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aviawrites · 2 months

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the rage of a harkonnen (dune: part two)

pairings: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fem!Reader

summary: The Emperor’s second born daughter, Harauna, has never been truly seen by her father; Her light always being dimmed by the shine of her older sister, Irulan. As Maud’Dib continues fighting on Arrakis and her father’s spot falls farther into jeopardy, Princess Harauna sees an opportunity to finally find her place in the Imperium…Wife of the possible Emperor, ruling alongside Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. (3.9k)

a/n: i’ve already seen this movie twice and i’m going again😛 austin’s performance is so compelling, i couldn’t take my eyes off of him whenever he was on screen. i hope you all liked feyd-rautha as much as i do…otherwise i may be crazy. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: blood, death, abuse

in this story, yn is: Harauna Corrino (Harkonnen)

10191 // month 1 // 📍kaitan

“Paul Atreides is not our only prospect.” Reverend Mother Mohiam reveals, standing before you and your sister. “The Baron’s youngest nephew, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, will inherit Arrakis. He may be the answer.”

Your eyes open wide, the name itself sending shivers down your spine. You, along with all of your family, knew of Feyd-Rautha - Knew of the Sadistic Harkonnen, known for slaughtering anyone who challenges him, even his own people.

“Feyd-Rautha?” Irulan furrows her brows, “He’s psychotic.”

“That’s irrelevant. The question is…can we control him?”

You stare up at the Reverend Mother’s black veil, an idea striking you.

Since a child, it’s always been Princess Irulan - The Emperor’s daughter. Irulan will inherit the thrones, Irulan will marry Paul Atreides, Irulan will rule the empire. Never once has your father taken the time to look at you. Never once has he asked the Reverend Mother how you are as a Bene Gesserit. If he did, he’d come to learn that you’re just as equipped to take on the role of Empress as your sister.

You know what you know - You know how impossible it is to ever be worthy of attention in your father’s eyes. The sound of marrying the prince, possibly the future Emperor, doesn’t seem distasteful. Is he a terrible man, yes. May he turn out to be a worse husband, yes. But God forgive you if you choose being the possible ruler of the empire over being second best.

“I will marry Feyd-Rautha…” You suggest, coming out as more of a squeak.

Their eyes dart to yours, Irulan’s gaze feeling more like knives piercing your head.

“Young Harauna-“

“No.” Your sister interjects, turning your body toward hers. “Are you crazy? Feyd-Rautha is the last man you need to marry.”

“Irulan, I want to.” You push back, your voice low. “He may be Emperor one day, we need to secure that opportunity. Do we not, Reverend Mother?”

“We absolutely do, Harauna.”

Irulan’s jaw hangs open, looking between the two of you.

“Are you serious? Reverend Mother, you know Feyd-Rautha. You’ve seen him with your own eyes - You want Hara anywhere near that?”

“She’s thinking of the Imperium, Irulan. Should Paul Atreides be alive, he will want the throne.”

“Feyd-Rautha won’t go down without a fight…” You finish for her.

“Precisely. If he loses, Paul will have a bride awaiting him.” She gestures to your sister. “But if he reigns supreme, he’ll have a Corrino by his side.”

Irulan only shakes her head, disbelief glossing in her eyes.

“Hara…”

“Sister, I need to do this.” You whisper, softly squeezing her hands. “I can’t make decisions like you…I’m not you.”

“W- What does that mean, Hara? I don’t understand-“

“If I get in line for the throne…” You begin. “If I secure a spot for myself in the Empire, I will be nearly equal to you in father’s eyes. I’ll mean something to someone.”

A tear threatens to fall as she struggles to find words.

“You mean something to me.” She shrugs, now wondering if that holds any value to you. “If I lose you to the Harkonnens…If I have to stay here alone while you’re on Giedi Prime I don’t know how I’ll-“ She quickly wipes her eyes, taking a breath. “I don’t know how I’ll survive this impending war without you, Hara.”

You tilt your head, bringing your hand to Irulan’s cheek.

“Write to me, Irulan.” You smile, forcing back your own tears as you solidify this departure in your head. “Send messages to Giedi Prime, will you? Write them like you do your entries and I swear to you I’ll read each one. No matter what happens with the Harkonnen’s, I’ll always have my sister back home on my side, right?”

A thick silence falls upon the three of you, Irulan fighting between perplex and terror as her hands began to quiver in yours.

“I’ll alert the Emperor.” Reverend Mother says, leaving the two of you.

Alone, your sister pulls you into an embrace, one of the tighter ones. She allows her tears to land on your garments, her shoulders trembling as small whimpers escape her lips.

“Don’t do this, Hara.”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

“On your birthday of all days. The Baron should know better than to jeopardize his soon to be Planetary Governor in such a public manner. You could’ve died.”

“I would not have died.” Your husband fiddles with his blade.

“All slaves should be drugged, should they not?” You remind him. “It’d have taken only one swift slash of the Atreides’ blade and The Baron would’ve lost his heir. He’s insane.”

“Careful, wife.” He warns, “The Baron is flawed but his promises are rich.”

“What could he possibly promise you that’s more important than the entirety of this planet?”

He stares, his eyes scanning you up and down as a small smirk grows on his face.

“The entirety of Arrakis.”

Creases form on your forehead, your words coming out as stammers.

“…He promises you…Arrakis?”

“If I manage to control spice production.” He explains, reveling in your dumbfounded expression.

Your mind immediately imagines your life on Arrakis, a fate you’ve never considered. The plan was to marry Feyd-Rautha, be by his side when he defeats his opponents, have your father kneel to him, and rule the Imperium from the planet of the Harkonnens. But now, thoughts of working from the dune covered planet makes the hair on the back of your neck rise.

“But-“ You clear your throat, “Um - Is that not Rabban’s job?”

“Rabban failed.” He seethes. “He humiliates house Harkonnen with each Fremen attack he allows. With me ruling the mission, there will be no more.”

“What’s the plan? Once you’re on Arrakis who’s to say my father won’t order you out? What if he doesn’t like how you handle-“

“The Emperor has a set fate too, Harauna. If we were to expose what he did to the Atreides’, the houses would explode. A rise against the Emperor would ensue.” He nears you, looking down at your wide eyes as he bares his blackened mouth. “The throne would be ours to take.”

You don’t know if he meant to admit to what he’s admitted to. Though, you have no doubt he’d tell you his plans to kill your father to your face, indifferent to what you might think. But even Feyd-Rautha should have some sort of limit, shouldn’t he?

“Feyd…” You murmur, “What will happen to him? What will happen to my house? My Reverend Mother, my sisters? They’re innocent they don’t deserve-“

He rolls his eyes, turning away in the midst of your oration. “Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He returns to his spot across the room. “If you want to sit next to me as Empress, I suggest you straighten out a bit, hm?”

10191 // month 3 // 📍giedi prime

14 hours later

Feyd-Rautha’s room reeks of deceased Harkonnen bodies and dried blood as you storm in, a scowl on your face.

Inside, you see your husband squatted by a dead servant, one that if you look too close you may realize is an acquaintance of yours.

‘FEYD-RAUTHA RABBA HARKO-‘ He’s carved into her pale white skin, his letters bleeding into each other.

The Princess Harauna 3 months ago would scream at the sight. She’d turn and run, alerting her Reverend Mother and father that a cold blooded murderer has gotten into your home. Only…this is home. The man carving names into bodies isn’t a stranger, not an intruder, but the man you married.

Though you’re not sure he knows it, seeing as you can practically taste the Bene Gesserit on him.

You shove, hard, knocking Feyd-Rautha off balance and onto the concrete floor.

“What the-

“Seriously!?” You shout, watching his bewildered expression looking back at you. “You’ve not been of age for one whole day and you’ve already betrayed me!”

“You watch yourself, woman.” He warns you, spite in his eyes.

“I can smell her on you.” You say, knowing all of the signs of a Bene Gesserit’s work, and a sexually vulnerable Feyd-Rautha. “She could be carrying your child!”

Your husband quickly calms himself, seemingly deciding not to waste energy on someone like you. On someone like his wife.

“Would you stop that yelling?” He mumbles, turning and beginning to smear the blood across the mutilated arm.

“How dare you.” You scoff. “I’m meant to be your princess. I’m meant to be your queen Feyd-Rautha! Not some girl who was on a mission. A Bene Gesserit who was here to test you and didn’t want you for more than one night-“

“You’re not any better!” He rises, his demeanor changing like night and day in a split second.

The minute he gets angry, his energy dominates the room. “Don’t you ever think you’re a better woman for being a power hungry leech who called dibs on the heir before anyone else.” He jabs, lowering until he’s in your face.

Your jaw hangs open, offense quickly overpowering the fear that you often feel in the presence of an angry Feyd-Rautha. Or any Feyd-Rautha, at that.

“I don’t need you.” Your eyes pierce his, flames igniting in yours. “I’m the Emperor’s daughter, I was second in line for the throne. If anything, you needed me to get to where you-“

The wind is knocked out of you as your husband grabs your neck, instantly cutting off your words. He grins, nearly frothing at the mouth as he always does at the slightest hint of violence. He feeds off of violence, in the face of which most people quiver he greets it with a big smile, he yearns for violence, he is violence.

“I needed you, huh?” His face about brushes yours, his saliva dripping onto you. “I wasn’t at home being neglected by daddy, Harauna. I wasn’t the second choice. I didn’t need to marry to get power. I wasn’t worthless.”

He’s entranced, his hand on your throat tightening with each sentence until you’re sure it’ll snap. You claw at his stained hands, collecting the blood of his servants under your nails.

“Husband-“ You croak, feeling the pressure in your head increase.

Feyd-Rautha only smiles, adrenaline rushing throughout him as he contemplates letting this be the end of you. Maybe he should rid himself of this royal burden before she sits with him at the top.

“Know your place, princess.” He whispers before letting you go with a shove.

You drop to the floor, crashing into the bloody bodies on the ground and fighting for your pipes to reopen. You frantically heave as he looks down at you once more, evil in his eyes, before he leaves you where you are.

Weeps escape you, feeling selfish as you cry in the presence of women who got it much worse.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you. Nevertheless, in times like this, the possibility of being ruler of the Imperium outweighs the possibility of dying due to your attempts.

“Be the worst position in the highest room.” Your father used to tell you, “For some never make it to the room.”

10191 // month 4 // 📍starship

The low hum of the frigate gives the cold ambience some character. Rabban lounges across the kitchen table, his feet up on the marble. Your husband sits a few chairs down from you, sheathing and unsheathing his blade, creating a repetitive sound for the two of you to suffer through.

“Princess Harauna.” You hear as the grand doors within the starship open. A servant enters, seemingly a younger version of the Baron, with a thin metal tube in his hand.

The big man hands it to you, bowing slightly before shuffling away.

“Say thanks to the piggy.” Feyd-Rautha teases, a devilish grin on his face.

Rabban slightly chuckles as you eye your husband, sighing before opening the letter.

“To my sister, Hara.”

Your eyes gleam, seeming to scan faster and faster the more and more you read. The two men in the room with you don’t seem to notice, mindlessly engaging in their own boredom as the ship heats up in the weather of Arrakis.

You shut the tube with a click, looking down at it as you weakly attempt to process what you’ve just read.

“Paul Atreides…is coming.” You reveal, catching the attention of Rabban and Feyd-Rautha. “He makes his way from the south.”

“Paul Atreides is dead.” Rabban corrects you.

“He didn’t die in the attack-“

“I know that, woman!” He abruptly shouts, banging the table. “I saw to it myself, him and his mother died in the-“

“Sandstorm.” You finish, much quieter than he began. “But he didn’t.”

Your husband has turned his body toward you, now intently listening.

“They live - And they challenge my father now.” You look up at the two of them, “Him. He must be this Maud’Dib, this Lisan-Al-Gaib. Who else would it be?”

“Wait,” Feyd speaks up, “Challenge your father for what, exactly?”

You meet his gaze before reopening the letter, searching for the Irulan’s line on the challenge:

Paul Atreides will arrive unannounced when we land in Arrakis in a challenge for the throne.

Rabban shakes his head. “There’s no longer a need for the Emperor on Arrakis.” He misses the point, “We’ve got the spice production under control. The old bastard can stay home.”

Feyd-Rautha leans his elbows in his knees, looking up at you with that same evil look he gets whenever a dangerous plan arises.

“Atreides’,” He thinks aloud, “They’re little rats. Insects that keep popping up no matter how many times you exterminate.”

“Should I alert the Baron?” Rabban asks, speaking quicker than his acute brain can think.

“You will do no such thing.” Feyd demands, conjuring up his plan in his much more suitable brain. “Since the Emperor is deciding to pay us a visit despite the work l've done here…Maybe the Atreides' will do the bloody work for us. Keep us in the good graces of the Great Houses."

Bloody work, he says. The exposure and diminishing of your father’s name he means.

“Brother.” Rabban counters, “The Atreides’ - The Fremen - They’ll have us outnumbered. Uncle should be aware-“

“You will do no such thing.” His brother orders, now loosely pointing his blade toward Rabban. “The throne is mine therefore the throne is yours. The Baron won’t make Harkonnen the greatest house, brother. I will” He leers.

“Husband,” You voice reason, seeing all of the ways you could lose your promised spot to this scheme. “If it comes to a fight and Paul beats you-“

“He won’t beat me.”

“But if this challenge doesn’t go our way,” You hypothesize, “We could lose everything. Paul Atreides won’t let my father live, not after what he’s done. My family will hold no power, my sister will be-“

"I will remain unharmed, will I not? As will my brother.” He redirects. “Are we not your biggest concern anymore? Are we not your family, Harauna?"

…

The ship gets hotter and hotter as you near Arrakeen. Feyd-Rautha meddles with his torso buttons on the opposite side of the room as you stare at the screen in your bedroom, broadcasting the sandy terrain of the new planet.

“What would your plans be as Emperor, Feyd-Rautha?” You query, eyes locked on the family owned land.

He sighs as he always does when you open your mouth, as if nothing his wife says is worthwhile.

“Princess Harauna asks too many questions.” He repeats.

“Just answer me…Please.” You urge, the question having appeared in your mind minutes ago and hasn’t stopped nagging since.

“What do you think my plans are, princess?” He turns toward you, his dark and threatening eyes seeming to dim the entire room. “I’m going to make the entire Imperium Harkonnen. Our family will be the most powerful spice harvesters anyone’s ever seen.” He begins, “I’ll give my Empress a child, grow our empire, and teach my princeling how to rule.”

You listen intently, trying your hardest to envision your life going from Princess of Kaitan, to wife of the heir, to Empress of the Imperium beside Feyd-Rautha, of all men.

Be the worst position in the highest room.

Your husband goes on. “Caladan will be a thing of the past. Atreides will be a thing of the past. Harkonnen will be the great house and any others will just be…Maud’Dib.” He chuckles.

“‘Your Empress’...” You point out, never having heard your name. You only wish to hear where you and your family stand in his master plan. “Would it be me?”

He gives you his undivided attention, letting go of his leather vest. “Why must you talk so much about things that don’t matter?” He asks, true indifference and apathy in his tone.

For some never make it to the room.

“…Is it me or no one?” You speak up, your voice frantically running before your mind can catch up. “Is it me or death, Feyd-Rautha?”

Your attitude shifts in the middle of your sentence as you realize where you’ve heard these exact words before.

“You or no one, Irulan.” Your father would say, stroking your sister’s hair while the rest of you sat and waited for nothing.

Never in your life did you plan to sit in a Harkonnen’s bedroom and beg for his approval. For his confirmation that you were his.

But here you are, begging the worst of men to love you the way The Emperor never did. The way he never will.

“In two moons I will be Emperor.” Feyd-Rautha strides toward you, holding your hands in his as he bores. “Harauna Harkonnen will be next to me.”

A smile grows wide on your face; An odd, yet full, feeling of acceptance spiraling throughout you.

His eyes suddenly seem to get even darker as his grip on your hands morphs into a crushing clutch. “For as long as she knows her place, she will remain.”

Ice replaces the once warm feeling in your veins. Your smile fades as his grows, watching the fear in you rise with each squeeze of your fingers. Tears form in your eyes as the reality of your situation sets in once more as it has over and over since you step foot on Giedi Prime.

But you don’t dare complain. For you asked for this. Your sister warned you, your logic warned you.

10191 // month 4 // 📍arrakeen

two days later

You all stand completely still, your heartbeat seeming to be louder than the atomics outside of the Emperor’s structure. Inside the ring of Sardukaur lies your family; Irulan hiding behind your father as Maud’Dib, in front of your eyes, holds a blade over the Baron.

You and Feyd-Rautha stand alone across the walkway, your husband seemingly hypnotized by Paul Atreides as he plunges it into his uncles neck. Your hand resting on Feyd’s lower back vibrates as his breathing heavies, being just as amazed by Paul as you are.

The both of your mouths hang open, and for once, you and your husband seem to be on the same page. Paul begins barking orders at your father as you bring your lips to Feyd’s ear, speaking in a hushed whisper to not interfere with the daring Paul Maud’Dib.

“In the event of your death…” You begin. He slightly cocks his head toward you, listening. “Would you have me marry him?”

Paul gives one last daring look at the sea of people standing against him, though, he seems as fearless as your husband as his expression never wavers from stone.

“Is he worthy?”

Feyd-Rautha doesn’t so much as flinch at your comment, new, for a man like him. You can’t help but believe it’s because you’re right. The na-Baron recognizes that the viciousness that is Paul Atreides, no matter how unexpected, is a perfect match for him. A perfect match for his wife.

Is he wrong to admit that if not him, Paul may be the closest thing to fit to be Emperor of the universe?

…

You’ve never laid eyes on a fight so glorious. The two most powerful and ferocious men on Arrakis clinking their blades again and again in a battle for the throne.

The room falls silent as your husband lodges his sword into Paul, holding him close as one of the two release an animalistic roar. His mother stands, his Fremen’s mouths hang agape, your husband just hardly smiles at you over his shoulder.

You can’t help but feel a sense of dread boiling in your stomach. Yes - You want Feyd-Rautha to reign supreme. Yes, you want to be Empress. But as you watch the devilish sneer on his face fill out as Paul’s blood stains his pasty hand, your heart seems to be pulling you in another direction. You’ve always been quite talented at telling good from bad; But Maud’Dib, you can’t seem to figure out. He lays in the gray area in between the two, you determine.

Your reflection is quickly halted as the squelching sound of an edge piercing skin fills the room. You sway to the side, eyes wide as you see Paul’s hand gripping the handle, the rest buried into your husband’s heart.

A gasp escapes many in the room, you included as a hand flies to your mouth. You and your father very well may be the only people in the room who are rooting for Feyd-Rautha. Knowing this, the smiles that sprinkle themselves on attendants throughout the room quickly after the inhale isn’t unanticipated.

“You…” His raspy voice is almost too quiet for you to catch as he fights for each breath. “You fought well…Atreides.”

He slowly turns his head just far enough to have you in his sight. Even in death, Feyd-Rautha remains as menacing as the day you first met him.

He has no words for you. He only bares that stupid, prideful, blackened smile that got him stabbed in the first place.

You seem in a trance as you watch his body thud to the floor, looking as lifeless as the women on his bedroom floor back home.

“Lisan-Al-Gaib!” A Fremen leader calls, breaking the silence as his people repeat after him.

Paul Atreides, Feyd-Rautha’s murderer, rises. He limps toward you and your family, prompting your sister to swiftly grab your free hand as the other slowly lowers from your lips.

You had no love for Feyd-Rautha, nothing real. For him you experienced nothing that you should feel for a husband. Nevertheless, the tears flow all the same.

"The life debt has been paid.” Irulan blurts, squeezing your hand as Paul nears you. “Spare my father and I will be your willing bride. The throne will be yours."

Her words snap you out of your haze, throwing you into the face of reality as it strikes you in the heart.

"I'll take the hand of your daughter. She will remain safe and we will rule together over the empire." Paul declared.

In the span of seconds you imagine the moment a trillion different ways. If only he had nodded toward you, not Irulan.

‘Where is integrity?’ You wonder.

Where is honor in sacrifice when you've given all you know to give and you still don't win. You can never seem to come out on top. You can never seem to be first…But your sister can, as she always does.

You snatch your hand away from your Irulan’s; Your eyes glued to your father, now kneeling, as rage grows within you. The rage of all of the rejection you've faced, the rage of all you have given to get to where you are, the rage of now wishing Feyd-Rautha had stuck Paul Atreides' head on a spike for all of Arrakis to see.

The rage of a Harkonnen.

#dune part two #dune movie #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune fanfiction #dune fandom #dune fic #dune part ii #feyd rautha #feyd rautha imagine #feyd x reader #feyd rautha fanfic #feyd rautha fic #dune part one

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beatrice-otter · 6 months

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The Other Half of the Social Model of Disability

Lots of people in fandom are aware of the Social Model of Disability, which is a direct contrast to the Medical Model of Disability. Problem is, most of those people only understand half of the Social Model.

If you don't know what I'm talking about, the "in a nutshell" version is that the medical model views disability as something that is broken and which needs to be fixed, and little or no consideration is given beyond trying to cure it (and little or no consideration is given to the needs and wishes of the person who has it). The social model of disability, on the other hand, says that the thing that disables a person is the way society treats them. So, for example, if someone is paralyzed and can't walk, what disables them from going places is buildings that are not wheelchair accessible. (Or possibly not being able to afford the right type of wheelchair.) Inaccessible spaces and support equipment you can't afford are choices society makes, not a problem with the disabled person.

People then take this to mean that the only problem with disability is the society that surrounds it, and therefore in some utopian future where capitalism is no more and neither is ableism or any other form of bigotry, all problems disabled people have will be solved.

Except that what I've just described is not actually what the social model of disability says. Or, rather, it's only half of what the social model of disability says.

The actual social model of disability begins with a distinction between impairments and disabilities. Impairments are parts of the body/brain that are nonstandard: for example, ears that do not hear (deafness), organs that don't work right (e.g. diabetes), limbs that don't work (paralysis), brain chemistry that causes distress (e.g. anxiety, depression), the list goes on. The impairment may or may not cause distress to the person who has it, depending on the type of impairment (how much pain it causes, etc.) and whether it's a lifelong thing they accept as part of themselves or something newly acquired that radically changes their life and prevents them from doing things they want to do.

And then you have the things that disable us, which are the social factors like "is there an accessible entrance," as described above.

If we ever do get a utopian world where everyone with a disability gets the support they need and all of society is designed to include people with disabilities, that doesn't mean the impairments go away. Life would be so much better for people with impairments, and it's worth working towards, but some impairments simply suck and would continue to suck no matter what.

Take my autism. A world where autism was accepted and supported would make my life so much easier ... and yet even then, my trouble sleeping and my tendency to hyperfixate on things that trigger my anxiety would still make my life worse. I don't want to be cured of my autism! That would change who I am on a fundamental level, and I like myself. My dream is not of a world where I am not autistic, but a world in which I am not penalized for being autistic and have the help I need. And even in that world, my autism will still sometimes cause me distress.

There are some impairments--conditions that come with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, etc.--where pretty much everyone with that impairment agrees that the ultimate goal is a cure. But nobody knows how long a cure will take to find (years? decades? centuries?), whereas focusing on the social things disabling you can lead to improvement in your daily life right now.

In conclusion: the social model of disability is very valuable, and much superior to the medical model on a number of levels. But: please don't forget that the social model makes a distinction between disability and impairments, and even if we reach every goal and get rid of all the social factors that disable people, some impairments will be fine and cause no distress to the people who have them, some will be a mixed bag, and some will still be major problems for the people who have them.

Also on Dreamwidth

#disability #social model of disability #actually autistic

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cherriesncinnamon · 23 days

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stress reliever / spencer reid x fem!reader

synopsis: your fellow profiler at the bau is stressed over a case. shoulders tight and room empty, you decide to relieve some of his tension.

warnings/tags: stressed spencer, grinding, blowjob, fem!reader.

word count: 1.1k.

a/n: tell me why this is literally the first thing i've written in a nearly year?! i've been so busy but i've missed this. rewatching criminal minds for the third time so thought i should treat myself to a lil spence smut.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

"I just don't understand what I'm missing." Spencer announces, clutching his hair in his fists as he slumps down on a chair.

"Neither do any of us. This UnSub loves puzzles, clearly he's really good at them, too." I reassure. SSA Spencer Reid hates when he cannot figure something out. Not because he has a weak ego, but because he really should know.

"God, my head is killing me." He says, rubbing his temples gently with his thumb and forefinger.

"Probably because we've been up for over 24 hours. Hotch and the rest won't be back for at least another hour, a nap couldn't hurt." I suggest, tucking my knees up to my chest in my chair, preparing to drift off in under a minute.

"No. No, I have to figure out some of this, even just a little bit. We can't let this son-of-a-bitch roam free for another second." He picks himself up and looks at the board again, eyes squinting at the words until they're unintelligible.

I show up behind him, taking a look at the board for the fiftieth time that day to see if a few minutes away from it had altered my ability to solve the puzzles. It hadn't. I rest my hands on Spencer's shoulders, and he jolts at my touch. His muscles are tensed and knotted.

"Jesus, Spence. You need to lie down. We know better than anyone that stress does not make our jobs any easier." I urge, slowly massaging his shoulders in an empathetic way. Spencer shakes his head, turning to face me.

"Sleep will not relieve this stress." He replies, gaze fixed. He sighs deeply, looking down at me as if he's waiting for me to provide a solution I definitely don't have. If anyone has the mental equipment to solve this case, it's Spencer Reid.

I guide him over to a chair, sitting beside him. I take a swig of my cold tea and rest my head on my knees. He stares at me with those big brown eyes that are usually full of life - well, in Spencer's kind of way - that are now deadened and hollow. I rest my hand on his and he squeezes mine back with a smile.

This is the first time I'm seeing him smile in days. I look eagerly at his lips, not hesitating to reach out and kiss him. He, of course, kisses back, gripping the side of my face tightly.

There's always been a mutual attraction between the two of us, but neither have ever even thought of acting on it. Derek loves to call us Romeo and Juliet. I laugh; Spencer doesn't get the joke.

I pull his hair through my hands, tugging gently at his roots as our kiss intensifies. I'm so glad he cut that mane, swapping it out for something much better.

I feel myself drifting off to a blissful state when Spencer pulls away abruptly, leaving my lips alone. He grimaces at me, clearly fighting some internal demons I can't see. I know he's not the romantic type, so I'm not sure why I thought it would be a good idea. We don't exchange any words for a few seconds until he gives in and reaches into me. I refuse his kiss.

"Do you really want this, Spence?" I ask, to his contemplation. He thinks for a minute, breath heavily paced. I look down at the bulge in his pants, pulsating through the fabric.

"Well, it sure looks like it." I joke with a harmless laugh. Spencer sighs at me, covering himself with both of his hands. I take his wrist and remove it, lightly stroking him with my palm, much to his pleasure. He tips his head back in the chair from my slight touch, grinding his hips into my hand, eager for more.

Feeling brave, I push Spencer's chair out from under the table, making enough room for me to straddle his lap, placing myself on top of his clothed bulge. Spencer doesn't know where to look, his eyes pacing from my eyes, to my lips, to my breasts, and to my waist. I take his hands and place them on my hips for support.

He's hard against my crotch, so hard that I can tell he won't be able to hold on for long. I play on this, beginning to grind myself against him at a painfully slow pace. He moans out, licking his lips that are dry from his breathlessness. I run my fingers through the front of his hair, pushing the strands out of his face while starting to move faster.

Spencer's hands squeeze my hips, pushing me down further onto his length that is desperate for a release. His eyes alternate between open and closed, unsure whether to admire me or savour the sensation.

"Does that feel good?" I pry, peppering kisses on his supple neck. Spencer can barely mumble a mhm as he groans out more and more. I sense his closeness and remove myself, sliding down to under the table.

"What are you doing? Why'd you stop?" Spencer begs, sitting up in his chair. Looking up, I smile at him, making my way towards his zipper.

I unzip his pants and break the waistband of his black boxers, watching in arousal at his cock spring free. His tip is glazed in pre-cum, veins spiralled around his length, begging to be relieved. I'm shocked at his size, to be honest. I had always thought he would fit the stereotypes of geniuses, assumed that he was compensating for something with his intelligent. But clearly, he just hasn't had the opportunity to show anyone what he can do.

Without waiting a second longer, I lick his sensitive tip then take him into my slick mouth, observing his chest heave inhumanly fast as I move up and down his member, making sure to cover every single inch. Spencer rests his hand on the top of head, stroking my hair softly.

"God." He whispers, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and gripping the armrest of his chair. I use my free hand to stroke the delicate skin of his abdomen, sending goosebumps across his entire body. I can feel him pulsating in my mouth, so close to climax that it has to be uncomfortable.

I remove my mouth, now using both hands to jerk him. The wetness makes my hands glide on his cock, welcoming his finish.

Finishing on my blouse, Spencer takes a minute to catch his breath. He swiftly wipes himself with a tissue from the table, tucking his still half-hard length away.

"Feel better?" I ask, walking towards the door to wander to my office change my blouse before the team arrives.

"Much better."

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid smut #matthew gray gubler

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soraviie · 1 year

Text

after an argument.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ navigation

━ about: slight angst but mostly fluff, maybe even crackish at times

━ pictures taken from Pinterest

━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON: The streets are lonely this time of night. Not empty but lonely still. Lonelier even.

It's easy to leave. And that's what's scary. Not the words he said, not the anger but that you thought this was the love of your life. And it was easy to leave. Well...not easy per se but you could. You could if you have to.

Which meant that there is a possibility Namjoon could feel the same.

And then...then is this really the love of both your lives?

Is...love even a thing?

When you were alone you wished for a perfect dream, when you had your perfect dream you wished to be alone. What sense did it make?

You breathed a weary sigh, coming to sit on a lone bench in the middle of nowhere, light streaming, cold and pale, upon your head, hung low and facing the pavement.

Did you...did you perhaps just love the idea of love?

Or maybe, he did. He - the chaser of normalcy due to his own abnormality. He - the enjoyer of small things because all he got was grand. You sank deeper into the bench, gazing into the lantern like the light of God or whoever knew the greater meaning of the universe. Should there even be any.

What were you to him? A love of his life, as he said? But those are just...words. You said words. And some of it was lies. Did this mean other people did not lie as well?

"Do they even know about me?"

The sound of the rushing cars is almost overpowering. The wind. The silence between two people.

"No," deftly, you mutter after enough time has passed. "No, they do not."

"You're hiding me away?" he cries out. "Like some dirty secret?"

You raise your head and cooly meet his gaze.

"And what are you doing?"

Namjoon's fist closes around the rose stems and they prick his skin.

"It's different," he hisses.

"Of course, it is," you nod and he can't understand that feeling in your eyes. It's bitter all the same. "You get to hide me behind safety and documents and if we ever split up you get to breeze forth - neutral, untarnished. I get to be the fool, the ditzy dreamer thinking I can be loved by someone..." you toss him a pointed glare. "Of far greater stature."

"This is not what this is about!"

So what was this all about? What did all those fights mean? You hid him, he hid you and no one was happy. Looking at it logically the situation was nothing but a self-fulfilling fallacy. But maybe that was love - being illogical in the face of clear reasoning. How many had ignored signs due to love? How many deluded themselves into a living illogical daydream?

But then how many dared? How many had bore the strength to overcome obstacles and prejudice? How many had made the world a better place only because they loved one person?

This time you grunted, partially even screaming aloud, hoping all that frustration would find a place somewhere but as someone's weight settled upon the bench, you flushed, uncovering quick embarrassment in acting like this in public. You peek at the figure and stumble upon tired shoulders, head much like yours hung low and heavy and hands clasped around each other with all the worlds ponder. The figure of your partner.

"Wanted to know you're safe," he mumbles underneath his nose just barely enough above a whisper.

You don't know what to say so you say nothing. And so does he. But when his hand cautiously reaches to tap yours, you end up holding it anyway.

YOONGI: This is what you wanted. This is your doing. No one else's.

Of course, he left. He left because he has to.

You can't leave if he leaves you first.

But does that truly make it better?

He twirls the wires between his fingers trying to ground himself but as expectedly it fails. A soft knock raps at the doors of his studio and he whips round, nearly yanking the equipment off the desk.

Surely...

Namjoon pokes his head through.

...not.

"Have you been crying?"

"No."

"Yoongi..."

He turns to face the monitor.

"Why would I cry?" with some rekindled sense of spite, he sneers, hearing Namjoon sigh behind him.

"Just wanted to check in on you since you're usually over at ____________'s place this time around."

At first, he opens his mouth to toss a derisive comment, vomit up all the bitterness that he kept in the lining of his stomach, to be regurgitated as a defence but then he closes it and sags against the desk.

"Yeah, I'd like to be there now as well," he mutters.

This is perhaps what he wanted, have a partner who'd keep him at arm's length to absolve him of any kind of blame for doing it first but it doesn't matter who does what first, what matters is that it's done and Yoongi was never one to grumble about things without trying to change them.

Namjoon doesn't say anything but he understands, taking a step away from the doors and then keeping them open so Yoongi could rush out.

"Listen, I know people do this whole thing of meeting each other's parents and I'm cool with that but," you cough, clearly nervous but he didn't notice. Having been drowning in all the rose tints of the world at the time all he saw was how beautiful your hair looked, partly annoying by constantly sticking in your eyes.

He brushes the strand aside, tucking it behind your ear and you flush. The warmth of your skin dizzies him to the point where he hadn't heard, hadn't cared because he was ready to have you for anything in the world.

It's not that you don't love him. You just can't explain him.

But maybe, just maybe, he could help you to explain and vice versa. And no one had to leave.

When he busts through the doors of the apartment like a bat out of hell with its ass still on fire, you yelp by the dinner table, sitting in front of two steaming mugs.

"Made two out of habit," you mutter before resting your head on your arms, peering up at him with a soulful gaze. "Strange isn't it."

Yoongi takes a seat by the table, gripping his mug and finding his hands quite clammy.

"We've made a habit of each other," he hums.

"That we have," you agree. "I guess the plan of keeping each other at distance is not really working."

He reaches to put a hand over yours and you try to suppress the smile growing on your face by hiding it in the corner of your sleeve.

"Guess not. But isn't it better this way?"

The chair screeches as you pull it closer to his. He smells of outside air and cold and the cologne you gifted him on a whim on a random Tuesday.

"It is."

JIN: Everyone gives him a wide berth during this time. His favourite stylist hurriedly swerves into a different hallway upon hearing the decisive thud of his shoes. Even Jungkook avoids his infuriated gaze.

Fine, he doesn't need them anyway. Going to bed, he attests he doesn't need anyone anyway.

And if he has to lock his phone into a protected safe whose combination was only known to Bang PD who was vowed in blood to never reveal, it just goes to show that he's perfectly fine by himself.

But ultimately and regrettably when he goes to sleep home, pulls the duvet over his body with an angered tantrum, in due time, the wrinkle in his forehead mellows out and he can't help but stare at the neat and untouched side of the bed.

He might just be dreaming, but he thinks faint snowflakes fall from the sky, briefly glimmering underneath the street light. It's an innocuous thought, one he doesn't really think hard on. It's the thought that comes out of nowhere and disappears into nowhere, easy like breathing.

Were you cold? You never had any appropriate clothing. He always had to give you his scarves, gloves, coats, and socks.

He really loved giving you his scarves, gloves, coats and socks.

"Just five minutes, please," Jin feels an odd sort of deja-vu. But he thinks instead of Bang PD it was his mother who gave him the same acrid, judgemental stare over the top of his glasses.

"Forget it, kid, you bribed me with a whole car. You're not getting this phone back."

"I'll tattoo the number on my ribs," he warns but it doesn't deter Bang PD in the slightest.

"Go ahead," he snorts. "Jungkook wants to have nipple piercings. I've given up on you, punks. And first, you'd have to get it which is impossible as I'm not giving you the phone."

Dejectedly, Jin can only shuffle away, a cloud of persistent gloom hanging above his head. How exactly he ends up in front of a small cafe at the very corner of the city, he doesn't quite know but it had to probably do with the fact that it's Monday evening.

Monday evenings were date days.

He comes to a standstill in front of the inviting doors and being a dumbass he stares unseeing at the menu hung outside, pretending he's pondering on the food choices and not the choices of his life.

"Excuse me, grandpa, move it. Your big ass shoulders are covering the entire real estate."

He blooms into a wide smile before forcing it down and turning to glower at you, though failing miserably halfway. But at least he wasn't the only one. Despite the derisive hand on your hip, you were clearly biting the inside of the cheek - all to win the stupid game of who could show they were bothered the least by the whole ordeal.

"Hey, respect your elders!"

"So you admit you're the elderly?" you smirk at him deviously and Jin can hardly keep the laughter in.

An employee gives them a questioning frown and delicately places an ad on the door.

"-20% to couples."

You and Jin briefly stand mute before uttering all at once.

"We must."

"This is simply frugal."

The argument doesn't continue over the course of the meal as you've both well forgotten it by now.

"I locked my phone into Bang PD's safe and now he won't give it back to me," Jin informs, pushing a coffee he ordered your way. This was your favourite.

"That sounds like something you'd do," you nod along, putting a piece of your cake on his dish.

HOSEOK: When you come home it's deathly silent. Has been like that for three days now. You've gotten quite good at ignoring Hoseok's entire existence and so has he. For now, you're content with treating him as invisible, still brewing in remnants of anger.

You take off your coat and slide in the slippers. He's in the doorway holding the laundry basket and blocking your way. You glare at each other for a worryingly long time before stomping in your own, illogical directions. He takes the laundry to the kitchen, and you end up in the bedroom in hopes of washing your hands.

This is stupid, you realize, absolutely moronic but the intense need to be spitefully petty places you far away from the realm of logic.

"FUCK!" A sudden shout trembles the apartment and your heart immediately falls to the pit of your stomach. Crashing into the kitchen walls, you come to slide to a scene of the crime, already imagining the worst - he broke his leg, there's blood, oh my god, Hoseok's hurt!

You find him in great emotional distress though physically unharmed and water spouting like a whale from the broken sink.

"Oh, shit," you yelp as well, throwing a haphazard towel on the disaster, then promptly slipping on the floor and collapsing on top of Hoseok, not unlike a vengeful sack of potatoes. He groaned in pain, attempting to get up and then falling ass over tits once more.

"I'll turn off the water!" you yelled. "Just try to stop the leak!"

"Give me your shirt!" he yells back.

"My shirt?! It's no time for sexual endeavours, stupid!"

"It's not for sex, dumbasss, I don't want to spoil the washed laundry!"

"Oh my god, HOW DOES THAT MATTER?"

"IT WAS AN APOLOGY, OKAY? I'M SORRY!"

You blinked the water out of your eyes. His hair might be soaked, sticking flat to his forehead and there might be heavy bags clinging to his eyes, professing lacklustre nights of sleep but if anything he's even more handsome than ever. Your Hoseok.

"I'm sorry too," you confessed, scooching over to him and your clothes flop with a distinct sound as puddles begin gathering all around. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"You had your reasons," he assures, gently laying a palm on your shoulder, squeezing the flesh as a gesture a sign of comfort. "I've been thinking a lot."

"No, no, I've been thinking and you're...you were right, I admit that."

His eyes soften and the smile on his face feels the most genuine you've seen in a month.

"Let's just not fight, okay?" he grasps your face in his hands, hopeful and optimistic.

"Okay," you affirm and lean to kiss him. You've always wanted to kiss in rain. Something akin to rain will do just fine, you reason happily, as Hoseok wraps his arms around your waist.

"YOU'RE FLOODING, YOUNG PEOPLE! OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!"

JIMIN: You stormed away, your bag flinging left and right from the sheer anger that drummed through your veins. If wrath had a face, you'd look into the mirror image. You'd told him for weeks - no! No! But what had he done?! Not listened!

Because he never listened! He always did what he wanted! You ripped at your credit card hidden within your purse and Chimmy's face comes into your view as for a year now he'd hung neatly by the side of your favourite purse.

"Chimmy had a scary dream last night and was afraid of being left alone again."

"Just please, please don't leave," Jimin muttered, hands awkwardly nibbling with each other as he stood by your side. "Yell at me but please don't leave."

You glimpsed back where you left him. He was still standing in the middle of the street, unmoving and shocked into a stupor, it didn't even seem like he was present enough to register all the people brushing past, occasionally bumping into him as though he was a mere lamp post.

"Why are you scared?" he asked gently as you lay on his stomach, passively watching clips of BT21.

"Dunno," you shrugged. "I'm bad with people as you know it."

He caressed your hair and you felt yourself drift peacefully off eased into sleep by the soft, rhythmic movements.

"You're not so bad! You managed to hook me, didn't you?" he mumbles with a smile and you reply with one as well, though a bit more cynical.

"Cause you're a weirdo, a statistical outlier."

He laughs. Jimin was always quick to laugh.

As you watched Chimmy rummage through the trash, you couldn't help but tear up.

"Do you have to write such sad stories?" you accused and he cooed.

"It's a happier story now."

"Taxi for _____________!" a guy leaned out of the car and you stared at him numbly, then at Chimmy then back at Jimin who still had not moved. It appeared he would remain there for the rest of the time.

"Chimmy was determined to try ten times harder than usual so that Chimmy won't need to be alone."

"Taxi for ________! Are you getting in or not?!"

"But was Chimmy just much too eager?"

Yes, he had been too eager but he loved you so, of course, he'd come to your work gathering and naturally it had made the atmosphere awkward and strained but he thought you were scared. And he'd promised to never not be by your side when you're scared, and if anything was love it was a promise kept.

"No," you muttered to the cab driver. "No, I'm not getting in."

"Well, thanks for nothing! Made me drive all the way here for nothing, you little - !"

But you don't hear any of the hurled insults in your direction, you simply dash back to Jimin's side, wrapping your arms around him as tight as though he was on the brink of crumpling into little unmendable pieces.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry for losing my temper! I'm sorry for not being patient! I'm sorry!"

At first, he continued to be a statue and you fear the damage done is too great but as he tentatively returns the gesture, you realize it's not because he's angry it's because he's surprised. Surprised that you would run back to him even though there wasn't a universe in your mind where you wouldn't.

"It's been all of two minutes," he laughs breathily, unshed tears lingering in his voice.

"Two minutes too many. I don't want you to be Chimmy."

This time his entire body shakes as he laughs and a deep sense of relief washes through your bones.

"Chimmy did learn in the end that being alone is okay sometimes cause true friends don't leave your side," he patted your back and if feasible you pushed yourself even deeper into his hold.

"And I won't as well."

"I know," he affirmed. "Let's go eat, it was so awkward in there my stomach hurt. And also..." he added demurely. "I promise not to crash any of your work parties."

"I'll just invite you next time. Now let's go eat! I'll pay."

"Good, I'll make sure to take a lot."

"...you know not everyone is as rich as you, right?"

TAEHYUNG: When you open the door, you're met with Taehyung's scowling face.

"I forgot to take my vest," he huffs.

You glance at him in your astonished state not even glaring like you promised yourself.

"You were supposed to be in France."

"Yes and I just said I forgot my vest," he hisses and then arches a deeply judgmental brow. "Can I come in to get it?"

"Be my guest."

For half an hour, he wrecks his entire closet, trying to find it as you sat on the bed, alternating before glowering at his back and being happy at his unexpected arrival.

"It's not here," he grumbles over the shoulder. "Have you taken it?"

"I've not touched your things," you scoff. "You're just blind. Move over!"

Together you turn upside down every single shelf there is, his underwear drawer, your underwear drawer, the laundry, both clean and dirty, and it's not here.

"It's gone," at last you give up, sitting on the floor in defeat.

"I won't go back until I find it," obstinately Taehyung utters and you squint at him.

"Are you really such a Dumbo to miss your schedule over a vest you can get at any shop on the Earth?!"

"And are you really such a Dumbo to think this has anything to do with a vest of all things?"

When you glimpse at him, the scowl is exactly where it was but there's also that same glint in his eye. The one that made you first fall in love with him. Something kind and revered shines through him like a candle behind a paper.

"Do you really think I would not travel all the way from France to be here for an hour just because I missed you so much I was clawing at the walls?"

Your cheeks flush on their own and you tighten your fists.

"I'm still angry at you," you pout.

"Great, be angry at me but still say you miss me."

He dropped to his knees on the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

"You have missed me, right?" he asks much more vulnerable and you waste no time pressing your forehead against his.

"Of course I missed you. Despite the fact you've been gone only for one day."

Taehyung laughs, his dark curls tickling your face.

"When do you have to leave?"

"In like five minutes," he whined and you groaned in reply.

"All that for five minutes?"

"Better five minutes with you than an hour of no you."

You had a working theory that you could never really be mad at him. And neither could he at you.

JUNGKOOK: As Yoongi had warned you just before you officially had gotten together with Jungkook, he was one of if not the weirdest guys anyone could ever meet.

At first, you thought surely he was not that bad. Then he sprained his ankle on your first date. Your first date in such a dangerous place as a pastry shop with the average age of customers being 65.

On second thought, you assumed, well he wasn't dead already so there must be at least a smidge, a sliver of a survival instinct in his brain but then you had to grab at the back of his jumper so he wouldn't jump into a tiger enclosure to "pet the kitties".

What went through his brain you did not know though you tried to understand, especially now, standing over his hospital bed.

"Is he still sleeping?" the main overseeing doctor stepped into a room with a hushed whisper.

"Yes," you replied quietly, walking over to greet her in gratitude. "Thank you so much."

"Eh, Hippocratic oath," she threw a hand though her eyebrows remained knitted. "He will need some extensive TLC. We'll prescribe him oral antihistamines to improve sleep, as well as calamine lotion to apply for the rash. I also strongly suggest placing wet, cool compresses for about 15 to 30 minutes several times a day."

You bit on your lips. The last thing you wanted after making sure Jungkook was awake and well, was to cling all over him. You glowered, wondering whether this was his plan all along, immediately then muting into echoes of concern. Seeing him sleep not peacefully in his home but in a hospital bed was unsettling despite how idiotic the action was that got him here.

After an argument, many would walk out, take a drive, slumber in a drink, or maybe visit a friend to vent away some anger, and while Jungkook walked out after an argument that is where the normalcy ended.

He had driven to the very depths of the countryside and guided by a romantic whim decided to pick some wildflowers on an unowned piece of land. Chief among them, a bounty growing of poison ivy. Considering it wasn't even possible to misconstrue poison ivy as a flower, you wondered what could have possibly happened in that skull of his that made sense picking it up.

Long story short, calls were made late at night and he was now riddled with a heavy rash and exhaustion as he'd driven himself, scratchy and blistered, all the way to the hospital. Hospital at the one he knew mind you not the one that was nearest.

"Okay," you agreed politely, coming to sit by him when the doctor walked out.

After a moment of silence, you dared to speak.

"You're such an idiot, you know that. I hate your stupid face."

"That's a bit mean," a low, raspy reply sounded across the room, making you recoil.

Jungkook had cracked one mischievous eye open and stared with what could only be described as a softly amused smile.

"It's true though!" you yelped, smacking his chest, immediately making him groan in pain.

"Oh, shit, love truly does hurt," he whined and you sagged in the hospital seat, feeling the fumes rush out of your ears.

"Do you have to be such a - ! Such a - !"

"Dumbass?" he offered impishly before laying his head down on the pillow. "I don't have to but I find doing it very often."

"Very funny Jungkook, extremely comedic," you barbed at him dryly. "Making me worried is just -"

"I'm sorry," he abruptly confessed. "I'm sorry we ever fought. I'm sorry I have these dumb ideas and I'm sorry for not doing what you asked. I'm sorry. You don't have to forgive me just know that I bow my head down."

You sighed and brushed out the tiredness from your sleep-lidded eyes.

"Why didn't you just drive to the nearest hospital?! Why all the way here?"

He swallowed and gazed up at the ceiling. You'd never seen him physically gather his thoughts, think carefully of the words spoken though you knew he was not at all stupid. He was just...Jungkook.

"Because...because I thought...I don't know, I just got it into my head that I was dying there for a second and I knew I wouldn't want to die in a hospital with you far away, maybe even thinking I could ever hate you, that I meant the things I said. I didn't mean them and I just...felt like I had to make things right. Honestly," he chuckled, attempting to scratch behind his ear only to wince as his arm was the most affected. "If not for Namjoon I wouldn't have driven to the hospital at all. Would just yowl on our doorstep."

Explains why Namjoon had rushed in and out like a bull seeing red.

"What am I supposed to do with you?" you breathed in misery, laying your head down on the very edge of the white duvet that kept him covered.

"Please treat me gently," he patted your head with a laugh before it morphed into a sharp hiss of pain. "I'll treat you gently as well and we can live happily ever after."

"With our three children?" you raised your head and he glided a thumb over your cheek, a gesture the sly bastard knew you were weak for. "That the good doctor thinks we have?"

"She didn't ask how many legs or tails they had," he grinned, continuing to leisurely caress your face to (successfully) dissipate your anger. "And don't worry about me so much, I'll find my way home. Itchy or not."

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choclodox · 1 year

Text

Lyle’s IQ score Head Canon

HEAR ME OUT: as much as Lyle def gives me himbo™️ energy, I also feel like he’s supposed to be…PRETTY SMART? he’s just also goofy. Like, I feel like he’s one of those friends that’s the smartest but also the dumbest person you’ve ever had at the same time.

Here is my evidence (dons glasses and grabs a laser pointer)

1. First and foremost, I’m pretty sure Quaritch wouldn’t let a dumbo be able to advance to the rank of Corporal, so Lyle needs to have SOME level of competency (but there’s still some room for his goofball nature lol).

Side note, studies show that people who are comical tend to have higher IQs since it ranks critical thinking to understand humor and make jokes. So Lyle is at least smart in that department.

2. In the first movie, we can see that Trudy trusts him enough to work on her Samson. We all know how much Trudy LOVED her Baby, so she must have had some serious trust in Lyle (someone who wasn’t an RDA mechanic) to let him even TOUCH her Rogue One’s equipment.

3. Also in the first movie, Lyle actually knows his stuff about combat theory and the AMP suits. When Quaritch has Lyle survey the aftermath of the Omatikaya’s retaliation for the destruction of the Tree of Voices, Lyle is able to describe in detail what the damages are. He’s able to tell that the arrows were fired from Ikrans based off the angles of the arrows in the damaged equipment and dead bodies, he can say for a fact that the AMP suits are not just damaged but what exactly is damaged (the Driver in this case).

4. Now in the 2nd movie, we actually get to see more of his smarts come into action. Lyle actually gets promoted from Corporal to Lieutenant and becomes second in command to Quaritch. The RDA wouldn’t let that happen if he was purely a trigger happy soldier; you needs some gray matter for that position.

5. Next, Quaritch looks to LYLE to pull the security feed off of OG Quaritch’s AMP suit. And Quaritch is a smart guy too, but it feels like Big Curly Q knows he’s out of his depth on this one and just hands it off to Lyle because he knows that he actually knows his stuff.

But ya, thanks for coming to my TedTalk :)

Also, a few other hcs I embrace

Lyle is that ONE gringo friend that knows FLUENT Spanish (and possibly knows other languages as well). And when I say Gringo, I don’t mean he’s white but is still Hispanic, no. There is a reason why JamCam named this man after Wainfleet, Ohio (the Ohio of Ohio). But nobody questions his ability to speak Spanish. You leave him alone in any Authentic Hispanic setting and come back in 20 minutes, they’re running to the liquor store because they already ran out of Tequila/pisco/etc. TEAM LATINO LOVES HIM

*side note, Jake probably knows some Spanish too since he did his tours in Venezuela. Who knows, maybe he taught some to Spider because he knows he’s team Latino. A

*and Quaritch probably knows some of Nigeria’s native languages (Hausa, Yoruba, Igbo, etc) since he did 3 whole tours there before coming to Pandora

Lyle likes 90s music (Britney Spears, Mariah Carey) but mainly SHAKIRA. I could see him just dancing alone to Hips Don’t Lie and someone walks in trying to get his attention, but he doesn’t notice and they have to clear their throat and he just screams when he finally notices them

He can dance Samba, Cumbia, Tango, Flamenco. ANYTHING in that family HE CAN DO IT FLAWLESSLY ASU PAPI

Might come from a family of mechanics and worked in a mom and pop mechanic shop (I embrace that one HC where he has a love for cars and just engineering in general). Maybe he wanted to be a more refined engineer but just couldn’t pass the tests since he was more of an intuitive thinker and tests favor more of the technical thinkers.

Likes DragonBall Z but will never admit it

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatarfanart #avatar2 #miles quaritch #jake sully #trudy chacon #lyle wainfleet #recom lyle wainfleet #lyle wainfleet headcanons

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amomentwiser · 9 months

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"Why don't you spend time with us?" they say, "Keep your phone away at the table."

Parents say they want to talk — until it's about anything real.

They don't want to know about how their plans for your future make you feel.

They don't want to know your fears, hopes or dreams.

The things you're interested in — your favourite music, games and movies;

Or the things you've come to believe.

Sometimes it feels like parents don't want to get to know you as a person. They only see you in relation to themselves.

Or sometimes they do talk about music and games and movies, and it's even worse — because the conversations you want to have are serious.

And it's worse because it becomes very clear, that they don't want to have conversations that matter. That, god forbid, make them feel.

They want to avoid talking about all the times they yelled at you. No apology, no acknowledgement. Just glaze over those parts and pretend everything's normal. Neither guilt nor remorse.

And you're left wondering whether this thing you have a memory of actually happened, because everyone is acting like it didn't. And whether your anger is warranted, because everyone is acting like it isn't.

An unspoken decision: "Yes, we were harsh earlier, but we felt bad and are being nice now"

The implied demand: "...so be grateful,"

The undercurrent of a threat: "...or I'll get angry again."

And a push to move on: "Why do you bear grudges? Leave the past in the past."

All these little clues, that you learn to read in their body language and their eyes and their vibe.

And then they balk when you don't call them. Or jump at the chance to spend time with them — or even have a relationship.

It's weird, loving people you don't like. That you'd never choose of your own volition; that you'd never be friends had you met in the real world. People you're indebted to anyway, because they took care of you your whole life and changed your diapers and drove you to school, and what friend would ever do that?

Had they been overly abusive I would've cut them off without guilt; if I didn't know that despite it all, they really did love me, I wouldn't have cared about hurting their feelings.

Some people... you love them only because they are family. If they were a boyfriend, I would've broken up with them; if they were a spouse I would've divorced them. Alas, they are my parents, and I'm destined to love them. To give up a kidney for them if need be, but not any days out of my workweek.

I don't have these conversations with my family because I've come to realise that this is something they're not emotionally equipped to handle. Too much self-awareness would bring out memories not only of the mistakes they made with me, but also all the times adults in their childhood failed them; of all the ways they themselves were wronged; all the years they wasted because of choices they didn't know they had; and all the things they wish they'd done differently. So I understand; the flood of anger and regrets it brings to the surface must be draining.

But that also means that I'll distance myself from them, because for me, their misunderstood love is draining. And because this has to stop somewhere; someone has to start choosing differently — and I've decided it'll be me.

#the daddy's girl to daddy issues pipeline #brown parents #break the cycle #strict parents #toxic family #brown people problems #self love #self care #quotes #writers on tumblr #desiblr #desi culture #desi girl #indian writer #desi parents #dysfunctional family

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teddybeartoji · 8 days

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mickey i need ur thoughts on jjk men (esp satoru) helping out and showing love for their partner with autism

like uuuuuuuu i was thinking abt toru keeping a pair of his sunglasses with him hust in case youre visually overwhelmed. ORRRR him teleporting you to a quieter space when he notices that theres too many complex sounds that are upsetting you.

ughhhhh like imagine one of them remembering that pressure is soothing for you and js puts their full body weight whenever you come back home from a bad day.

GUHHHH them keeping candles of your favorite scents and alwaya makes sure to keep your safe foods stocked up whenever you visit

OH NOW I'M REALLY KISSING YOU GRAY MY BELOVED!!! THIS IS SUCH A WONDERFUL LITTLE ASK WAHHH I GOT SO GIDDY

i agree with everything you said!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! now i know that every single one of them would do anything and everything to help you out!! but i did pick some things out that really made me think of them!!! anyway hello my fellow autistic ppl this one is for you all i love you very very much<333

satoru 100% carries extra sunglasses with him and i think he'd actually carry his black blindfold aswell. obvs he's not gonna make you wear it as you're moving through public but he'd lead you to a quiet spot and then just let you have a moment. he's either sitting you down next to him or he's holding you against his chest, protecting you from every single ray of light that could possibly make it any worse for you. bc honestly... sunglasses are sometimes just not enough for me personally. i've had my fair share of times where i just have to cover my eyes with my hands bc it just hurts so much.

we all know that satoru is a big yapper but i know he needs his quiet time too. i think he would love to just Do Nothing with you in complete silence. maybe you're both just taking a nap together, maybe you're just laying in the sun out in the park. maybe you're resting your head on his lap, maybe he's resting his on yours. it's all just about gentle touches and looks.

he loves it when you ramble and he's literally your biggest hypeman!! he's ready to spend all of his fucking money on you and any fucking equipment you could ever need. you want a new game or a new console? they're both already waiting for you at home. you want to start drawing? he has already ordered a tablet for you to practise on. you want to get into photography? he's buying you a camera and three different lenses. he wants you to be happy and he wants you to be able to do everything you could ever possibly want. he's just the sweetest guy ever i am crying rn actually:((

he's the best little autism bf btw. bc he gets it. he understand. he knows. he knows all about the light sensitivity. he knows all about the difficulty of eating "normal" foods, always munching on candy and snacks bc that's just easier. he knows about the fidgeting, he knows about the innate need to have somebody lay on top of you. he knows about the rambling and the hyperfixations. he knows about the confusing social clues and the ridiculous differences of speaking tones. he knows about the eye-contact problems - whether you're someone, who struggles to keep it or you're someone, who can't tear your eyes from everybody else just like him - he understands! he knows about being straighforward and speaking exactly what's on your mind and then being scolded for it. he knows about Not Really Understanding personal space. he truly does understand and he's ready to do anything and everything to help you cope with Life.

toji is theeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee best weighted blanket and i stand by that. he's so fucking huge and he's so fucking heavy - he's perfect. he's gonna tease you about it but just a little!! you tug him by his hand and he gladly takes his place on top of you bc let's be honest... he's gonna love it, too. he's protecting you! he's taking care of you in a way that doesn't need words! he's trying his best! and if this is what you need - he is going to do it!!!

also with the light and sound sensitivity - he'd gladly pull you into his chest and cover your eyes with his big ass palm. and it would feel soo comforting wtf. the weight of it and just the fact that it's him?? fuck, i know it'd be so good. or your ears. he's placing them on your ears, muffling the overwhelming sounds while cradling you and wahh:(( he'd make you feel so safe.

suguru and shoko and parallel play. it's amazing. they will read a book while you're gaming. or suguru's painting while you're reading. or shoko's having her morning smoke and coffee while you're doing your skincare (i'm sorry i just can't get out the beautiful picture of her sitting on the little windowsill of your bathroom, a cig inbetween her fingers and a cup of coffe in her hand. no words are being spoken - it's just the sound of the birds outside, the water running and her gulping down her little espresso. thank you for listening.)

or suguru's doing his little home workout routine as you're crocheting. or it's you and shoko just laying on your shared bed scrolling on your phones in silence. could literally be whatever. they're gonna glance at you every once in a while, they're gonna ask how you're doing, how you're feeling and then they're gonna give you a tender smile and a kiss on your cheek and continue on. i'm melting just thinking about it.

suguru is obviously also going to be there for you if you have sleeping problems. he understands them all too well and he's pulling out all the stops to help you fall asleep (and himself). he's gonna make the tea one night and you'll make it the next night. it's equal. maybe you're also going to take a lovely little bath together, you'll giggle exhaustedly as you both slur out very stupid jokes and after that you'll both climb under the covers and take turns in listening to each others heartbeats and (hopefully) fall asleep.

shoko and sarcasm. she definitely makes a lot of sarcastic jokes and comments and she'll be a bit confused at first when you just blurt out the good-old "i don't know whether you're joking or not". but i think she'd find it super cute. she'll still occasionally make the comments but she'll make sure to check in whether you got it or not. i think she would tease but she'd do it very lightly (she definitely cackles when satoru doesn't understand sarcasm though lmao but you're her baby and she doesn't want you to feel bad). and i think she would love if you made terrible sarcastic jokes. like she would laugh until there are tears prickling in her eyes and you'd still be like ????? i don't understand and then she'd laugh even more. she's so cute.

kento is always ready to cook for you. he understands how hard it can be, how overwhelming it can be. he doesn't mind it a bit. i truly think this would be good for the both of you! he loves to cook and it's such a relaxing thing for him, and it's even better now that he knows he can see you fill your cheeks with delight. he needs you to eat well and he will make sure you do!

i also think that he's so patient with you and he'd never ever make you feel like you have to speak with him. he buys little plushies that you can turn inside-out, a pink side and a blue side - indicating how you're doing on the Speaking department that day. and these tiny interactive pins and you can express whatever you're feeling without ever speaking a word. he never pressures you in any way, always just reward you with more reassurance and a kiss to your temple.

he's ALSO the best listener. like he never talks over you. never. not even on an accident???? it's a superpower i think. he let's you talk at your own pace and he just stares at you with very soft eyes:((

wait i also think that shoko, utahime and yuki would gladly speak for you. in a sense of if you have social anxiety or you stutter or anything like that, they'd easily take up the task of ordering for you! they literally have all of your orders remembered and everything.

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petterwass · 4 months

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Ho'olheyak really is quite the tragic figure once you read her file, isn't she?

For all her being very funny and her inexhaustible Bug Bunny energy, she really has been through so much, forced into a generations-long project that she never asked for, as a mere infant.

Is a small baby she was subjected to some sort of horrible brain surgery that forced the entirety of her species history into her brain and drastically cut down her lifespan, which is implied to be both very traumatic (only a infant could possibly survive it because once a child is old enough to have a sence of "self" it would have been completely obliterated along with their mind) and with incredibly high mortality (As Warfarin puts it: "I don't want to ask her how, many siblings she *had*).

All to force her to continue her family's generations-long project to restore the bloodline powers of the ancient ku'kul'kan.

While she maintains that the brain surgery does not in any force her to do this, she could if she wanted to, drop the entire thing. But I wonder how true that is.

After all, the sunk cost fallacy is real, and once you've already paid with half of your life, what choice is there really but to continue the work? To to otherwise would be to say that the price you paid was not worth it. That the price your mother paid, and her mother before her, going back hundreds if not thousands of years, was not worth it. That the goal they worked towards is not worth trying to achieve. That the sacrifice that was forced upon you has no meaning.

Which child, implanted with scenes of your people's lost grandeur and raised from birth for this single mission, could really say that they are doing it of their own free will? That they had a choice, when they were selected to pay the price for it even before they were born?

One wonders also, how this has created the Ho'olheyak we know. How different would she be if she did not have her people's history rattling around in her brain since before she could talk?

It also explains in a way, her wanting up always work alone. After all, who else could understand the importance of her mission, how everything and everyone can be sacrificed on its altar if need be, than the one who has already paid the highest price for it, and who can literally feel the wingsbeats of ancient ku'kul'kan in her mind? Who else could ever understand.

And that's not getting into her equipment, how each part of the gear she carries is intended to mimic a trait of the mythical Ku'kul'kan, how this burden she carries is literally too heavy to bear without using her arts to lighten it (her exoskeleton alone weighs over 90 kilograms. Without using her arts to lighten it, she would not be able to move). How perhaps the burden of reviving a extinct bloodline would be too much to bear for any human, except perhaps, one created for that express purpose with Arts and brain surgery, to be the perfect, or indeed, the only possible banner-bearer that could endure the weight of generations of sacrifice towards a single cause? Maybe I'm reading up much into it but the parallels are there.

And in the end, soon enough, as her drastically shortened lifespan runs out. She will breed, likely several times to endure she has backup infants (and isn't that a cold-blooded thought? "the first one might not survive, better make more") . And she will subject her infants to the same horribly invasive and lethal brain surgery as was done to her. Until one of them survives. And that one will carry on the project. That one surviving baby will bear the torch. Will burn their life from both ends.

Of her own free will.

You can probably draw a lot of interesting parallels here. Both to the greatness of multi-generational work: "I plant a tree so my grandchildren can sit in the shade", but also to continuing cycles of abuse: "This, was done to me. I will do it to my children in turn. And they to their children. And the one that survived will carry on the torch."

I don't know. I just think she's incredibly fascinating and interesting once you get beyond the first, obvious outer layer of Sexy Fucked Up Evil Snake Woman.

There's really a lot there. And I love her. She is so very much more fucked up than you initially think she is.

#Arknights #ho'olheyak #Fucked up #Evil woman #Snake #Arknights Ho'olheyak #Character analysis #Thematics

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ashleywool · 5 months

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Some thoughts and lessons from my first week on Broadway

(in no particular order)

Insecurities don't magically disappear when you hit The Big Dream. But the Big Dream has made it clearer than ever that my default instinct to downplay my achievements is kind of ridiculous. I need to accept that there's just no casual way to talk about my life right now. There is no pretending that any of this isn't a big deal. It's a huge freaking deal, and I earned it, and it's awesome, and I am no less deserving of its awesomeness than anybody else.

Autistic people have more allies out there than we realize. In advocacy circles, we tend to get rather cynical about what people don't understand, or don't want to understand. But there really are so many people who think we are worth listening to, learning from, and amplifying. There are so many people rooting for us, and actively seeking ways to include and affirm everything we are. They know they aren't going to get everything "right" immediately, and they know we won't always have the emotional energy for the hard conversations, but they are THERE, and they are there because they WANT to be. Yes, even on Broadway.

Fun fact: my first survival job was "Starbucks barista." (Other fun fact: the day I made my Broadway debut, Starbucks Workers United announced a massive strike for the very next day.) One thing that my time on Broadway has with my time at Starbucks is that I never seem to have enough Sharpies. At Starbucks, the Sharpies were for marking cups by hand (yes, I'm that old), and on Broadway, they're for signing Playbills at the stage door. (Like I said, there's no casual way to talk about this stuff.)

I honestly underestimated how much Broadway performers have to eat. It's easy to think most Broadway performers tend to be predominantly thin/buff just because the industry is fatphobic--and don't get me wrong, it totally is--but I also don't think most people really understand how athletic it is to do a full musical eight times a week, and what you have to do offstage to make sure you have the strength and stamina for it. It's genuinely harder than I thought it would be to make sure I'm not at a calorie deficit--and my less-than-stellar autistic interoception means that I can't always rely on "hunger cues" the way most people can. I really do have to PLAN to eat. And eat more than I would usually think I need.

I'm getting a lot better at doing my own wig prep. And I'm very excited about how pretty my hair looks at the end of the night when I release it from the pincurls.

Thanks to Mayte Natalio and Team Choreo, I'm also getting a lot better at learning choreography without a mirror. Poor proprioception is common in autistic people and it's one of my biggest insecurities, so it is always very stressful and overwhelming for me to learn choreography without a mirror, especially if I'm in a large group. It's difficult for me to visualize where I am in space and what my movement looks like in relation to others. But the choreo team knows this about me and helps me find other ways to learn and feel confident in the moves without constantly needing immediate visual proof. And that's something I never thought was possible before.

If I had the authority, I would ban pedicabs. Those things are like sensory assault. And they're RIGHT outside our show (and my bedroom window) every night with their lights flashing and their subwoofers blaring. But as a consolation prize to the drivers, I would equip each of them with a food truck. Let them solicit us and our patrons with chicken shawarma and Nuts 4 Nuts instead. That'll certainly get more business from patrons coming out of a show about autistic people.

#how to dance in ohio #musical theatre #broadway #spectrum club 7 #actually autistic #broadway debut

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toastyrobos · 4 months

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When flowers do the talking (Wrecker x female reader one shot)

Word count: 3116

((You had no idea why wrecker always came by the medical bay or would bring the occasional small batches of flowers. He said he was just being nice. You had no idea why he was doing it. It’s not until Tech let’s it slip that Wrecker likes you, That you realize how much he has occupied your headspace so you rush to find him))

Once again your eyes drifted over to the bouquet of flowers resting in the vase next to the window. Rain pelted the glass as per usual. That was the one thing you didn’t particularly like about Kamino. Torrential rain. On most occasions it didn’t bother you, but on days when it just poured you weren’t too keen about it.

A week ago though your spirits had been lifted. By the same individual who seemed to know just when a heavy rainstorm was brewing. You had no idea how he knew, but giving the vase your full attention, you didn’t mind. In fact you actually enjoyed it.

Anytime the well built member of clone force 99 would come by it put a smile on your face. Most days it was as simple as a hello or how is your day going. He didn’t get to stay for long, as he usually was called away for missions often. No surprise. Given the groups track recorded.

But he would make up for it. The row of flower vases that use to line your windowsill as a tall tel sign.

Every time Kamino was due for heavy rain, Wrecker would bring you another set of flowers. Your first instinct was where was he getting them from? Kamnio was surrounded by multiple bodies of water. Things like flowers were not within the planet’s surface?

The second thought was why was he giving you of all people flowers? Was it because you were one of the main medical staff members and he wanted to show you his appreciation?

That didn’t seem correct. You were simply doing your job is all.

Your next thought seemed even less plausible. Making you shake your head at how ridiculous it sounded.

Whatever his reasoning for gifting them to you was it didn’t really matter anymore. It was sweet and made any stressful rainy day you experienced brighter.

“(Y/N)?” You lifted your attention to the two figures hovering in the doorway.

Your eyes grew at the state both of them were in. Especially their resident brainiac.

“Tech”. Stunned you were at the way he was limping and clinging onto Hunter for support. Instantly you dropped whatever task you were preforming and moved over to him. Wrapping an arm around Tech’s figure you helped Hunter guide him to the empty medical table.

“What happened?” You immediately questioned the two of the them. Or whoever would ever answer you first.

“A training exercise”. Hunter answered, crossing his arms over his board chest. “We decided to test out a new formation and well it did not go to plan”.

“Technically it did”. Tech held up a finger. “By my calculations we had an 80% chance of success”.

You turned your back to them, digging through your medical supplies for a brace and bacta spray.

“Not 100% though”. You merely said.

You heard Tech exhale behind you. “The chances of a 100% success rate are exponentially low to near impossible. Wrecker’s purists in expressing his romantic attraction towards you, by the use of colorful flora and fauna has a higher success rate I’ve determined”.

You stopped what you were doing. Everything pausing around you.

“What?”

For a few minutes no one uttered a single word. You shook your head. You must have heard him wrong.

Hunter was the first one to break it. “Tech!” He scolded his fellow squad member.

Tech blinked. Not understanding the gravity of his actions he had caused.

“I thought it was obvious”. He simple explained repositioning his slipping goggles.

Obviously it was not. And frankly the very notion of it sounded ridiculous.

You chuckled nervously. “Thats impossible”.

With equipment in hand you twisted back around to attend to your current patient. Who had no idea the affects his statement had on you or your racing mind and heart.

Hunter did, however. The minute Tech had revealed Wrecker’s rather obvious secret he witnessed the way your complexion paled for a brief second before your cheeks shifted to a light shade of pink. The way your heart skipped a beat momentarily then picked up in speed. He was about to say something, but you beat him to the punch.

“Wrecker doesn’t have feelings for me”. You argued, ripping open a bacta patch. Something about the cooling nature of it against your heated skin felt refreshing.

“Your wrong Tech. The flowers are just him being nice”.

Patch in hand you brought it up to the exposed skin of his leg and applied it. Tech hissed slightly from the cold sensation of the patch meeting the warm temperatures of his body.

“Technically you are correct”. He began. “Wrecker is the most accommodating and indulgent one out of the five of us, however it has been visible to each of us, in multiple instants, that he attracted to you. Romantically that is”.

You blinked.

“If I may (Y/N). Wrecker is quite taken by you. Infatuated I believe would be the proper term. On several occasions each one of us has witnessed him speak about you with such significance. From my research it would appear he was, as I’ve read, as though he was ‘floating on air’”.

You opened and closed your mouth. Processing his words. The meanings. The implications in which they held.

This…this couldn’t be true. Could it though?

Again you shook your head. Tech was wrong. Strange as it sounded. Wrecker was just being friendly. Kind. Generous. It’s who he was. Strong and ruthless as he could be in battle, he also had a heart of gold. Wore it on his sleeve.

There was absolutely no way that some like him could harbor romantic affection for you.

And yet. The mere idea of it gave you pause. Was he just being nice? We’re the array of different flowers just a friendly gesture? Or was there more to it?

Racking your brain for anything, you stumbled upon a recent memory. A day when everything that could go wrong, had gone wrong.

Sitting at your desk, body hunched over, you hadn’t noticed him come in. He coughed to get your attention. To which you immediately looked up, eyes meeting his brown ones. Another Bouquet of flowers were in his gloved hands. Red roses this time. Your favorite.

You were beyond exhausted, however the second you eyes landed on him every bad moment from the day vanished like it never had existed.

The way he would stumble over his words every time that he talked to you. How flustered he became in your presence. How he avoided your gaze in certain situations.

It was if everything around you had stopped. Frozen in time.

By the maker.

How had you not noticed it before. It was all right there! Plain as day to see! And you had missed it.

Had missed every single detail.

Maker..

He had feelings for you. Wrecker had feelings for you.

Heat immediately pooled in your cheeks at the sudden realization. Butterflies fluttering away in your stomach at what ever single arrangement of flowers now meant.

From where he was residing, Hunter could see your poor attempt at concealing your flustered appearance. His brown eyes catching yours only making your blush deepen.

It felt like your entire face—no, your entire body was tingling with warmth. Caused by the same individual who had gifted you such treasures.

It was then you came to a second, more deeper realization.

You reciprocated his feelings. You had feelings for Wrecker.

How his wide grin could light up a room. The way he would take an interest in your day. And above all, the flowers. The flowers….

“(Y/N)”. Hunter called out your name, but you couldn’t hear him.

Millions of thoughts and memories had taken over your mind. You were starting to question the nature of every time Wrecker would say hello to you or was nervous around you.

Was every one of them him taking an opportunity to work up the courage to eventually tell you how he felt?

Looking back on them it had to be. You were absolutely certain of it. The way his gaze would linger on you for far longer then normal.

“(Y/N)!” Hunter’s raised voice snapped you out of your trance.

You blinked. “I-I’m sorry. I just..”.

Your voice drifted off. An overwhelming feeling taking control of your body. Everything suddenly becoming clear. And you knew what you needed to do, before you could rationally think it over.

Before either one of them could utter another word, you dashed out of the medical bay, stumbling as you rounded the corner. Nearly straight into another person.

“Sorry!” Not stopping for even a single minute, you briefly apologized from further down the corridor.

All you could think about was locating Wrecker and telling him exactly how you felt. That you reciprocated his feelings. That you wanted to be with him. Or at the very least give whatever this was a brewing between you two a chance.

However you didn’t know where to start looking. With Hunter and Tech back in the infirmary there was a high probability that their squad was staying put for a bit. As evident by Tech’s minor sprain. Meaning that Wrecker was here. Perhaps near by.

They had just come from the training field. Maybe they had made their way back to their barracks. You rounded another corner. Kriff why did every single hallway have to look the same with its blinding white interior?!

Taking another left you came face to face with the open door to their barracks. You ducked your head inside momentarily to see if he was here. Everything inside laid so still. As if untouched for a while. Kriff. He wasn’t here.

“(Y/N)?” You recognized that voice. You quickly snapped your head in that direction to find Echo walking towards you, a bit confused to find you at his door.

“Echo I need to find Wrecker. Where is he?” You cut off him impatiently, before he could ask what you were doing here of all places.

Puzzled, he pointed down the hall. In the direction he had just come from. “In the hanger, why are—“

Even before the entirety of the sentence could leave his lips you had already dashed off. Running in the opposite direction you had come from. Fully intent on finding Wrecker and letting him know your true feelings. Adrenaline pumped through you veins as you raced down multiple halls. Your destination near.

Finally. Rounding the last corner, you stopped briefly, eyes frantically scanning the surrounding bay to see if you could find him or the Marauder.

Eyes widened the minute you spotted it. Off to the left, housed between a weapon storage vault and another larger vessel. Then you eyes found him.

Nothing stopping you, you quickly darted across the hanger bay. Legs pumping, burning from the excessive running you had done today. But you paid it no mind. No. Reaching Wrecker was all that mattered.

As if he could sense your presence, his frame twisted around to see you coming at him full force.

“(Y/N) what are you—Mmfph”. You flung your body into his, impulsively crashing your lips onto his, cutting him off and rendering him completely speechless.

Realizing what was happening to him, Wrecker reached his arms around your fragile frame securing his hold onto you. The warmth of your body up against his chest mixed with how sweet your lips tasted, maker he thought he was for sure in heaven.

You tasted so delightful on his lips. Like one of those nectar infused cocktails down at the 79. But better. Much better. Richer. More flavorful. Like honey. And he loved honey.

For you, the second your lips touched his it was like fireworks going off. Electrifying and loud, but bright and spectacular. He was so gentle in the way he held you. Careful to not let his strength become too much. Applying just the right amount of pressure.

Maker did you absolutely want to continue kissing him. But you also came here with a purpose. To tell him that you felt the same way about him that he did about you.

Besides you had a good hunch that once you laid everything out in the open, getting to kiss him would become a normal occurrence.

Reluctantly you pulled away. To his disappointment.

But he quickly recovered, staring straight at you. A puzzled look in his eyes. “W-what was that for?”. He questioned you. Vaguely worried that he was dreaming what was happening to him right now. Bracing himself, he had to be sure it was all truly real.

“Tech”. You took in a deep breath, steadying yourself. “He told me everything, Wrecker”. He continued to stare at you, perplexed. What did you know?! There was so much that Tech knew! What had he told you?

“I know about the flowers”. His eyes widened. Tech had told you that secret. Oh dear. “I know that you…you have feelings for me”.

He swallowed slowly, feeling his throat dry at your eyes scanning him. Frantically he opened his mouth to say something. Like Tech was wrong. Or that you had missed heard him or—

“And I wanted you to know that I care about you too”. You admitted out loud finally. To both yourself and him. Having your own confession out in the open felt invigorating. Like a weight off your shoulders.

Even if you had only realized the truth of it all less then twenty minutes ago. It didn’t matter.

Wrecker stood there stunned. Frozen, you wrapped up in his arms. Was he dreaming? He must have been. Because he most definitely misheard you.

“Y-you mean it?”. He responded before he could give it a second thought.

You nodded. “I do. I didn’t realize I did until Tech told me how you felt”.

It was true. You hadn’t really thought about it until Tech put the idea in your head. The the idea of you and Wrecker made perfect sense to you.

He made you laugh, brightened the gray days you would have, and you adored his goof ball energy. And if you were being completely honest, you liked a man who could swallow you up in a single hug. Wrecker checked all the box’s for you.

You lifted your hands up and took his face between them. “I really like you Wrecker”. You confessed wholeheartedly. “I really do”.

The biggest smile you’d ever seen erupted across his face. The pure joy and happiness radiating off of him was contagious. You felt him light up like a thousand stars in the night sky. The browns of his eyes glowing like two embers.

“I love you”. He crushed his rough lips onto yours, catching you off guard. For the briefest of moments you were unable to register what he had said. But then you quickly melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck, leaning into him.

You couldn’t explain the feelings that coursed through your veins, but somehow you felt whole. Like this is where you were meant to be. Being embraced by an individual who was responsible for much joy in your life.

Breaking apart, both of you were left breathing heavily. Lungs near exasperated from the lack of air flow. But it was worth it.

“Wow! That was…wow”. You giggled at his simple minded description.

“Yeah”. You mumbled, shyly biting your bottom lip.

His smile softened as he studied your flushed cheeks. “Maker your really beautiful”. He complimented you without a second thought.

Instantly your entire face flared up at his very honest observation. Normally you did not get embarrassed, but now with everything coming back to you, including a clear head, you made the discovery of just how emotionally driven you’d been.

Not that it was a bad thing, it just usually wasn’t your style. Yet in this situation you were grateful that you had been a bit…reckless in allowing your heart to guide you. For it had led you down this path. To this.

“And your eyes. But especially your smile. Your smile (Y/N) is incredible”. Wrecker confessed. “It was the first thing I noticed and man oh man did it reel me in! It was like I was seeing the sun for the first time”.

You’d seen Wrecker passionate and enthusiastic numerous times, mostly when talking about being on the battlefield. Destroying ‘clackers’ as he referred to them. But never about you. Let alone your smile. You didn’t even know that he liked it that much. The way he was describing it however made your heart swell.

You were too stunned to speak. So he just kept on going. “When I brought you flowers you would always smile, like I was your favorite person, so I-I kept on bringing you some. Umm…even if nothing happened, I’d at least get to see you smile and that would make any day better then it was”.

He brought you flowers, not just because he cared about you, but because he wanted to see your smile?

Dan Ferrik. You swore your heart would melt at that. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing him confess to you!

“Wrecker, you really like my smile that much?”

Wrecker shook his head. “No. I love it”.

Now you were positive your heart was melting. If not your heart then your eyes. Tears had started welling up in them, only to overflow down your cheeks.

“Y-you do?” You asked to which he nodded, leaning in to lay his forehead against yours. Your heart was beating rapidly at this point. No end to its frantic nature in sight.

“I love everything about you”. Now it was his turn to be flustered, but it did not bother him.

He confessed all that he wanted to. All that he needed to. And never in his wildest dreams would he think that you’d feel the same way. But by golly he was so thrilled that you did.

Placing you back down on the ground, to avoid anymore suspicious stares, he scratched at the back of neck. Nervous ticks finally setting in. But he was grateful for your lingering touch. Your hand Iaced with his. Fingers tangled together. Making him feel slightly less nervous.

“Would you like to umm…go out?”

Leaning up on your tippy toes, you placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “I would love to, Wrecker”. You both beamed from ear to ear.

“Tomorrow?” His smile as bright as ever.

“Tomorrow”. You echoed, spinning around. But not before you uttered one last thing.

“Oh and I’m looking forward to the Bouquet”.

#star wars #bad batch #star wars the bad batch #i love the bad batch so much #the bad batch wrecker #wrecker bad batch #wrecker x reader #bad batch wrecker x reader #bad batch x reader #clone force 99 #wrecker fanfic #megabeewrites #star wars oneshot #bad batch fanfic

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factorialsotherfandoms · 5 months

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The eggs are asleep, and finally Philza and Missa can catch a moment to themselves. Unfortunately, catching that moment means admitting to the injuries they have been hiding from their children - fussing over scratches while having arrowheads lodged next to your spine is the duty of a parent on Quesadilla Island, but an exhausting one.

Missa's quick fingers manage to pull said arrowhead from Philza's back, the momentary flash of pain causing him to nearly drop the iodine solution. He doesn't, though, just a little stain on the floorboards, and so he continues applying it to the wound in Missa's leg.

He barely notices the scratch of a needle against his back, but Missa cannot help but whine as the gauze is pressed against his wound.

"I hate it here," Missa manages, thankfully in English as Philza is in no position to twist and see his translator. "Why is everything trying to kill us?"

"The island fucking hates us, is why," Philza grouches, reaching over for a bandage. He's managed to get Missa's leg to stop bleeding, but it should still be covered. "Enjoy the island my ass."

Missa giggles a bit, even as he tapes a dressing in place over the arrow wound. He says something in Spanish which is definitely too fast for Philza to parse; he tries to turn and look, only to be gently pressed back into position.

"It's nothing," Missa assures him. "But the skeletons! Why are they so bad?"

"The skeletons aren't even the worst of it," Philza groans back. "If you ever see glowing eyes and nothing else? Run."

There's a long pause, and Philza hopes that Missa understands the severity of his warning - a Nightmare Stalker is exactly that, and Philza knows Missa is not nearly equipped to handle one. If he struggles as he does, he doesn't want to think about how his partner would suffer in his stead.

"It's okay," Missa pats his shoulder a few times, leaning around his wings to do so. "I'm good at running. It's my special talent!"

"You're good at a lot of things," Philza promises.

Missa doesn't reply; this time when Philza turns, he is allowed to. His entire body aching he sits himself up and twists himself around, taking Missa's face him his hands.

"You are so good," he promises. "So, so good. There's nobody else I would want to raise my eggs with."

There's more on the tip of his tongue; Philza quashes it as Missa closes his eyes, rest of his expression hidden by his mask.

Philza can see Missa struggle with his words for a bit - he's always amazed how someone can make themselves understood in two languages - before eventually receiving, "you are the best egg father."

"We have the best egg child," he retorts.

"We do!" Missa's entire body language perks up. "Chayanne is the best egg child, and he is ours. We are so lucky."

"We really are."

Philza isn't sure when it happens, but eventually he realises that he has leant forward, his forehead resting against Missa's mask. He closes his eyes and savours it, feeling as Missa loosely places his arms across his bare back - Philza needs his for support, one either side of Missa's hips and taking his weight, but otherwise he would do much the same.

The two of them stay in silence for a while, savouring each other's presence. The pain is still there, from protecting their children, and yet... In a simple house of oak and glass, for a moment it is all peace.

"Run away with me."

This is not how Philza had ever meant to bring it up, but the words slip out of their own accord.

Missa startles, eyes wide and spine straight as he blinks himself out of the peaceful haze, "qué?!"

"Run away with me," he shifts so he can see all of Missa's face, taking both of his partner's hands in his own. "Take the children, and run away. Find a way off this island, and to another world - one where the skeletons are the /only/ thing to worry about. I'll build you another house and we'll make it a home. Any colour you like, with a fence and walls and real bedrooms and a kitchen for Chayanne and gardens for Tallulah... You can have your own music room and kick Wilbur out for trying to steal your guitar, and we can sit on the roof in the moonlight and you can sing and I'll dance with the children asleep beneath us and no risk of zombie horsemen on our tail."

"But how-" a small whine catches in Missa's throat. "How do we get away? They said we cannot leave."

"There's always a way to leave," Philza says. "We just have to find it."

There's hands in his wings, and Philza startles.

"Your wings are so big... If they healed, you could fly away," Missa says, something wishful in his tone. "Up and up and far, far away, so far they could never catch you."

"And leave you behind?" he asks.

"You'd come back for Chayanne. And I... I could follow you then?"

"Even if something happens to Chayanne, I'd come back for you," Philza promises. "I won't leave you here, not in this hell."

"You wouldn't leave anyone here, if you could help it."

"Probably," Philza admits. "But I wouldn't come back for them, not if I didn't know I could escape again - I'd come back for you."

"I'll wait for you," Missa seems almost to melt in Philza's touch, whimpering as he curls in on him. Philza isn't even sure what he said wrong, just that his egg partner is clinging to him, whimpering.

"We might not always be together," he tries to reassure. "But I will always come back for you - I'll always find you. There's no point in running away if we don't run away together; if some day I /can/ fly away, I'd only do it to come back with help."

The whimpering turns to sobbing, and Philza adjusts his position to hold Missa properly. The hands in his feathers dig deep - one finger catches on some tape holding one of the litany of dressings in place - but Philza just holds Missa and worries.

Why this reaction? Was it something he said?

He stops talking just in case; Missa clearly wants a hug, so he just holds him, understanding only odd words of the broken fragments of Spanish between the sobs.

Eventually the tears slow; Missa pulls away, still sniffling.

"And... Spreen can come?"

"He can live next door, if he wants," Philza promises; it'll be a little hard to negotiate with Fit, but interpersonal drama is just a part of life. "A whole new town for /everyone/ - all of the islanders, and all of our friends. Maybe if we let his ex in Forever will even stop hitting on me."

That earns a laugh, if a bit of a wet one.

"I want to dance with you," Missa says.

"With no zombie riders," Philza promises. "Maybe tomorrow we could dance a bit at the Favela? But, one day, we'll do it somewhere safe."

"On the roof, under the moon?"

"I'll make a roof specially designed for it."

The tears slow some more, and Missa drops to actually lie on the bed.

"Do you really think we'll escape?" Missa turns to Philza and asks. "We broke the Wall, and the Federation-"

Philza moves to lie beside him - on his front while Missa is on his back - and takes a hand. "We will. I promise."

"But-"

"Someone cleverer than us will work it out," he smiles to Missa. "We've just got to survive while they do."

"And if they don't?"

"Then I'll burn the Federation to the ground."

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #genuinely can't tell if shippy or not #happy end au #little bit of character injury #they're both a bit tired so its less 'I have a plan' and more 'I have a dream'#still comes after the one with Fit tho #Missa doesn't need details he needs hope #they went out with chayanne and tallulah and archer skeletons happened #hence ows #the early spanish philza doesn't catch is missa going 'yes i do enjoy your ass its one of the best things on the island'#or words to that effect #just silly but too flirty for him to be comfy with it being understood #“run away with me” = I love you #“I won't leave you here” = I love you #I'd come back for you = I love you I love you I love you #“I'll wait for you” = I trust you I love you I want you #Philza's just not very good at saying feelings and Missa says them very fast in Spanish so Philza doesn't understand #(I love you can take many forms and still be love)#something something the irony of philza being the one who says I'll come back and Missa the one saying I'll wait #but genuinely the promise works both ways in this specific context

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scoobydoodean · 2 months

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Do you have siblings, and what order are you in?

How do you view and feel about Sam running away multiple times, and then in 5.16 Sam running away are the only memories he's given? (and do you think angels did that purposefully?)

I am the younger of two and I understand how Sam can run away and how it would only be about getting away from their, but that Dean would feel the brunt of it all. But I can totally imagine my older sibling understanding Dean, but not necessarily Sam's pov.

I also don't think Sam's reasoning is ever fully explained, at least in 5.16, it makes him seem much more selfish and uncaring. I think he assumed Dean was better equipped to handle living with their dad alone simply because he behaved, it just happened to be that Dean and dad were linked - and I don't really know how much they talked about their relationship with their dad till they were older.

I wonder if Dean ever would've considered leaving John and living somewhere near Sam, or even running away with Sam.

I have three siblings. I'm in the middle. Two older siblings and the caboose is 7 years younger than me. So I remember what it's like to be the baby but I also know what it's like to play older sibling to a sibling several years younger than me. My younger brother and I are also very close.

If this was all prompted by my comment the other day that I wasn't looking forward to watching "Dark Side of the Moon", I don't dislike the episode because it shows Sam running off. I do have issues with the episode, but a large part of my distaste for it is that it is generally very depressing. It being depressing in of itself isn't a criticism of the episode—it's supposed to be depressing because it's about total loss of hope and belief for Dean (and then Cas as well losing hope at the end of the episode). It's doing what it's supposed to do in that sense. It's just hard to watch. Unfortunately, a lot of people take the bleakness of it and the idea that Dean is a burden and etc as truth and not manipulation meant to drive him to say "yes", and that also makes me rather sour about it.

I don't care that Sam wanted to go to college, or that he was happy at another family's thanksgiving at one point in his life. The Flagstaff memory bothers me a little because Sam's fond recollection of it, unmarred by any negative associations, clearly suggests he didn't face any consequences for running off once John found him. The fact that he never even into his adult life considered that Dean might have faced consequences does feel rather self-centered, and that's on purpose. I don't care that Sam went to school or that there were points as a kid where he wanted to run off.

I do disagree with the premise that Sam still desires some normal core Thanksgiving. I simply don't think that would be a favorite memory for Sam anymore. Just a few episodes prior to this, in "Swap Meat", Sam sat down with someone else's family for a normal, family dinner and he hated it. He found Gary's parents absolutely obnoxious. He told Gary afterward that he envied his life, only to turn to Dean and say he lied.

SAM I totally lied. That kid's life sucked ass. All that apple-pie, family crap? It's stressful. Trust me – we didn't miss a damn thing.

Or observe earlier in the episode:

DEAN You ever think that you'd want something like that? Wife, rugrats, the whole nine? SAM No, not really my thing anymore.

In fact, it's Dean who envies the normal life in "Swap Meat" and several other episodes (ex: 2.20, 4.19) whereas Sam indicates several times that a normal life is not something he wants (2.02, 2.10, 2.20, 4.08, 4.19, 5.12). In 4.08 and in 2.20, Sam in fact overtly states that he would not go back and choose a normal life now if he could go back. In 3.01, 4.19, and in 5.06, Sam also heavily emphasizes the importance of family within the hunting dynamic. I track a lot of this within the tag #sam the hunter.

I think there is a strong argument to be made that Zachariah ran them through heaven like rats in a maze in 5.16, directing them toward certain memories and not others in order to make Dean believe that Sam doesn't care for him (I have a separate post to make about this in more detail). However, I don't believe Zachariah forced in memories that aren't "greatest hits". I think he just drove them away from any happy memories Sam has with Dean and toward ones where Sam grasped independence from John, misappropriated to make Dean feel Sam doesn't care about Dean or appreciate/recognize his sacrifices (the former is not true, but the latter is in fact true in many cases).

Note though that when Joshua arrives and takes them to heaven's garden:

SAM: This is heaven’s Garden? DEAN: It’s-it’s nice… ish. I guess. JOSHUA: You see what you want to here. For some it’s God’s throne room; for others it’s Eden. You two, I believe it’s the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip.

So right there, we have a shared favorite memory, right after (presumably) any potential influence Zachariah had on what memories they were seeing was eliminated.

What primarily irritates me about this episode and many other Dabb/Loflin episodes is their perpetual need to insert the narrative that Sam wants a normal life he explicitly states he does not want over and over and over in everyone else's episodes, while they write Dean as someone who says things like "I mean, we’re supposed to be a team. It’s supposed to be you and me against the world, right?" It implies a sort of desperation vs apathy that, even when contradicted in subtler ways, I just don't find interesting... And yet they seem to harp on the same dramatic "misunderstanding" over and over and over for all eternity. And Dabb continues it after cutting ties with Loflin. In fact he continues to toy with these obnoxious dramatics to the very end of the series in a way I find unbelievably tired and obnoxious and I resent it. He's the same one-trick pony when it comes to his ideas on Dean and Cas conflicts in the later seasons.

As to your last bit there: Dean did consider running off. We see this in "Bad Boys", and in that episode, we also see that Dean doesn't end up abandoning their family because he felt Sam needed him. We hear a similar narrative in regards to John in 1.06 from the mouth of the shifter—that Dean had dreams of his own, but Dean felt that John needed him, so Dean stayed. John echoes this when he says that he was an emotional wreck and Dean took care of him (2.01). We see Dean also taking care of Mary in "Dark Side of the Moon" after she gets off the phone with John, upset. 5.16 casts Dean as someone perpetually sacrificing his own needs for his family, but unappreciated all the while. In fact, Sam doesn't recognize any of his sacrifices. Dean is nothing more than a blood offering on the altar of family. Zachariah intends this narrative and leans into it heavily in the scene where he explicitly manipulates what Sam and Dean are seeing.

MARY: Don’t you walk away from me. I never loved you. You were my burden. I was shackled to you. Look what it got me. The worst was the smell. The pain, well. What can you say about your skin bubbling off? But the smell was so… You know, for a second I thought I’d left a pot roast burning in the oven. But… it was my meat. And then, finally, I was dead. The one silver lining was that at least I was away from you.

Zachariah has Mary speak about Dean being a burden to his family and to her, but it's potentially more layered than "Dean has abandonment issues". What Mary says about being shackled to Dean—being burdened by her child—firmly recollects Dean's claim to Cas in 5.03 that he's chained to his family through responsibility, and that finally being away from Sam is a relief. This fake Mary says death was her escape from similar chains of responsibility to her loved ones. It was the only escape. Burned up and dead but finally free. There's an implication there that Dean can finally escape responsibility in a similar way, and in two episodes, Dean is going to try and escape by saying "Yes".

#5.12 #5.16 #writer disk horse #family chains #mail #dabb disk horse

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fullsunrise · 5 months

Text

Playing With Fire (M)

Word count: 1.8k

Pairing: Johnny x Original female character

Genre: Office AU, some angst, light smut

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, Johnny is a bully, heavy sexual themes, non-explicit smut (don't hookup with your coworkers!), uh semi-public sex

A/N: Uhhh I don't know what this is, but it's pretty much self-indulgent lmao

There was nothing quite like early winter in the city, with the twinkling lights tangled in the bare trees and a to-go coffee that was almost too hot. This early in the morning, there was no one around. It was calming, and Nari wanted to appreciate the silence before all hell broke loose. She sat on the unoccupied bench outside of her building, savoring the last five minutes she had until she had to face her worst nightmare. That nightmare happened to have a name: Johnny.

Johnny Suh from Sales. Even thinking about him made Nari’s eye twitch. Ever since she was forced to work with him on her latest project, he made it his sole mission to make her life a living hell. Never once in Nari’s career has she had to work with someone so egotistical, cunning, and above all else: annoyingly attractive.

Although she had been working at her company for the last two years, she had never heard of him. Not until she saw an unfamiliar name CC’d on an email from her boss. Confused, she made her way to her boss’s office.

“He's been here almost as long as you have, I believe,” her boss told her. “Great guy, it should be a breeze working with him.”

It was hilarious how wrong he was. Nari’s reality was most definitely not a breeze, but more like a hurricane. Whatever higher being set this up was surely laughing at her now as she struggled against the powerful storm.

To stand any chance, Nari knew she needed any advice she could get. And who else was more equipped than Jaehyun? After years of working at law firms across the city, Nari was sure he was the only person who could understand how to deal with egotistical monsters.

“I'm just saying, maybe try to avoid any interactions with the guy. I mean he's clearly a prick,” Jaehyun said, then took a sip of his beer.

“Trust me, I've been trying to avoid him but it's impossible when we have to work directly together,” Nari replied.

It was hopeless. Johnny was too smart. Careful not to push it too far, he was only condescending to her face. He made sure his actions spoke for him, though. Like last week when he went out to lunch with their project team, he accidentally forgot to invite her. And just a day ago, she swore he was whispering about her to another coworker in the kitchen. Then he laughed loud enough for Nari to hear, only confirming her suspicions. It was subtle, but enough to make her go insane.

“Don't let him get to you,” Jaehyun offered. “You know he's only doing this because he feels threatened by you.”

Threatened? Why would Johnny be threatened by her? Nothing about her was particularly threatening. Sure, Nari was good at her job but she never did anything that would cause someone to dislike her. And certainly she would never step on anyone just to get a promotion. In her corporate life, Nari made sure to remain honest, social, and professional. Unlike Johnny, who couldn't have a more opposite approach.

“I’ll try,” she replied. “But enough about me. How's it going in your world?”

“Same ol’ bullshit as always,” he chuckled.

They spoke about their jobs for a while longer, laughing at random anecdotes from the week. Nari didn't speak about Johnny again, and shortly the thought of him was washed down along with her Gin and tonic. Somewhere between her first and third drinks, Jaehyun asked her how her dating life had been. It caught her off guard only for a moment as she reached for an answer in her muddled brain. With her thoughts slowed, the best she managed to pull was a horrific yet comical dating story. Jaehyun laughed along with her and shared his own. It was always weird talking about her love life with Jaehyun but it was still nice nonetheless. But she would never get used to it, even though there were no lingering feelings left between them.

Nari came back to her apartment feeling a bit lighter after seeing Jaehyun. While he helped her forget about Johnny momentarily, Nari dreaded tomorrow. It was the day of the company holiday party. Normally Nari looked forward to it every year, but the idea of running into Johnny made her stomach churn. Sure, there were going to be a lot of employees and plus ones but the chance of seeing him wasn't zero.

The next day quickly flew by, with little to no urgent work that needed to get done. Nari always appreciated slow work days, but today she wished the day lasted a bit longer. Because as the moon rose in the sky, she knew could no longer hide.

The rooftop lounge was packed with her coworkers spread out across fancy bar top tables. Nari and a few of her team members claimed a spot close to the bar. While she was promised it would limit any unwanted interactions, the idea of walking up with all eyes on her made her mouth dry.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Nari shouted on top of the loud music.

Much to her relief, Nari didn't recognize the people she passed on her way to the bar. No Johnny in sight, her shoulders relaxed instantly.

“One Old Fashioned, thanks,” the guy with slicked back hair in front of her ordered. Ugh, what kind of person would order that?

The guy with the slicked back hair turned around, and the moment Nari locked eyes with him she was frozen in place. The worst scenario Nair conjured in her mind was happening right now, in real life.

Johnny looked at her for a second before turning away to talk to his friend. That didn't bother Nari, but the fact that he decided to brush past her like she was invisible set her off.

Chasing after Johnny wasn't how Nari expected to spend her night, but there she was pushing through the crowd. Johnny moved fast, but she was able to catch up in the bathroom hallway.

“Why?” The liquor coursed through her veins, giving her the courage to speak up.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Johnny deadpanned, as he turned around to look straight through her. It was clear he was avoiding her question, which in turn only made her angrier.

“Don't play dumb, you know what you're doing,” she accused, her voice raising.

“You're going to be a bit more specific than that, sweetheart,” he said, crossing his arms across his chest.

“So you're just going to pretend like you haven't made my life a living hell the last few months?”

“I think that's too harsh,” he answered, his expression softening. That look could've worked on other women, but Nari wasn't going to give in.

“It's the truth, you've hated me ever since that day.”

“When did I say I hated you?”

Jaehyun’s words echoed in her mind. “Admit it, you’re threatened by me.”

Bingo. Her words seemed to strike a nerve with Johnny, because the next thing she knew he grabbed her arm and pulled her into the bathroom. Warning signs went off in her head immediately, but it happened so quickly that she couldn't break away.

“You don't know what you're talking about,” he seethed, taking a step closer to her.

Was he always standing this close? The temperature was rising, and Nari could feel the blood rush into her cheeks.

“I think I do,” Nari breathed, trying to sound confident. But her quivering voice didn't fool him.

His kisses were feverish against her skin he left bites along the curve of her neck. As he made his way down to her collarbone, Nari’s eyebrows scrunched together. With her lips slightly parted in pleasure, Johnny took the opportunity to steal the air from her lungs in one swift motion. His lips were rough and chapped from the cold, but the way they molded to her own left her utterly breathless. When he abruptly bit her lower lip and gazed at her, she knew she was done for. Deep desire pooled in his eyes and her body craved more of the pleasure he brought. Nari knew right then and there that she had no plans of stopping him.

“No, you don't,” he asserted, breaking the kiss for only a second before diving back in.

Her back was flush against the wall now, the cool tile contrasting against the heat of her skin. Johnny held the side of her jaw forcefully, with his other hand tracing the contour of her waistband. Out the window was her moral compass along with her dignity, her judgment clouded with pure desire.

The sensation of his hand dipping lower only added to her bubbling lust. Without warning, he snaked his hand out of her waistband. Nari whined at the loss and Johnny chuckled in amusement.

“Oh?” he mused, his grin never leaving his face. “You don't like that?”

Nari could only shake her head in response, her brain too muddled to think clearly. Satisfied with her frazzled state, Johnny resumed his motions. Her gasps bounced off the bathroom walls as she chased the high, no longer caring who could hear. With each moan that escaped her lips, she began to fall apart. Strands of hair came loose and tears of pleasure pooled. Her release was imminent, but before she could reach the climax Johnny suddenly stopped.

“I'm sorry, did you want more?” he asked, forehead pressed to her own.

Falling from her high, the reality of the situation came back into focus. What the hell was she doing? Not too long ago Nari couldn't even fathom being in the same room as Johnny, let alone letting herself unravel in front of him. It almost sickened her how quickly she folded under his spell. He knew exactly what he was doing and Nari was willingly falling right into his trap.

“Please,” she replied as she tried to catch her breath.

That was all Johnny needed to continue. With her pleasure still heightened, it took Nari only a few minutes to fully come undone. If Johnny wanted, she would let him take her right then and there. All the sirens in her head told her it was wrong, but why did it feel so right?

“See you tomorrow,” he snickered as he pulled away from her. Giving her a quick once over, he left the bathroom without another word.

Left alone with nothing but her reeling thoughts, Nari glanced at her reflection in the mirror. Disheveled hair and smudged mascara. Nari could barely recognize herself. As she attempted to fix her unruly state, Johnny’s words mocked her. Their little affair was going to cost her. She wasn't going to get fired over it, no, but her impulses were going to cost her the little bit of sanity she had left. Johnny was going to take it all and ruin her beyond recognition.

#nct 127 #nct fanfic #nct #nct 127 fanfic #johnny nct #johnny suh #suh youngho #johnny nct smut #johnny suh smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut

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