their children. They leave you all to fend for yourselves, to figure out the world without a guide, without the assurance of a parent’s love. He believes in a father’s love, a love that should have shielded, should have saved. But it didn’t, and the silence from above speaks volumes. 

But you, you won’t let them get to Percy. Because unlike the gods, you know what it means to care.

Don’t you?

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

iii. That night, as the world around you faded into the quiet hush of slumber, a curious sensation took hold—a dream, or so it seemed, yet not quite. Dreams were fleeting. They often slip through the fingers of your mind, vanishing from your memory once you woke up. But for some strange reason, you felt the trickling trail of deja vu climbing up your spine. 

You think that you’ve had this dream before. Probably.

A shiver of recognition danced up your spine, a whisper of memory that felt like an old friend—or perhaps a ghost from the past. It was a dream that had etched itself into the grooves of your mind, returning with the silent stealth of a cat prowling in the night.

You strained to recall the last time this dream had visited you. It could’ve been a year ago, a month ago — even last night. But you did know that you’d had it. This dream had treaded the halls of your sleep before.

In the realm of dreams, you found yourself wandering through an ancient forest, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows upon the ground. The air was thick with the scent of pine and the whisper of leaves. The moon, a sliver in the sky, provided scant illumination, casting long, haunting shadows that danced between the ancient trees. Your footsteps were muffled on the forest floor, as though the earth itself conspired to keep your passage secret.

As you ventured deeper into the heart of the woods, a creeping fog began to rise, slithering between the trunks like a living being. It seemed to follow you, to surround you, and with it came a cold that seeped into your bones. The mist grew denser, a tangible presence that drew closer with every passing moment.

You reached out, fingers brushing against the cool vapour, and felt a presence—an ancient, powerful force that had been lurking in the corners of your dreams for as long as you could remember.

And then, without warning, the forest fell away, and you found yourself standing at the edge of a clearing. The mist swirled here, gathering strength. From the heart of the mist, a figure materialised. It was tall and imperious, its form shifting and wavering as if woven from the fog itself. Its eyes, when they met yours, were bottomless pits of darkness, and you felt yourself falling into them.

“Child,” it spoke, and the words seemed to resonate with the very fibres of your being. “I have watched you, and I know the suffering you’ve been dealt by the gods.”

“They have wronged you, as they have wronged me,” the figure continued, the mist swirling with every gesture. “They sit in their celestial palace, blind to the struggles of those below. But I see your potential, your desire for justice. Together, we can make them regret.”

In the quiet of your dream, your heart stirred. You did not know who this figure was or what he wanted from you, but his words reached you. The gods, those distant watchers, had become but silhouettes against your tribulations, their figures blurred by the tears of your unanswered calls. Beings who had turned their back on you, refused to acknowledge when it mattered. Left you unclaimed, left your mother to die, left Percy’s mother to die and since the beginning of time, left humanity to suffer in a cyclic torture. 

And, so close, was the embrace of the mist — echoing your fury, validating your resentment. 

“Why should I join you?” you asked, though part of you already yearned for the vengeance he promised.

“Because your rage is a weapon that can reshape the world,” the mist replied, its form growing more defined, more commanding. “The gods fear what they cannot control, and they cannot control the fury of the heart. Join me, and we will turn that fury into a force that will shake the heavens.”

The dream held you captive, the reality of it as undeniable as the mist that enveloped you. The mist’s words were a poison, sweet and lethal, but before you could utter another word, as the dream reached its peak, as you teetered on the cross-roads of a decision that could alter the course of history, it began to unravel. 

The forest, the mist, the towering figure of the mist — all faded into the ether, leaving you alone in a barren land of tempestuous silence.

You awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream clinging to you like cobwebs. An anger still simmered within you, stoked by something you could not quite place your finger on. An unsettling feeling rose and fell with every breath you took. 

What just happened?

You tried to think back to your dream that night, but as you’d found yourself everyday for the last couple of months, you couldn’t remember a thing. Well, maybe except for a pressing throb within the depths of your mind.

Strapping your head-piece securely on, blue plumes spilling from the top. Your armour was strapped on and you were decked out in metal from head to toe. You double-checked that your sword was tucked into your sheath before joining the Athena alliance in their march for the Capture the Flag match.

You quite liked Capture the Flag. It was one of those games where you had to do something and everyone got to run around and play — albeit, Camp Half-Blood kids did run around like headless chickens most of the time.

Percy scrambled to catch up with, tripping over his shin-guard that was a few sizes too big for him. “Hey.”

“Hi,” you grinned at him.

“So what’s the plan?” He asked. “Got any magic items you can loan me?”

You shook your head. “Nah. Sorry. Magical items are things you get from your godly parent when they feel like it. I haven’t got anything.” you waved at your basic sword for effect. “That’s why I usually go with one of the spare swords from the training shed.” You pointed at his pocket. “You’ve got Riptide, though, haven’t you? That’s more than enough.” Percy shrugged. “I don’t have it anymore, it vanished. I’m stuck with a regular, boring sword like you.” You frowned at this. Didn’t Chiron give it to him? He should still have it, shouldn’t he? “That’s strange. Just make sure Clarisse’s spear doesn’t touch you, it's electric and stings like hell. Annabeth will handle getting the banner from Ares.”

He gave you a lopsided smile. “Okay, Major.” He said ‘Major’ with the same tone you would call someone ‘Bossy’.

You laughed before catching him by the strap of his armour when he tripped over again. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“Border patrol, whatever that means.”

“Ah,” you nodded. “That’s easy. Stand by the creek, keep the reds away.”

“What’re you doing?” You rubbed your chin thoughtfully. “I think I’m supposed to be a decoy for Luke when he runs for the flag.”

Percy looked at you appraisingly. “I guess you do look like him. I see how that would work.”

He swerved to avoid getting a faceful of the dirt you’d kicked up at him with your shoes. 

Percy then started chasing you down to the creek where the Athena alliance were planting their flag, similar to how the satyrs would chase the dryads near the strawberry patch albeit a lot slower because of his armour that was triple his body weight.

You stopped when you reached the silver flag, causing Percy to topple into you and send the both of you flying into the ground. You laughed, tugging the boy up with your hands and punching him in the shoulder. He huffed before waving at you and walking down to the creek to assume his duty of border patrol. 

You went to stand by Luke.

Overall, you would say Capture the Flag was a success. 

The Athena win streak was not lost this match, and you got to beat down one of the Hephaestus kids with your sword, which was always a pretty good bonus. The blue team cheered loudly, carrying Luke on their shoulders as he waved the Ares flag about in the air. You were going to join them when you saw Percy, drenched in water, arguing with the air.

“I told you. Athena always, always has a plan,” said the air before shimmering and revealing Annabeth with her invisible yankee cap.

“A plan to get me pulverised,” snapped Percy. His arms were crossed as he stared down the daughter of Athena.

“I came as fast as I could. I was about to jump in, but…” She shrugged. 

“You didn’t need help?” you suggested, popping up between them.

Percy’s glare dropped as he saw you. “Sup, Major. I’m guessing decoying for Luke went well?”

“The best,” you agreed before noticing the wound on his arm. “How did you do that?”

“Sword cut,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Stupid Clarisse and her pig-headed minions.”

“No,” Annabeth interjected sharply. “It was a sword cut. Look at it.”

You watched, incredulous, as the blood disappeared. Where a gaping wound had been, only a faint line lingered, and even that was fading fast. In moments, it dwindled to a mere scratch, then vanished as if it had never been.

The smile slipped from your face.

“I—I don’t get it,” he said.

Annabeth was deep in thought, face wrinkled in concentration, and you could only imagine the intense mental gymnastics happening behind her gaze. “Step out of the water, Percy.”

“What—”

“Just do it.”

Percy emerged from the creek, hair plastered to his face and body bone-tired, but strangely enough, completely dry. He swayed on his feet, and you reached out to steady him, your touch firm. 

“Oh, Styx,” Annabeth cursed. “This is not good. I didn’t want…I assumed it would be Zeus.…”

You could only meet Percy’s gaze in a muted horror. 

Of course you’d picked up on Annabeth’s train of thought. But the revelation left you reeling. You couldn’t believe it. I thought… of course they wouldn’t stick to the oath. This —... the one thing! How could they? What? 

Your jaw clenched, and your grip on Percy tightened unconsciously.

Percy opened his mouth but before he could say anything, a canine howl reverberated throughout the forest.

Everyone tensed and Chiron barked out “Stand ready! My bow!”

Above you, a monstrous creature crouched on the craggy ledge, its silhouette massive against the sky. Its eyes burned like coals from the depths of a forge, and its massive jaws bristled with teeth, each one as lethal as a freshly honed blade. It stared down at you with an intensity that pierced through your body.

A hellhound. Your eyes widened, gripping the handle of your sword.

Nobody moved except you, who yelled, “Percy, run!”

You tried to step in front of the boy, your sword clutched in between your fingers. The hellhound barked, and although you expected it to forget Percy and redirect its course to you, it dove past you (ignoring you completely) and ripped into Percy’s armour.

You didn’t look back as Chiron and the Apollo cabin took care of the hellhound, focusing on Percy whose chest was blooming with deep, red bloodstains.

“Percy!” You cried out, dropping to your knees beside him. Your fingers fumbled with his chestplate, trying to ignore the slick, warm blood that coated your hands.

“Di immortales!” Annabeth exclaimed. “That’s a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don’t…they’re not supposed to…”

“Someone summoned it,” Chiron announced, trotting over. “Someone inside the camp.”

The dead body of the hellhound melted into the shadows, presumably returning back to the Underworld, only, you didn’t care. What you cared about right now was Percy Jackson who was drenched in blood with a horrific gash torn into his body.

“You’re wounded,” Annabeth told Percy as if no one knew that. “Quick, Percy, get in the water.”

You draped Percy’s arm around your shoulder, helping him step into the creek with little protest.

“Chiron, watch this,” Annabeth said.

As Percy staggered into the creek, the water seemed to greet him like an old friend. The blood that had painted his clothes a grim crimson began to dissolve, carried away by the gentle current. You watched as the gruesome wound in his chest closed before your very eyes. The torn flesh knit together, leaving not even a scar behind. It was as if time had reversed, as if the claws of the hellhound had never touched him.

But that wasn’t the part that stunned you the most.

“Look, I—I don’t know why,” Percy tried to apologise. “I’m sorry.…”

“Percy,” Annabeth said, pointing. “Um…”

There was a sign above Percy’s head, an unmistakable one that no one did not know. A hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming. A three-tipped spear: a trident.

“Your father,” Annabeth whispered. “This is really not good.”

“It is determined,” Chiron stated solemnly.

Campers knelt around you, even those from Ares’ cabin, though they did so grudgingly.

“My father?” Percy was bewildered.

“Poseidon,” said Chiron. “Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus Jackson, Son of the Sea God.”

A shadow was drawn upon your face, eyes fixated on the trident above Percy’s head. The throb in your head returned and all you felt was a torrent of fervent, quivering, absolute rage that coursed through you.

I know that it wasn’t your fault, Percy, but at that moment, I couldn’t think of anything else.

iv. Being a demigod was a curse. 

It was a relentless burden, especially when you had been confined within the walls of Camp Half-Blood for four years, and still, your divine parent remained a shadow, unclaiming and aloof. 

You found yourself in the misty lands of your forest dreamscape. This night, the mist gushed and swirled around you, almost preparing to engulf you within it.

You lifted your face to the heavens, rain simmering on your face like little angels doting you with frigid kisses, each drop mingling with the silent tears that trembled down your cheeks. It was almost as though you were praying, but you knew better than that.

Prayer had once been a solace, a hope, but now it felt like a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

You didn’t pray often, actually, you avoided the thing all together. Why pray to gods — a god, who has forsaken you? You lifted your face to the heavens, rain mingling with the tears on your cheeks. Prayer had once been a solace, a hope. Now, it was a bitter reminder of divine neglect.

Your heart seethed with a silent fury, a hatred for the gods who had ignored your existence, even as they favoured others. The injustice of it all burned within you, a fire that no rain could extinguish.

Beyond the visceral surge of anger, there was a profound sense of betrayal — a feeling that the gods had once again overlooked your years of waiting and longing for recognition. 

With a heavy heart, you spoke into the storm, “You could have saved her, but you didn’t.” 

The words hung in the air. “My mother. She was one of your most faithful, but, when she needed you most, you turned away. Why? Was her devotion not enough?”

The silence that followed was your answer. “You say you watch over us, you care for us, but where were you?”

Your voice broke as you continued, “And what about me? For years, you ignored me — you still ignore me. For years, you left me to fight for myself in a world that you created. I don’t understand. We’re your children, aren’t we? Aren’t we supposed to matter to you? We deserved better.”

“You’re supposed to be our parents. We deserve someone who would fight for us, who would value our lives. But what do we get instead?! Fucking selfish deities, with all the power in the entire goddamn world who leave us to suffer and die in some sick game you orchestrate just because you can!”

“You don’t understand! I’ve waited my whole life for just a sign from you. Our whole lives revolve around you! What more could you want from us?” The tears of the sky dripped onto your shaking form. “You claim Percy like it’s a joke to you. Two days after he learns you even exist, you take him into a world you’ve barred me out of for my entire life!”

The thunder seemed to mock your pain, and you trembled with a mixture of cold and fury. “You take him from me, like I haven’t suffered enough. You take, take, take until there’s nothing more to give! What do you want from me?!”

You were screaming at the sky now, head pulsing with nothing but red-hot rage. “I’m done waiting! You’ve shown me exactly what we mean to you — nothing!”

Something clasped your shoulder. 

Turning around, your heart caught in your throat. Your eyes trembled, pupils dilated at the sudden contact. As you turned away, a presence enveloped you, not the warm embrace of a father, but the cold touch of something ancient and powerful.

A dark mist surrounded you. The air crackled with static, a lingering feeling of something you couldn’t quite name. 

“I can help you,” he whispered, his words slithering through the air. “The gods have overlooked you, ignored your potential. But I see it. Together, we can overthrow them, claim the justice and recognition you deserve.”

You stood still, the realisation dawning on you like a cold sunrise. This was Kronos, the Titan King, the very essence of time and treachery. The air around you grew colder, the mist swirling with a newfound intensity.

The mist around you thickened, and Kronos’s voice became more insistent, laced with false promises. “I can help you,” he whispered again, the words slithering through the air like a serpent.

“Think of it,” he continued, the mist now taking on a more convincing form, a figure of authority and power. “With my aid, you could rise above the gods who have wronged you. Your suffering will not be in vain. We will make them pay for their indifference. Pay for how they left your mother all those years ago, how they abandoned you and your fellow demigods for their own selfish desire.”

You felt the anger and sorrow within you stir, manipulated by his words. It was a dangerous game he played, but in your heart, the seeds of rebellion had been sown. 

“Join me,” whispered Kronos.

“Yes,” you found yourself saying, the word escaping your lips before doubt could take hold. “Yes, I will join you.”

With a resolve born of grief and betrayal, I turned my back on the sky and walked away. That was the moment I swore my life to Kronos. It was the moment, I think, that sealed our fate. 

I wish I could’ve said sorry to you, Percy, when I had the chance.

* . °•★|•°∵ ∵°•|☆•° . *

Random fun fact: Major is anti-government and hates taxes 🥶😊, she also likes liquorice

taglist!!! (comment if you want to be added): @itzmeme

#percy jackson #percyjacksonxoc #percy jackon and the olympians #percy series #percy pjo #annabeth #grover underwood #the titans curse #percy x reader #percy x hades reader #percy x traitor! reader #percy x hades! traitor! reader #percyjacksonxreader #percyxreader #percy jackson x reader #pjo #luke castellan #luke castallen x reader #percy jacksonxreader #percyxoc #pjo angst #hades! reader #daughter of hades! reader #angst #percy jackson x hades! traitor! reader #percyjacksonxhades!traitor!reader #percyxyou #percy x you #percy jackson x you #percyjacksonxyou

[0daylighthours0]

Y'know what? Before Stranger Things s4 aired, it was pretty much labeled as the make it or break it season for Byler.

For up to three seasons, Byler was easily disregarded as a delusional ship. There was enough for it to make clear sense in people who really focused on it - but in terms of the rest of the audience, the attention on Mike and Will as a pairing just wasn't enough. Everyone acknowledged that if season 4 of Stranger Things needs to send fans signs that Byler won't be endgame, they'll do it that season.

I set myself up to be ready for any disappointment if that was the case. So the season aired. And y'know what I got?

I got Mike and Will spending the entire season together. I got confirmed feelings on Will's side. I got shade thrown at Milkvan as their every 'happy' scene together put focus on Will. Byler became, not a possible idea, but imposible to ignore.

When Volume 1 first aired my little brother got to it first, and when I asked him if it was Byler'esque (we'd had a bet) he reluctantly said, "sigh yeah...".

Years before I'd asked my father his thoughts on Mike and Will's relationship, he'd responded saying it was strictly platonic.

After season 4, he just treats it as canon.

"It's just obvious now, the show wants to set them up".

Guys. My father, a man who has a hard time excepting anything un-het in film, was completely convinced in their relationship after watching season 4.

Do you think this should have been the impression he got if they didn't want to bring light to this pairing? The impression any audiences should have gotten?

Byler is now WIDELY popular and recognizable, it's actually DEBATABLE if they'll get together over Milkvan.

I feel like longtime Bylers always saw them that way so they've noticed the change a bit less but, sitting down and actually thinking about it, that's crazy. We were the uncanon queer ship, now we're literally halfway canon are you kidding me? Should this have been the writing choice if they didn't want people disappointed in Mike and El's staying together? No! If Milkvan is endgame then they had an easy 'out card' to not disappointing Bylers. Un 👏 canon 👏 it 👏 in season 👏 4 👏. It would have been EASY. Give Will another set up interest, make it clear that Mike and El belong together. Bylers would have continued to be seen as delusional, and most audiences would have continued rooting for Milkvan. We all know that that isn't the case now. Now if Byler doesn't happen, I daresay the majority of the audience will be baffled. And Byler still continues to get milked! Interviews hyping them up, blooming signpost. It's hype that doesn't need to be there if it's all pointless.

Now, I actually lost a little bit of faith in Byler. It makes just so much sense, yet it almost makes too much sense in a way that it seems too good to be true. But this post is a thought that keeps me up at night. Forget queer bait, it'd be the worst writing decision possibly ever made if this stuff wasn't meant to canon them - literally soured Milkvan for watchers.

So did season 4 of Stranger Things 'make' or 'break' Byler? It efing made it man.

#stranger things #byler #stranger things 4 #byler is endgame #will byers #mike wheeler #byler is real #byeler #byler is canon #st4 #byler proof #byler nation #byler tumblr #byler analysis #byler theory #byler thoughts

[prince-liest]

oh my god…. prince……. you can’t do this to me. you’re saying next fic has vox getting fucked, focuses on vox’s transness (AH), AND ALSO HES ON THE OFF SEE SAW OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH VAL?????? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEE?!!?!!????? I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY COMBUST. and bc another anon asked abt how alastor views the violence in voxval’s relationship, i have Another thought on the matter. as much as alastor looks down on vox, they can be Very similar sometimes. they are both egomaniacs and very prideful. i don’t think vox, without outside interference, would ever ADMIT that the violence he faces is 1) something he truly hates AND 2) out of his control. he can’t admit he hates it, because then why isn’t he stopping it? that would be admitting to not being powerful enough or strong enough. and hello, 50’s toxic masculinity coming through, he CANT be a victim of domestic violence. he’s a powerful, rich, and important man. it all comes down to perceived weakness. so, the solution is to pretend he’s mostly fine with it. sure, he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment, but i don’t think he’d ever let himself take it seriously. because then he has to start drawing lines in the sand, and what happens then? will val look down on him? will he lose val? yeah, he is not risking that over a problem he mostly refuses to acknowledge exists. and as you said, this is all happening in the setting of hell, where ultra violence IS the norm, and vox himself is excessively violent. it’s the most delicious 50 layer cake of fucked up-ness.

RANT ASIDE THO. i have a question. 2. do you ever plan on having vox interact with the hotel crew outside of angel? ANDDDD what would charlie’s reaction be to their friendship/situationship/ kinda love affair. i think she could add SOOOOO much hilarity and Intense Emotions to this series. not that the boys haven’t been doing their part in that so far. charlie just intensifies everything she does, god bless her. -🌓

The "getting fucked" bit and the trans conversation bit are directly related to and relevant to each other, and frankly I'm just very happy to be out here writing the specific flavors of deeply queer shenanigans that I'm writing, and to have people actively enjoy that. It genuinely means a lot to me that I've strayed so goddamn far out of the bounds of good old top/bottom yaoi archetypes that introduced me to fandom and yet have a wildly enthusiastic audience nonetheless. So, that was my long way of saying that you bring me a lot of fucking joy, anon, hahaha.

As for everything you're saying about Vox, power, and masculinity: YOU! points dramatically at you YOU GET IT! YOU GET IT!!!!!! Everyone just read this, this is it, this is the thing. I have no notes to add. There is a reason that the main point he raises the moment he actually says something vulnerable about it (before he immediately cuts himself off) is a complaint that he's an overlord, so why—?

And with regards to your questions: I'm not gonna lie, my actual planning for 666 is usually, like, extremely by the seat of my pants. I plan nothing except, "Oh, shit, had an idea for the next one. Lesgoooo—" and that's been the case for literally every single installment. It's all just been evolving naturally and building on top of itself. So! I can't say that I plan to have Vox interact with the hotel crew or Charlie, but I also will never say that I'm actively opposed to it.

That said, I do think a lot of this fic is kinda structured around hitting specific topics that come up in intimate settings between Vox and Alastor specifically, with occasional tag-ins from Angel Dust, so I don't really know if there's anything in particular I'd like to write that I think would work better in this series if more characters got involved. But, hey! Never say never!

#ask #personal #half moon anon #long post #hazbin hotel #radiostatic #666 live on air #I do agree with you I adore Charlie and in particular I adore her weird relationship with Alastor #actually before I decided to not make this COMPLETELY unhealthy I had a very very different idea for how to write the rut fic #involving basically Alastor getting pressured and also compulsory allonormativity-ing himself into having sex with Vox #and THAT outline DID involve abso-fucking-lutely everybody sticking their noses into the situation in deep deep alarm #Charlie Angel Husk and even fucking Lucifer showed up #but uh that was also the version of this series that ended with the radiostatic relationship pretty well nuked so #ended up NOT writing the “bad end” edition LOL #maybe one day I'll write it as an AU or something when I feel like upsetting absolutely everyone including myself #my writing #nsft

[maykitz]

watched a popular movie so there's a mandatory my complaints and opinions longpost

barbie is a decent comedy with great visuals for sure but i have to say the social justice dialogue was written unbearably, felt like a 2012 bad tumblr post that wouldn't end. the real shame however is that imo the movie refused to take itself seriously even for a minute at crucial moments while making its entire plot about serious things, so it was like, okay, then what's the point.. you're saying patriarchy every other sentence and talking about the incredible pressure on women and having to deal with sexual harassment etc but every single scene is played like we're in beverly hills chihuahua. yes it's a comedy naturally but firstly comedy doesn't have to mean lowbrow slapstick all the time and secondly beverly hills chihuahua understands that it can't have those dogs be talking about abortion and fighting the islamic state with little pink paw pad drones, yknow?

the parody of male identity and masculinity was overall very lacklustre and disappointing too cause it had no bite, it was more like when south park depicts a celebrity as an adult baby- trite and kinda childish and with that air of smugness that tells you the author thinks too highly of themself to even need to flesh it out. which sucks! there's so much about men to satirise and roast lol. gosling is comparably quite old and there wasn't even one hairline or forehead wrinkles comment. sort of a haha gay joke about michael cera's comedic relief character ig? and will ferrell's character could've been wholly scrapped idk what he was even doing there tbh

the big inspiring message about female empowerment, too, is a little bit undercut (haters would say demolished) by there being no bulldagger barbie (or human), margot robie's miraculous powerful ending being that she now dresses and looks exactly like as a doll except her pink shoes are now flats and there's also a breakfast club tier makeover on a teen girl who hates barbie and talks like an sjw courtesy of plebcomics to show that she is now instead happy and pink and loves barbie. and even tho there's 1 fat barbie side character and 1 background wheelchair barbie the topic of unrealistic body proportions (the #1 complaint against barbie dolls!) and beauty pressure is entirely carefully omitted. there's a moment where a narrator coyly acknowledges this like, hehe margot robie is too pretty a casting choice to make this point about feeling ugly. yeah ok but, well. you still did it though. and every other actress too. they even ditched "weird" barbie's destroyed choppy hair + sharpie on face appearance for a put together "punk" outfit with flawless makeup and styled hair. even the destroyed toy can't forego her feminine beauty makeover, and it's only then that the other barbies apologise for ostracising her. big win for looking however you want.

ryan gosling was fantastic though i was really surprised by his singing voice and performance. and i cannot overstate my praise for the costuming and set designs, actual artistry all around

[thetarttfuldickhead]

obsessed with how roy just knows jamie’s an exceptional footballer. while threatening him, roy praises how his right foot was kissed by god. they talk at the gala and roy confesses that he knows he should pass to jamie. in the signal, roy is the only one who knows jamie can score from that distance, and he’s been watching jamie the whole time, actually, and he knows that jamie’s ability to be a prick is what makes him special. and season 3 is just a gold mine because you used to be the best, now you’re not and you thought i was the best? and then roy willingly offers extra training because he believes in jamie and he knows his potential and he’s so so proud when jamie gets called up for england. and he keeps up with jamie’s stats, easily recalling his assists in the premier league during that press conference and. they’re gonna continue to grow together and maybe finally realize they’ve both been in love with each other this whole time

FUNNY COINCIDENCE NONNY I AM OBSESSED WITH IT TOO!

Roy has always known – he knows the game too well, loves the game too well, not to acknowledge the fact that Jamie’s fucking great, but god, does it piss him off (in season 1 and half of season 2, at least – after that he’s quite pleased with it)! I do adore the sometimes floated idea that Roy is absolutely livid that Jamie decides to ditch City for Lust Conquers All, because pissing away his talent like that? It’s outrageous. (Doing it when Roy would fucking kill for a chance to play again? Unforgiveable. Also, it’s bad form to walk out on a club like that, so Roy’s furious about that on principle, even as he’s darkly satisified at having his notions of Jamie’s inherent prick nature further confirmed. And maybe he gloats about it a little because Jamie really fucked things up for himself now, huh, but yeah, mostly he’s livid.)

And I tend to think that Roy offers to train Jamie in part (though certainly not only!) because he is just really interested in seeing how far Jamie could go – as someone who loves the game, he wants to see the football Jamie can play when Jamie’s at his best, because he knows it’ll be spectacular. He is so fucking excited during the last few games, seeing the things Jamie does on the pitch (that yes, Jamie, when Jamie saves that goal against City is running on repeat in the back of my head, like always), and so fucking pleased when Jamie’s called up.

I think it might become a bit of a struggle for Roy in the future, on the one hand wondering if maybe Jamie ought to move away and play with other clubs to truly fulfill his potential, but on the other wanting to keep him close always, because Jamie’s his player now, in a way none of the other players are. (They don’t mind, because being Roy’s player seems really intense and difficult and no one but Jamie is into it.) They make each other better – and, these days, also so much happier.

#thank you for this nonny very important points were made #these two have never been normal about each other #roy spends so much of season 1 wishing jamie wasn't so good at football #even as he can't help but be impressed at times #and that only makes him feel sick and even angrier #but now! #now he can just unabashedly glory in jamie's football prowess #and knowing that he plays a part in bringing that out? #good good good feeling #roy kent #jamie tartt #roy & jamie #asks

[spaceyflowerswriting]

pt 2/4: little changes (gun park x reader)

...except the main character is goo and reader only plays a role in little dialogue. hear me out.

(pt 1)

details: fluffy oneshot, gender neutral reader written in 2nd pov, general canon au, you and gun have been dating for a while in secret

summary: goo starts to notice little changes in gun, influenced by you. the thing is, gun is keeping his relationship on the low, so here are goo's antics of being annoying and trying to find out who you are.

warning: one part of these moments has implications of gun and reader in bed!

a/n: i dont rmbr how i got this information but at the time i wrote this, i heard gun couldn't drive so... yeah lol

(ironically i forgot gun's first appearance is him literally driving crystal around. but tbh, just bc i think its funny, i wanna keep it a headcanon that he can't drive LMAO)

×

"Make sure you don't text and drive."

"Hah, how old do you think I am?"

"Just saying! You text often on your travels so I wanna make sure."

"Don't worry, I always make my coworker drive."

. . .

The red stop light finally gave Goo a chance to snap his neck towards the passenger seat where Gun sat.

"Must be so nice to just sit there, huh?"

"Eyes on the road," Gun replied flatly, his gaze still glued to his phone. Nearly the entire ride he had his eyes on it. And it looked like he was texting.

Suddenly curious, Goo acknowledged Gun's comment with, "We're at a stoplight, dumbass," and then asked, "Who's so important you can't stop texting them?"

"Why is that the assumption?"

Goo scrunched a brow, lips twisting into a frown. "What does that mean?"

"I could be typing notes in my phone."

"Stop bullshitting, you and I never take notes."

For a second Gun looked like he was going to admit Goo was right, but then he just looked up and said, "The light's green again."

Goo looked back in front of him, only to see a red light. He deadpanned and turned back to Gun, staring down at his phone.

"Seriously, who're you texting? I've driven your ass around for twenty minutes and you've done nothing but stare and text on your phone."

"That's none of your business. How close are we to our destination?"

Goo tsked and sucked in a breath of sharp air, bringing his eyes to the road. "Almost there."

"Alright."

There was a pause as the light actually turned green this time and Goo pushed down on the pedal, pushing the driving limit like he always did. He decided to keep bothering Gun in the meanwhile.

"I know you're not texting the boss, he'd rather call you, and he only talks to us for business reasons. I'd guess it's also probably not Crystal since your conversations with her are always short and to the point. And you don't have any friends. Just who are you texting?" He kept on rambling his thoughts out loud, while Gun sat silently.

When Goo eventually gave up, he suggested Gun drive sometimes so he could just be on his phone for twenty minutes.

"I got Candy Crush levels to beat, ya know."

"You won't be alive to beat them if you allow me to drive."

Memories of a burning car with him and Gun standing in front of them flashed in Goo's mind three times--a different car each time--and he nodded.

"I don't know how you can fight a seven nation army but can't drive a car."

"That's a mystery to me, too."

Goo wanted to facepalm.

~

"That selection of jewelry looks so nice."

"You know you can buy it, right? My card is yours."

"No, Gun, we are not doing this again. Last time you let me use your card you ended up nearly buying the entire store for me."

"Hmph."

. . .

"Rubies, eh?" Goo held up the necklace he picked up, embedded with emeralds. He glanced back and forth between it and the ruby necklace Gun was holding. "You buying a necklace?"

"No, I don't like jewelry."

"The hell are you doing here then?"

"I'm buying a gift."

Goo snorted. "Very funny, now tell me the truth."

Gun stared through his sunglasses, not a single muscle moving on his face.

"Oh?" Goo leaned in, staring more closely at Gun's face like there was some hidden movement of an expression change or something. "Who's it for, huh? I didn't think you'd be the type to buy jewelry for someone."

"I'm buying it for someone special to me," Gun answered surprisingly honestly, leaving Goo flabbergasted for a moment.

"Uh." He leaned back to compose himself, adjusting his glasses. "First off, that's so cringe. Secondly, you actually have a friend?" Or maybe a lover or crush? Usually that's what someone special meant. Still seemed unbelievable, but just in case, Goo added in, "...Or something?"

Gun made a slight smirk. "I'm not incapable of creating bonds."

Goo shivered. "Ew, why do you always talk like an alien? Just say you made a friend." He followed Gun as the latter turned away to look at bracelets. "Who'd you become friends with? Some new successor you're trying to impress through jewelry?"

"When have I ever done that? Of course not."

"Then who?"

"Does my personal life matter to you?"

Goo swatted at his shoulder. "I could care less, but you've got me curious now. Who's this 'special someone' to you?"

"Stay curious," simply said Gun, picking up bracelets with his free hand and comparing them to the necklace in his other hand.

"Ugh."

Fine, Goo didn't care. It was probably some one night stand Gun just really liked the work of and wanted to keep around.

Actually... Gun had never said anyone was special to him before. It was cringey to hear him say that before like Goo stated, but now curiosity grew in him. What could it mean...?

~

"Oh, shit! I just remembered your meeting!"

"Damn, I lost track of time."

"It's fine, we both did, now hurry!"

. . .

Mr. Choi strummed his fingers across the table, not hiding his annoyance. "Gun, late again?" he questioned, Goo snickering.

Gun bowed his head slightly. "You called in a sudden meeting. I apologize for not being prepared, sir."

Goo was sitting leaned back in his chair, feet kicked up on the table. "Why do you look like a mess?"

Gun straightened up, finishing buttoning his shirt up and running a hand through his hair. His tone was much more sharper when replying to Goo. "I just said I apologize for being unprepared."

"So? It's late at night, what were you doing? Lounging around and being messy?" joked Goo.

Mr. Choi narrowed his eyes. "Or did you just come back from 'messing around?'"

Goo's jaw dropped when Gun's head slightly lowered once more.

"You youngsters..." Mr. Choi pinched the bridge of his nose.

"No fucking way!" Goo immediately started cackling as he leaned back, nearly falling from his chair. He moved to sit properly while giggling in between. "Sorry we interrupted your little fun~"

Gun ignored him and just mumbled an apology when Mr. Choi lectured him with, "I know you're an adult with the freedom to do as you wish, but don't be so careless by losing track of time."

The meeting began right after that, and Goo listened, of course. But he couldn't help but be mildly distracted by thoughts about the person Gun was "messing around with." Did they really do him so good he would lose track of time? Or did this person matter more to him than this meeting so he stayed back a little?

Probably the first, and it was also funnier if it was true. If the second was true though, that'd be interesting. Still kind of funny, though... Goo felt like he could never imagine Gun getting emotionally invested in anyone.

~

"Have fun at the party!"

"Ugh, I don't even want to go... promise me you'll still be here if I come back early. Which I probably will."

"Pft, sure."

. . .

Goo had a little too much to drink during this party. But he was having fun so who cares?

While chatting up some people, he saw Gun walking away to the exit of the room and ran after him, leaving the people he was talking to confused. He wrapped an arm around Gun's shoulder once he caught up, slurring, "Where're you going, huuuh~?" Gun shrugged him off but Goo just moved to hug his arm instead. "The party just began!"

"Ugh." Gun pulled his arm out of Goo's grasp. "I don't like parties like these."

"But you never leave this early! Come on, there's more to drink and eat!"

Gun sighed and looked around until he spotted a certain someone. "Crystal!"

"Hm?" She looked over at him, pausing from grabbing snacks at the tables.

"Keep this guy busy."

"What?" Gun was already sprinting away. Crystal started shouting, "Gun! GUN!! YOU ASSHOLE!!"

"Where's he going?" Goo wailed, heading to Crystal to lean onto her. "It's like he's sneaking away to see someone!"

Crystal shoved Goo away (or attempted to, because he kept falling on her like he didn't have a skeleton), saying something under her breath as she shook her head.

Goo didn't hear, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't remember tomorrow morning anyways.

#lookism x reader #gun park x reader #the saga continues lol

[runningfrom2am]

what happened to lucy gray baird?

1. well, in her defence, she had considered lucy gray a friend too. it’s just that she loves knowing all the cards and she couldn’t trust anyone except her coryo.

2. lucy gray being afraid of coryo being nearby because the capitol duo are never not around each other and therefore, alongside not having what it takes to take r’s life, shying away from the cabin but r being the actual physical threat to her all along because had it been her who went after lucy gray, she couldn’t have escaped and coryo is long gone at that time.

3. “She tried to kill me, too.” no, i’m pretty sure she is the reason why you’re alive and well right now but whatever it takes to gain trust i guess.

4. i’m so glad that both sejanus and lucy gray acknowledge everything that could’ve been an indicator of how much she was “not like them” after things happen because it creates a contrast with r convincing herself that she is in the right before anything happens.

5. the president and the head gamemaker <333 (i have accepted them as my favourite problematic couple, what about it?)

6. sejanus imagining r and coryo as the presidential couple when they were kids is everything.

7. after seeing her with arachne, persephone, livia, ash and lucy gray; it’s safe to say, even after all, sejanus was never actually on the receiving end of her anger. she did love him enough for him to survive.

8. i love how her emotions went from shock to disgust and then confusion to contentment because how else does a human react to this? the boy who was one of her closest friend, once, the boy whose life she’s saved, standing in front of her only because she has lost the war.

9. her character doesn’t seem to have changed much over the passing time if she refuses even the idea of dying a boring and unimportant death. even in death she has to have the biggest effect on the world as she knows it, whether it be mourning for days or a big celebration.

hiii omg we have so much to discuss here we go :)

1. she considered lucy gray a friend until the moment she realized that lucy gray could be a potential threat to her. she wasn’t a tribute anymore- she was a victor, and now there was no cage separating her from him. not even the “cage” (if we can refer to it that way) of him being a peacekeeper and not being able to be seen with her publicly.

but THEN when they are set to be married a year later, she’s like *sigh* “i wonder if lucy gray would have been my maid of honour. that could have been cute” like it wasn’t HER FAULT THAT LICY GRAY WAS “DEAD”. did she kill her? no, but she did manipulate coryo into doing it and i consider that very much the same thing.

2. the faith she still had in coryo for some reason to be like “oh god, he wouldn’t leave her out here alone. i have to get out of here.” like girl he just tried to kill you OF COURSE HE’S LEAVING HER OUT THERE ALONE. but i think by that point they were both very much equal threats to her- so she was not about to run the risk of either of them seeing her (even if she didn’t know he was gone)

3. yeah like sir-

(to be fair it is an extremely fine line that she walked between “trying to kill him” and “letting him go” considering she got to the point of lifting the weapon at him, so it doesn’t surprise me that within such a short period of time he’s still seeing it the way that he does.) also 100% he needed lucy gray to know she was safe with him and by convincing her that he was in the same boat was the most obvious way.

4. oh absolutely. and i think it’s almost funny how sejanus was best friends with them for so long and then it took one day for him to go from “haha my friends are so crazy. unchecked anger issues- am i right?” to “oh, shit, like they’re violently insane and i should have always known this.” the rose coloured glasses had to come off SO fast.

5. 🫡🫡 (i love them so much)

6. AND HE WOULDDDD 🥺

like no doubt he knew about their feelings for each other well before either of them did. and i know damn well even if most of their classmates didn’t like him he was privy to one or two conversations about them when they weren’t there. like clemmie would TOTALLY corner him and be like “what do you know?” omg especially after livia’s birthday and hold on i’m actually gonna work on a part two rn-

7. he had ALMOST been on the receiving end of her anger. and also, like he says, “i’ve seen her get violent before, but nothing like that” even though she wasn’t violent toward him necessarily, i think it was the things she was saying that really freaked him out. she was angrier than he had ever seen her, and i think it was the calmness and severity of her statement that nothing was going to keep her from the life she wanted that did his opinions in.

8. yes and i know eventually she landed on being happy. bc really, that is what she wanted. “i won’t bury another friend” is HEAVY here, because while she never buried him, after going out of her way to save him from his execution and then letting him go in the HEIGHT of her mental breakdown, she never really knew if he survived. she risked so much for his survival, that i think it would be extremely fulfilling to know that she succeeded despite everything.

9. yesss and really how could she change? any kind of moral compass she had was left in twelve and she was rewarded significantly for what she did literally as soon as they got back. every single one of her problems were instantly solved; she had coryo, her father was out of her life, and she was immediately put on track for her dream career. and like she said, she got everything she ever wanted. even after her “death” it was attention that she craved and therefore she would have it- she doesn’t care if people are celebrating her death. it’s a testament to her success.

#i have the answers #ltpf <3 #that-veela-girl

[a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire]

I havent really complained about crescent city 1 despite having read it because, idk man, I enjoyed it well enough for the mystery despite the Sarah J Maas-ness permeating all of it but @ae-neon's recent posts about it made me realize just how bad it is after all, specifically the racism and slavery stuff. Im pretty sure this is her third series with a major plotline about humans being enslaved and I would think she wouldve learned how to write it with a little bit of tact by now, and I would be wrong

While I didnt fully register how bad the handling of the racism was when I read it, I do remember feeling very weird about the total lack of human perspectives other than Bryce and the terrorist guy, specifically, about the fact that Bryce didnt seem to have any human friends ?

And I couldnt help but think about my own life experiences as the child of a family that immigrated to germany from an ex-soviet country, and how basically all of my friends were from a similar, if not identical background. Like, I was a child when I made those friends and i was barely aware of the differences between german-german culture and immigrant-german culture so it wasnt like, a conscious decision, I just seemed to bond the most with other kids who had that common with me. So the fact that Bryce, who wanted to seperate herself from her vanir heritage so much so that she almost refused proper citizenship because it meant acknowledging herself as fae, didnt have any human or half-human friends really stuck out

Now, some might say "oh, she only wants to seperate herself from her fae-side, she doesnt have an issue with vanir in general" and eh. Maybe that would be more of a convincing argument if each vanir-group actually had a distinct culture, but they all just kinda blend together so yeah

Also, this is only tangentially related but I just remembered that there was this whole through-line about Bryce learning how to trust vanir men, sorry, males, because she has issues with them because her biological fae father did to her mother what Rhysand did to Feyre, and she needed to get over those in order to love her vanir bf, Hunt, and Im sorry but you cant do the hashtag not all males-thing, when all of the male characters are the same. Like, theyre all just various flavours of the shitty guy that sjm loves to write about and none of them have any distinct cultures to set them apart, except for that one mermaid man who lived in the water and thats about it

#cccomplaining #<- thats gonna be my crescent city tag #anti sjm #anti crescent city

[hermit-searching]

TMNTposting Raphael edition (Part 1):

I have a confession to make. I've been lying to you all...my fave......is actually Raphael 😂

When I was growing up watching TMNT Donatello was always my favorite turtle, mostly because I was kin assigned the smart, purple turtle when we did those playground roleplay things elementary school kids did in the early 2000s. But during my journey rewatching TMNT 87, and 03 I've grown so SO attached to Raphael it's silly.

This guy. This dude. He's probably one of the most misunderstood characters in universe (and kind of in fanon as well) besides Leonardo. Raphael, no matter which animated iteration, gets himself into trouble because of his terrible impulse control (Woah me fr), which is linked to his "anger issues" which admittedly he does kind of have, but there's so much more to unpack there than just "oh he angy".

Well, except 87 Raphael but he's special and I'll get to him later.

03 Raph definitely has the most obvious actual blind rage. Fourth episode into the entire series he goes into a blind rage and tries attacking Mikey with a metal table leg when he loses a sparring match against his orange younger brother. Except...he kinda actually doesn't. Yeah he gets mad, for sure he got really mad, but something to note about it is he actually goes into a dissociative state before he attacks Mikey, he immediately apologizes when he's lucid again, and he runs off to cool his head which leads to him meeting Casey and teaching the same lessons Splinter has told him to Casey Jones. (Honestly the besties ever. good for them). And the reason Raph gets so angry? It's not just that Mikey beats him, Mikey eggs him on the entire time. Like I mentioned in my Mikey post, 03 Mikey is an instigator, he's constantly pushing all of his brothers buttons because he thinks it's funny. He does it on purpose so he knows what's coming for him, when his brothers (usually Raph) finally snap. That's not to say that Raph should have beaten his brother with a table leg at all, because he still spends his time learning his lesson through trying to reign in Casey, but his anger was a little more, in lack of better terms, justified than some of the other Raph-Mikey blowouts we've seen (cough12cough).

03 Raph is actually just such a polite, sweet little guy. He has a heart of gold, and tries so hard to protect him family, even until his last breath. He'll help blind old ladies, he gives old clothes and blankets to the homeless, heck his instinct when he's in his last moments in Same as It Never Was was to crawl over to Leo in an attempt to protect his big brother.

This guy's biggest fear is being the one behind the Shredder mask, and hurting his family. Literally, he fears himself, and his anger. He's so, so much more than the family hot-head.

I love this guy so much. It's great watching him develop as a character and cope with his anger without having to dig into the same lesson all the time of "oooh Raph you're angry. Anger is bad Raphael. That's a no no Raphael."

Which is what bothers me so much about 2012 Raph. They spend so much time making a joke about his anger issues it's baffling it was a choice the writers made. Oh to be a fly on the wall when they made all the questionable writing choices in 2012. Like, you'll have moments where Splinter will straight up tell his son "you remind me of my evil not-brother who was the reason my wife died lolololol", and you'll have other moments where they're like "oh aha he ran away and quit the team for the 27th time. Silly Raphael." and I genuinely do not understand why they treat him like this? 2012 Raph, fundamentally, is still the same as other Raphael's. He's got the anger issues, he uses sais, he wears red, but the way they present his anger is just. Weird. They'll have him punch or swat at his brothers just for existing, and not acknowledge it at all, visual gags or whatever. And then they'll also go "ooga booga he's so bad and his anger is bad", and then force him to learn the "anger bad" lesson for the nth time....only to wipe it from his character development again.

Once again, this kid has a heart of gold. He's the turtle equivalent of a Disney Princess. He took care of a pet turtle for, presumably years. He cared for Spike a lot! And...then they just rip that away from him to create a new villain who tries to eliminate his brothers because he used to vent to his pet (being the one way Splinter told him was "healthy" with dealing with his anger). Which? Okay way to punish him for trying to deal with his anger in a way that wasn't beating the snot out of something. (also what the actual fuck was that 180 they did having Slash go "I've always admired you Leonardo"???? HUH???)

But...then you have Chompy. Arguably the only thing they have ever given 2012 Raph without violently ripping it away for laughs, or to teach him some kind of lesson. He does give Chompy back to Tokka for a moment but she gives him back realizing they're both super attached to each other and stuff. Having the moment of Raph admitting he cares about Chompy was so perfect because it finally had a moment where he felt like Raphael.

other beautiful moments from 2012 Raph:

-literally just barn arc.

-"angry Donnie you're so silly and funny and- oh wait Donnie stop-"

-when he gets smacked with a brick by 87 Raphael (sorry I still play favs)

Ok back to more lighthearted Raphposting.

Rise Raph is actually such a fun take on the character. It's so interesting to see him being put into the role usually reserved for Leonardo, being the oldest and being the leader. At first he seems pretty well put together, and different than the other Raphael but. Nope! He still rushes into danger like a kid at a busy intersection during rush hour. The difference being, he learns to reign in his impulse control ever so slightly because he's brothers are all arguably more unhinged than he is. Especially Donnie and Mikey.

His temper in Rise seems to take somewhat of an inspiration from 03, having him dissociate into a rage, though the tone of it is vastly different than 03. Which, I think is fine because Rise always had a lighter tone than 03, and 12. The intention of it is a lot different than turning 12 Ralph's issues into a silly haha, and throughout the series we see how the pressure of being the oldest weighs upon the guy, changing the tone of his issues as the series progressed.

The season finale four parter was genuinely good for Raph's character arc all things considered. Him finally cracking under the pressure only to learn his family will be there for him the way he's always been there for him is beautiful. Him being the one who sees Splinter's memories with his mom? Amazing. And the messed up thing? He sees protecting his family as his duty and purpose despite being a kid himself. Kinda like 03 Raph.

The movie also finally gave us that Leo-Raph dynamic older TMNT fans have craved from the series, but the roles are still reversed. With Raph still being responsible and wanting Leo to take things seriously while Leo does whatever he wants and has ✨impulsive sparkle✨. Getting to see Raph finally let loose and be a normal teenager again, joining in on the silly fun by the end of the movie..Mwah. thank you.

This post is getting long so I'll go into 87 Raphael in his own post. I have way too much to say about him I'm sorry..

#theotxt #rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 03 #tmntposting #tmnt raphael #rottmnt raph #2012 raph #03 raph

[imaginefan]

Be Better

Tyler Lockwood X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 820

Requested: Anon

Request: Can you write a story about reader asking Tyler out on a date but he is a jerk to her cause he can't help himself and tries to get reader to figure him? But she isn't sure if she can trust him? (You know cause in season 1 Tyler was a bit of a jerk), or however you'd like to do it. So this is way before when he isn't a werewolf. Thank you advance !

Why did you think that it would be any different? People had warned you about Tyler the first time that you met him but up until this point he had proved them all wrong, he was nice to you, always checked in with you and honestly you had fallen for him hard. You decided that you were going to ask him on a date and that went better than you thought. What had gone wrong was the date itself, you had run into a couple of his friends who commented that you weren’t his usual pick and he decided to play along with them instead of sticking up for you. You pushed through the rest of the date not that it was anything like you thought it would be and then you went home.

Now you were standing in front of your mirror getting ready for bed, you trying to decide what it was that you wanted to do, whether it was worth giving him another chance if he asked for one. At this point it didn’t matter to you so you instead got into bed placing your phone face down on your bedside table and going to sleep. The rest of the weekend was spent with you trying to forget what had happened on Friday night but it was all worthless when you went back to school, with no texts from Tyler you assumed that he was done with you and you’d just have to deal with it.

The first time that you saw him you were walking to you locker, he was standing with Matt, he did look at you and waved but you didn’t acknowledge him instead you grabbed everything that you needed before heading to your homeroom. Only 10 minutes later did you get a text message from him.

I messed up didn’t I?

Again you ignored him, you didn’t actually have any classes together except for the one before lunch, you packed everything up and got ready to leave but as you turned to the corner to head back to your locker, someone grabbed you pulling you into an empty classroom. “You're avoiding me.” Tyler said. “Not very well apparently.” You muttered as you stepped away from him which he allowed. “What happened? I thought that everything went well.” He frowned. “Yeah, if teasing me with all of your friends was the goal, it feels more like a joke than a date.” You decided on honesty if you were going to be angry at him then he would know why. “I didn’t mean that.” He said. “I know that.” You frowned. “Then what’s going on?” He asked. “Tyler I’m not going to date you if I have to hide from your friends to save you image, I’m not going to be teased everytime that they catch us together. It doesn’t matter how much I like you, I won’t suffer that… Would you?” You asked. “No.” He answered. “I didn’t think so.” You turned and left the room after that, he didn’t stop you, he had things to make up for after all.

“So what are you going to do about (Y/N)?” Matt asked. “What?” Tyler looked at him. “How are you going to fix it?” He asked. “None of your business.” Tyler answered. “Alright dude, I'm just saying that she’s probably the best person that you’ve been interested in so I'll be mad at you if you let her slip away.” Matt shrugged as he watched you talk to one of your friends before disappearing out of sight. “I messed up pretty bad.” Tyler admitted. “Yeah you can be a jerk sometimes.” Matt teased. “Thanks man.” He rolled his eyes. “Look, all I’m saying is maybe if you just admitted it and showed her that you are serious about being better, it might work.” Matt suggested. “Yeah whatever man.” Tyler waved him off.

After school you started your walk home when Tyler pulled up beside you “can I drop you home, I want to talk to you about something.” He said, you thought about it for a second and finally walked over to the passenger side opening the door and getting in. “What do you want to talk about?” You asked. “I’m going to prove to you that it’s going to be different, I know what I did wasn’t… I’m a jerk and I am going to make it up to you, I don't expect you to believe me now but give me a chance to prove it to you.” He pleaded. “How?” You asked. “Well first we’re going to redo the first date and then you can decide whether you want a second one.” He answered as he pulled up to your house. “When?” You asked. “Friday?” He suggested. “Friday.” You nodded. “Really?” He asked. “Don't mess this up.” You warned him before getting out of the car and going into your house.

Requests and general question!

#the vampire diaries one shot #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries imagines #tyler lockwood one shot #tyler lockwood imagine #tyler lockwood #imagine #oneshot #one shot #reader insert #x reader #female reader

[junoswrlld]

plus one

CHAP 22— my Romeo pt2

summary: Kai, one of your closest friends, invites you as a plus one to one of his best friend's birthday party. but the bday boy is kinda cute…can you steal his heart?

April 1, 2023

700 wc

The night at the drive-in had been magical; you basically ignored the movie the whole night though, and stared at Beomgyu's dreamy features for two hours straight, except for when he caught you staring and flashed a heart-melting smile. As the credits rolled, the night air was filled with a sense of nostalgia and longing, much like the story you had just witnessed.

As you and Beomgyu settled back in the truck, wrapped in blankets, you couldn't help but exchange a warm smile. The evening had been a memorable one, and you were grateful for the time you had spent together.

"did you like the movie, beomgyu?" you ask sitting up, getting ready to leave.

Beomgyu turned to you, a twinkle in his eyes. "I loved the movie! but what was your favorite part, y/n?"

You struggled to come up with a response, your mind racing to recall any part of the movie. "uhhhhh...ummm...when uhhhh" you struggle to come up with a response since you were paying absolutely no attention to it.

"Did something else have your attention?"

You grinned sheepishly. "maybe" The memory of stealing glances at Beomgyu during the movie made you feel a bit bashful.

Beomgyu chuckled softly, a warm, understanding look in his eyes. "Well, that makes two of us then."

As you both shared a quiet laugh, it was clear that the connection between you and Beomgyu was something special, even if the movie had taken a backseat to your shared moments. With that, you both gathered your things and prepared to head home, knowing that this night at the drive-in would be a memory you'd cherish for a long time.

Just as Beomgyu was about to start the engine and head home, the familiar voice of Rami called out from behind you. She had apparently noticed you and Beomgyu and approached your truck.

"Hey guys!" Rami said, her tone friendly. "What are you two doing here?"

You and Beomgyu exchanged a quick glance before beomgyu responded "Oh we're just on a date. and we were actually just getting ready to leav-"

Rami continued, cutting beomgyu off. "it's such a coincidence we're all here isn't it? I mean like what a small world right?"

You and Beomgyu exchanged a knowing look, deciding to go along with the coincidence narrative even though you both suspected that she saw Beomgyus tweet the previous night. "Yeah, it's quite a surprise," you replied with a polite smile. "I didn't think you would be here."

Beomgyu decided to try to address the previous day's events. "Speaking of coincidences, Rami, why don't you do what you said you would yesterday?"

Rami looked a bit puzzled and annoyed. "What do you mean?"

"you know what I mean rami."

rami sighed and rolled her eyes before responding "Ugh, okay fine."

You watched her with curiosity, wondering if this conversation would finally end.

Rami, still somewhat exasperated, continued, "Alright, look, I'm sorry for how I acted. I was being kinda bitchy, and I didn't realize that acting that way would lead to Beomgyu not talking to me anymore. I guess I crossed a line. you accept my apology right y/n?"

"uhh no?" you replied, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I guess I appreciate the attempt at an apology, but I think it was clear you didn't really mean it."

Beomgyu, with a hint of empathy, added, "Rami, we want to believe that you're sincere, but if you're gonna try to say sorry then you should mean it."

After the exchange. She nodded with a hint of determination in her gaze. "You're right, beomgyu. I'll try to seem more sincere next time."

As Rami walked back to her friends, you and Beomgyu shared a brief moment of silent acknowledgment. It was evident that getting Rami to realize her mistakes would take time.

Just as you and Beomgyu were starting to head home, Rami couldn't resist making one more annoying comment. She turned back, calling out, "Oh, and Y/N, if you ever need tips on how to keep a man's attention, feel free to ask me."

You and Beomgyu shared an exasperated glance as Rami finally walked away. Despite the persistent irritation, you decided to focus on enjoying the remainder of the ride home with Beomgyu, hoping that the night would still hold moments of connection and happiness.

With a wry smile, Beomgyu leaned in and whispered, "She really doesn't know when to quit, does she?"

You couldn't help but chuckle softly in response. "damn, I guess not."

guhuhuhuhjhfvgj

previous chapter -- masterlist -- next chapter

taglsit (always open): @heyanonymous123 @wccycc @beomomb @sweetheartsaku @woncheecks @gyuszie @kaewonie @flowerbe0m @tocupid @imsiriuslyreal @starsforbeomgyu @moa4lifeee @jype2papi @destairea @stqrrian @n034sy @cho8beomie @soobsfairy444 @spilled-coffee-cup @s00buwu @run2seob @sulkygyu @90steele @rieumura

#tomorrow by together #kpop smau #smau #txt smau #beomgyu #txt fanfic #beomgyu x reader #txt crack #txt #my txt #yeonjun #soobin #heuningkai #hueningkai #txt post #beomgyu smau #kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop x reader #txt x y/n #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x moa #txt x oc

[heyclickadee]

Tech’s Alive, Part Three: Ace

I’m gonna level with y’all right off the bat: This going to be one of the more cracked entries in this series. The next two I’m writing focus are both a lot more grounded more on structure and narrative, and they’re going to hold up a lot better. THIS is me awake at 3 am waving my hands at a conspiracy board and making a wild attempt hail mary throw that probably means nothing. Buuut I’m going to bring it up anyway.

So, it always struck me as kind of weird that Romar calls Tech “Ace” back in “Ruins of War.” And it’s not that the nickname doesn’t fit. “Ace” is a slightly old-fashioned nickname you give to someone who’s extremely skilled at what they do, and Tech is. Ace technician? Yeah. Ace pilot? Oh hell yes. Tech is so gosh darn competent in his role that, yes, he’s about as much as an ace as you can get, so the nickname absolutely works. So it’s not that it’s strange for someone to call him “ace,” it’s just that it’s strange coming from a complete stranger like Romar, because Romar has no real way to know that about Tech. It would be one thing if Romar started up with that nickname after Tech fixes his data storage…cube…thing, but he actually calls him “ace” for the first time directly before that.

I do think that there’s a perfectly good watsonian explanation for why Romar uses this nickname. Either he heard Echo, Tech, and Omega talking and picked up that Tech’s an ace pilot from their conversation, or maybe Echo or Omega called Tech that out of hand, and Romar thought it must be Tech’s name. To be honest, though, I’m really not as fussed about why Romar addresses Tech as “ace” as much as I’m interested in what it’s meant to signal to the audience.

My initial impression was that it’s meant to be part of a pattern of clone characters being called by their names only by other clone characters, and everyone else failing to do so, either because they don’t realize clones have names (which might be the case with Romar, at first anyway), because they’re trying to avoid getting attached (Cid), out of affection (Phee, who does actually introduce them by their names at one point), or as a sign of disrespect and dehumanization (every imperial character except Hemlock, whose use of the clone’s names is every kind of messed up keep their names out of your mouth sir). I think that’s still at least partially the case, because multiple things can be true at once, but in light of the finale, I think there’s another possible meaning to it.

So, in cards, and in poker specifically, the ace can be a pretty important card. I should probably acknowledge that not every association between “ace” and the ace in cards is positive—the ace of spaces, for example, is associated with death, and I don’t think that’s necessarily irrelevant even if Tech is alive—but I am going to lean hard into the more positively applicable ones here. In some versions of poker, each player is dealt a card that only they can see, and which is placed facedown in a hole. Because ace is high in poker, an ace in the hole can mean a winning hand. The term “ace in the hole” has colloquially come to mean a hidden asset or advantage that can be brought out when the right opportunity presents itself. Which could potentially be applicable here, because Ace

(Sorry, I just really love this screenshot. He’s so flabbergasted.)

Fell into a really freaking big hole:

Tech fell into the clouds—literally into mist, figuratively into uncertainty. They obscure his ultimate fate to us, and to the other characters. He’s not just gone, he’s hidden. A very literal “Ace in the hole.”

Now, whether or not that means Tech will be brought back by the writers, and whether that means he’ll be brought back at a moment that provides an advantage(1) to Hunter and the rest, is pretty up in the air. This may not be anything at all. But it was a thought I had, so I figured I may as well share it.

(1): Okay, but, like, “the eagles are coming,” but instead of eagles it’s Tech as air support. I can see this happening

#the bad batch #tbbspoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season two #tech bad batch #tech’s alive #just #wrapping myself in the tin foil with this one #I really want to get to the scructure and narrative ones because those hold up better #but this one was shorter #and I didn’t have a lot of time today