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spdrwdw · 2 months

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hi! I saw ur post abt accidentally deleting reqs and was scared since mine wasn’t answered yet (im not complaining bc ur other work is so so delicious to read 😍) anyways here it is. Ok imagine Miguel ohara being the heir to the mafia ‘throne(?)’ ima be so fr idk what they call it 💀 anyways and he’s in an arranged marriage w/ a girl from a diff mafia family as a way to make peace between the two families, except neither he or the girl are happy abt it. Enemies to lovers would just be majestic for the plot in my opinion 🤭. Anywaysssss thank u sm and remember to drink water 🫶🏻

Art by: Kimmy_art0912 Pairing: Mob Boss Miguel x Wife reader Warnings: Mentions of blood, very mild violence, no use of y/n Summary: You and Miguel come from different mafia families, forced to be married in order to form an alliance as threat from an outside. However, you and Miguel can only tolerate each other, at best. A/N: I swear I scratched and rewrote this like five different times.I am sorry it took so long. I am slowly making my way back into writing. I do thank anon and everyone else for their patience as I slowly make my way back to life and I will be writing more Miguel fics soon. I may do a part two to this, depending on interest recieved. I have been getting into mafia books so I am going to be looking into those for inspo if I do make more parts to this. Also, very very light editing was done. Word Count: 4.6k

Your family and the O’Hara’s have been enemies since your ancestors set foot into this country. Both immigrating from nothing but the clothes on their backs and pennies to their name.

Your family started working in the food industry. Working in restaurants, bakeries, etc. Anything that had to do with food. Seven days a week. Working from twelve to fourteen hour shifts just to make ends meet. Your great great grandfather worked at the local deli as well as a restaurant. When he wasn’t cutting up meat, he was in the kitchen making food. Your great great grandmother worked at the neighborhood bakery as well as the tailors. Her dream was to make clothes- dresses. She wanted to be a fashion designer. She started taking classes at the local college once they saved up enough money to invest in her studies.

Eventually, with their hard work and sacrifices, their dreams came true. Your family soon owned several restaurants as well as luxury boutiques. Everyone did their part in keeping the family businesses growing and going.

At first, it was all simply honest work. Your family stayed humble and grateful for their dedication. Then, with your great grandfather, things took a slight turn. He wanted to expand and turn into construction. Nueva York continued to go and grow, with more people coming to try to make a living and a name for themselves. And in that mix, people with bad intentions also tagged along. The family businesses were in jeopardy of being taken over or shut down completely by these power-hungry thugs. He did not want that. So, he and the rest of the family banded together and began hiring people who would be willing to work for them and protect them, whether they were military vets, criminals, or even cops. Anyone who was willing to protect the family.

Allyship with other mafia families also aided in the growth and protection. However, there was one family that yours always butted heads with.

The O’Haras. They immigrated from Ireland around the same time your great great grandparents did. They built their own businesses, casinos, hotels, and clubs- and wanted their own power and a spot with the elites of the criminal world.

At first, things were neutral between the two families. At one point, the two families were almost allies. However, one night, there was commotion going on at one of the O’Hara nightclubs. Members of your family got into a tussle with the O’Hara group and ended up being a blood bath, with both sides losing men.

Ever since then, things were tense, and the bloodshed continued to grow as oppositions rose.

No one really knew what it was that started the feud that night. Some suspected it had been over a woman. Others thought it was simply because some members were drunk and careless words were exchanged.

Either way, the rivalry continued on. Until a new threat entered the city. And there was no choice but to come together.

—

It’s been six months since you moved into his house. Six months since you lost your freedom. Six months since you got married. To Miguel O’Hara.

It all happened in an instant. First, you were out abroad, having recently gotten your first major job as a fashion designer in a luxury clothing company, wanting to be as successful as your great great grandmother, and now you were out on a little vacation to celebrate, when you received a call from your father, ordering you to come back home.

You should’ve relished that Mediterranean breeze as long as you could, because once you got on that flight back home, your world was about to be flipped on its head.

“I’m sorry…WHAT?!” You screeched at your father, you only looked at you with his calm, cool, distant, expression as he inhaled into his cigar.

“You’re getting married to Miguel O’Hara,” he repeated.

“I heard what you said! But, why?!”

“The O’Haras had agreed to a truce. Kingpin is gaining on both of our families. We are losing men and traction left and right. We agreed by aligning our families together, we will gain strength in numbers and influence.”

“And you are shipping me off into an arranged marriage! This isn’t the medieval age or whatever!

Plus, with Miguel?! At least have me marry Gabriel. He’s not an asshole like his brother.”

“Miguel is to become head of the O’Hara family as he is the first born. Plus, his determination has been promising.”

You let out a groan. You could not believe this was happening. You never wanted to get sucked into this life. That’s why you went off to college. To try to get away and make a life of your own. Your efforts were proven to be futile as you felt the rug be pulled from under you and you were being dragged along with it to the same life you were trying to escape.

Your father’s eyes softened. A hint of sorrow filled them.

“I know, sweetheart. This isn’t what I was hoping for you, either. But, it is the only way. We are running out of options. I am sure Miguel will take care of you, and you will be able to fulfill your dream of following your great great grandmother’s footsteps. I am sure she would be proud to have someone actively expanding her fashion legacy..”

You still shook your head. It was just too much for you to take in. Plus, wasn’t Miguel in a relationship with someone? Xina? No..they broke up months ago. That’s right. But, wait..he was seeing someone else? Ugh. The guy has a new girlfriend every other day.

Besides, you two did have a thing going on in the past. It wasn’t serious. Mainly the occasional hookups. You two were of rivaling families, after all. You both did have your reasons for disliking each other. So, the sex was pretty much hate sex? If that made sense. It wasn’t out of passion. Unless you could call hatred a passion.

Never did you think you’d actually be getting married to him.

After the news broke out that you and Miguel were to be wedded, everything went by in such a blur. Preparations for the wedding. The actual wedding. The honeymoon- which was hardly a honeymoon because neither of you actually spent any time together. It was just too awkward, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with this arrangement as much as you were.

When you first moved into his house, you wanted to sleep in a separate room from him, and he agreed. However, when both of your parents found out about this, they were all livid.

“How will you two get to know each other more and become intimate with each other if you are sleeping in separate beds?” Your mom cried one day when she came to visit you. You assured her there would be other situations where you and your husband would bond. Public situations where you’d be surrounded by other people and talking to those people rather than each other.

You two simply avoided each other as much as possible. And during the times when you two were together, your company was either met with silence or bickering. And sometimes even being at each other’s throats.

He would call you names like ‘immature’ ‘wild’ ‘rowdy’ and so on, simply because you refused to listen to him whenever he demanded something from you.

You’d retaliate and tell him that he was controlling and a perfectionist. Because well, he was. He had to have things done a certain way or it would ensue chaos. And while he was right about you being a little more rowdy and wild, it was simply because you had the luxury of growing somewhat more normal. Your parents did not drill the life of the mafia into your head the same way it was drilled into Miguel’s. Which is why you both clashed when trying to communicate with each other.

Right now, you were at home in the library. You spend a lot of time there, and while Miguel’s taste in reading wasn’t usually to your taste, you’d sometimes find yourself reading some of the novels that he was currently reading, as well as reading some that you’ve been purchasing and adding to the collection.

Which reminded you, you had to head over to the mall and purchase the next book of a spicy romance series you’d been reading. As well as look for an outfit to wear at the next charity event you and Miguel would be attending.

One of the few things you liked about Miguel was that he was very generous and active in the community, helping those less fortunate.

Placing the book down, you rubbed your bag and keys and decided to head out for a bit. Saying goodbye to the house staff as you walked past them, you made your way to the garage, which housed Miguel’s collection of cars, ranging from vintage to sporty and modern to big black suvs that you’d use whenever a bodyguard was transporting you somewhere, like parties. You never understood why someone needed so many cars but, whatever, as long as it wasn’t your money being spent.

You made your way over to your car, glad that you were able to bring it with you when you got married. It was your baby. One of the few things you were able to bring with you.

Glancing over at the clock on the dashboard, you bit your bottom lip. You should have enough time to purchase some books before heading off to your parents for a bit. You did promise them you would show up. They were planning lunch for you. It was your birthday today, after all.

—

Miguel stood in front of the battered man that kneeled before him, hearing the groaning of pain coming from their mouth as blood pooled around the cement floor.

Miguel’s knuckles were bleeding. But, it wasn’t his own blood, but the blood of the poor bastard that withered before him. Miguel didn’t like to use violence. He thought it was a primitive way of negotiating with his enemies. However, there were times when a little violence was necessary to get his point across. And to send a message.

Why was this man being battered like a sack of potatoes?

The man spat blood, a tooth or two flying out with the glob of blood as he remained strapped to his chair. His face was covered in blood. Beat up and mangled by the hands of the tall, brooding man before him.

Miguel slowly knelt down before the man, taking a fistful of his hair, forcing him to look up into his almost amber eyes.

“ Eres un demonio! (You're a demon). Not even the devil himself will want you!” the man spat, a glob of blood landing on Miguel’s cheek.

Miguel let out a hum of disinterest. His eyes lacked any life in them. However, this was when he felt the most alive, seeing his enemies cowering and crumbling before him.

He took out a handkerchief from his breast pocket and cleaned the blood from his cheek before tossing the now soiled material at the man’s feet.

“I take that as a compliment, you know. Maybe I want the devil himself to fear me.”

Miguel took out a cigar from his coat pocket and lit it before giving it a deep inhale and exhaled a heavy cloud of smoke at the man’s face. He couldn't believe that one of Kingpin's goons had infiltrated his circle and posed himself as someone who could've been trusted. Miguel was definitely going to send that fat son of a bitch a message, by killing this guy and sending his corpse back to Kingpin's front door.

Not only that, but it also meant that they were going to have to redo background checks on everyone working for the O’Haras. That was going to be a pain in the ass.

"Gabriel! Hand me my gun," Miguel called out to his brother.

Gabriel, Peter, and Ben were all standing several feet behind Miguel, all watching as their boss beat and battered the man before them.

Gabriel was Miguel’s right hand now that their father had stepped down as head of the O’Hara family. Many thought Gabriel was going to take charge, however, Miguel was much more brutal and cut-throat than Gabriel. It made sense for Miguel to take up the mantle, despite him being an illegitimate son.

Plus, Gabriel preferred being on the sidelines instead of making the decisions.

Gabriel made his way over to his older brother, handing him the gun before stepping back to his original spot.

“Now. We can do this the easy way. Where I ask you a couple of questions and answer them. Or, we can do this the hard way, when I ask you said questions and if you refuse to answer them, I get to shoot you anywhere I want.”

”I would rather you just shoot me! I will never answer to you!” The man croaked.

“You never got shot before, have you?” Miguel hummed as he removed the safety from the gun and cocked it before pulling the trigger, shooting the man on the foot.

The man let out a screeching howl as he thrashed on the chair, letting out a series of curses.

Miguel simply nodded his head. “That’s what I thought. So..shall we begin?”

The whole ordeal took only a matter of minutes, as Miguel wasted no time in trying to get his questions answered. The man was not sitting lifeless on the chair as bullet holes decorated his body.

Kingpin had sent a lower ranked grunt to spy on them, trying to scope up any valuable information to report back to his true boss. Unfortunately for Kingpin, those in the lower ranks didn’t really get to be part of the action and behind-closed door discussions, so, this man’s life was unnecessarily wasted.

“Send his body back to Kingpin. Just leave him on his doorstep,” Miguel said as he examined his suit, letting out a grunt when he saw small splatters of blood. He was going to have to go home and change. “Will do. You should start heading back home. I am sure you wife is waiting for you,” Gabriel said as Peter and Ben began placing the body into a black body bag and carried him out to the waiting pick-up truck.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t hate you, but he knew that you hated him. And you had every right. You got married to him out of force, and while that wasn’t necessarily his fault, he didn’t blame you for holding a grudge on him.

“Keep me posted on any activity. I need updated background checks on everyone working for us. We can’t let anyone else slip through the cracks,” Miguel stated as he made his way over to his car, with his brother following behind him. Gabriel nodded his head as he watched his brother leave.

He had to make sure no on in his inner circle was actually working for Kingpin. Is someone indeed was, might as well just shut everything down then and there.

No. Miguel wouldn’t give up just like that. He would just have to work harder and steer Kingpin off track.

But, for the time being, his main goal was to get back home and get to his wife. It was your birthday, after all.

–

You spent the majority of the day with your parents. You had gone over to your former home- which you still miss deeply. It was such a stark contrast from where you lived now. There was just so much character, so much history in this house. It was the same house your great great grandfather had bought as a gift to his lovely wife, your great great grandmother, once their businesses were booming.

It had twelve bedrooms and sixteen bathrooms. A library where your mother would take you to read. When you were young, you’d pick out a book for your mother to read to you in bed. Mainly a fairy tale story.

You always thought your life would be a fairy tale. You always imagined yourself as the princess or heroine, going on adventures and falling in love. However, the universe was not like those in the stories. Maybe in an alternate universe. But, not in this one.

Instead, you were forced to marry the enemy in hopes of forming an alliance. Which, depending on how you looked at it, could’ve been seen as a fairytale. It didn’t feel like it. You weren’t in love with Miguel. You tolerated each other at best. Plus, you guys had shared history which made things pretty awkward at times.

—-

You were back home, waiting for your darling husband to come home and wish you a Happy Birthday. He also supposedly promised to take you out to dinner. It was really an attempt for you two to get somewhat closer together. But, you weren’t sure how well that would play out. You both liked to push each other’s buttons. You were sure it would occur tonight. And honestly, you wouldn’t want to have it any other way. You wanted to be a thorn on his side. He was always so full of himself. Always thought himself to be this bigshot. Untouchable. Unweavered. You loved proving him wrong.

You continued to wait and wait. The house staff had left for the night, including Miss Cheryl, your personally favorite housekeeper. She was an older woman, possibly in her mid-fifties. You never cared to ask her- mainly because you didn’t want to be rude and you actually liked her.

Looking up at the clock in Miguel’s office, you saw that it was already seven thirty in the evening. Reservations were supposedly made for eight. Miguel had thirty minutes to get there.

A part of you didn’t really care if he had forgotten or just waved it off. You didn’t want to force yourself to be nice with him, because who knew, you might just throw a glass of wine at him just as you did during your wedding reception.

You could hear a chime coming from the Alexa that rested on Miguel’s desk, signaling that someone had entered the house.

Finally. You honestly thought he wasn’t going to come.

Raising from his chair, you decided to go ahead and greet your husband.

He was making his way upstairs as you made your way down the hallway, both of you making eye contact.

“You’re late. I thought you weren’t going to come,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Miguel stepped closer, you could notice blood splattered on his white shirt.

“I know. Let me get changed real quick,” he replied as he walked past you.

You knew Miguel had a way of dealing with those who wronged him. You have seen his blood-stained knuckles, bloodied shirts and a dangerous look in his eyes. It’s pretty much like in the movies. Some poor unlucky soul gets tortured to death by the boss or someone higher up. You’d like to think that Miguel isn’t simply killing people just because of blood-lust. While it wasn’t your business to judge, you didn’t want to be married to someone who is a little too eager to get blood on his hands.

You made your way to his room, standing by the door as you watched Miguel slip on a fresh pair of pants and button-up shirt, something more suitable for dinner. Once he was finished, he took another look at you, furrowing his brows a bit.

“What?” You questioned.

“What are you wearing?”

“What do you mean ‘what are you wearing’?” You asked, looking down at your dress.

“Don’t you think that’s too revealing?” He asked.

“What? Revealing? Where? Don’t tell me showing a little leg and shoulder is prohibited. Come on! This is the height of fashion right now, as well as demonstrating body positivity.” Miguel simply gave you a look as if in disgust. Not for the body positivity part. But rather your fashion choices. He was aware of your family’s success in the fashion industry. He even applauded it. But, he was also a man with much simpler tastes. Tastes that you would sometimes groan over.

“Well, I’m not changing, so let’s just get going,” you said as you grabbed a shawl to compliment your dress, and to shut Miguel up.

The ride to the restaurant was quiet, save for the music that was playing on the radio. You two had very different music tastes. Not surprising. Sometimes you’d change the station or hook up your phone to Bluetooth. But, you tried to sit back and let him listen to his music this time.

When you two managed to get there, Miguel stopped in front of the valet and got out. The valet driver in-waiting opened the car door for you to help you get out as Miguel rounded the car, handing the keys over to the young man who then took the sleek black suv to the parking garage.

He gave you his arm to take. It had become routine. Show some sort of display of affection while in public. You never knew who could be watching. Sometimes cameras would pop out in front of you two.

The proposal was rushed. The engagement. The wedding. People grew suspicious, and rightfully so. Your families quickly came up with a story of how you and Miguel were seeing each other in secret despite the rivalry of the families. The alleged secrecy of romance and hurried marriage gave you two the the title of Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers who went against all odds just to be together despite your families and their differences. But, unlike the story, your ending didn’t result in a double-suicide, but rather acceptance, wedding bells, and peace between the two families. Everyone bought it. Well..almost everyone.

As you two made your way inside and were greeted by the hostess, you were taken to a more secluded area of the restaurant. There, the table had been set up especially for you. A bottle of wine rested over a bed of ice, candles were lit on the table, as well as around the perimeter of your area. It would have been romantic, had you actually had romantic feelings for Miguel.

Still, he was a gentleman and he did go out of his way to reserve a nice place for you.

He pulled a chair out for you to sit and scooted you in before taking his seat across from you. The music from a live pianist in the main dining hall still reached your private area. Had it not been for them, the room would’ve been dead silent as you and Miguel silently looked through your menus.

“Can I pour you a glass of your wine?” A waitress asked onceshe approached your table. She was young. Tall and thin with big blue eyes and blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. And wearing way too much makeup. At least for your tastes.

You could see how she was looking at Miguel, batting her fake eyelashes. You thought they were either going to fall off or send her flying away. Either way, you simply rolled your eyes. You didn’t care if Miguel got hit on, but come on, at least not while you were right there to see.

“Yes, thank you,” Miguel said, giving her a charming smile. It made you roll our eyes again. Yes, he was being polite and all, but you could see right through him.

“Can I offer you both an appetizer to start?” She then asked, still looking over at Miguel.

Miguel then looked over to you, giving you a nod. “Would you like something to start with?”

”Yes, actually. Some bread for the table. they usually bring it out at the beginning,” you started. Which was true. You were just trying to be a little petty.

“And how about some crab cakes and a salad for the table?”

The waitress nodded her head, her smile now a straight line. So straight, you could swipe your card through it like a card reader.

“Yes, of course. I will put those in for you and bring you your bread,” she said before leaving the table.

You simply rolled your eyes once again as you settled back against your seat.

“How was lunch with your family?” Miguel then asked, trying to make conversation.

“It was fine,” you responded. Usually, your responses would be short, and Miguel wouldn’t entertain the topic further. You knew you should at least try to get along with him, giving that you are married and that you will be spending the rest of your life with him. You simply assumed that it just hadn’t kicked in yet. You were going to try, though.

One day.

“Ah, Mr. O’Hara! Mrs. O’Hara! A pleasure to see you two here tonight!” Someone behind you exclaimed. You could hear their heavy footsteps before turning around and seeing the owner and head chef of the restaurant. “Javier. A pleasure to see you,” Miguel said. “We were just celebrating my wife’s birthday.” “Ah! Of course! Happy birthday, Mrs. O’Hara. You look as stunning as ever,” Javier exclaimed. The man was five foot three, a mix of tan to sunburned skin, and all round. He kind of reminded you of the Pillsbury mascot. He looked so squishable and jolly.

“Actually, Javier. Would you mind me having a word with you, real quick?” Miguel then asked, scooted his chair back from the table and stood, easily towering over the man.

“O-oh! O-of cours! Of course! Come, come! Let’s step to the side,” Javier stated, now looking a little nervous as he led Miguel out of the room, leaving you alone.

All while Miguel was having his private conversation with Javier, the waitress came back with the bread and appetizers.

“We are going to need a couple of minutes,” you stated as she placed everything onto the tables.

“Of course! I’ll make my way back around in a few minutes,” the waitress said, giving you a tight-lipped smile.

You tried your best to not roll your eyes at her again as she left. Letting out a sigh, you decided to dig into the bread and appetizers. You sure weren’t going to wait for Miguel to come back to start eating. You never waited for him. Not because you didn’t want to, but because you knew you’d be waiting forever for him.

–

Soon enough, you were back home. You were still slightly curious about the conversation Miguel had with Chef Javier. But, you didn’t think you should press Miguel about it. Some things were meant to be kept in private. Besides, you wanted no part of this whole mafia stuff. It had stolen so much of your freedom already. You wanted to remain ignorant of what goes on behind closed doors as much as possible.

You both made your way upstairs, neither of you speaking as you made your way to your rooms for the night.

Tomorrow you were planning on heading over to the boutique. Your cousin was currently operating it and sometimes you’d go to help her out. It helped you get out of the house every once in a while. Plus, you were usually filled with inspiration when you were surrounded by your family’s clothing. You were still working on your portfolio to give out to various companies, in hopes they would hire you.

You were confident that they would. You were talented. Plus, you have your family’s name to back you up. Now, all you had to do was to make sure you get a good night’s rest so you could get up refreshed.

#miguel o'hara #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o hara #miguel o hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara fic #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara fanfic

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sabertoothwalrus · 7 months

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hi !! just curious because i was looking at your adventure time episode guide and i love hearing other peoples adventure time takes !! how come you don't like finn's characterisation in together again?

I've talked about it before here and here!

But also I'm gonna say more and share some art I did in 2021 for a rewrite comic that I never got around to doing

So again to reiterate: Adventure Time is usually VERY good at making it feel like time passes, even when you're not watching. It's something about what they don't show that tells you everything you need to know.

Together Again did not do this.

It really really felt like they were avoiding showing Finn as an adult, as if they wanted to leave his post-show life ambiguous. Which, now that Fionna and Cake has shown us literally that, it makes Together Again feel even more wrong?? Like. imagine you have to pick a moment from your life that represents You™ the most. Together Again said that Finn, after living his whole life and dying as an old man, feels most represented by how he was at 17. I do not buy this. I am 25, and I cannot fathom identifying by my 17 year old self. I was a completely different person then, I was still cooking. I can imagine most people feel the same. And ok, so maybe Finn DOES for some reason feel stuck at 17? Explain to me why!! What needed to happen to him that made him feel that way?

And before you just say "it's because Jake died," there's still too much that was left out. How old was Finn when Jake died? What was Finn like, at that point? What else had they accomplished? What was he doing at the time that was on the forefront of his mind? Where/with who did they spend most of their time? Where were they living after the treehouse got destroyed?

It was like,,, it was like the story Together Again actually wanted to tell was about Finn's grief, and how poorly he copes, and how too much of his identity is tied to Having Jake, and how he struggles to move on. But that's not the story we got. I honestly think-- as interesting as it was-- everything with New Death and Tiffany and Lich just did a disservice to the focus, which was Finn trying to get over Jake.

I think Together Again should have gone like this:

Finn and Jake had always planned that whoever died first would wait in the dead world for the other to die so the two of them could reincarnate. Jake dies first. Jake would be able to "watch over" Finn as he lives the rest of his life, so Jake wouldn't miss Finn as much as vice versa, since he'd feel like he's still there with him. Eventually, Finn dies.

Finn's appearance would change with his emotional state. I thought it'd be interesting to show different phases of his life through the stages of grief.

There'd be a room where they could watch Finn's memories. Finn would walk Jake through the events of his life. We SEE exactly how Finn dealt with grief, with heartbreak, with love, with friends, with community. All the good and all the bad.

By the end of it, Finn is quiet. "Jake... when we reincarnate, will we.. lose all of this?" "Well, do you remember anything from any of your other past lives?" "No.. But that's the point. I don't want to forget you." Finn, despite their promise, despite Jake waiting for him all this time, declines reincarnating. He doesn't want to move on, because that would mean forgetting everything. He wants to say with Jake!! He JUST got Jake back!!

“What if— in the future— what if they forget about us? What if they don’t know about all the stuff we did?” We see Ooo in its current state. It’s changed, but it’s clearly been affected by the two of them. Every person they’ve saved, every civilization they helped build, every hero they’ve inspired. They’ve left their touch everywhere. “They’ll know,” Jake says with certainty. “We’ll know.” We see the future, with Shermy and Beth. We see the Finn Sword, and BMO with all their old belongings. Everything stays, but it still changes. Will happen, happening, happened. These have always been the themes of the show. They reincarnate, together.

#adventure time #together again #my art #finn the human #finn mertens #jake the dog #distant lands

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cherry-bomb-ships · 3 months

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Hello everyone! Welcome to our Valentine's Week mini Self Ship event!

Pr*sh//ip please dni

From February 12th to the 18th, I'd like to invite you all to participate in a self ship event all about love! This is meant to be a low-effort, laid-back event where the hardest thing you'll probably have to do is interact with other people 😅 Each day will have a different theme for every type of f/o and self shipper! The themed days are listed below:

February 12th - Familial F/o Day! This day will be all about focusing on your familial f/os! Parents, siblings, kids, or any other character you consider part of your family. ❤️❤️

February 13th - Platonic F/o Day! This day is dedicated to all our fictional besties!! Give some appreciation to the f/os that are there for a good laugh and a shoulder to cry on. 💛💛

February 14th- Romantic F/o Day! Of course, Valentine's Day itself will be dedicated to the special f/os in our lives who are there for us through thick and thin. Our f/os love us every day and we love them, but we'll give them extra love today! 🩷🩷

February 15th - Self Love Day! Sure, it can be argued that all of self ship is a form of self love, but I really want us all to focus on it today, by thinking about and maybe even listing out the things that our f/os would especially love about us. 💝💝

February 16th - February 18th - F/o Takeover & Letter Writing Weekend! This one is a bit of a player's choice; option one, an f/o takeover! Y'all know the drill on that one by now, let your f/os of choice answer questions on your blog for the weekend. ❤️ Option two, for those not into takeovers, is to spend the weekend writing love letters to your f/os! They can be as short or long as you like, while also making as few or as many as you'd want to. I'd also like to highly encourage sending out f/o letters to your fellow self shippers from their own f/os! ❤️

There we have it! That's our weekend, laid out in its entirety. However, these are more guidelines than strict rules. You can really run the week any way you like, as long as you're enjoying yourself!

I would also like to add that this month, for those who don't know, is Black History Month, so while you focus on your ships, don't forget to show some love to my black brothers and sisters in the self ship community as well! 🧡🧡🧡

I'll have some more suggestions on things to do below the cut, but I'll end it here up top, because this is long enough as it is. Feel free to reblog to get the word around, and for just one week, let's only think about love. ❤️💝🥺💝❤️

Now then, here are some suggestions on things to do over the week on our themed f/o days:

For our creative types, you could create some art and doodles, writing and drabbles, gifs, screenshots, or any other type of content for your f/os of the day.

For those who want a more chill experience, just some good ol' gushing will work perfect! I'll also be trying to make some short ask games full of questions for each themed day.

For the self-love day in the 15th, I highly encourage everyone to make a list of things that their f/os love about them. Of course not everything is always perfect, so if you'd like, you can also talk about your flaws and the way that your f/os would still love you with them. I don't wanna see any self deprecation though, because I know all of you are much more wonderful than you may think! ❤️❤️

Lastly, for the weekend, as I said earlier I would love to see people sending out letters to other self shippers. If anyone remembers the To My S/i events from a few years back, as much as I would love to run an event like that, I know that's setting some people up for disappointment when they don't receive any letters, so I want it to be something that's encouraged but not expected. That being said, it's still highly encouraged! Even if you're worried about how accurately you may write someone's f/o, I believe you should still give it a try anyway! 💝💝💝

That's about all the suggestions I have, except for this last one: while this week is about love for our f/os, I still wanna see love for our fellow self shippers with plenty of interaction going around, even something as small as a reblog or question sent for an ask game makes a big difference! And remember, just like the New Radicals said, "you only get what you give."

If you're reading this far, then thank you! Go ahead and throw a "btw my f/os love me" into your tags to let me know you got this far. I hope everyone enjoys the event!! 🩷❤️💝❤️🩷

#ok to rb #self ship event #self shipping #safeshipping #oc x canon #self ship community #f/o imagines

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pandoraslxna · 11 months

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human!reader taking nude and explicit photographs of herself to give to the colonel 😩

Sweet like cherry – Chapter 1

Miles Quaritch x female human reader

Words: 3.1k

Summary: Miles has a secret admirer and apparently, she has a thing for photography.

Warnings: explicit smut, (mutual) masturbation (lots of it), voyeurism, degradation kink, body worship, misogyny / bullying if you squint, obsession, corruption kink, size & age difference

Notes: apologies for the header photo, i promise there aren’t any physical descriptions of the reader in my fics (such as skin color, hair, etc).

Cherry. A symbol of both, purity and innocence.

Technology had never been Quaritch’s forte. It wasn't even his strongest branch of knowledge; a strange piece of information that always came as a surprise to anyone who knew him, even to himself. He was usually too proud to admit this flaw of his to others. But he excelled in other things instead. Leading, for example. Leading troupes, soldiers, recoms. Keeping them safe.

On a typical day, the head of security ensures that security measures are properly implemented, educates and trains soldiers and develops security processes to reduce risk and limit liability for the RDA. Oh, and guns. Yeah, guns he knew how to handle.

And this was something that he took great pride in.

Miles knew that some people use technology to create all kinds of art, as useless as that may seem to him. They draw, they create, they write, whatever, you name it. Sometimes, people use technology to document things. They videotape or photograph stuff. All that unnecessary shit that he pushes into Wainfleets area of responsibility, because hell, he couldn’t even open a stupid document on one of those data pads everyone seemed to carry around these days.

Which is why this tiny, square piece of paper, right there on the floor of his living quarters, spiked his interest so much.

A polaroid.

Quaritch knew polaroids. He knew how to use a polaroid camera too, surprisingly. Learned it back on earth when he was young, when technology was as simple as pressing a button which resolved an instant result. A photo, in that case. They often came out looking a little blurry or foggy, he admits that was probably due to the outdated technology. Nothing compared to the quality that cameras could capture today. But that’s what gave them their charm, right?

He doesn’t remember them being this small, though, but that’s probably because the last time he held one of these was when he was a kid. And when he wasn’t a little over nine feet tall and blue.

Faintly, Quaritch wonders how it even ended up here. He wasn’t really the type to carry memories with him, photographs of all things. And a polaroid? Who even brings a polaroid camera all the way from earth to pandora? As far as he could remember his first time coming to this hell hole, the list of belongings he was allowed to carry with him was fairly short, limited to the necessities only.

Instead of breaking his head over an answer to where it may came from, the Colonel chose to continue observing this strange… let’s call it gift, his eyes narrowing and squinting throughout his thorough investigation.

But when he finally turns the polaroid, his eyes widen in surprise.

There‘s nothing blurry or messy or foggy about the picture, even under the dim light of the lamp that lit his dark bedroom. It was crystal clear.

Your tattoo is the first thing Miles sees of you. Thin, red lines adorn the flawless skin right on your hip, resulting in a cherry as a whole. Cherries. Miles loved them. Small, soft round, almost heart shaped and of bright red color. And so, so sweet.

He’s never been a big fan of lingerie, truth be told, but the way those panties matched the color of your tattoo, Quaritch couldn’t deny that this was one hell of a sight. You wore a set of thigh-high stockings, same color of course, to make the match perfect.

Too bad the photo’s frame cuts off right where your head would be, so he could only wonder if whoever the woman on this picture was, she was wearing the same color of lipstick too.

A nice little gift, he thought, not thinking much of it as he laid the polaroid into his nightstand drawer.

It doesn’t take more than a couple of days for him to find a new set of polaroids, slipped under the crack of his door while he was on a mission. With a huff, Miles set his gear down to pick them up from the floor. He might not have realized back then, but he was actually pleased to find not just one, but three polaroids this time.

Surprisingly, there was something written on them this time. A fine line of red ink, reminds him of your tattoo. Handwritten in cursive, with a small heart at the end of the sentence, like a love letter directed to him, stood, "to Colonel Miles Quaritch."

As if someone was trying to make it clear that those were meant for him. That the last time wasn’t just an accident or made by a perverted voyeur that gets off from sliding naughty little photos of herself under random peoples doors. No, they were made entirely for him.

If the first one he received was already a sight to see, the ones he was holding in his hands right now were straight up mouth watering.

Quaritch couldn’t help it.

He was still a man after all and it’s been one hell of a long time since he had last touched a woman. A life time, you could say. So even though his own bodies reaction to stirring alive at the sight of your photos took him by surprise, it wasn’t actually that surprising after all. Because how could he not grow hard at the sight of that faceless woman with the cherry tattoo, sprawled out on her bed, messy satin sheets underneath her picture perfect body, legs spread wide and angled so he could get a good view of her glistening folds.

The first polaroid he had received was nothing more than a little tease, meant to get him intrigued, maybe even rile him up and make him want to longe for more. But these, these photos were straight up pornographic.

The second one is enough to make Miles sit down on his bed and rearrange his pants, as they had suddenly grown suffocatingly tight around his crotch. In that one, you were bend over what looked like the edge of your bed, spine arched just the way he liked and with your thighs spread to make room for your hand that had two delicate fingers buried to the knuckle inside of you.

"Fuck…", Miles chuckled lowly. What a pretty pussy, he thought, as he started to palm his cock through his cargos.

He held the polaroid just a little closer to his face to catch all the details. How your walls seemed to clamp down on your fingers, spread wide to swallow them whole. God, what he would give to hold your legs open and watch your tight pussy struggle to take him down to the base.

He groaned at the thought, as his hands found the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling them down enough to free his hard cock. Throbbing painfully in his palm, he begins to move his hand up and down, stroking lazily as his eyes scanned over the polaroid like he was studying a fine piece of art.

Miles imagined how your voice would sound like. How cries would tumble from your lips, his name like a mantra as he fucked you until your entire body would tremble, unable to bear how good he was making you feel. The loose fist he’d made around his cock grew tighter, as his steady pace became a touch less steady, his body growing desperate for more friction than his lazy drag had allowed.

Miles stroked over his shaft, squeezing the blue tip of his cock just right, forcing the very first droplets of pre-cum to form and spill over his knuckles.

His eyes traveled over to the next photo, the same lithe body, biting his lower lip as his gaze settled on the way you were squeezing your soft breasts together for the shot, fingers teasing your perky nipples. A sight that would only be better if there was a cock, his cock, in between them.

While the pre-cum that leaked from his tip did serve to smooth the dry tug, it wasn’t enough to keep up with his pace, so he spat into his hand, the glide easier now, and the filthy sounds made his head spin. He could almost feel your pussy clamping down, tight and hot, around him. If he closed his eyes, it was like you were really here.

But Quaritch rather kept them open, half lidded at least, just to keep staring at those filthy little pictures, like a pathetic sailor looking at pinup posters taped on his bunk bed.

Soon, he was actually fucking into his hand, faster now, as he imagined exactly how you would take him. Perhaps you’d look best, sitting prettily on his lap. Riding him, rolling your soft hips while he gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, lifting you up only to slam you down on his cock. Wrenching cries from those spit-glossed lips, skin shiny with sweat and a lustful gaze through thick lashes.

Spurting his thick, warm cum into his fist definitely didn’t feel as good as pumping you full with it would, he determined that day.

Cherry, Miles named the mysterious woman of his late fantasies. Because no matter the pose, you always managed to leave your face out of your photos. Instead, you sneaked your fruity little tattoo on every single one of your shots. Like a trademark, as if he could somehow recognize you like this.

Ever since then, the days Miles received cherry's little gifts had piled up quite a bit. So much so, that the Colonel couldn’t even deny anymore, that he even grew a tad excited about coming back home from his missions just to find a new set of naughty little polaroids on the floor right behind the door.

And even when he wasn’t specifically looking at your photos, he sometimes caught himself thinking about you. With so much shit going on in his life, it was nice to have a little something to let his mind drift off to.

His sweet little cherry, for example.

Miles washes himself mechanically. Shampoo, rinse. Conditioner, soap, lathered across his blue skin. Sliding over his board chest, balancing on the cliffs of his hips, dripping down to where his cock hangs hot and heavy, tingling under the pelting water as if they were an angel's kisses. Pecking, spreading on his skin. Drowning him in drowsy heat as he slips rough fingers through his short hair.

He washes away all the grime, sweat and dirt that had clung to his body after spending most of his day in the sultry heat of pandoras jungle. Looking down at his palms, as he rinses them under the spray of hot water, he thinks about your latest polaroid, from two days ago. It was a shot of you, standing in the shower, too.

The camera was set somewhere behind you. Both of your hands against the tiled walls, you stood entirely on your tip toes, back arched and chest pushed against the wall to give him a good view of your backside. You really had a delicious looking, peachy butt. Especially delicious, if said butt was covered in soap.

Placing a hand against the wall to steady himself, Miles other hand traveled down over his toned stomach, until he reached his cock, that was now standing proud and tall, his tip an angry color of purple, as pre-cum already oozed from its slit.

There used to be times when it was a lot harder to rile him up like that, he thought with a scoff. You made him feel like he was a teenager once again. Back in his old room, on his parents farm, where he had just discovered his old man's playboy magazine. When his body was pumped full and overflowing of hormones and testosterone that desperately searched for a way out. Or when he was in college, bending over every pretty girl that willingly got into his old mustang and spread her legs for him in the backseat.

Miles thought he’d grown up since then. That he had better impulse control now. Had his fair share of women so that things like seeing one naked wouldn’t immediately get him this hard. Hell, he was a completely different man now, he has responsibilities, a team to lead, a whole damn planet to colonize.

But as he furiously pumped his cock, lubed with pre-cum and body wash, he thought that maybe he was just acting like some horny teenager because it’s been an awful while since he had last buried his cock into a wet little hole. Or maybe it’s something about those damn Na‘vi and their fucked up dna that was used to clone him. Maybe they’re so hormone driven and that’s why he has those borderline animalistic urges to fuck that faceless woman into the mattress of his bed, any bed.

Or maybe it’s just because of you. Because cherry looks just so perfectly edible, so bite sized and delicious. A pretty little thing made for him. Needy enough to send him those downright pornographic polaroids, because you were thinking about him, thinking about him stuffing his cock so deep into your pussy that you could taste him on your tongue.

Miles exhaled a shaky breath, hips stuttering to fuck into his fist at a faster pace as he continued to recreate the last photo he had seen of you in front of his minds eye.

The second polaroid of your previous set showed you in a squatting position, legs spread wide, while the water of the shower was running down over your curves, over your tattoo and pubic bone to dribble onto the white-tiled bathroom floor. Quaritch swallowed thickly, tongue lapping over his pointy canine as he imagined to dive head first between your thighs to get a good taste of you. Fuck, he bets you would taste so damn delicious, truly living up to your little nickname.

In this shot, your own hand was wrapped around your throat, almost as if you were taunting him.

I wish that was your hand instead.

"Jesus, cherry", Miles groaned in a hushed whisper, "Bet you’d love my hand around your throat. Filthy little slut."

His eyes squeezed shut even tighter as he imagined you in this exact position, squatting in front of him in the shower, your hands on his thighs as he fucked your throat, until your voice was raw and hoarse.

Unfortunately, in this moment there was no one to swallow his thick load of cum, but the tiled wall of his shower and the drain after the water had washed it down.

In his youth, and even sometimes in his years as an adult, the morning after was often filled with an emotion that his current self didn’t even possess anymore. Shame, sometimes even guilt. He took what he desired, made a pretty girl see stars and then ditched before the first ray of sun could even shine through the ugly smog that was once a white cloud in the sky –before the humans fucked up.

But ever since his sweet Cherry had bought him her little gifts and once in a while gave Quaritch a way to release all of his pent of frustration, he was in a surprisingly good mood. Not that good, of course, because Quaritch wouldn’t be Quaritch if he was running around like a brainless bimbo full of sunshine and butterflies. But good enough that he didn’t immediately growled something along the lines of "watch where the fuck you’re going" or something like that, when a small body bumped into him in the hallway.

Yesterday nights shower activities left him in a good enough mood, that all he did was scrunch his nose and scoff at the pathetic sight in front of him.

White lab coat, black pencil skirt, blouse and clipboard in a tight death grip, clasped over her chest like she thought he would snatch it from her, stood one of those scientists that were running around all over bridgehead like little ants.

Looking all the way down at you, Miles realized that you must’ve dropped a few of your books and other paperwork when you accidentally ran into him, as they were scattered across the floor all around you.

There was a long moment of painful silence, as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Eyes, that were filled with something that looked like panic to him, like a deer caught in headlights and you blushed, blushed so much that your whole face turned red. Oh god, Quaritch thinks to himself, she’s one of those kind of lab coats. Those nerds that never see the sunlight because they’re always cramped into their little labs, studying whatever fucking plants and stuff they could get their hands on, like it’s their only purpose in life. One of those nerds that he made fun of when he was still in college, virgins he’d call them, because that’s what they were. So smart, yet too stupid to socialize and actually get their hands on another human.

You, too, looked like a virgin to him. Albeit a little too pretty to be compared to the other scientist freaks he had crossed ways with so far. Less like a sun starved vampire, with dark circles under their eyes and greasy hair that made him wonder if they even had showers down at the labs. No, you looked more like those kind of girls you’d see in those weird roleplay porn movies, dressed down to make them look nerdier, as if they were someone completely different outside of work, wearing those fake glasses that weren’t actually needed for anything other than the sheer purpose of covering them in cu—

"Oh god, I’m s-so sorry, Sir!" You finally snatched out of your trance when he crooked a brow at you, hastily hurrying to fall to your knees and collect the papers that were littered across the floor like confetti.

With an amused huff, Miles was about to turn on his heels and continue his way to meet General Ardmore at the corporate hq, when his gaze flicks to a tiny, square piece of paper on the floor. The sheer horror on your face, when he crouched down to pick it up, was actually quiet an amusing sight to him.

"Well, well. Look what we have here." Quaritch chuckles as he flips the paper over, that in fact turned out to be a polaroid, just as he assumed. It reveals the picture perfect shot of a body, with a small tattoo he’s grown very familiar with.

"If that ain’t my sweet little cherry…"

#colonel miles quaritch #avatar miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #colonel quaritch x reader smut #avatar quaritch #atwow quaritch #recom quaritch #quaritch x reader #james cameron avatar #Avatar #Avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #recom miles quaritch

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reverieaa · 1 year

Text

A change of clothes.

Man's biggest misconception is believing that manifestation is physical, that it's your job to make sure those manifestations show up.

If they don't, you're told to persist, think about it more, affirm robotically, try harder, and as a result, you end up walking in a trap of repeating and failing that many of us were victim of.

Then you tell yourself you're probably imaging it wrong, you're not affirming enough or maybe you're just not enough for your desires.

But this is NOT what loa is, not what Nevielle was teaching and not what Edward art is explaining.

When we say assume that you have your desire, we're talking about the 4d. It's only in your inner world where you can make things happen.

The law isn't about changing uour surroundings, it's about changing you because that's all there is.

I mentioned in my previous post that when I admitted to myself that I can't manifest, I felt this freedom within me, that's because I stopped forcing myself and stopped trying to find a way to make things happen.

Many of us keep the 3d alive because we're looking for an answer, but what you need to realize is thag you can't, you as the outer man, can't make a brand new face, you can't fly and you can't make things show up out of thin air.

But in your imagination you can do all of these things can't you? You can change your face, you can fly as high as you want, you can manifest in 5 sec, you can go to sleep jn New York and wake up in Paris.

That is the inner man, that is who you are, and that means you've been manifesting successfully this entire time.

The problem is not how vivildy you imagine, how much emotion you put into it, how much you affirm, it's what you pay attention to and feel to be the truth.

When people say they get results in 5sec, they do in the inner world, assumption can only live in the inner world, that's the only responsibility.

With me saying that you can't do something in this community, you'd believe it's a lie because loa bloggers always tell you there's nothing you can't do.

But you need to accept that yhe outer man is powerless, you as the outer man can do nothing, unlike the inner man.

By doing this, you let go of the 3D because the the outer man stops looking, don't tire him and leave him be.

All you can do is accept or let go.

When you wear something you don't like and you want to change, do you change your clothes to change your reflection or do you change it to change yourself?

Start with gentle reminders throughout your day that you're free to imagine what you wish, that there is no one else but you and that what you seek is never the actual object of your desires, but the feeling of it's truthfulness, it's reality.

Many of you have terrible 3D circumstances. This does not mean you ignore your 3D but you do not react to it. Just like Edward art said, you must learn how to go on about your daily life as an observer not a reactor.

Let me ask you this, you can imagine what you want and live as you want jn your mind, and sometimes you get negative or intrusive thoughts right? And what do you normally do when you have a thought like that? You notice it and let it go the next sec right? You've observed it but you didn't occupy it, you just thought of it as a stupid thought.

Why is your 3D different from that? It's not. You notice bad things in your reality all the time, but that does not mean that you occupy ot right?

Prioritize your 4D over the 3D. It takes time when you've lived your life being taught the opposite all the time, but it can surely happen.

This way, even if you spiral, you can get back up easily because you've learned that since your reality, beating yourself up when you're down is exactly what life will show back to you.

I remember reading a certain post from @aphroditeapprenticee that I related to a lot. They said that they thought once they mastered loa they would feel like the baddest bitch in the universe but now they ende dup feeling at peace, calm and in control.

I definitely feel the same way. I thought I'd feel powerful and like no one could touch me. I tried to force that on myself, but obviously, it didn't work. Instead, through the right understanding of loa, I ended up feeling right. I don't know how to explain it, but there was this sense of euphoria in the back of my mind like everything now was alright. I felt a sense of security and treated myself with a kind of gentleness I never received before.

That is because I gave myself permission and stopped a strict mental diet of checking every thought, affirming mindlesslly like a parrot ( as nevielle would put it) and blaming myself for the 3d.

Now reading about loa does not feel like work, I get excited to read loa posts from certain bloggers that helped me understand Neville's teachings.

So, to recap this post:

your only power and responsibility you have and can have is you. There is nothing you need to change or can change, but the conception of yourself. You can only accept or deny, only feel or observe.

The way you leave the 3d alone is by leaving the outer man alone. Let him be, and don't make him go around looking for something he is too limited to see.

If you're spiraling because of it, you're either using the 3D self go look or you're using imagination to change your circumstances.

Loa isn't just a tool you use and leave once you get what you want. It's a journey that requires the death of your limited self, your previous beliefs, and the bravery to face yourself.

#loa #law of assumption #loa affirmations #affirmations #affirm and persist #neville goddard #manifesting #manifestation #void state #loa methods

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zuureleena · 8 months

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i now present to you!!! NOCOVEMBER 2023

i decided to give you guys two options for each week this year and i wanted them to correlate to one another in some shape or form + an extra month to work on it!

the rules are simple!

⋆ use #NocoVember2023 and tag me when you post your art/story (i wanna see it so badly u guys 🥲🫶)

⋆ comment/reblog saying that you'll be joining and tag 3 people who you think might be interested (it is totally okay to still be unsure and not participate in the end okayyy :D)

⋆ you can pick one theme, both, or mash them together for each week! the choice is yours, and you don't even have to do all of 'em

⋆ feel free to post your work at any point in november (or if you want to do it a month earlier or later, it's up to you :0)

⋆ for the angst and older prompt, please don't do anything nsfw related. i'm asking you to not draw/write smut, but if you want to do something gory for the angst prompt, always put a proper warning!

⋆ remember to have fun, never hesitate to ask me questions, and don't feel pressured to join <3

each prompt is explained under the cut

Week 1 - Sun & Moon / Cat & Dog

these can either be taken literally (as in you make them into for eg; noah, a black cat, and cody, a golden retriever) or metaphorically (noah has moon energy so you include things that symbolize that, and same goes for cody with his sun energy)

Week 2 - Monsters / Angst

you can turn them both or one of them into (a) monster(s)! this could be tethered to the angst genre or you could make a completely different angsty scenario between the two of them

Week 3 - Older / Childhood Friends

they can either be in university, full-grown adults, or heck! even elderly men 😭 so how do they look now? what's changed in their lives and in their relationship? do they still keep in touch or have they strayed away from each other? who knows! it's all up to you

as for childhood friends? they could be toddlers like on dramarama, maybe prepebusecent teens? just make sure they are younger than they are on the show (aka 16)

Week 4 - Canon Divergence / Reality TV Duo

i wanna see you put these two nerds in a completely different reality tv genre! it could be a cooking competition, something like wipeout or love island, a quizz show! anything as long as it isn't total drama.

unless,,, you do want them to be a duo in TD then you could make a canon divergence situation where these two are the ones participating in ridonculous race, or write/draw them in a scenario that's based off any scene in total drama (one that either has them or has nothing to do with them whatsoever) and twist it in a way that makes Noah and Cody's relationship the main focus

PLEASE GO ABSOLUTELY WILD WITH YOUR CREATIVITY!!! I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE IT :D

#td #tdi #td noah #td cody #noco #noah x cody #cody x noah #td noco #total drama #total drama island #nocovember #nocovember2023 #art challenge #art prompt #fic prompt #writing prompt #total drama noah #total drama cody

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nailisaa · 4 months

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love transforms

(announcement at the end)

fear was the cause of most of my problems. now that i've discovered this as the root, its a lot easier to deal with now. i can imagine some of you do as well which is why i wanted to share this. part 3 of edwards's series is truly incredible, we don't speak of it enough despite some of us truly needing it right now. you and your feelings are valid, but because no one deserves to live in fear ever, we should know how to manage it.

THROUGH LOVE.

i know. this may not make sense at first. most people would just say "flip the thoughts" or do something to regain control. but truthfully there is no reason flip fearful thoughts first. you are much greater than them... and more importantly: that isn't the root.

if the root is fear, remove the feeling of fear entirely by first taking responsibility for what you're conscious of being. i understand that most struggle to, but if you can acknowledge the harm this cycle has done, you can also break it by ALLOWING yourself to experience lovelier thoughts instead. meaning, that if you've created fearful thoughts that means it HAS NO POWER ON ITS OWN. NONE. this should be the best news, to realize you are more than your thoughts.

CHOOSE LOVE OVER FEAR.

"Second, when you take responsibility for that fearful thought as your creation, ask yourself this simple question, 'What is it that I would LOVE to think?' From here as the Creator, you can start to go towards LOVE. LOVE is the most powerful 'thing' if you will, within you. Why? Because it never fails to TRANSFORM 'SELF.' Fear can stagnant, but LOVE TRANSFORMS. Why is this important? Remember the reason we are doing this. We are NOT trying to manipulate reality or force some change upon this physical world That will happen NATURALLY. Why? Because your world is REFLECTING SELF. Since it is reflecting 'SELF,' then how can we transform 'SELF' in the most efficient and best way possible? Through LOVE. By actually going within our minds and doing what we LOVE, having what we LOVE. This changes us at our very core. From this new feeling of freedom and love, you will find it incredibly easy to think what you want. You will even find it harder to feel fear. This ease and love starts to become your natural State. People will start treating you in a better way. You won't even have to imagine every little thing going your way, it just will. Things you wanted months ago, start appearing in your world. Things that bothered you deeply, literally has no effect on you anymore. Why? Because you are no longer DESIRING, no longer FEARING. You are living in FULFILLMENT. Fulfillment in Love. You are actually living what you LOVE within, and this love expresses itself without. To reiterate, when you are doing these meditations, and you get the 'resistance' which is just fear, remember the words of Neville: 'To repent to simply man's ability to entertain the nature of the opposite." Can you entertain the opposite of the nature of fear? Can you entertain Love? Is that not what you want?" - Edward Art

end.

IMPORTANT: this is my last post before i go on break. i am not sure when i will be back, but it definitely won't be for too long?

before i go, i wanted to share some advice. everyone interprets things differently, which is why reading directly from source is probably one of the best things you can do in your journey. (it is very easy to find misinfo on any app.) when i say this i don't mean skim through the whole thing, no. but read it slowly. you don't have to finish these books all in one day (i am saying this because i tried that once, and that was not it y'all😭💀). do it at a pace where you will be able to grasp what is being said. if you don't understand something, read the sentence or previous paragraphs again and you'll usually find the answer on your own. you may find new pieces to the puzzle if you just took the time, or even sat with yourself in silence (you may even come to new realizations, not from teachers but from you). there is no rush, seriously.

now anyway, about my break, my goal is to come back having read other authors and books, to share with you guys, and hopefully return with a new and stronger perspective on consciousness/awareness. recently i have been feeling as if something within me is missing, despite me knowing what i do. about Self. maybe it is time to explore what that is. i'll still be active on tumblr, but i'm not posting and my inbox will be closed. and i won't be answering dms about loa advice. i wish you all the best, truly. and i love u all, bye!

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lycheedr3ams · 10 months

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Death's Angel

Part 5: When No One is Watching

royal!fem!reader x executioner!konig

Summary: It's 1554. You're one of the eight daughters of the Austrian royal family, and your parents do everything they can to ensure their kingdom is prosperous and peaceful. No royal court is complete without their hand-picked executioner, one who stands out against the sea of black, faceless bodies that make up the profession. It just so happens that your family's new executioner, one who has made a name for himself far and wide for his skill with the axe, has caught your eye and ruined you for good.

Warnings: MDNI! smut, mutual pining, forbidden love, death (konig is an executioner duh), mean sisters, mentions of medieval-type violence, overbearing parents, konig is brooding and a perv, some predator/prey dynamics, possessive!konig, maybe dark themes bc reader likes seeing him kill people and bc he's a perv?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 6

if you asked to be tagged on the taglist and you aren't there, that means tumblr wasn't letting me tag you, or i missed you on an older post. i'm not ignoring anyone! i'm very grateful for the support!!!

.......

series inspired by the art below!

your first sexual encounter with konig truly spelled the end for you as a well-to-do, behaved princess. when people were watching - your sisters, parents, family members - you were sure to act your civilized, royal self. you kept up with your studies and your duties in the royal court when in the public eye. to everyone, it seemed as though nothing had changed: you were the same girl that you were before konig entered the castle. you still curtsied exactly like how you were taught, you still covered your mouth when you chewed food, you still were educated and prim and proper.

but when no one was looking? when every living soul in the castle was asleep at night? that was a different story. you would - almost nightly - sneak down to konig's quarters and let him have his way with you time and time and time again. whether it was his cock shoved down your throat, his tongue slurping on your cunt, or his cock pounding you from every position imaginable, the princess you once were was long forgotten. konig never took the mask off, but you didn't mind. you once admitted to him in the midst of a rough session that the mask really turned you on.

there were even some nights that you'd have to stay in his room with him. nights when he fucked you so hard for so long that you would fall upon standing, or you'd simply pass out once he finally pulled out of your irresistible pussy. on those nights, he'd hold you close and gently caress your head and whisper things to you that you had no hope of remembering. all you knew was that he only spoke those words when it was clear you wouldn't remember them. on nights like these, when you had to stay in his quarters, he would wake you up very early to give you time to sneak back to your room and bathe before you had to don the royal facade.

there were some nights when konig would come all over your body, when it would cover your tits and ass and stomach and sometimes face. you quickly ran out of spare cloths, and had to sneak some more down each time you went. as for the cloths that got ruined, well, you had no choice but to burn them. there was no way they would ever truly be clean again. just like you, in a way.

when you would see konig outside of his room, the days you had to watch his executions, you ruined a pair of panties each time you saw him at his trade. the way he grunted and swung his axe had you hot and needy in minutes. there were some days when you couldn't wait until it was night, and konig could barely clean the blood from off his hands before you were pulling him into some spare broom closet for him to fuck you with his large, calloused hand clamped over your mouth. you'd clench around him so tightly when he did that, and he never last long during those specific encounters.

you found that you could barely focus during the day. acting like the pure princess you once were was now a quite tiresome task, and was not your true self, as you saw it. your true self was when you were on your knees for your executioner, or when his cock was rammed all the way up to your cervix. you couldn't admit it, but konig was right. he did ruin you.

the length of your conversations varied. sometimes, there was barely any words exchanged before he'd strip you bare. but there were also days when you would sneak him down some food from the royal table, and you'd watch him adoringly as he ate and muttered about how good it tasted. he would never tell you, but he loved it when you brought him food.

there were some conversations you had that konig told you to forget. conversations where he talked about how sweet you were, how you were truly an angel.

"you are an angel, you know that?" he whispered one night as you lay catching your breath with your cheek against his chest.

"hm?" you asked, not quite hearing what he said.

"Du bist meine Engel."

despite konig wanting you to forget those words, you never would. when you asked him why he wanted you to forget, he'd whisper things like "you've made me soft." you would always smile at him when he said that, and he would always avert his gaze.

there were times when he felt disgusting and dirty for treating one of the Austrian princesses like she was a whore on sale during happy hour. there were times he lay awake at night and wondered why he was so disgusting, why he loved corrupting a beautiful, sweet, innocent creature such as yourself. but he couldn't ever feel disgusted with himself for too long when he saw the way your eyes would roll into the back of your head, or how you'd moan his name as you clawed his back red. if you were his angel, you had fallen from heaven, but not from any fault of your own. he had dragged you down, and you fell willingly.

you had never felt so free, though. in konig's quarters, surrounded by stone and dim torchlight, you could forget about the social rules and niceties and courtesies that littered your mind each day. you could look konig in the eye, not have to bow, not have to cover your mouth when you laughed or worried if your dress was sitting properly. konig's quarters was the one place in the whole castle where you felt you could be yourself, and more than just sexually. there were some times when you two wouldn't fuck at all. you'd just lay on his bed, and he'd listen as you talked about your day as he ran a hand gently through your hair. he never talked much about himself, but his lips certainly got a bit looser when you snuck your hand under his shirt.

...

"you can talk to me, konig," you whispered in his ear one night as you gently dragged his shirt halfway up his chest and rubbed his abs. "you can trust me." you could tell that something had been bothering him the last few days.

konig pursed his lips under his mask and closed his eyes. you could feel the way his stomach rose and fell with each of his breaths. you kissed what skin you could access on his shoulder before he finally spoke.

"if anyone finds out, they'll take you away from me," he whispered quickly, as if he didn't want you to hear it.

you stopped stroking his abs and sat up a little to look at him. "no one's gonna find out," you soothed him as you gazed into his grey-blue eyes. "don't worry. we've been careful."

"they'll take you away from me," he repeated, gazing at the ceiling now rather than at you.

you kissed his cheek through his mask, and he blushed. but you wouldn't know. "if anyone manages to find out, I'll take care of it. nothing will come between us."

you laid back down and stroked his chest once again. "if we were to, I don't know, run away, where would you take me?"

konig blinked and wasn't sure if he heard your question. he mulled over your words, and hugged you a little tighter into his side. "as far away from here as possible."

"if I wanted to run away with you, you'd come with me, right?" you asked as you looked up at him.

"that's not a good idea," he scolded, but his attempts at setting you straight were feeble given how broken his voice sounded.

"I didn't ask if it's a good idea, konig," you said gently as you snaked your hand up his chest towards his hooded face. "I asked if you would come with me."

"yes." he said without any hesitation.

...

as the next month flew by and you and konig got closer, it got ever harder to hide your relationship with him. you two had never officially declared your status to each other, but konig's affections for you were beginning to be expressed in ways other than him fucking you senseless. if he saw a pretty rock in the stream he washes his clothes in, he'd save it for you. if he found a colorful feather on the ground, a shiny coin, any little trinket, he would give you. most times, he would take your hand in his own and place the gift in your palm before turning his body to the side. "I thought you might want this," he'd whisper uncertainly. you always smiled and thanked him so sweetly for his little gifts. signs he was always thinking of you. you were used to always receiving lavish gifts of jewels and clothing, makeup and rare gadgets. but Konig's gifts of little things he stumbled on throughout the day warmed your heart and meant so much more to you than any other gift you'd ever received. his gifts had a childlike innocence to them, and almost made you forget how he ruined you most nights. those gifts hinted to you that maybe you meant more to konig than you thought.

...

sometimes, you would fantasize with konig about what life would be like if you two ran away.

"what would you do if you weren't an executioner?" you asked him after a rather soft session. he was spooning you and gently rubbing your hips with his thumb. your head rested on his firm bicep.

he thought for a moment. "probably be a knight, or mercenary for hire. i am not fit for normal jobs."

you giggled softly. "yeah, I can see that."

"what about you?" he asked. "what would you want to be if you weren't a princess?"

your whole world stopped, and your eyes went wide. no one had ever asked you that. you were the one living the life that all the little girls in your kingdom dreamed of. what you were every day of your life, is most women's highest fantasies. why would anyone ever ask you if you would want to be anything other than a princess? what else would you possibly want to be? you paused for a while as you thought and chewed your cheek.

"i...i don't know, konig," you admitted quietly. "maybe...just living in a little cottage by the countryside. just enjoying each day, doing what I want. maybe be a village herbalist, have some cows and chickens."

konig gently squeezed your hip. "that sounds very peaceful, Engel."

you went silent, but the warm tears that fell on konig's bicep spoke more than your words ever could. he hugged you tighter and closer to him.

"if you want me to take you away from here, i will. you have my word, Engel."

you sniffled. "you can't do that konig. you have a job here, you can't just mess up your life for me."

"my life was messed up the moment i first looked at you," he said sincerely. rough around the edges, but you knew he meant well. "there's no going back. I don't want to go back. if you want to go, we go."

your head spun. "but how will we pay for everything?"

"do not worry, Engel," he said as he stroked your hair. "i have money saved, and i'm sure you could sneak some of your own on the way out. all will be well."

you held onto his bicep as you cried, and he soothed you as best as he could. you finally managed to stop crying, and now lay tired and limp against him.

"just say when, Engel," he whispered into your hair. "just say when, and we will go."

taglist: @kneelingshadowsalome, @plumdreadful, @dumb-dumb-idiot-girl, @elichisstuff, @konig-breedme, @tr4psta, @cutiecusp, @konigsleftkidney, @local-vampire-s1ut, @ihaveaproblematicbrain, @twice360noscope, @madzeesstuff, @crazy-phan-girl13, @babygirl-panda19, @warrior-of-justice, @eluffi, @mooniesthings, @elowynnlane, @zaxlrza, @red-bed-bug

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bigdorks · 10 months

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closer | hobie brown

A/N: Idk what this is tbh. It's like a mix between a series of hcs and a lil bit of smut. There's like 3 lines of dialogue in the whole fic opps. Warning: smut towards the end so 18+, afab reader, this is kinda cheesy, pls read the tags for more info WC: 1k+

At first, you didn't know what to make of Hobie Brown. He was a tall, formidable presence, so steadfast in his beliefs in a way that wasn't really shared among many of his peers.

Cliche as it is, you'd never met anyone quite like him, despite the many variants of Spidermen that existed across the multiverse that you had come across.

Like the rest, he fought valiantly against the evil within his own Earth, battling fascists and collapsing oppressive corridors of power with his 'Spiderband.' But he did it in his own unique way, true to his punk lifestyle. You remember how hard you'd laughed when he told you about the time he had once rushed a stage at a fashion show in protest.

He never faltered in abiding by what he felt was right. You saw the way he supported those who desperately needed it, even when it diverged from the majority. That Hobie had stood by Miles even when the entire multiverse was against him.

And with that, you couldn't help but to admire Hobie, wanted to be more like him. Be a little more unapologetic and devoted in ways you had not learned of yet.

When Miles got his powers, you resigned yourself to a mere supportive role in the background. But you had always wanted to do so much more. To be more helpful than a quick phone call to the authorities as the computer nerd in the chair. A part of you wanted to prove to yourself that you didn't need superpowers to be a driving, albeit small, force of change. So, you set out to do just that.

Beyond supporting Miles's operations as Spiderman, you found grassroots organizations to involve yourself with. You volunteered at schools as a mentor, supported mutual aid funds in any way you could, and advocated against the local forces that threatened to destroy all of the progress Miles had made as Spiderman.

And maybe you inspired Hobie, too, in your own smaller efforts. Perhaps it was not as great or impactful as the collective heroic actions of the Spider-people, but it was enough to create a small ripple of change within your own community.

There was one time when Hobie had smiled, so proud and excited when you'd told him how you'd teamed up with Miles to raise enough funds to save the local struggling performing arts center.

You could still recall how giddy you felt when his arms pulled you to his chest and held you there, maybe for a beat too long, while his pierced mouth rained you in praise.

As you grew closer to him, talking to him about anything and everything became so easy. Relaxed banter flowed in your conversations with the complement of his dry humor to your sarcastic remarks. You'd become so consumed in each other during your talks that hours would pass by without notice.

Among the lingering touches and steady chatter, the frequent looks of longing that you and Hobie gave to each other were enough to clue the others in on the tangible tension between you. They were gleeful in their sly matchmaking attempts, especially Pavitr, who didn't even try to hide his play at Cupid.

Nonetheless, it wasn't long before you and Hobie fell into a relationship. A relationship that existed beyond labels and social titles. You both just went together. And it was as simple as that. As natural as breathing.

That is not to say it wasn't hard sometimes.

Problems arose from the cosmic distance between you two. Conflicts born out of Hobie's obligations as Spiderman and yours to Miles. And yet it wasn't anything you both couldn't work out. It took a lot of self-humbling and vulnerable communication you hadn't thought yourself capable of, but it was all worth it in the end.

So even though you and Hobie lived on two entirely different Earths, in different planes of reality, you still managed to find a way to be together.

You'd go to his universe and support him when he played packed shows in some underground pub, decked out in a patch-filled leather jacket and spikey accessories you had made with him. You’d drank with his mates and proudly screamed the lyrics of every song until your throat felt raw.

Some days, he'd stop by your apartment, and you'd introduce him to everything that had yet to be made in his own universe, particularly the music.

You watched as he combed through your vinyl collection and picked a new album to listen to, how his wicks moved around when he bobbed his head along to the melodic shouts of Mommy Long Legs, the versatile flows of Bad Brains or even the soothing tones of Sweetback.

And there were days like this when conversations lulled, and desire took over. Days when the history between the two of you felt as ancient as the cosmos, vast and full of eons of memory. Like you'd known Hobie longer than you really had. Every touch was well-practiced and well-placed, brewing ecstasy wherever they landed, as though you both had done this same dance a million times before.

Clothes litter the small space of your living room floor. He lays with you astride his hips and his back to the old cushions of your secondhand couch, which creaks noisily underneath your heavy movements. Kisses are stolen in between pants. Your breaths are shared in the small space that exists before your bodies.

Hobie's hands slide up and down the curves of your body, brushing your thin braids from your face, groping at your chest, guiding your hips to keep a steady pace with him. Your combined moans and the wet sounds from your repeated joining create a heady atmosphere that clouds the expanse of your mind.

You sit up and throw your head back when the pleasure becomes too much. Your braids follow the harsh motion like a whip, but you don't register any pain when they slap against your back, too focused on feeding your ravenous need for release.

Your hands press against his abdomen for leverage, your thighs aching when you bounce on him even faster. As his hard cock continues to bully your insides, your walls start to clench tighter around him, a sign that you're close to crossing the line that separates you from complete delirium.

"You feel so good." His voice strangled in his throat, his hips humping upwards toward yours. "Look at how well you're takin' all of me, love. You're soakin' it."

You look down to see the heat in his gaze as he watches the two of you join again and again. The sticky mess of your fluids wet his dick, spreading further and further across his lower half with each smack of your thighs. It makes you grind down harder, your blood pulse even faster, and your breathing grow heavier as your body reaches a plateau.

But what really pushes you over the edge is when his thumb finds your engorged clit, rubbing a series of smooth circles against the tacky skin. It's exactly enough stimulation to help you fall right into the throes of euphoria.

"S-shit, Hobie!"

Your limbs tense and shake as you groan, a mixture of his name and incoherent praises and begs falling from tender lips. You barely notice Hobie finding his release beneath you, his grunts joining your symphony of noises as his hips stutter to a stop, a warmth blossoming from where he's hilted inside of you.

You take a moment to catch your breath and steady the harsh palpitations of your heart. When Hobie gently pulls out of you, you can feel the slow drip of his cum further wet the damp skin of your thighs and his pelvis.

Like always, he's a master of aftercare, cleaning you both up and then helping you dress in fresh clothes. He carries you to your bed despite you insisting you can walk.

And when he lies down beside you and pulls you to lay on his bare chest, you're content as you think of how deeply he's become a part of your life, a part of you.

"I really love you, y'know." You whisper to him, slowly drifting off to sleep.

He presses smiling lips to your forehead in a kiss and somehow pulls you even closer. "I really love you, too."

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #reader is slightly black coded so #hobie brown x black!reader #& theyre Miles's pal in the chair #kinda irrelavant but listened to corinne bailey rae while writing this hence the title #and hobie would def love her too idc idc idc #emlikes2write

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thirtyknives · 3 months

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Back Up Often, Back Up Local.

Hey kids, it's your local elder millenial coming at you live to remind you that anything on a cloud server or a social media network (including this one) is not to be considered secure. If you have artwork or writing you value, back up often, and back up local. Storage space is cheap, get yourself some USB sticks or an external drive and store that shit, or god forbid, if you're lucky enough to have access to an optical drive every so often burn a disc of archived works. There is no promise that an online server you post to will be there tomorrow. I've just learned that ello shuttered overnight and took down all the artwork stored there. It's no big one to me because I store local, but there's a lot of people who are hurting due to the loss, and I've been there kids. I did heaps of really interesting writing and artwork that I published on servers that don't even exist anymore. Even well maintained, well loved servers reach the end of their lifespan and are switched off, decommissioned, and or compromised. Power outages, natural disaster, the works - keep it in your own hands, and you know exactly where it is and what state it's in.

If you have questionable living arrangements or dangerous people around you that make your art or writing insecure at home, the next best thing is to email to a trusted friend and get them to download and store local.

Storing across multiple platforms is better than nothing, I guess, if you don't have that option - so Google Drive and Protondrive, multiple different email addresses (mail them back and forth) and private posts on networks on which you don't usually publish (Dreamwidth is still going strong and is actively involved in fighting restrictive social media laws - they deserve your attention).

If you write in Google docs, for the love of pterry back it up or post it privately somewhere else once it's done.

No one tells the young people, so I am going to - back up often, and back up local. If you live through your art, keep it in your own hands. Do not trust corporations to keep your shit safe for you, and remember - you can never have too many backups.

#public service announcement #back up often #back up local #old lady learnings #i've been on these tubes for long enough that the tube reference makes sense #I got my first email address in a year with a 19 at the front #I've lost more data than I can possibly describe #back up often back up local

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cowgurrrl · 4 months

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It Ain't Me Babe

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author’s note: A holiday present from me to you ❣️

Summary: Ellie’s first art club meeting [2.8k]

Warnings: creative insecurity, mentions of financial instability, teacher things, Ellie talking about Sarah, more flirty flirt, I think that’s it??

Nothing has ever been as annoying or guilt-inducing as an unfinished piece of art. Sure, every artist— no matter the medium— has felt like an uncreative, unoriginal hack, but it still feels just as new as it did the first time. Moonlight streams through your window as you glare at the canvas, hoping for an idea or stroke of genius. It's late. You should be in bed, especially since it's a Sunday night and you spent your weekend working at the bar down the street. But you're holding a paintbrush between stained fingers and praying for a miracle. It's been eight months since you last sold a piece for a whopping $200, chump change when it comes to living in Austin these days. Even with two jobs and doing commission work, you're living paycheck to paycheck. Maybe that's why it's so hard to create? That has to be the reason. You don't remember it being this hard when you were younger.

Creating art was the only thing that brought you solace during your teenage years. It didn't matter if it was drawing, pottery, painting, sculpting. All that mattered was that you were doing it and you were good. You won awards, scholarships, and attention. Your art teacher, Ms. Henry, was a godsend. Grey-haired, glasses-wearing, colorful Ms. Henry glided through lessons and projects like it was second nature. She always had pencils in her hair, a mug in her hands, and a kind word on her lips when you entered her classroom. She's the one who pushed you to go to your artsy liberal arts college full of people richer and better than you. Even with her love and support, you struggled and almost dropped out after that first semester.

"There's always someone better," she told you when you ended up crying across from her in a coffee shop. "But there's nobody in the world who can make what you will because there is and never will be another you. I mean, God, what a gift. I'd hate to see you waste it." That sobered you enough to keep going and eventually pursue a teaching certification. Ms. Henry has since retired to the Pacific Northwest with her wife, Mable, and sends you a postcard every once in a while because she believes smartphones will be the downfall of civilization. After so many years in education, you're ready to agree with her.

You sigh, feeling your motivation fluttering away with your breath, and plop your paintbrush down in the cup engraved with the words "DO NOT DRINK" in bold. The canvas doesn't look like much of anything right now— just a mass of colors and shapes that could potentially pass as an abstract version of a landscape. It looks like the other painting you left at the school to work on when you have time. And the painting before that. And the one before that. You curse at exactly the same time your phone buzzes with a text.

You awake?

You don't bother responding and go straight to FaceTiming her. She picks up on the second ring, her beautiful, round face greeting you with a smile. You met Andie during high school, and her effortlessly cool attitude and bulky violin kit quickly became a part of your heart. You two were inseparable all four years of high school, dividing your time between rehearsals and time spent in the studio, but college took you to art school and her to a prestigious orchestra program in Vienna. She's been there ever since graduation, playing for diplomats and royals alike, but she comes home for holidays, and you've been trying to save money to go see her. Being so far from her is hard, but you make it work.

"Why are you awake?" You ask by way of a greeting, more than accustomed to your seven-hour time difference and her early riser habits. She laughs, and you hear a tea kettle whistle in the background.

"Well, hello to you, too," she says. "I have rehearsals all day today, so I got an early start. Why are you awake?"

"I'm staring at my waking nightmare."

"Oh, God, are you having another spiral?"

"I'm a hack."

"You're an artist."

"I got rejected again this weekend," you say as if to prove your point, and she sucks her teeth. "They said my art didn't fit their vision for their exhibition, but to feel free and submit another time."

"Well, they must not know great art when they see it. There will be another exhibition and another chance for you to show off your amazing skills. And when you get accepted, which I know you will, I'll fly in, and we'll drink fancy champagne and talk shit the entire opening night." She says, and you sigh. Her persistent optimism is one of the things you love about her, but sometimes, all you want to do is sulk.

"Or I could fly to you when your first composition gets performed, and we could do all those things in Austria instead of this shithole."

"Hey, some of us like that shithole."

"Some of us haven't lived in the shithole in ten years."

"Touche," she concedes. "But I'm serious about what I said. You're a good artist, just going through a little bump in the road. One day, we'll be really sexy and successful, and we'll look back at this and laugh with our rich spouses while drinking expensive wine."

"One day," you say, smiling. "How are rehearsals going?" She groans at the question, and you laugh. Whenever you talk to her, she's working on a new show or with a new conductor and always has something to say. There are many things you could call your best friend, but lazy is not one of them.

"I feel like we're stuck on this one part, but the conductor won't listen to me. He says he knows better than I do, which might be true, but also, if he just listened to me, then we can move on. I don't know. I'm sure if I poke him enough, he'll have to listen to me."

"Sounds reasonable."

"That's what I'm saying," she says as she shuffles her coffee mug and breakfast to her dining room table before checking the time. "It's midnight there. Don't you have school tomorrow?" She asks, and you sigh.

"And an early morning staff meeting and art club after school."

"Sometimes, I worry about your mental health." She says, and you laugh a little too deliriously to prove her wrong. You stay up talking with her for a while before finally getting hit with a wave of fatigue and crashing into bed.

The next day is not any less hectic than your weekend was. The staff meeting early in the morning is mind-numbing and completely unnecessary. The printer in the teacher's lounge breaks halfway through a heavy-duty print job, and you're left scrambling for new activities and lessons. Not only that, but your students were more out of control than usual, prompting a veteran teacher to come in and scold your class on your behalf. It would be kind if it didn't make you feel two inches tall and your students didn't look at you like you betrayed them. You spend your planning period indulging in the silence of your empty classroom and fighting off a migraine.

The second the final bell sounds, your art club kids are knocking down your door, more than ready to work on their projects for the winter showcase. The winter showcase is hosted by a local art gallery that opens for submissions from students every fall. If a student's work is taken, it gets shown in the gallery, and they get entered into a prize to win money and a chance to paint a mural downtown. It's a big deal. So far, you haven't had a student win first place, but you've had them get very close. You always assure them you're proud of them no matter what, which is especially true when Ellie slinks into your classroom with a shy smile.

"Hey! We're just setting up supplies to work on stuff for the showcase. Do you have something to work on?" You ask, gesturing to the students working around the room in a buzz.

"I think so. Are you gonna play music?"

"Who do you think I am?" You make a face, and she laughs. "Why don't you find a spot and get comfortable while I queue up a playlist?" She hesitates for a second before she takes a deep breath and musters up the courage to approach another student to ask if she can sit with them. They start chatting easily, and her shoulders relax as she gets more and more comfortable with all the new people. You put on a random playlist and move around the room to answer any questions about colors or give an opinion when asked for one. Over the course of an hour, Ellie makes her own little group of friends, and they all talk as if they've known each other forever as they work. She seems so in her own element, and you can't fight the pride beaming in your chest. Okay, so maybe your job can be pretty cool sometimes. Not fame and fortune cool or traveling overseas cool, but cool nevertheless.

Students gradually start packing up their things and leaving when they get texts from impatient parents in the parking lot or close to dinner time, but Ellie stays behind, bobbing her head to a beat or bouncing her knee under the table. She's the only one left in the classroom when you start packing your stuff and preparing the room for the next day. "You've got a ride home, honey?" You ask, and she glances nervously between you and her phone.

"Yeah. My dad should be here soon." She says.

"Alright, well, I've gotta lock up here, but I'll wait outside with you until he gets here."

"Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It'd make me feel better knowing you weren't left behind. Plus, I'm the adult responsible for you until he picks you up, so it's kinda illegal for me to just leave you here." You say, and she looks hesitant again but nods. Together, you walk out of the classroom and through the empty hallways until you get out to the scorching September afternoon. You stand outside in silence for a few seconds, taking in the sunset, before you turn to look at her.

"How'd you like the club?" You ask.

"It was fun! I met lots of cool people."

"I told you, kid. You just needed to give it a chance."

"I know, I know," she rolls her eyes, and you smile. "Thank you for pushing me to go. I don't think I would've gone without you." She's so genuine and kind in her tone that it throws you off-kilter. You're used to being berated by students, staff, and parents. To be told you actually had an impact on someone is not commonplace, to say the least.

"I'm sure you would've found your way there without me."

"Maybe, but you helped me get there a lot sooner than I would've on my own." She says, and you take a deep breath. It feels nice to be acknowledged, especially after the day you've had, and Ellie seems to sense it. You're looking for something to say when she looks down at her shoes and kicks a stray rock. "Just take the compliment and move on. Don't make it a thing."

"Alright." You say, laughing, and she cracks a smile, too. Traffic will be horrible on the way home, and you have nothing to eat for dinner, but it's okay. You did one good thing today. That's all you need.

"Sorry, my dad is taking so long." She changes the subject, a touch of anxiety creeping in, and you shake your head.

"Does he always work late?" You ask, and she shrugs.

"Sometimes. Dad and Uncle Tommy have been picking up jobs to send money to my sister in Boston. "

"What's in Boston for your sister?"

"Medical school. She's about to go into her internship at a hospital there."

"That's a big deal." You say, and she hums.

"Yeah. She'll probably save the world or something one day." There's a hint of something nostalgic in her voice, and you decide to push just a little.

"Do you miss her?"

"A lot," she says. "She's my best friend."

"She's lucky to have you." You say. She smiles but doesn't say anything. You want to ask more about her family, but a rickety, greenish pickup truck comes rumbling through the parking lot before you can. Ellie shifts her backpack on her shoulder as her dad and uncle come into view, and you smile at them. Joel, however, looks frantic.

He's unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the driver's side door before the car can even finish moving. There's dirt on his pants and a little bit of a sunburn across his arms, the muscles straining across the black fabric. He politely pulls the ball cap off his head to reveal sweaty curls as he approaches you, jerking his head toward the truck at Ellie. "Why don't you wait in the truck with Uncle Tommy? He's got a snack for you." He says, and Ellie lights up at the mention of food. When you're alone, he tucks his hands in his pockets and gives you an apologetic look.

"'M so sorry. We got caught up at work and lost track of time. It won't happen again." He says, wringing his hands like he's waiting to be scolded, but you wave him off.

"It's okay. Things happen, and I'm just glad she's got someone picking her up." You say.

"How'd she do today?"

"Really good. I think she fits right in."

"She make some friends?"

"I can't give away all my secrets. What else are y'all gonna talk about at the dinner table?" You tease.

"I guess that's right," he says as he stares at you, a muscle in his jaw jumping. "Thanks for waitin' with her."

"It was my pleasure." You say. You stand awkwardly for a few seconds, rocking back and forth on your feet. His eyes are locked in yours, and there's a silent competition to see who's gonna blink first. "Well, I should let you get home. Have a good night."

"Uh," he starts, stopping you before you can even fully take a step. "I wanted to apologize for the other night. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"You didn't make me uncomfortable," you say a little too quickly, and he smirks. "I was very flattered. Besides, it's not the first time."

"Beautiful woman like you, I'm sure you've got 'em linin' the block for a chance with you." He says. You're dancing a delicate dance here. You're not not flirting, and you're not not interested in him, but if your principal finds out, it could cause a whole new world of problems. Still, it's nice to be wanted after so long of being on your own. You're not a saint, but you're also not doing anything inherently wrong, right?

"The teacher thing usually freaks 'em out before they can get very far."

"That's a damn shame." He's quick with it, and you have to resist the urge to roll your eyes at the line. A buzz in your bag reminds you of the time and why you're still at school, and you find your footing again.

"Uh, I usually give out my contact information to the parents of my art club kids in case they need anything or need to contact me quickly. Since Ellie's an official part of that, I figured I should give you my phone number in case anything comes up. If that's alright?" You say, and he pulls his cracked phone from his back pocket.

"Yeah, yeah. That's more than alright." He says, handing it to you to punch in your information.

"It's for emergency purposes only."

"What d'you consider an emergency?"

"Mr. Miller-"

"Joel." He corrects, and you give him a look as you pass his phone back.

"Don't abuse it. I'd hate to have to put you in a group chat with all the PTA moms."

"You're evil." He groans, and you laugh. Tommy, leaning over and honking the truck horn, interrupts your conversation, and he shoots daggers through the back window.

"I'll see you next week, Joel." You say, dismissing him, and he hesitates for another second before nodding.

"See you next week." He says and turns on his heels to get back in his truck. You think you vaguely catch Joel scolding Tommy for being impatient, but you ignore his deep voice and the engine sputtering as you walk to your own car with a little more pep in your step than this morning.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (look at how many of you there are!)

#joel miller #the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us x reader #joel tlou #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #the last of us fic #the last of us au #joel the last of us #ellie the last of us #joel au #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #tlou hbo #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction

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bloodynereid · 6 months

Note

Hello!! I am absolutely loving your R&R fic so far!! If you’re taking requests for more Jordan fics could you do one with a genderfluid reader who is so happy to meet another genderqueer character and they’re just so happy together and supportive? Maybe a cute coming out scene? I completely understand if that’s not something you’re comfortable writing though!! Have a nice day <33

Time and Space

pairing: jordan li x reader (sort of platonic)

tw: nothing really? slight mentions of homophobia, mentions of death, swearing - that's it i think

description: it's your first day at campus and something unexpected happens when you're trying to sort out your schedule.

a/n: ok so i'm not genderqueer myself (even if i do have my own gender things going on atm) so i genuinely hope this is written ok and respectfully. pls lmk if it isn't and i will change anything that needs to be changed. this is also more of a drabble than a one-shot but i hope you enjoy <333

You started picking your way through all the other freshmen that were joining God U. Your suitcase hit different little bumps in the path but you kept trying to make your way to your dorm. Your powers would be incredibly helpful right now but you really didn’t want to accidentally kill someone with how busy everything was.

Supposedly you hadn’t gotten a roommate this year since your application was accepted a little later than usual, a shiver travelled through your spine as you remembered that kid had to die just for you to have a place at this school.

Shaking off the remaining anxiety you finally got to the door that was meant to open your dorm. Clutching your hand on the handle and pushing, your room was opened up to you. It was huge. It probably wouldn’t have been as huge if there was another person living with you but holy shit.

You started going through the motions of unpacking your things and changing into much more comfortable clothes. The 4-hour flight had left your clothes itchy and slightly sticky. Smoothing down the leather of your trench coat, you walked back into the fray of students.

You heard a chime from your phone and pulling it out you realized it was your schedule. You hadn’t really decided between Crime Fighting and Performing Arts but your powers dictated that the first one was probably the better option. You had the ability to distort or rather bend space, which wouldn’t really do much if you were doing performing arts. Plus you had the worst stage fright. A little note at the end read that you should go check in with Professor Brink’s TA as soon as possible so you had all the books ready.

Taking a deep breath you put up your hands and a second later you were standing in front of the Crime Fighting school. Your face twisted into a smirk as some people ducked away from your sudden appearance before you closed your eyes again and transported. This time you appeared in the little entry room outside of Brink’s office.

Sitting at the desk was the person you assumed was Professor Brink’s TA. They had short black hair and she was wearing a long sleeve shirt. They must not have realized you had arrived in the little space because she was still typing away at her computer.

“Uh hi?” You said, breaking the complete silence of the room. The person jumped and looked up at you with a frown.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh right, yes. My schedule said I should come check with you about Professor Brink’s class.”

“Hmm let me see that. I’m Jordan by the way.”

“Y/N. Wait… you’re Jordan Li?” Your mouth dropped, this was the person who had literally made you confident enough to actually come out to your parents. They were like the coolest person ever.

“Yes…” Jordan said tentatively as they looked up at you.

“Sorry, I just had a minor freak out. Holy shit, you’re just- you are a fucking inspiration is all.” You stuttered out, the obvious star struck look on your face had Jordan slightly chuckling.

“I don’t get that a lot but thanks. Oh ok yes, Y/N L/N… oh what pronouns do you prefer today?” Jordan asked as a brilliant smile crossed their face.

“Uh just they/them, I think today? It’s subject to change though.” You said as you laughed slightly.

“Totally understand that, it’s fucking awesome isn’t it? Also your powers sound incredible. How much control do you have over them?” Jordan asked hurriedly as she stood up and motioned you to sit over at the couch.

“Enough, so I’m not exactly at an expert level but I’m slowly building up to it. Your powers are so fucking cool as well. The way you just have a million different powers is spectacular.”

“Aww thank you, most people don’t look past the whole gender thing so…”

“Honestly fuck them, it’s a huge part of us sure but it’s no different than being like any other human being.” You said as you stretched out your arms and smiled. “Oh shit I totally forgot to ask but what are your pronouns today?”

“Uh they/she but… subject to change.” Jordan said lightly, slightly mocking your words with a smile.

“Oh fuck you.”

You spent the next hour discussing everything and anything, finding people who actually accepted and had similar beliefs to you was hard in recent years. Especially with being a supe as well. Jordan also helped you figure out your schedule and got you some extra books that would help with classes. By the end of the conversation, you felt like you had gained your first real friend at school.

ahhh ok lmk ur thoughts <3 also the reader's powers are called spatial manipulation (this is a link to the superpower wiki page if anyone is interested in reading more about it). also me actually being active wow.

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onyourhyuck · 1 year

Text

Do I Wanna Know? | J.JH

— Prologue: “Maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.”

— Summary: You and Jaehyun both agreed that there will be no feelings involved. But Jung Jaehyun ended up falling for you, and now you’re being distant with him.

— Genre: Friends with benefits > To lovers. Slightly angsty. Artstudent!jaehyun x politicstuddnt!y/n. Romance. Jaehyun is this indie artist student, Y/n is giving Rory from Gilmore.

— Notes: Do I Wanna Know - Artic Monkeys.

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You and Jaehyun both agreed that there will be no feelings involved, this carried on for eight months. You would fool around sometimes before class, sometimes you’re fooling around with him drunk. The whole point of this arrangement was to make sure you both get laid. As an University student you can’t exactly get a relationship and make sure you can be in that relationship while being a future lawyer. You see it’s quite difficult to even begin a forming attachment. Which is why one day in January, you met Jung Jaehyun.

Jung Jaehyun isn’t your typical pretty face. Sure, he’s got the looks and the body. He is devilishly handsome. People often gossip about his rich family in England. The only thing people saw in him were his appearance, his money and his family. Nothing else but you were different to him.

You actually ended up getting to know Jaehyun. Your classes were the opposite but you’ve met on a night out through a mutual friend and ever since then you have been talking whenever you saw each other on campuses. Somehow you’ve never ran into him before but now meeting him on that night out, you keep seeing him everywhere.

You are the opposite to each other. He prefers apple juice and you prefer the classical OJ juice straight out the fridge cold and iced. It somehow amazes you how well you click despite being so different. He hates politics and you love them, he could hear you talk about politics and somehow it makes him interested. But if he heard it on the news or whatever from someone else he’d want to blow his brains out and make sure to never live the day again.

People only saw Jaehyun from what they know on the outside but the outside never amazed you. When you saw how sensitive and precious Jaehyun was you couldn’t help but think he’s pretty cute. Whenever he draws he used his emotions to draw. You can tell he’s very intact with them, you somehow become envious of how much emotion he can create and draw on a blank piece of canvas in a hour.

You can barely put out an emotion just by thinking about it but you suppose it’s because in Politics you’re not meant to lead with emotion you’re meant to be using logic. Which is why your emotions department is looking a bit bleak. Nonetheless Jaehyun’s art had a way of moving your heart.

He admires the way you lead people by protesting outside of the campus. You told him you like protesting for problems that haven’t been spoken out publicly because many corrupted politicians like to gain something out of the work. He would come and see you do your speeches. He would be cheering you. Jaehyun even let you borrow is laptop so you could finish your assessment when yours ran out in middle of your lecture class, so you left to grab a charger from your dorm only to not have it there.

He remembers the day you came inside his art class crying because you were freaking out so much over this assignment and you hated how your laptop shut down suddenly. He literally dragged you to his dormitory just to get you his laptop. You will forever remember how much he cared for you passing your assignments. Even though he was busy needing to finish his portrait exam. He still chose to help you.

The more you two were entangled in each others lives the harder it was to pull away and eventually one day, you both mutually ended up in each others beds. Multiple times for over eight months you were both together agreeing that no sort of feelings will be involved and that this was just for the sake of your hard working subjects.

But the more Jaehyun had a taste of you he couldn’t stop thinking about taking another taste of you, and then his dreams are all about you. He wasn’t sure what you were feeling. In fact he didn’t wanna know what you were feeling because you seemed so in the moment but by the next day you were acting like you weren’t kissing him so passionately like you were in love. Maybe he read into it wrong.

Maybe he was wrong that he could do a friends with benefits with you because he can’t. He failed the first rule which is, don’t fall for you.

You knew something was off about Jaehyun the minute he was kissing you differently one night. You knew something was definitely not right when he moaned your name so softly, as if he were treating you like you were his girlfriend, his lover, with an intention to make love to you. Not to fuck you, but make love to you. You couldn’t handle it and somehow when you questioned it, Jaehyun couldn’t look you in he eyes straight.

You just knew from that moment of silence from your friend that he was no longer just a friend, he was someone who was wanting more.

And you couldn’t handle it. You broke it off that night and since then you and Jaehyun haven’t been as communicative as you were before. You don’t come over to each other’s classes anymore. Your mutual friends don’t see you guys speaking anymore. Your families don’t hear you speak about you and Jaehyun anymore they could only wonder what’s been happening behind the scenes. You and Jaehyun, have stopped being together.

But somehow you still saw each other whenever you guys went. It was like a trick in the matrix to you. You thought if you pull away you’d be free from Jung Jaehyun. But the more you walk away the further he walks forward and somehow you guys meet paths so many times again and again.

You saw him at the bowling centre when you went with a guy friend, Doyoung, from your politics major class.

You saw Jaehyun with your other mutual friend you both share at the bowling centre, with Johnny Suh, and you were both blown away.

What are the chances? None of you had a way of knowing where the other one is so how come you keep on running into each other.

Then your mutual friend Johnny decided it’s a great idea to merge both groups together because apparently, Doyoung and him go back together through high school. Somehow you wanted to disappear from the face of this earth knowing that your friend and Johnny were pretty good senior and junior throughout their high school years which left you and Jaehyun awkwardly confused and wondering what about you two?

It didn’t change the fact that Doyoung and you had a great time together. Smiling and laughing at god knows what. You were speaking to Johnny too, Jaehyun felt jealous with the way Doyoung can casually put his hand around you or tap your shoulder.

It lead him to wondering, ‘Do I Wanna Know if you miss me too?’

‘Do I Wanna if you ever wanna go back to the times when we were together like this too?’

These questions overpopulated his busy mind and you weren’t even aware of it how much he’s been feeling grey and blue without you. He couldn’t draw anything but you and somehow all his professors were worried with the amount of drawings of you were crowding the classroom storage now.

Jaehyun went through so many breaks up which is bizarre to me considering he handled them so well but with you this felt so much worse than a breakup to him and he couldn’t explain it. He couldn’t put a finger on it wondering why and what is making this worse and it’s probably because it’s you. You’re special and he grew attached to you.

When Doyoung and Johnny left you behind to grab popcorn and a few drinks for you guys, it leaves you and Jaehyun sitting next to each other in tense silence wondering when they will come back. It felt like two people waiting for their parents to come and pick them up from school, it felt exactly like that.

You fiddle with your thumbs, pushing away your feelings so you could try and speak to him. “So Johnny wanted to go bowling?” You trail to the boy next to you who had the gloomiest expression ever you couldn’t even imagine what Jaehyun must be feeling.

For you sure, you can handle seeing Jaehyun. But for Jaehyun it felt like two worlds colliding and he doesn’t want them to. It’s making his open wound more wide and open, it’s going to bleed him out if he keeps seeing your beautiful face, hearing your wonderful voice that keeps making his heart all soft and warm. His scars only get more painful when he knows you and him are no longer what you used fo be.

He turns at you somehow his eyes finding the time to look appreciating your eyes finding a wanderlust beauty in them and he couldn’t look away from them. “Mhm, Johnny called me up to go bowling suddenly.” He says biting the bottom lip as he looks away. “And your friend over there? I remember seeing him in your class once.”

“Ah Doyoung? Yeah. He wanted to go bowling suddenly too and we planned to go here.” You nod humming.

You felt your hands become a whole waterfall with the amount of sweat they produce. You and Jaehyun never had an awkward moment before but now it’s just only awkward moments you can’t imagine how hard it must be for the audience watching this, aka your friends, who probably know something is freaking up with you both.

Jaehyun suddenly broke the third wall, letting his emotions carry him throughout his entire existence. “Do you miss me?” ‘Do I Wanna know…’ he trails into his palms thinking hard, if he even wants to know the truth.

You couldn’t lie but the minute he asked you, you were screaming yes instantly. Without a doubt you miss him, of course you do. You were super close and before then you spend the days together for so long. Eight months isn’t a small number of times. You spend a long term time being friends with Jaehyun and halfway through that your bodies were more than friends too.

It’s impossible not to miss Jung Jaehyun. He was a part of you.

“Jaehyun…” You trail stopping yourself. Your heart was beating so fast it’s made you nearly stutter out. Jaehyun faces you seriously and you glance back shortly.

“Of course I miss you. It’s just…” you pause again, holding your teeth to the bridge of your mouth.

“I miss you, a lot Y/n. I cant sleep and eat without you and I don’t know if I’m the only one going crazy here but why can’t you be with me? Has it never crossed your mind?” He softly retorts at you putting all sorts of questions out there he needed answers for, but you yourself didn’t know how to answer them.

What your respond to those were a complete unknown world mystery. You weren’t sure what to do because all you were feeling was blush crawling on your face, you felt your body going into a fighting mode, or maybe those were the butterflies? You weren’t even sure if this was love or if this was your body telling you to run, make a run for it.

“Jaehyun…we are friends. We can’t be anything more than that. You know this from the start.”

Jaehyun knew it from the start but that never stopped him from developing feelings for you nonetheless that rule was the dumbest rule he has ever heard and the more he keeps hearing you talk about it the more his feelings were becoming progressively stronger for worse or for better.

“Why don’t you find someone new Hm?” You smile at him trying to light up the situation.

Every political issue has a problem logically it can be solved by another situation. You thought about this through political eye point of view so if Jaehyun likes you, a way to discard those feelings is if he meets another girl. Yes, exactly that.

You thought you found a loophole but Jaehyun found it incredibly difficult and mean to process. He found it almost impossible and somehow you, the one he loves, being the one to address him a solution to getting over you made his blood boil a little.

“Maybe i’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new.” He gnaws beneath his breath pushing himself off the seat and suddenly, grabbing his bags.

You look at him with widen eyes. “Hey— where are you going Jaehyun?”

You couldn’t believe it but he looked pretty angry with you right now and you wondered maybe you weren’t going with the good approach. The moment he left the building your two friends come back with the food completely shocked by seeing only you left. Johnny squints his eyes at Jaehyun’s seat helplessly.

“Jaehyun looks a little different here.” He says lightly. “Where’d he go Y/n?”

You look down murmuring. “He left.”

Doyoung chokes on his cola looking over at Jaehyun. You were busy looking down at your hands thinking this through because you must’ve said something mean to truly upset him and you couldn’t help but think maybe you’re the one in the wrong here. Your two friends were whispering in the air to one another, near-yelling whispers.

Doyoung points at Johnny miming all sorts of actions to the older guy. “You said this bowling situation would bring them back to normal.” He clenched his jaw speaking harshly and quietly in front.

Johnny looks back helplessly. He and Doyoung met up together one night planning this day together so that it would look like a little coincidence that they would meet up at this bowling public area. It felt like a genius plan but someone had to make sure it didn’t work.

You grab your head pulling on your hair feeling that you were too harsh on him. You felt awful.

“I’m awful. I’m an awful person.” You bite on your bottom lip in worry. You’re starting to realise how much of a jerk you’ve been to Jaehyun.

The two boys join your side to comfort you knowing that you probably weren’t aware how to deal with whatever situation you’ve been through together. You sit in your seat trembling just by the thought of Jaehyun truly walking out of your life it made you rethink things. You’ve not been grateful enough for him. Johnny taps your shoulders, to go and show comfort for you.

But no matter what your friends say all your body was telling you to do was go find Jaehyun and apologise on your knees, just go and find him before it’s too late because he was an one in a life time person you’ll ever meet who actually loves you so much he would rather suffer than have you suffer.

“What did you say to him?” Doyoung spoke out causing you to murmur your response in shame.

“I told him to find and look for someone new. So he could get over me quickly.” I flatly said.

Johnny clears his throat when Doyoung looks at Johnny glaring. He knew he shouldn’t of trusted Johnny with this bowling idea.

“I- maybe you weren’t thinking with your heart when you said that, were you?” Johnny slants looking at you and you look back at him.

“Yeah. I thought that… if politics had a solution to everything maybe this did too. The logical route I guess.”

Doyoung never wanted to slap someone so much beforehand but mentally told himself you were built different and perhaps he should go the softer scolding method to way you out.

“Y/n love isn’t politics. Love is something your heart desires not what your brain wants you to do and believe.” Doyoung told you shaking his head.

You widen your eyes realising that Doyoung and Johnny was right. You kept on thinking about Jaehyun logically when you broke it off you kept on thinking that if you put your distance your relationship will be forgotten or something, but in reality your heart never wanted that.

Your heart always wanted Jaehyun. When you and Jaehyun kiss your heart was the only thing beating not your freaking brain.

You clench your hands together suddenly running out and Doyoung looks at Johnny side slanting.

“I bet twenty won that Y/n will make the first move.” Doyoung smirks.

Johnny pull out thirty won in his hand. “I bet thirty that Jaehyun will do the first move.”

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Wondering endlessly where on earth could Jaehyun be you were chasing the one you were avoiding all this time so stupidly because you were afraid, all because of one single emotion called fear took control over you. In reality you were busy being in denial all in your head thinking about this like it were some freaking political campaign.

Jaehyun wasn’t some protest. He wasn’t an exam you needed to study for. He wasn’t a thing you should’ve been avoiding in all along where in fact you should’ve been here, in front of him, holding him, speaking to him.

Being true to him.

But no you didn’t do that. You were too stupid to.

Meanwhile Jaehyun was spending his precious time mopping about the horrible incident between your fall out he was spending his time wondering if this feeling goes both way. He always chose you. He would always wanna know, if you ever returned his unknowingly emotions he feels for you; the feelings he held dear to his poor ole’ heart for you. He wanna know if you want to be the one to wake up to his side every morning, he wanna know if you ever thought about calling him up, he wanna know if you would have drinks with him like the old times.

He would want to know if you, were willing to be his.

Now you’re the one crawling back to him.

You have iron between your teeth everytime you play it on repeat how shameless you were hurting your friend and his feelings, the guy you all along were falling for but weren’t even aware of it this closely until you were losing him. To know how precious someone is sometimes, you gotta lose the precious think to want it back.

‘Do I wanna know…’

‘I’m crawling back to you.’

‘My heart is open to you now.’

Jaehyun doesn’t need to wonder if your heart is closed at this time or when it’s going to be open next time so he could have you all to himself. No. He doesn’t need to wait anymore.

‘If you wanna to we can be together.’

Jaehyun doesn’t need to hope for you to stay anymore.

‘Because you’re staying with him.’

You run down to the house banging on the door with your fists knocking so hard you could chuck the entire wooden door down by the power you’re enforcing. You were panting, heat coming to your cheeks and your eyes teary eyed with water in them. The cold suppresses your body.

You ran all over the city for him only to crawl back to his house that you’ve been going to all these months sleeping with him, in his warm bed that is now empty, wondering if you’d ever stay in his bedsheets again. Even though they smell of you you’re gone.

The moment you saw Jaehyun standing in the doorway with a distasteful look on his face seeing you, you were the one biting your bottom lip.

“Y/n what are you doing here?”

You never wanted to stay with someone until now.

“I’m here to make things right.” You pant coming forward grabbing Jaehyun by his collars pushing the boy inside his house making you enter with a harsh kiss on his mouth. Jaehyun felt like he were on extreme ecstasy the moment your soft but very cold mouth was roughly exposing him to a makeout with you. Your bodies falling flat on the bed sheets again, it didn’t take a whole second to figure your way round the house. It felt like a core muscle memory for you considering you’ve stayed in this house and in this same exact bed with him so many times to count. It was your secret.

Too many secrets you are keeping with Jaehyun, constantly playing on repeat until you fall asleep. You both were wanting to know if this feel was going on both ways, he was wondering, if you were staying or not. If you were crawling back to him, or not.

Jaehyun swipes you underneath him biting on the bottom lip leaving you breathless, you look mythical underneath him almost like a siren who was alluringly close with his heart bewitching it making him madly in love with you.

“Will this night be the same night for the things you can’t say tomorrow,” Jaehyun watches you deeply wanting a genuine response, to something he wants to know, for a long time he’s been waiting. “Or will it be different. Will you stay with me and become mine?”

You’re watching him with the intent of doing exactly that. To stay until he gets sick of you because you’re done running without a pathway to someone good. You’re done being alone and pretending you don’t need anyone when in reality all you ever needed was someone — someone like Jaehyun.

You cup his face smiling. “I’m crawling back to you. I’m done being your friend, Jaehyun. I am yours.” He watches your face leans in whispering to his lips before deeply touching his own.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hear this.”

Jaehyun says as if this were his biggest dream come true to hear you accept the same feelings he was feeling.

He never thought so much before, but he wanted to know and you let him know how you truly felt.

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow for more updates it helps a girl out.

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