#am I using that word right i still don’t know what rendering actually is and I’m too scared to ask at this point

[ppoppokari]

ladybird ~ part i

~series masterlist~

pairing~ badboy! choi yeonjun x fem!childhood friend! reader

genre~ (s) (a) (au) (f) 

featuring~  sickeningly soft yeonjun, crime, a dramatic & emotional yeonjun, protective bf vibes,  yeonjun & y/n don’t know shit about love and romance, tfw when he’s a badboy but a baby for y/n, rough sex, unprotected sex, slight dumbification, accidental creampie, porn with hella plot, use of a sex toy, wet dreams, angsty angsty emotions and actions and body worship (recieving) .

synopsis~ you were the safety pin that kept his life from falling apart at the seams, so it was only natural that yeonjun felt his heart growing every time you graced him with your presence. but it was wrong, there was no way he was going to corrupt his innocent friend, yet his mind thought otherwise. his lewd dreams were never supposed to see the light of day yet here he was hovering above you, fearing the day you would leave his arms for good...

or the one where a wish on a ladybug and a dream changes the life of a boy with an affinity for band-aids and strawberry lollipops.

word count~ 11.4k

playlists~ 🐞  💗 

a/n~ thank you @fallinforgyu for inspiring me enough to leave a six year long writers block because of your beautiful series cherry. now my amazing bunny, this is crazy because ladybird would never have existed if it wasn’t for your kindness and amazing way with words and i am truly grateful. (p.s. its me vampirateking! new blog new me).  

now this fic and the lo$er’s in love universe was a year in the making but i personally feel like it was worth it. there’s a lot in store for this series so make yourself comfortable, grab a snack or a drink and lets get this show on the road.

and in terms of the fic yeonjun’s dreams are in italics until the ending scene. the main smut scene will be in italics but it isn’t a dream and the song playing in the car is dream lover by the vaccines

You were definitely going to get him back for this.

“College is overrated as hell.”

“You were actually going to leave me y/n? Shame on you!”

“Fine, whatever...Oh where am I going? To see my new best friend Beomgyu.”

So, what did you do? You rejected your college acceptance letter, just so you could stand in the kitchen of a sticky, heat-drenched diner and witness the one man concert your best friend was putting on. 

To say your parents were disappointed would be a massive understatement, you had a lot going for you, or so they said. Sure, you were class valedictorian a few years in a row but at the end of the day that didn’t mean shit to you. You were set up for success, but that success was just another bragging right that your parents held above the heads of their associates.

It took Yeonjun a total of ten minutes to convince you to stay, and though you feigned reluctance you weren’t actually planning to leave. You could have made the decision to cut him off so he wouldn’t have to rant for the next hour, but he looked so cute. The way his forehead creased and the way he bit his lip as he tried to come up with another reason why you should stay with him was so heart-warming, so you let him continue his one-sided debate.

Sentimentalities aside it’s times like this when you questioned your decision, college was starting to look like the better option. At least Yeonjun was enjoying himself, gripping onto the spatula he swivelled his hips to the music pouring through the radio. 

“I told you I’d change even, when I knew I never could. I know that I can’t find nobody else as good as you.” When those words leave his mouth, he spins into an elegant half turn, topping it off with a wink, the energy he had today was impressive. He just about kicked your bedroom door down this morning, “Ass in the car now! You still work a job you hate and I’m hungry.” He clearly didn’t care about your frustrated groans when he aggressively ripped the curtains back. And like that you were rendered blind. Much to your dismay when you could actually see again you were met with Yeonjun’s face mere centimetres away from your own. He would have been a sight for sore eyes if he wasn’t such a pain in the ass.

“I take it you’ve got a new girlfriend?”

“Nope.”

“Got laid?”

“Definitely not.”

You quirked your brow. Choi Yeonjun, the one who openly confessed that he absolutely loathes the single life was passionately performing a song for his loyal cutlery, and he didn’t get laid? Okay.

“Well can you at least enlighten me? It looks like you have enough happiness to go around, the least you could do is share.” Yeonjun paused before grinning, he placed the spatula on the table. “I was going to leave it as a surprise, but since you insisted... Do you have any plans tonight?”

You kind of wish you never asked, even the crappy air con was caught off guard, letting out a few coughs and splutters.

“Come again?” Yeonjun rolled his eyes “You can’t tell me he doesn’t deserve it! He broke your heart and left you stranded, if he could do that to someone like you, he isn’t a good guy. Okay, how about this, I’ll take you home and I’ll do it myself.” He turns away, facing a precarious stack of plates; his lips forming into a guilty pout.

Normally if your childhood friend confesses that he had brought his trusty baseball bat to work and subsequently invited you out to wreck your ex’s car when your shift was over, you should have cut him off with a no and called for an intervention of some sort. Or at least that’s what you assumed. “Normal” was a distant memory. You had abandoned a normal life the day a scrawny boy, who donned only the best thick rimmed glasses, came to your aid after you took a tumble onto the hardwood chips scattered around the playground.

 Neither of you can recall what took place or why you were on the ground clutching your bleeding knee, the one thing you both agree on is that he was suave even back then. Out of all the things he could have done the 8-year-old reached for his bag, fishing out a pack of Doraemon bandages and a strawberry lollipop. 

At the time you didn’t think to question what he was doing, you just watched him unwrap the lollipop and tap it against your lips, a silent jest for you to say “aah”. As soon as the hard candy was in your mouth, he got to work meticulously patching up your leg while he introduced himself, giving you narration of his life and its dysfunctionality.

Maybe you were biased but there wasn’t much that had changed about the boy, well that isn’t necessarily true. If he were the main character in an over-the-top coming of age movie, he would have dramatically thrown his glasses into the trash, slicked his back his hair, stolen his dad’s leather jacket and called it a day.

 Nevertheless, the boy in front of you still held the same look of concern that he wore that day, and he still patched your bruises and scrapes up with his sickeningly sweet band-aids.  

You couldn’t help but chuckle and approach the sulking boy.  Wrapping your arms around his waist you leaned in close, lazily placing your head on his shoulder, he didn’t have to look you in the eye to sense the stupid grin on your face. 

 “Wow, you’re really committing to the silent treatment, it’s been what two minutes? You’re breaking my heart Junnie.” His eyes widen when he feels your grip on his waist tighten, he was thankful that you couldn’t see his flustered state. If you had heard the soft gasp he let out you didn’t show it. “Hey, you know I didn’t say no, it sounds like fun!”

Maybe your parents were right, he was definitely a bad influence but what they didn’t know couldn’t possibly hurt them.... right?

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

The wind traced patterns in your hair, moments before Yeonjun had any sense to tug you back into your seat. Neither drugs nor alcohol could mimic the feeling you felt, he had a habit of revving his car as if to tease you, something that was confirmed by the cocky look on his face. 

The misplaced beats of Yeonjun’s favourite song added to the dreamlike state you were in. The lyrics were a blurred frenzy to you but in his case each word was nipping at his sanity.

 Seeing you like that, a picture of perfection, brought back the feelings of guilt he felt at the diner. It wasn’t a complete lie, he was pretty stoked to be wrecking Changkyun’s car, however, he decided to omit the main source of his excitement. There were things that he just couldn’t tell you, no matter how much he wanted to let loose and spill the beans.

Sure, his own breakup had affected him, for the first time in his life he actually thought it would work out, but it didn’t. Normally he would have been out looking for a one-night stand within a day, that didn’t happen. Reality hit him hard leaving him inconsolable for weeks. While Beomgyu and the other boys refused to go near him, you were sneaking out of your window and spending the night at his house. That was when things had changed for him. 

You had both passed out on his bed after some intense mutual venting, he was certain that he had only ever viewed you in a platonic light. However, his dream said otherwise. 

“Jun, wake up, you’re having a nightmare”. Your warm voice coaxed his eyes to flutter open, he squinted in confusion, immediately realising what had happened. Shame engulfed him when he noticed the damp patch in his boxer briefs. 

“Sorry”. 

To this day he still didn’t know whether he was apologising for startling you or on behalf of his lewd dream, in that moment all he could do was swallow the lump that formed in his throat. He prayed to God that the entire situation was a once off, it wasn’t.

It was always the same dream, the one where he would wrap an arm around you while he gently coaxes you to lie down on your plush pink bedsheets. Hovering above you he would lean in and kiss you like his life depended on it. His fingers would trace your leg while he broke the connection. The moan you let out was music to his ears and your fingertips felt like silk when you reached for his arm. His needy baby was always so good to him, so he thought he would return the favour. “Ssh, I’ll make you feel good” each night you respond with the same three words, “I trust you”.

“I trust you.” Yeonjun’s eyes widen “H-huh?” His startled expression was met with your light smile “I was just saying, I trust you to not get us arrested. I know you’ll protect me; you’d be the worst friend ever if you didn’t.” “I will baby, when have I ever let you down?” the sly wink he gave you was pure ecstasy. 

Not many people could say that they had such a loving relationship with someone like Yeonjun, in your junior years of high school you had actually begged him to be your first kiss. He denied your advances and majorly cock-blocked you from himself, despite that you still chose friendship over not having him.  

Still reeling from the wink, you failed to notice the car come to a shuddering stop, within seconds Yeonjun was out of the car skipping towards the back seat. Exiting, you stopped to lean against the side of the car watching him reach for his trusty baseball bat. 

If his arched back wasn’t provocative enough you just had to notice his work uniform riding up ever so slightly, exposing his lower stomach. You did your best to overt your eyes but it was a too late, even if he didn’t see your gaze, he definitely felt it. He wiggled his hips before exiting the car with the bat “Do you like what you see y/n? I’ve been working the pole just for you.”

“You know it doesn’t count as working the pole for me if you never invite me to your shows, inviting my mum and not me? that’s a low blow Yeonjun.” “I’ll invite you if you give me a low blow...” “Shut up.”  Turning away in mock frustration you walk off in the direction of Changkyun’s house while Yeonjun trailed behind you.

Yeonjun was the only one who could make something illegal look so charming, he kept up the skip in his step, occasionally swinging his bat. He knew this neighbourhood like the back of his hand, he had lost count of the number of times he had dropped you off at Changkyun’s house. 

 The day Yeonjun had gotten his license he was officially the designated driver of his entire friend group, which consisted of you, Soobin, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Kai. He knew that the majority of you were just too lazy to drive yourselves anywhere, but he never questioned it. Despite Beomgyu spilling nearly every food and soda known to man in his car Yeonjun was still taking him on 1am  convenience store food runs.

Some time had passed and Yeonjun had begun walking backwards up the sidewalk, his foxy eyes sparkling underneath the streetlights.

There is a shift in mood when Yeonjun spots the Lexus that he had come to actively despise. In the blink of an eye your best friend approaches it with a cocky saunter, he takes a moment to run his hand through his pink locks before striking the front of the car. 

Somehow, even after the loud thud, the unassuming neighbourhood maintained its ignorance. And Yeonjun was just getting started. He is relentless, part of you feels like he has completely forgotten that he had brought you along. Whenever you got a glimpse of his eyes you could see anger, hurt, and an emotion you couldn’t quite comprehend. 

Panting, he struck one of the rear-view mirrors watching as the glass fell near his feet. You had considered grabbing the bat from his hand and ordering him to stop but there was also another part of you that wanted to rip the bat from him and gain closure by landing a swing or two of your own. You swore the thought had only crossed your mind for a few seconds at most, nevertheless, he turns to you. As if reading your mind, he beckoned you to come closer and placed the bat in your hand. “Your turn! Really stick it to that asshole.” Noticing your sudden reluctance Yeonjun chuckled and placed his hands on top of your own. 

“You’ve got this, forget you suck at baseball and follow my lead.” Placing his hands on top of yours he pulled you in so that your back was against his chest. As if he was leading you in a dance the boy swayed with you as you struck the heinous car. The boy let out a surprised laugh, part of him didn’t believe you would actually do it. His grip on your hand tightened, the only difference was that you were leading this time. 

In his mind he had every right to be smug about this moment, your boyfriend had fucked up and now he held you in his arms. If he could have had it his way, he would have pulled you in for a messy kiss as Changkyun rounded the corner to find his car totalled and his girl taken. 

“You’re doing so well bubs.”

Yeonjun hadn’t even realised that those words had left his mouth, why would he? He had recited them countless times in his hazy dreams. 

Your thighs quivered while you tried your hardest to keep going, you were about to reach your third high of the night. Despite him reassuring you that you could stop at any moment you kept going.“Ah...fuck you’re doing so well bubs.” In these moments he is never able to control himself, placing his shaking hands on your hips he flips you over crashing his lips onto yours. 

The last swing of the bat, the cherry on top, was all it took for the shrill car alarm to go off. The voyeur in him wanted to get caught just to prove a point, instead he pulled the bat out of your hand while his free hand reached for yours, and like always he ran. Yeonjun had learnt one important thing that night, that you couldn’t run as fast as he could. He was quite literally dragging you along the sidewalk, he couldn’t help but smile despite the ache that was forming in his chest when he forced himself to run faster. There probably wasn’t a need to run that fast but he was truly terrified at the thought of you getting caught. You miraculously knew how to talk yourself out of most situations, that wasn’t the thing that worried him. His main concern was with your parents.

They had made it clear on multiple occasions that they had an underlying issue with him, he was a bad influence they said, that he wasn’t going to achieve anything in life and that he would eventually want y/n in a way that would make any devout Christian clutch at their rosaries. Out of all the things your parents had claimed that was the one thing that had bothered him the most, but not anymore. Turns out that was the one thing they had gotten right.

Yeonjun collided with the car his shaking hands fumbling to open the door, huffing out a nervous laugh. “My god, why did I finally remember to lock my car?!” Yeonjun scrunched up a fist furiously slamming it at the window, as if that would magically unlock his ride. 

It’s ironic. Yeonjun had just pulled you half way across the neighbourhood just so you both wouldn’t get caught, yet here he stood struggling to make a grand getaway. 

“Yeonjun, Yeonjun, YEONJUN… sweetie just check your pockets, we need to go like, right this minute.” The word ‘sweetie’ dripping in the best kind of sarcasm.

In silent agreeance he leans the bat against the car, placing his hand in one of his pant pockets. Score.

He looks up at you with a dumb grin, dangling the keys in his hand

“Found them! What would I do without you?” 

“I know, I know, now hurry up! Unlike you I don’t get hard disobeying the law.” 

Yeonjun clicks the remote and pretty much dives into the car, pulling the bat in he brings a hand up stopping it from jabbing you in the head. Though every part of him wanted to reverse the car and trailblaze into the horizon he couldn’t pull his gaze from you. Your hair was plastered onto your forehead and your cheeks were tinged with a faint red; this wasn’t the first time he had seen you so dishevelled but he was always shocked at how good you looked. Lacking any self-restraint Yeonjun reached a hand out and brushed a piece of hair out of your eyes.  

You shoot him a ‘What now?’ look, Yeonjun smiled poking your nose “Hmphh.” Everything he felt was laced into that one sound. “I can’t believe you just did that; I mean I know your birthday is in a couple weeks but wow you really are growing up.” You reached across and slapped his arm “Ow! I meant that as a compliment.” For some reason you were slightly sceptical that he wasn’t going to make a joke at your expense. “I’m serious! You were so cool y/n, dude is going to be shaking in his Birkenstocks or whatever guys like him wear.”

Yeonjun turned the key bringing his car to life once again. “Hey I forgot; we’re going to buy a little birthday gift for my best girl tomorrow.”  “Really?! Wait who is helping you choose out a gift. No offense but I wasn’t really too keen on what Taehyun bought me last year.” You let out a devious laugh remembering your initial reaction when you had unwrapped the neatly wrapped present, you couldn’t help the look of utter disappointment that worked its way onto your face. You seriously respected Taehyun’s love of practical gifts but you probably weren’t ever going to use “the world’s smallest vacuum cleaner”, even if Taehyun insisted that your desk would thank him.

Yeonjun broke into a loud fit of laughter when he remembered the whole event that had transpired. “Maybe this year he’ll actually buy you a sex toy.” 

 “Dude stop! How was I supposed to know it was a freaking vacuum cleaner, he literally said it sucked, would bring me pleasure, make my life easier, relieve me of my stresses and would be my ‘perfect little friend’. You said it yourself! He was basically marketing a sex toy!” “No way I think that says more about you than Taehyun’s taste in gifts. But that’s beside the point “we” is us! You’re coming along for the ride.” 

He seemed so sure of his proposal, a stark contrast to your deadpan reaction. “Oh yay, sounds like fun.” Yeonjun rolled his eyes, kind of concerning since he was just about to round a corner. “Quit being so pessimistic, it’s not like you’re gonna die out of boredom or anything.” Yeonjun went quiet for some time, only taking the opportunity to speak, when he pulled up at a red traffic light. “Please!”  

Even though you failed to answer him Yeonjun wore the prettiest smile you had ever seen for the remainder of the car ride, all of his anxious thoughts remained with the wrecked car. 

“Dude you can park in the driveway you know that right?” “And face your parents? No thanks.” You frowned “Come on Yeonjun! Just drop me at the door please!”  “I’m sorry needy child, it’s a hard pass.” Though you were thoroughly disappointed Yeonjun’s gaze said enough, he wasn’t serious.You pouted at him “Yeonjunnie stop being salty” Yeonjun continued to look at you, still not answering. “Fine you win, I’ll tag along if you walk me to the front door.” Yeonjun smiled, exiting the car. Patting his work uniform down he held his hand out, eagerly awaiting yours. 

“Well, I guess we should leave it here, see you tomorrow?” He tilted his head flashing you a dreamy look, one that you swear he only ever gave to the girls he brought back to his bed. “Yeah, see you tomorrow.”  A chill made its way up your spine, you tried to convince yourself that it was thanks to the slight chill in the air, not him whipping out a cigarette just to let it hang loosely between his plush lips. “Goodnight bubs.” Your eyes widened in confusion “You aren’t coming in?” It was such a small thing, but you had come to expect Yeonjun literally walking you to your room, the only thing he drew a line at was tucking you in. “Not tonight bubs, I... I have somewhere I need to be.” It wasn’t as if this was news to you, Yeonjun had a... colourful... track record, one where he never failed to cut the night short so he could hook up with some lucky guy or girl. “Oh okay, I guess I’ll see you around then”. Yeonjun gave nothing more than a nod in agreeance before he turned on his heels and walked away. 

You tried to ignore the slight pang in your heart, you told yourself that it didn’t matter whether he had another fling or not, but you would be lying if you said the idea hadn’t bothered you. You heart felt bitter at the idea of him holding someone close, sighing you graciously flopped onto your plush pink sheets. “I think it’s my room.” you murmured to yourself scanning the pink and cream décor. “Definitely friend-zoned material.” You’re jolted out of your depressed stupor by a knock at the window, you stopped yourself from letting out a startled yelp when you caught a glimpse of his pink hair. The fact that you didn’t hear him climb up to your bedroom on the second floor was honestly impressive.

You ripped the curtains open startling the boy, he signalled for you to open your window. You slid the window open “What do you want now?” You couldn’t hide the slight irritation in your voice. “Come on don’t be like that, you forgot your smile.” His words weren’t amusing “Okay I’ll stop, but you forgot your wallet.” Yeonjun tilts his head to the side, ensuring that the smoke from his now lit cigarette wouldn’t assault your senses. He reached into his pockets fishing out your wallet passing it to you “Oh, I forgot. Close your eyes.” You closed your eyes with a huff.

 Yeonjun reached for your free hand, lovingly tracing patterns before sliding on a candy bracelet “You can open your eyes.”  You smiled down at the hard candy “What’s this for?” “Just wanted to make sure you were joining me tomorrow. See you around y/n.” With that Yeonjun departed, as soon as his feet had met the ground, he turned to look you up and down once more before walking off into the evening sun.

   ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Yeonjun shoved a glob of fries and soft serve into his mouth. “So, I was thinking of going to that one mall with the tree growing in the plaza. I saw something a couple of weeks back, made me think of you, fingers crossed it’s still there.” 

“Really? That’s awesome but you really don’t need to” It wasn’t that you thought he couldn’t afford to peruse that side of town, he probably could if he put his mind to it, but the Berrymont Mall always came across as being the rich persons paradise, you couldn’t even afford to go there yourself. “Um of course I need to, I promised it would be special this year.” Yeonjun stood with a stretch allowing his cropped sweater ride up.

You rolled your eyes at the little show he was putting on for the worker manning the register. “You can’t be serious” “I saw the extra swirl they gave me; I’m thanking them.” You shoved the last nugget into your mouth “Come on let’s go lover boy, I want that gift.” Yeonjun smiles at the lucky soul before following after you. “Y/n you do realise that I’m not giving it to you today.” He smirked at his own innuendo. “We were both done eating, I wanted to leave.”

Yeonjun swore he saw a smidge of jealousy, but he still didn’t want to believe it. You had handled your breakup so maturely, yeah you cried into his shoulder, venting about your heart being torn to pieces but besides that you seemed to move on with your life. If you were even mildly attracted to someone you didn’t show it, well maybe you did stare into his eyes more than usual or trace his fingers with yours but in his mind it all boiled down to his own wishful thinking. 

He couldn’t tell whether he had upset you but you hadn’t shown any sign of slowing down, leaving him trailing behind in the distance. “Hey y/n! I’m just checking my account!” Yeonjun ran to the ATM that stood off to the side, huffing at the sight before him.

-$5.36. 

Okay so maybe he wasn’t as wealthy as he had led you to believe, he clicked his tongue out of frustration and placed his hands on his hips. He could hear you approaching so he quickly cancelled out of everything and turned around to greet you. “Are you okay?” “Pfft yeah, I’m totally fine, just don’t want you seeing how much I have, I’m not ready to be your sugar daddy bubs. Now let’s go, got to beat the rush.”

The walk to the jewellery store was silent as Yeonjun mentally hyped himself up for the crime he was about to commit. There was no way he would miss out on getting something that he deemed as valuable as yourself.  “Did you want me to come in or?” Such a simple question made him panic.  “No! I mean, I’d love that, but it wouldn’t be much of a surprise if you followed me around the whole day. Just relax, I’ll be fifteen minutes tops.”

He wasn’t about to wait for your answer, there is no way he wanted you to witness what he was about to do. Upon entering the store Yeonjun brushed his elbow against a round bear plushie sending it tumbling to the smooth tiles. Acting the part of an innocent bystander he reached for the plushie giving it a once over ‘Cute, Kai would love this’ with that thought he resumed his nice guy act, giving a smooth charming smile he returned it to the shelf. “And I’ll be back for you later.”

Yeonjun wasted no time pushing past the crowd giving the cashier a fright as he placed his hands on the glass counter with a loud thud. “Can I help you?” “Uh sure, I’d like to buy that bracelet please.” Yeonjun pointed towards the most dazzling tennis bracelet he had ever seen, if you didn’t accept it from him, he would definitely be able to find a use for it.  

Yeonjun leaned against the counter, trying to lure the cashier in with a coy smile. “I bet it’s prettier in person” not letting his gaze falter he watched as the woman unlocked the glass cabinet. He decided to keep the conversation going to avoid suspicion “I’m surprised it’s still here; When I spotted this beauty, I knew it would be perfect for my girl.” He was too distracted by the shimmering bracelet to realise how easily the words had slipped out of his mouth. “You wouldn’t mind if I had a closer look, would you?”

Honestly, Yeonjun hadn’t expected her to cave this quickly. “It's her birthday in a couple of days so I thought I would treat her to a little something, I don’t know how to describe it but her smile is probably the cutest thing in the world, cuter than those plushies back there. Wish you could see it; I should invite you to her party.” He couldn’t help but chuckle at her bored expression.

Her expression transformed into shock as Yeonjun clasped the bracelet in his hand, turned on his heels and to ran out of the store. When he made it to the door, he tore one of the bears off of the shelf, unbothered by the rest of them being knocked to the ground.

He found you, leaning against the door, you hadn’t even registered what he was doing. Tucking the awkwardly shaped plushie under his arm and ran off in the direction of the nearest exit. You were his best friend for a reason, so without asking questions you ran after him, surprising yourself at how you managed to catch up with him this time. Yeonjun waited for you to dive into the passenger seat before bringing his car to life.

You hadn’t even managed to buckle up and Yeonjun had swerved out onto the road, already driving as if he was trying to lose somebody. You considered asking him, respectfully of course, what the fuck was going on. But before you could question him Yeonjun pulled over to the side, smiling as he replayed the event in his head, he felt so cool. 

“Sorry for leaving you behind, I nearly dropped the bear, can you imagine? I would have looked so stupid.” It was the cockiest thing you had ever heard but the sheepish grin that followed was contagious. His happiness was shortlived.

Spotting the flashing red and blue lights Yeonjun turned off the interior light and reclined his seat, gesturing for you to do the same. You responded by reclining your seat, the overload of energy coursing through you made your hands shake. Those hands were borderline offensive, he wanted to grip your hand and comfort you but for some reason his nerves got the better of him. Yeonjun turned on his side making eye contact with you, it took a mere few seconds for the police car to speed past, yet the tension in the air was thick. You shuffled closer to Yeonjun, noticing how eager you were he closed his eyes and leaned in, his heart viciously thumping against his chest.

“Yeonjun... What are you doing?” 

He had hoped that when he opened his eyes he would be met with your lips, but that wasn’t the case, instead he was met with the realisation that he was definitely jumping the gun. He cleared his throat and sat up, his mind racing as he tried to come up with a good excuse. 

“All of that for a plushie?” Yeonjun’s guilty smile fell, it would have been better if you just straight up called him out for his attempted kiss. “What no that’s not for you, that’s for Kai. Your gift is here” He points towards his crotch causing you to furrow your brows in frustration. “Can’t you be serious for one goddamn minute?! You never- “He lifted his leg pulling out the bracelet. “This is yours.” He dangled it in your face and placed it on your lap.

“I don’t want it.”

“Oh, come on! Don’t be like that.”

“Wrecking his car was one a once off Yeonjun, I told you how I feel about you doing things like this. I want to return it.” Yeonjun bit his tongue, trying his hardest to keep composed. He was cursed with a hot temper but he always kept his composure around you. “There’s no way in hell that I’m going back there, if you don’t want it, I’ll keep it.”

“You’re missing the point.”

“No y/n you’re the one missing the damn point! How could you be so fucking mad at me when I literally did this for you!”

“Well, I didn’t ask for you to do that, seriously what were you thinking Yeonjun?!”

“Whatever.”

“No, I’m actually curious, what made you think this was what I wanted?”

“I’m not doing this, I’m done talking.”

Yeonjun swings the door open and takes a step into the frosty late afternoon breeze, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. He turns away from the car, his hand raking through his styled pink hair. You can barely hear the words that are spoken, before he kicks the hood of the car. Every single emotion he was feeling deeply etched onto his face. He was always bark and no bite, at least that’s what he was told, and it was true. There was no way he would even think of hurting you; in the time you had known him he had never once raised his voice and he wanted to keep it that way.  

Suffering from instant regret he inspected the vague dent in the hood, his car wasn’t anything awesome, merely a crappy hand-me-down from his dad. Regardless he didn’t want it bent out of shape, his fingers were centimetres away from the bruised-up metal when something caught his eye. A small red dot, a ladybug perched on the hood above where his shoe had been seconds ago. He swiped his hand, encouraging it to take flight and ultimately leave him the hell alone.  

But you were his insufferable friend who held his heart in the palm of her hand, you saw right through his act, exiting the car and pulling him into a tight hug. Which made him crumble “I’m sorry y/n, life is just really fucking stupid for me right now.” He stooped his head low letting it fall into the crook of your neck.

When Yeonjun’s tears had eventually died down you pulled away from him, he looked at you, his sweet fox eyes now resembling that of a lost puppy. He watched you as you walked over to the car and fished out a lollipop. Removing the wrapper you shoved the lollipop into his mouth, his pout becoming a thing of the past. It was then that he noticed the same little red dot that he had tried so hard to be rid of, but this time it had found an even better place to relax. Instead of shooing it away Yeonjun cups his hand gently retrieving it from your hair and presenting it to you, and for a split second, behind those gleaming eyes you swore you could see the young Doraemon fanatic in the flesh. “If you don’t want the bracelet, at least accept this wish.” Even if he was still recovering from his outburst, he still managed to draw out twin giggles from the both of you.

Clasping his hands in yours you encouraged him to unfold them, both of you tried to move your attention down to the ladybug, you found it difficult to overt your gaze. There was something there, his heart was screaming out a confession of love, but it never met the light of day. Even after the little wish took flight you were still caught up in his eyes.

“What did you wish for?”

“Like I’d ever tell you Yeonjun...what did you wish for?”

Maybe expecting a genuine answer from him was the setting the bar too high “I wished that you would have an amazing day tomorrow, how does that sound? Is that the right answer?”

   ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

None of them were prepared for the Yeonjun that waltzed into Beomgyu’s house that night, they weren’t even expecting him to show. Beomgyu had gotten used to his friend cancelling on him at the last minute, even when it was blatantly obvious that Yeonjun was pulling every excuse out of his ass in an attempt to not leave his bed. Despite this Beomgyu let Yeonjun get off scot-free, since he really wasn’t one to speak. Even if he did have the energy of a chihuahua that downed a couple of Red Bulls he was also the king of shirking responsibility at the last minute, so he let Yeonjun, his personal jester parading around as a badass, do whatever.

“YAH! Popcorn doesn’t take ten minutes!”

Beomgyu sighed at the lack of response, brushing his arms against the smooth linoleum. Winning the game of rock, paper, scissors gave him the perfect excuse to lie upside down and shout orders.  

The only reason he was still hosting movie nights was to annoy his younger friends, and while Taehyun barely reacted Beomgyu knew Kai would play along. Beomgyu started the imaginary timer, keeping in mind how long it took for Kai to respond. 

‘Six, seven, eight-’

“I told you to choose a movie!” “Fine!” 

Unfurling his body Beomgyu reached for Kai’s dvd case, the tattered smile of Mickey Mouse greeting him on the cover. With everything that had happened in the last year, it was comforting to see that Kai was still lugging it along to every movie night. Though it was none of his business, he couldn’t help but wonder if that dvd case was the reason behind Kai and his bitchlessness. Flipping through it he ignored each movie that revolved around boyhood and romance, which was half the case. Kai was always so soft, it was sickening.  Beomgyu had no idea when he started getting so sentimental, but now everything reminded him of the happier days, when they were together. Pushing back that seasonal depression he reached for Toy Story, slotting it into the dvd player his ears pricked up when he heard a car engine.

Peering through the window he recognised the familiar license plates and ran into the kitchen to find Taehyun and Kai placing their big macs and fries onto a large tray.

 They weren’t shit friends, quite the opposite actually; they had been on standby for Yeonjun most of this breakup, but even they had their limits. You hadn’t experienced dramatic until Yeonjun was the one being dramatic. They were so thankful that y/n had taken over for them so that they could have some alone time, and yeah, they had been texting him, but technically they hadn’t seen him since his last wave of post-breakup depression.

“Remember if he cries it’s Taehyun’s turn to comfort him.”  And with that Beomgyu ran to the door to greet his best friend. Much to his surprise Yeonjun greeted him with a lovesick smile, clutching a plushie to his chest.

“Sorry I’m late, I was caught up in y/n’s eyes” was what he wanted to say but instead he went with a simple “Hey, thought I’d come over.” Beomgyu, still disturbed by the sight before him silently moved to the side waiting for Yeonjun to come inside.

Taehyun and Kai had since made their return to the living room clutching a bowl of popcorn and the tray of food. “Yeonjun!”  Luckily Yeonjun was too far into his own fantasy to notice how nervous Kai was. With a wink he tossed the bear to Kai, not even reacting to Kai’s loud shriek as he scrambled to place the tray down in time to catch the bear.

Plopping down next to Beomgyu Yeonjun pokes his cheek with a grin. Somehow this felt even more draining than him crying. 

“Hope you’re not hungry, we didn’t buy an extra burger.”  

“It’s okay he ate.”

As if on cue all of the boys looked at Taehyun, who was currently slipping some fries into his burger bun.  “I saw them when I bought our food.” “Well, shit, I didn’t see you there.” Beomgyu grinned, “Didn’t think y/n was that much of a distraction.” “Shut up, it’s just birthday stuff. Anyway’s it’s pretty much sorted, the party is at her place, show up whenever after six but definitely before eight.”

 “Cool, that’s plenty of time for me to meet Soobin.”

The words seemed so casual, regardless, Yeonjun’s ears pricked when he heard that name.

“I didn’t know Soobin was in town.”

“He isn’t. He arrives tomorrow. I promised to meet him.” Yeonjun had always experienced a complex array of emotions whenever it came to the topic of Soobin, it wasn’t like he hated him, Soobin was his friend after all. It was more the fact that the wider public seemed to favour y/n and Soobin rather than Yeonjun and y/n. 

When you and Soobin were cast as Mary and Joseph Yeonjun could only sulk as he played the important role of the guy who owned the barn. Even back then he couldn’t help but detest the idea of you two being together, if he could have kicked Soobin out of the barn in a fit of fourth grade rage he would have.

Despite his jealousy Yeonjun couldn’t recall a moment where he treated you like anything other than his best friend. There was no logic in being mad at Soobin for being your date to the graduation formal, Soobin was just repaying the favour after all. It wasn’t anyone’s fault that you and Soobin won cutest couple while he was preparing himself to mourn a relationship that was nearing its end. Despite the degree of self-realisation, he possessed he was still mad. “But he said he couldn’t make it, we were all okay with him not showing I don’t get why he bothered.” The others exchanged silent glances, they knew he had some issue with Soobin lately, but they never thought they would hear those words come from Yeonjun. It was hard to even see where he was coming from lately, after that week of you sleeping at his house Yeonjun had changed drastically. 

After thinking it through Beomgyu was finally brave enough to combat Yeonjun’s harsh words. “That’s not your choice to make, y/n said she wanted him here. It was her wish. I don’t know what else to say.” “Wishes don’t always come true!”

“Look I just wanted to watch Toy Story, so you can just go away or be quiet.” Beomgyu pressed play, exhaling when the fluffy white clouds of Andy’s room came into shot. Yeonjun stirred, crossing his arms as he glared at the screen. “It actually is my choice, I’m the one organising the party not him.” Beomgyu paused the movie, clenching both his jaw and the remote. “Stop! Whats the deal? Y/n never asked you to be her gatekeeper, just give it a break.” Before Yeonjun could respond Beomgyu continued his small outburst “You can care for her but give it up, you can dream about having her but she isn’t yours.” 

Yeonjun stilled, in his mind the whole room held its breath with him. “Fucking hell, I didn’t think she noticed.” Even if he was confused, Beomgyu used that to his advantage going with the conversation. “She noticed.” Yeonjun placed his head in his hands, freaking out the entire time. “She knows it was an accident, right? It was just a weird time for me, I promise I’m not a creep.” Beomgyu assumed he would be getting an explanation but somehow it took a very confusing turn. “Yeonjun... What did you do?” “Don’t rub it in we all know about the wet dream.” Beomgyu cleared his throat before murmuring under his breath “I didn’t know about the wet dream.” 

The realisation had set in “You- oh shit.”  Yeonjun paled, so much for keeping it a secret. “Look I wouldn’t take it seriously; it happens to everyone.” Beomgyu grinned “I don’t think I’ve ever had a wet dream about you so I have to call bullshit on that.” Yeonjun caved “Look I felt like shit when I fell asleep, and she was too close, her legs and those shorts.” After his rant Yeonjun looked Beomgyu dead in the eyes “I swear to god if you tell her.” “Why are you targetting me?! What about Taehyun and Kai, they’re here too.” 

Honestly, Yeonjun forgot that his other friends were still present. Neither of them had spoken a word since he started his back and forth with Beomgyu. Kai was preoccupied with his bear and Taehyun really didn’t care. “Why should I worry about them when you’re the one with the motor mouth.” “This mouth is zipped, don’t worry about it.” It was slightly concerning how casual Beomgyu was about the entire thing, but now that was off of his chest maybe he was confident that he would be rid of his silly little dreams. Surely.

   ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

If he didn’t insist that you needed gifts from him you would have just settled for this. The bag of gifts he bought sat to the side, unopened, your focus on the empty space in the middle of your room. There was a delay before the rock music leaked through the speakers and Yeonjun slid in. His studded red jacket and slicked back hair sparkling in the morning sun that leaked through your window. 

It was no secret that you had been spending more time with him, as a result you discovered that he really was a performer. His dreams and aspirations were nothing new, in his youth all he spoke about was getting attention for his good looks and charisma. But in a town like this, if you didn’t leave you, were a nobody.  And sometimes that hurt you, Soobin was able to achieve great things and that was, well, great but that was because he left. For some reason Yeonjun chose to stay, kissing his dreams goodbye and you just wished he had more.

You would never know this but he felt he had it all when he was performing for you. No audience would ever make him feel this way.

Your gaze didn’t leave his body as it rolled in time with the sultry lyrics. 

You red leather rocket, you little foxy queen Everybody's watching, pretty little thing Baby, tell me, what's your fantasy?

It took every bit of strength to not look away from his steely gaze as he swiped his jacket off of his shoulders playing it like a guitar. Your friend was a fiend and you loved it.

His chest was heaving at the end of the routine, his “sexy” stare was broken by a wide grin. He plopped down next to you, taking time to catch his breath before he spoke. “I would ask you what you thought, but going by your face I’d say that was a good birthday present.”  I guess.” You chuckled awkwardly trying to hide just how flustered you were. “That reminds me, I think you should open these.” Using his foot to nudge the bag he brought it closer picking it up and placing it between the two of you. “You seem even more excited than I am.” “Enough talking, open.” Yeonjun pushed the bag closer to you. Swivelling yourself around you emptied the bag. 

You were surprised, no shocked was a better word. They were beautiful gifts, a music box that doubled as a jewellery box, a cloud lamp, the bracelet...that he stole. But the small pink bullet vibrator rendered you speechless. 

“This, no, Yeonjun what the hell?!” Yeonjun broke into a fit of laughter at your reaction “I know, I’m sorry it was too tempting, you were so disappointed by Tae’s gift last year. “Well, haha, funny, now take it back, it’s weird if I keep this.” “First the bracelet now this, accept my love you dummy!” Apparently, this was all just a huge joke to him, which was proved by him snatching the gift from you. “Fine if you don’t want it, I’ll have it. But let me charge it I might want to use it later.” Wiggling his brows Yeonjun crawled across to your bedside table plugging the charger into the socket before slipping the vibrator under your pillow. 

The rest of the day was quite uneventful, the vibrator disappeared into the background, nothing more than a faint afterthought. Despite the simplicity of the entire day, everything he did filled your heart an ounce at a time. Especially when he got all domestic, switching to the mature one who meticulously organised a party you would no doubt remember for the rest of your life.

You knew he had it in him, that maternal side that kept everyone in check. His long pink hair was brushed back into a messy ponytail, as he stood with his hands on his hips trying to remember where he should put the last of the balloons. He looked like somebody’s aunt, pretty. You tried to avoid making eye contact with him, hating the butterflies that erupted in your heart. Spending more time with him was a blessing and a curse. Your school-girl crush on him only grew, even though you swore to yourself you wouldn’t pursue someone after Changkyun. Both of you were broken at the same time, and maybe Yeonjun was comfortable moving on but you weren’t ready despite your internal lusting. 

Yeonjun noticed the silence, but judging by your face he didn’t want to push it. So, he opted for catching your attention through the fish tank. While you were peering into the tank after feeding them Yeonjun feigned checking the time before crouching down to meet your eyes. Nearly losing balance he steadied himself before motioning for you to smile. 

The ringing of the doorbell startled the two of you, while you sprung to your feet to meet your guests while he let himself topple to the ground. His heart dropped at the squeal of excitement you let out, followed by the familiar voice of Soobin.

Yeonjun couldn’t prevent the dry smile that graced his features, in the time spent with you, in a magical world full of domestic interactions he forgot that Soobin would be here.  Straightening his shirt he removed the hair tie, patting his pink locks down. He didn’t bother to greet the others, instead he plopped over onto the couch placing a cigarette between his lips, he was going to need it. 

The smoking wasn’t the issue, it was the glaring silence. Shortly after the guys arrived the rest of your friends poured in, despite the music and the overlapping conversations Yeonjun refused to acknowledge Soobin. He had barely left the couch, getting another drink seemed to be the only exception. Luckily Beomgyu had lured you away with the promise of finally giving you his gift, leaving the two alone. 

“Yeonjun?”

“Soobin?”

“It’s good to see you.” It was always the same, Soobin may have dyed his cotton candy blue hair black, but his endearing nature was still the same. Yeonjun on the other hand clung onto his pink hair, still refusing to give Soobin a chance. 

“I actually didn’t think you’d come back; I saw your texts and assumed you had everything you wanted.” That jab didn’t go unnoticed by the other, but Soobin was hardly stupid. Not wanting to play into Yeonjun’s pettiness he smiled carrying the conversation further. “Not everything, is it weird that I miss your chaos? Especially the whole hiding in my house after you pissed off the wrong person. How’s Nali?” Yeonjun’s throat tightened. “You missed a lot, we broke up.” He took a swig of the hitachino and chuckled “But I’m fine, I’m actually seeing someone else.”

For someone who was so skilled at lying Yeonjun had a hard time believing his own words. Soobin was going to question his friend further, but then you and Beomgyu returned, squeezing yourselves into the space between the two. You were completely oblivious to the lie you were currently supporting when you placed your head on Yeonjun’s shoulder, waiting for him to wrap his arm around you.  After you had gotten comfortable Yeonjun tapped your shoulder, once your eyes were on him, he passed you the beer. Taking a couple of sips you passed it back to him, though you thought nothing of the exchange Soobin was shocked. He had always held you in a very innocent light, he never understood how someone so gentle and kind could be so close to someone like Yeonjun. He still thought of you as the innocent friend he left a year ago, he never once thought you would ever date Yeonjun.  Yeonjun was oblivious to the awkward glances Soobin directed towards him, too preoccupied by the conversation you were having with him and the food Beomgyu had placed on the table. “Thanks man, appreciate it.” Yeonjun reached out to place a hand on Beomgyu’s shoulder both out of love and to push himself forward to grab the food Taehyun had yet to touch. Taehyun blocked the food with his hand, before Yeonjun could start whining Kai passed him his paper plate. Soobin was still confused but he pushed his questions to the side so he could take everything in, it was as if he stepped back in time, to the good old days.

  ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

Yeonjun’s eyes flutter open, adjusting to his room. The darkness a soothing balm on his sore eyes. He couldn’t recall when sleep had overtaken him, or what he had even dreamt about but his heart felt heavy. Rolling onto his side he sat up a yawn ripping through his entirety. He wasn’t hung over, that much he could tell, but the sick feeling in his stomach had yet to leave him. With no thought into his actions, he managed to walk to the bathroom, still stuck in his drowsy state. 

Once in front of the mirror he was able to take everything in, starting with his messy pink hair and ending with the light scratches that trailed up his back. It was pretty ironic, he just had to give a dry chuckle. He assumed that the night he would stop having those dreams would be a cause for celebration, that wasn’t the case. Returning to his room he reached for his phone, greeted by a string of missed calls and text messages from you. He wished his mind wasn’t as selective, he forgot when he walked home, he forgot what he took from his dingy refrigerator and he forgot when he fell asleep. All of this was overtaken by a memory, the one where his dream had become a reality. 

He was incredibly sober, which at first seemed like a good idea. Being the other half of your parental duo, making sure that no one started shit or overstayed their welcome. The beer he had shared with you was the buzz that you both needed, so he was fully aware of everything, he knew just how hard he was falling for you in this moment. He distracted himself with the thumping music but once that was over and the only music was the buzzing of crickets while you sat on the roof he was doomed.

“You know Yeonjun, I think we did good. No one died, and we’re both sober as fuck.” “You make it sound like a success, to be honest that just sounds depressing.” “Hey! I said you could drink, that’s on you for being an idiot.” “Do you really think you could have handled your guests if I didn’t step in. You’re too soft.” For some reason that struck a nerve with you “Fuck off.” You followed those words with a chuckle, it wasn’t a serious thing but soft wasn’t a thing you necessarily wanted, it just happened. Some days you would wish you were cooler, which ultimately lead you to come to the conclusion that if you were a badass you definitely would have dated Yeonjun years ago. “You say soft, I say shut up.” Yeonjun pulled your arm “Don’t be like that you know I love you.” 

The warm lights cast shadows against his cheeks, hiding the faint blush on his cheeks as you leaned close to his face before springing to your feet. A sinking feeling made its way to his stomach at the thought of you slipping, so in a panic he stood, immediately clasping your shoulder in his tight grip. “Are you sure you didn’t steal a couple more bottles?” You glared at him “I’m not drunk! You’re just a bad influence.” “And? You never complained about it before.” “But that’s why I love you, bad boys are where it’s at, though I don’t consider you a bad boy. You’re too cute.”

That made him falter, he knew how platonic that love was but he also couldn’t even determine why you loved him that much. His life was harsh at times, love wasn’t something he was given, hell he wanted his ex to love him and that didn’t work out, so why were you saying such things? “I think the air is getting to your head” The meaning was lost on you which was shown by your cheeky grin; but he was actually irritated with how bubbly you were. It was too cute. 

He managed to predict your next move, grasping your wrist before you could poke his cheek. You sighed trying to yank your hand back but he didn’t let up, looking up at him was enough to erase your bratty frown. His dark eyes were hooded as his gaze flickered from your lips to your eyes and back again. Backing out wasn’t an option anymore. Yeonjun brought your hand up to place it on his cheek, a silent cry for you to kiss him like you meant it.

Every fantasy you had about kissing him was a poor comparison to the real thing. He was desperate and needy, something that would have been rough if it wasn’t for his soft lips. You could have kissed him all night but sadly you had to breath, you placed a shaky hand against his chest pushing him off of you. His lips reluctantly left yours, forcing out a soft whine as he caught your bottom lip between his teeth before finally parting. He was about to complain until he felt your hand slip under his tank top “I never knew you were such a little slut.” It was insane weak your legs had become, as far as you were concerned degradation wasn’t your thing, until Yeonjun made it seem pretty. It was completely unlike you to be so passive, but all you wanted, all you needed in this moment was him. With one more tug of his shirt you were being led off of the roof and into your bedroom.

Any sign of a gentle kiss was thrown out the window as soon as you made it inside. He wasted no time crashing his lips against yours. Lust clouded your vision, and every sense for that matter. You hadn’t even noticed him guide you towards your bed until he pushed you onto the plush pink sheets.  Yeonjun towered over you with a pleased smirk, in this moment he was far from the gentle guy who fussed over you every single day, he was better. Yeonjun brought his hands up, pinning your wrists above your head. He casually nudged your legs apart before moving in closer, his lips finding their way back to yours.

Eventually his desperation resulted in him rutting his hardened member against your bare thigh, the rough material of his jeans another thing that you didn’t know you needed. “I know you’re the one losing it but you have no idea how worked up I am y/n. I’m so ready for you.” Never in a million years did you think someone would have this much of an effect on you, but it felt natural to be like this with him. You snaked your hand down to rest against his bulge “It’s kind of obvious, but enlighten me…show me how much you want me.”

His already dark eyes gleamed as they got impossibly darker. In his effort to tighten his grip he pushed a silken pillow to the side, accidentally revealing the small pink vibrator in the process. What had once been and afterthought gave Yeonjun a brilliant idea. Unplugging the device he brought it into his palm, showing it off. “Kiss me if I’m wrong but this is the best gift you’ve ever received.” He moved in closer, lifting your skirt and sliding your panties down your legs. You leaned up to kiss his cheek, catching him completely off guard “What? I can’t say it’s the best gift I’ve received.” “By the end of tonight I’m going to prove you wrong bubs, just you wait.” “That’s what I want to hear.”

The only thing his dreams glazed over was the ability you had to tease him to no end. “Yeonjun, please hurry. Just give me anything.” Yeonjun clicked his tongue “So needy, don’t worry, I’ve got you.” The vibrator buzzed to life; the gentle rhythm was far from what you desired until he pressed it to your entrance. You brought a hand up to muffle the whimpers that he worked from you by tracing the tip against your folds. “So, wet, but I haven’t even done anything yet.” “That’s the problem, stop teasing me Jun.” 

The beauty of his smart mouth was that you were pleasantly caught off guard when he pushed the device into your soaking wet folds. His repetitive movements never failing to draw some type of reaction out of you. The overwhelming feeling of you being at your wits end was daunting, there was no way you wanted to cum yet, not without him inside of you.

Trembling wrists gripped at his messy pink hair as you fought against the coil that tightened in your stomach. “Y-Yeonjun stop.” The teasing tone wasn’t lost in his voice “It’s okay, let go for me.” Your grip tightened “No, I want you in me.” Yeonjun remained poker faced even when he pulled the vibrator out, pressing it against your clit, making sure to remove it when he felt your thighs quiver around him.

Call it déjà vu, but he knew exactly how this was going to play out.

 Throwing the vibrator to the side he hovers above you, kissing you like his life depended on it. His fingers that were tracing your leg the entire time, remain when he breaks the connection. The tiny whine you let out is music to his ears, it’s his turn to let out a low moan after you reach for his arm, fingertips as soft as silk. His needy baby was always so good to him, so he thought he would return the favour. Yeonjun leans down to place feather-light kisses across your neck. Seeing you shiver under his touch was something he never thought he would witness. He doesn’t try to prevent the words that fall from his plush lips “Ssh, I’ll make you feel good.” You didn’t know it but your response was something that he was all too familiar with.

“I trust you.”

Up until then he had shown just how domineering he could be. So, it was odd to see his faint blush as he removed the rest of his clothing. His slender form pressed into yours as you pulled him into you, resting your forehead against his. Any sickening, romantic words you were about to throw at him disappeared as he removed your shirt, kissing down your clavicle. An easy distraction as he unclipped your bra. “How in the world are you prettier than yesterday?” “You’re so cheesy I-” Your own moan interrupted your playful jab, with good reason too. His tongue swirled around your nipple, refraining from any urge he had to gently bite you. He groped your tits giving them as much attention as he could, somehow, he thought he had enough self-restraint to tease you more.

Pulling back Yeonjun swiped at his mouth just to rest his head in the crook of your neck. His raspy words teasing the edge of your ear. “It’s obvious, but God, are you sure you want this y/n? ‘Cause I want it so bad.” He was already drunk on lust, but your words sent him spiralling. “That’s funny, last time I checked I’ve always wanted you.” In one quick movement Yeonjun pushed into you, stuttering a string of curses when you clenched around him. From the moment he entered you he had built up a merciless rhythm, just falling shy of your sweet spot. “Y-Yeonjun” You rolled your hips into him trying to satisfy yourself. “Is this what you want princess?” Yeonjun’s fingers danced on your thigh as he brought one of your legs up, trying to better the angle. He was acting coy, knowing that if he played out exactly what he had in mind you would be cumming soon.  

He wanted this moment to be as beautiful as yourself, so he leaned giving you the last kiss of the night. Something heated and though it was rough, it was dripping with passion. While you were caught up in his everything Yeonjun jerked his hips forward finally giving you what you wanted. The strength of him holding you up and his strong thrusts blended together to rip out a scream that you were withholding. You arched your back, gripping onto his, trying your best to have mercy on him but your nails dug into his back leaving a string of red lines, littered with small crescent indents.  “I’m close, Yeonjun” You let your head fall back, “Already? But my pretty little whore you’re doing so well.”  

 Your incoherent words told him all he needed to know “But let go, I want to see how you look when you cum.” His words were the encouragement you needed to completely lose yourself to him. You tilted your head to the side the pulsing deep inside getting more frequent. “Nuh-uh what did I say? Look at me y/n.” Though he was strict he let that caring side shine through once again “I want to see your pretty e/c eyes.” With a gentle touch he softly cupped your jaw and tilted your head up.

Looking into his eyes you let go letting yourself be engulfed by the harsh waves of your climax. Yeonjun never thought of himself as a needy fool but when your walls fluttered around his cock Yeonjun fell apart, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he came.  In the past he prided himself on having enough control to pull out, but he was willing to accept it tonight.Brushing the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead he pulled out, coming to rest at your side.

After the dual panting had died down Yeonjun rolled onto his side. Placing a hand on your hip. “That was amazing. Sorry for going so rough, I hope it was okay.” Yeonjun interlinked his hand with yours “Happy Birthday y/n.”

The night was supposed to end like that, on cloud nine. But he had gotten ahead of him, the after-sex stupor was amazing, he wanted to live in that feeling. Staying by your side until the next day, but he couldn’t. He cared about you enough to delay leaving until after you had fallen asleep, he wasn’t about to share his post-sex guilt with you, you deserved better. In fact, that’s why he left, as much as he pretended to take it in stride, he didn’t want to be your bad influence. You stayed because of his stupid whining, you were a different person when you were around him. 

While tracing your features with his hooded gaze it was apparent that despite his dreams and what he wanted to be his reality, you were never going to work out. So, with a soft kiss to your temple, he wriggled out of your soft grasp, replacing himself with a pillow. His heart sunk lower as he watched you cuddle into it murmuring something that he couldn’t hear. And he left.

Yeonjun’s fingers halted before he could press send, after a brief second of hesitance, he just deleted those pathetic words. Your texts were curious and innocent, asking why he wasn’t there when you woke up, and for once he didn’t have an answer. Turning off his phone he placed it to the side, his slow breathing became rapid has he placed his head in his hands, trying his hardest to prevent guilty tears from falling. But that task was nearly impossible considering he couldn’t quite get that late afternoon out of his mind.

“I wish I could love you.” 

“I wish you could be my forever” 

“I wish you were mine” 

  ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

all rights reserved to ppoppokari

~in other words please don’t repost or steal my work as i’m a slow writer~

#choi yeonjun smut #choi yeonjun x reader #txt smut #badboy choi yeonjun au #txt x reader #yeonjun fanfiction #txt imagines #yeonjun imagines #kpop imagines #txt fluff #yeonjun fluff #mdni #not suitable for minors #kpop x reader #kpop scenarios #txt scenarios #txt angst #txt x fem reader #yeonjun x fem reader smut

[stranger-rants]

people think about racism in a... weird way, let me tell you that. it's either you are, or you aren't. that's a problem because of the way systemic and ingrained racism is built in the roots of our society. people have done racist things out of ignorance or any number of factors and people will continue to do so, even people we admire. people fall into pipelines as kids, people commit microaggressions that they genuinely do not understand, people share racist memes because they don't see the dogwhistles/ don't understand the severity and only think of it "as a joke", whatever.

thing is, billy could be completely innocent in his eyes. he could believe that he genuinely hurt lucas to protect max and nothing else. but his actions still contribute to racism. and it's fine to acknowledge that. whether he was raised to have racist biases, doesn't think of himself as racist but still carries these beliefs subconsciously, or he genuinely isn't, it doesn't really matter because his actions were harmful and they hurt lucas. and again, it's okay to acknowledge that.

i wish people wouldn't really swing the pendulum one way or the other, you know? there's a lot of complexity here. people either characterize him as a violent racist who chose to torment lucas incessantly, or an innocent boy who did nothing wrong. fellow people of colour can have their interpretations, but i like it when the complex nuances are actually acknowledged. billy, whatever he was thinking (even if he was justified or innocent in his eyes), still did something racist, and that's still something he can atone for by apologizing and working to amend his errors. it's not okay, but he can change for the better and do good.

i simply think characterizing him as a violent abusive racist is damaging overall. it paints a very specific picture of racism that renders every other form of harmful discrimination obsolete, especially subtler forms. people think racism can only exist in violent people with hate in their heart, and that's simply not true. anyone can say or do racist things. anyone can cause harm and further perpetuate hurt to the people around them. anyone can thus apologize for these things, grow, and change for the better. as people of colour, it shouldn't be our job to rehabilitate or soothe people who did racist things, but growth they choose is a net good. and acknowledging racism as something that exists outside of plain evil bigots works to tackle the very ingrained racism in our world. just think that's important to consider for everyone, and it makes me happier now that i've understood billy like this, because i don't like viewing the world in such a strict, rigid moral way.

I agree. There is a lot of nuance to the conversation that gets ignored one way or another. It’s easier for people to identify overt racism that manifests in physical violence, but not so much racism that manifests in institutional violence. While I am white and I don’t think it’s my place to tell fans of color how they should feel about Billy, I think a lot of white fans are unwilling to confront the ways in which they are racist and/or contribute to institutional racism. They think that as long as they like the right characters and perform allyship then they can absolve themselves of their own bigotry. Regardless of race, I think fans need to also confront how their own traumas impact their world view because a lot of people use trauma as an excuse to perpetuate institutional harm.

What Billy says and does can be triggering to people for different reasons, and I don’t fault people for that. However, we can’t just use our own traumas to ignore his or ignore the context of his words and actions. If you don’t take the time to contextualize his behavior then you will never understand how to address it. Yet, there are so many people who don’t want to contextualize his behavior because that would require uncovering really uncomfortable truths about society… and themselves. I think a lot of hateful reactions to Billy stem from people’s own guilt and shame and in performing such hate for this fictional person, they are “checking” themselves. Making themselves feel good. It’s much much harder to think, hey, I might have been a bigoted person in my youth and it takes hard work to unlearn it.

That’s why people are comfortable taking a pro-punishment, pro-carceral stance when it comes to “dealing with” Billy’s racism even when that very mindset stems from institutional racism. It doesn’t emphasize growth and change, which are entirely possible with a teenage boy who was surviving abuse at the time they said and did those hurtful things. It emphasizes violence as a solution, which is how institutions already respond to marginalized people who are perceived to have done something wrong - with violence. This isn’t to say people can’t or shouldn’t defend themselves from racists or racism. It’s specifically this idea that Billy needs to be eternally punished for his actions even when he hasn’t shown himself to be a bigot that doesn’t resolve racism but rather feeds into it.

These people don’t want to admit that they’re doing harm or perpetuating cycles of violence themselves, so they need to be right. They need to feel good about hating him, and they need to perpetuate this false idea that people are static individuals who cannot change. You either are a bigot or you’re not to them, and I think feeling the need to defend their investment in such a character many people who like him feel the need to call Billy’s actions something other than racism. It’s still racism. You can be racist without being a card carrying member of the KKK or a neo-nazi. It’s important to acknowledge that, but it also is important to acknowledge that you can learn from that and grow and change as a person. That is what ends the “cycle.” Not more institutional violence.

#asks #racism #billy hargrove

[lovesosweeet]

better left unsaid // cth

chapter thirty five

in which orion has leukemia, and calum doesn’t know.

calum hood x fem!oc

read other chapters

october 17, 2018 london, england calum

My sister insists that I spend our short break after the American leg in London. We made up our San Diego and San Jose shows yesterday and the day before, and I immediately went to the airport after the show to head to England. I got here around 12:00 local time, and Mali greeted me at the airport very happily. I wasn’t in the mood, but it is always nice to see her. 

She took me back to her flat where I took a nap after not sleeping at all on the plane, but she woke me up promptly at 6 pm, saying she has dinner reservations for us.

I’m still not in the mood.

Today should have been my two year ‘official’ anniversary with Orion. In my eyes, I was entirely hers and hers alone since we met at Space Monkey, but I know that’s not how she viewed it. I should be spending the day with her, but instead we’re on opposite sides of the world, both miserable. I assume she’s miserable. If how much misery I’m in is any indication of how she’s doing, I can’t imagine she’s doing well.

And I don’t have cancer.

Mali and I are tucked into a corner booth at her favorite restaurant. It’s dark in here, with soft ambient lighting and candles at each table. It would feel romantic if I were here with Orion. 

“Alright, I know you’re kinda down today,” Mali starts, and that’s where I stop her.

“Kinda down?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her.

She sighs and rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No, Mali, I understand exactly what you mean, and you’re wrong. You are belittling everything that I’m going through right now.”

Mali moves her head back, her eyes going wide and she looks away from me. She mutters, ‘wow’ under her breath before she speaks again at a normal volume. “Calum, please. Can I finish what I wanted to say?”

I purse my lips. “Sure, what did you want to say?”

I watch my sister take a few breaths in and out. “I know you’re dealing with a really shitty breakup, but that doesn’t mean we can’t just have a nice dinner together.”

My new signature bitter laugh comes out of my mouth without a second thought. I fold my hands on the table and shake my head, my eyes focused on the cloth napkin rolled around silverware in front of me. 

“First, do you know what today is?” I ask, breaking my eye contact with my napkin to look at her.

Her immediate shift to a confused expression answers the question for me.

“It’s supposed to be our anniversary.”

Mali’s face softens and she reaches across the table for my hand, but I pull mine into my lap. She frowns. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was today.”

“Second, Mal, it’s more than just a ‘really shitty breakup.’”

She raises her eyebrows, inviting me to elaborate. 

“I am not only getting used to not having the love of my fucking life in my life anymore, the reason she’s not in my life is because she wanted to spare me the shitty experience of watching her die of terminal cancer. She’s dying, and I can’t even be with her through it. Oh, and my best friend—actually, no, my brother knew that my girlfriend was dying and lied about it. Do you know what that feels like?”

Dramatically, I pause, but I know Mali isn’t going to answer.

“No, you don’t, because nobody else can even fathom that it would happen. It’s not shit anyone else, probably ever, has gone through. Shitty is just one word out of hundreds that I could to describe how absolutely soul-crushing, mind-fucking, and heartbreaking it is to experience this.”

My sister is rendered practically speechless and she doesn’t seem to know what to say. I’m upset now, and am even more annoyed by being dragged to dinner. It would be a great time to leave right now, when I’m already being dramatic, but I can’t bring myself to stand up.

“Calum, I’m sorry,” she says with a gentle voice. “Truly, so sorry. I know how much you love her. She loves you too, and we all know it. If I know Orion, or anything about any of the other people close to her, this is temporary.” 

My eyes are watering now and I look back down to my napkin. “But what if it isn’t?” I whisper.

Mali sighs, and the next thing I know, she’s on my side of the booth with me, hugging me with her healing big sister hug. “Have some faith, C. Love as strong as yours isn’t going away. It’ll pull you back together again. I’m sure of it.” 

We manage to have a somewhat enjoyable dinner together. We split a bottle of cabernet, Orion’s favorite, and I’m able to stomach some of the creamy pasta I ordered. Mali tells me all about her latest music projects and promises to play me snippets of her favorite pieces when we go back to her place. She shares that she’s thinking about getting a cat and has started looking at a few rescues to see if any of them call out to her but she hasn’t found the right one yet. 

She also offers to come on the Europe leg with us if it would help me to have an extra support person around right now. I can’t ask her to give up her life just to be there for me, so I tell her it’s fine, but if she wants to join for just the UK section that would be fun.

And now, as we walk back to her flat, warm inside from the wine, I realize that I just did what Orion did. 

I pushed my sister away and didn’t want her to join me on tour because I didn’t want her to put her life on hold. I don’t want her to be there for me, not because it wouldn’t be nice, but because I love her and she has a life to live, friends to see, songs to write and record. 

Somehow, on opposite sides of the world, the realization makes me feel closer to her.

read next chapter

#5sos #luke hemmings #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin #calum hood #fanfiction #5sosfam #imagine #fanfic #michael clifford #calum 5sos #calum fanfic #calum fic #calum x ofc #calum x fem!oc #better left unsaid

[beautifulpersonpeach]

BPP,

TWO WORDS - PARK JIMIN!!

Look I know you're still processing what we've seen so far right now but I feel like you're the only one that can explain what it really means when a producer like PDogg says

"Park Jimin will end K-pop in 2023"

That is a statement! I mean no pressure, Jimin because he is definitely up to the task, but for that to be said by PDOGG! Please can you use your eloquence to break down fo us how much of a statement that really is in Kpop (or maybe I'm overrating the significance??)

We're down to hours and counting.

*

Ask 2: The new teaser yt short is even more insane than yesterdays?! How is this possiblr?! My hype is so real and my expectations are so high I’m actually scared of beinh disappointed and not liking the full song BPP 😭😭😭 This has never happened to me before ?!! How do I do this how will I cope 😭😭😭 JIMIN WHY ARE UOU SO GOOD AT THIS 😭😭

*

Ask 3: Someone sent you this ask ages ago - on why you don’t bias Jimin when he clearly is you find his visuals the best and you love his dance and his voice.

I’m going to ask again - BPP, are you ready to Bias Jimin now? 😄

But on a serious note, that itsy bitsy teaser is Jimin declaring war. The beat, the drums, the dancers stomping and the Jimin battle cry at the end. It’s a declaration that he is coming for us, not to dominate or conquer us (even though that is going to happen), but instead to make us see, to set US free.

Jimin knows what it means to be an idol. He knows how the Kpop stans are; and I don’t mean the internationally fans. No. I mean the locals, Japanese, Thai, Chinese…I mean, those who consume Kpop content way more than international (US/UK) fans do. He knows the restrictions of the industry. He knows how he is expected to be a certain way. He probably knows everything written about him, reads it, has internalised and battled it. Lived with it, cried about it.

Hence, I suspect this Album is a way to respond to those expectations, for those who will seek a deeper meaning/understanding to it. It his his way to Set Us (his fans, the audience, the people who consume Kpop content) free, From the preconceptions and perceptions we have of him, from the ideas we want to shove on him, from the lenses we see him through. He wants to show us his face, so that we can face him.

I suspect this is Jimin drawing his boundaries through his music.

*

Ask 4: 1) twitter com/jjimlove1013/status/1635659805653352448,,, Fudge! Park Jimin, you're unreal! Can't stop listening to the teaser. It's SO good. 2) I need to give a standing ovation to bts's commitment to dance and synchronization. The unimaginable amount of bs&t (lol) that must've costed them. The dancers in the teaser were ok but I couldn't help noticing their unsynchronized limbs and angles. Reminded me of the dancers in JK's Dreamers stage. Really, I'm in awe of bts every time.

*

Ask 5: Tu sais quoi, tu as toujours eu raison. Personne ne devrait sous estimé Jimin. Et cela se voit très bien durant ces dernières semaines. A dancer today said : the king is coming” et je te jure tout le monde devrait avoir peur.

*

Ask 6: Do you know what the date in the mv teaser or other mvs mean?

Like for Set Me Free teaser it says 2023.03.06 but it was released today and the mv won't be released until Friday.

Also, I live in those 32 seconds now.

Thank you.

***

Hi @ejassy and Anon(s),

Your link, Anon in ask 4.

You know, I don't do this often, but I am prepared to listen to Set Me Free Pt 2, in two states of being today - sober and not. Not to dull my senses but to split or fracture them. With this release, Jimin deserves to have our full attention, and every inch of my consciousness for the first few listens will be focused on Jimin.

I want to be completely and brutally mindfucked by Park Jimin. I'm expecting maximum damage to whatever ideas I've had of him till now. I need his voice of honey-coated serrated steel, of glass and velvet, to render me incapable of speech for 1.4 hours, at least.

@ejassy, it's out of character for PDogg to fanboy like that. That's all I can say, because it's not like he said something we don't already know.

"Park Jimin will end K-pop in 2023."

We know. He's fucking Jimin. The Park Jimin.

PDogg just lost control of his emotions for a sec. That's it.

And maybe, maybe the man is feeling a bit proud of himself. Proud to have created what already sounds like a masterpiece, with Jimin. Maybe it means he is proud of Jimin, proud to know and have worked with him till this point. Sometimes I think about the first promotional clips of FACE, of Jimin lounging about and working on the melody and lyrics, sometimes with PDogg.

(Killer moment for me is 0:44 btw)

*

The above footage includes scenes older than the past year. Which is to say, Jimin has been writing music for a long time. He's had experiences where he "...has internalised and battled it. Lived with it, cried about it." as you say Anon in ask 3. PDogg has been watching this process in Jimin for years, been present for a lot of it, and this album is the result of a relationship they've cultivated for a decade.

I've said before that I rate PDogg as a producer and enjoy his stylistic choices, with some exceptions. He's going to do an exceptional job in FACE, so good in fact that he believes nobody in the industry will beat it for the rest of the year.

And that's a ballsy thing to say. But it's more than doable, because the artist is Jimin.

And so, he might as well have been saying "water is wet."

Anon in ask 6, I don't know what those dates mean. I've seen situations where the date coincides with the release date, but most times that date on screen differs from the release date. I think it's possible for the artist to choose what date shows on screen, but I also think it could be linked to recording or intended distribution dates. But really I have no idea. If any of my followers know please say what it is in the replies.

*

Anon in ask 3, this was so well said:

"He knows the restrictions of the industry. He knows how he is expected to be a certain way. He probably knows everything written about him, reads it, has internalised and battled it. Lived with it, cried about it.

Hence, I suspect this Album is a way to respond to those expectations, for those who will seek a deeper meaning/understanding to it. It his his way to Set Us (his fans, the audience, the people who consume Kpop content) free, From the preconceptions and perceptions we have of him, from the ideas we want to shove on him, from the lenses we see him through. He wants to show us his face, so that we can face him.

I suspect this is Jimin drawing his boundaries through his music."

I agree with you. In this album he's going to describe the world through his eyes. Jimin is the Jimin of BTS - the biggest band in the world. And Jimin is nothing if not direct. That he's using a prison - the most severe and most universally understood representation of 'loss of freedom' - as the metaphor in Set Me Free Pt 2, is already the first indication he isn't here to play around. In the last 10 years Jimin has experienced a life, a world of changes, only a handful of people have ever experienced, and they have happened to someone with as interesting a temperament as his. This song and the rest of his album is a sonic expression of what that world looks like to him now.

It will be beautiful.

I so can't wait.

#jimin #park jimin #set me free pt.2 #jimin FACE

[bzedan]

Last Year's Flash Fiction: The Daughter of Death

Storytelling Collective does a yearly challenge for flash fic, with prompts and a nice community format. Every year I complete a run I pick my ten favourites and collect them into what is basically a zine. I've got 2024's up, so now it's time to share some faves from 2023

[ID: An image rendered in faux-photocopy style of a raven's skull centred over a crystalline burst. End ID.]

The Italians call Fear La Figlia della Morte—the daughter of death

Death cupped her hands around the steaming mug of tea and looked at her daughter.

“I know you hate conversations like this.”

“They’re lectures, mom.” Fear was leaned back in the kitchen chair, feet tucked up onto the rungs in the same way she’d sat when she was small and her legs were too short to reach the floor. Now, fully grown, it sent her knees akimbo.

Death wanted to look away from the annoyed eyes of her child, squatting there on the kitchen chair like an angry gnome, but pressed on.

“You know what, yes, I suppose these are lectures, but in the most technical sense. I am trying to impart some knowledge that I have earned through experience and time to you, my beloved daughter.” Death tapped the mug, cycling her finger through Aspects, so now the sound was soft, now it was the click of a long nail, now the chime of bone on ceramic. “It would be nice if you could skip past some of the mess of growing up by using what I’ve learned.”

“But you also are lecturing me in the sense you think I’ve done wrong and don’t want me to eff up again.” Fear was also cycling through Aspects, mirroring her mother’s anxious habit. The feet on the chair rungs, which were sending the knees bouncing in irritated discomfort, were now bird-like claws, now clad in pink socks with little doughnuts on them, now the stretched shape of a wolf’s paws.

Death tilted her head in a mixture of question and confirmation. “I wouldn’t say wrong.”

“You did, actually, at the time.”

“Well, that was wrong of me, actually.” Death stilled her hands on the mug again, trying to will her body to focus. “I think ‘ill-advised’ would be the best word. Or ‘rash’ maybe. But not wrong.”

Fear suddenly thrust her feet off the chair rungs, planting them with a stomp on the worn-out kitchen linoleum. “It’s what they wanted, it’s what they expected.”

“But what did you want?” Death sighed, feeling like she was emptying out her lungs. Forever, maybe. She made herself let go of the mug, lean back in her chair. She gave up looking at her daughter and said the rest of what she needed to say to the ceiling, part of her brain noticing that she needed to dust.

“It doesn’t matter what someone wants. I mean, it does, but if it goes against what you want—then fuck them. They want fear to be cold fingers on the back of their neck, but you think the situation calls for hot breath and the touch of fangs, then consider why you use their choice.”

Somewhere below where she was looking, Death heard her daughter.

“But how will they know who I am if I don’t look like what they expect?!”

Death smiled. “They’ll know. They’ll recognize Fear if it comes to them as an excitement that boils in their stomach rather than a hole in their heart. Just like they know Death if she folds them into nothingness instead of putting them in a chariot.”

Death could hear Fear shifting in the kitchen chair, tucking her feet back up. She added, “it’s fun, sometimes, if they don’t realise who you are right away.”

#meche writes #flash fiction february #writblr #writers on tumblr

[whitehotharlots]

It just wears you down

“I had fantasies of unloading a revolver into the head of any white person that got in my way, burying their body and wiping my bloody hands as I walked away relatively guiltless with a bounce in my step, like I did the world a favor.” -Dr. Aruna Khilanani, speaking in front of the Yale School of Medicine

"All things that begin in white folks are not infinite and eternal," Cooper said, "They ain’t gonna go on for infinity and infinity. And that's super important to remember." [ . . . ]  The thing I want to say to you is we got to take these motherfuckers out.

- Rutgers professor Brittany Cooper, speaking with The Root

Who or what should we blame? Twitter is an obvious and convenient culprit, as limiting expression to 140/280 characters lends credence to the delusion that every statement should be taken literally, that subtext and context are lies created to obscure the true, hidden, evil meanings of statements that would otherwise be understood in some other manner. Upon such a platform, demonization is all but inevitable. 

And then there’s the internet itself, the perpetual churn of content having replaced narrative and rendered the act of sustained reading something between atavistic and ableist. How many times, in any given day, do you encounter extreme outrage based solely upon a headline that is not born out by the actual content of an article? If outrage clicks are worth the same as genuine engagement, editors and publishers care only generating buzz--it doesn’t matter if anyone actually understands anything that is being said. 

But here I am falling into a lazy trap: blaming the platforms, denying the consciousness and agency of the purveyors. At a certain point, we need to admit that this is contemporary liberalism. This is a choice those of us on the broad left have made. We have incentivized this. We reward it. While we may make some subtle gestures towards distancing ourselves in extreme circumstances, this is, ultimately, what we chose to be the face of our beliefs, the leaders of our movement. 

This is eliminationism. I’m sorry, I know that sounds Alex Jones-ish, but there’s no other word for it.  I have known these people in real life. I have spoken to them outside of public forums. They are not joking. They are not exaggerating. They want to eliminate a large segment of the population.Those who insist this is a metaphor or a mere affect-generating exaggeration are full of shit.

Or... hmm... are they just full of shit? Most people aren’t that cynical, right? 

This type of discourse is tolerated/celebrated by today’s left because lefties still don’t fully regard non-white people as people. They don’t hate PoC, at least not outright, but they also don’t think they should be taken seriously.

Because if you do take a person seriously--if you regard them as a fully formed human being endowed with agency, rather than as an avatar for your political fantasies--you’re not going to nod and laugh and cheer when they tell you, to your face, that they fantasize about killing you.

An under-remarked facet of today’s elminationist rhetoric is that it’s not coming from a beleaguered majority attempting to wrest power from a brutal colonizing force. Yes, structural racism exists in the twenty-first century United States. And, yes, it is a major problem that deserves efforts toward remediation. But there’s no comparison of today’s USA to, say, Haiti in the late 1700′s, or even South Africa in the twentieth century. Making such a comparison is as contemptible and illiterate as the Canadian Truckers who said vaccine mandates were Nazism, or a public high school student who thinks being forced to attend gym class is equivalent to being jailed in a supermax prison.

But such comparisons are not denounced. Oh no. They are mandated. If you were to publish the paragraph immediately preceding this one under your own name, you would be subject to public censure, denied speaking engagements and publications, and perhaps at risk of losing your job. It’s very objectively true, and that’s why it’s so unspeakable. The most punishable speech is that which convincingly contradicts prevailing narratives.

Deep down, most left-identitarians know this. That’s why they tolerate open and barely equivocal calls for their own death: things aren’t that bad here in the ol’ U S of A, so surely we won’t face any major blowups--it’s fine to pour more gas on the fire, especially if it keeps Drumpf out of office. But this misunderstands both the nature of anger and the humanity of non-white people. If a person says something, you should not default to assuming that they actually don’t mean what just came out of their mouth. If a man shoots his wife because he thinks she cheated on him, she’s still dead regardless of whether or not she actually cheated. 

And here we come to the fundamental neurosis of today’s anti-racism: the belief that everyone is dishonest and that statements have no meaning, literal or otherwise. Look at one of those struggle session Zoom meetings that got posted during Covid. You’ve probably seen footage of at least one of them--if you work in a white collar setting, especially academe, there’s a good chance you’ve participated in a similar ritual: Every white person is expected to announce their racism as if it were an AA meeting. Those that do are accepted. The few that don't are branded as the Real Racists.

That's very, very weird. 

Like, if you say "My name is Mark and I'm a racist," that makes you not a racist. But if you say "I'm not going to admit to beliefs I don't actually possess," that means you must actually possess those beliefs. The only way to avoid censure is to performatively admit to the transgression that warrants censure.

This is distilled cynicism of the most malignant sort. Humans are by nature capable of conceptual distinction. We realize that if X is defined in opposition to Y, admitting to X does not actually mean you’ve admitted to Y. If we were incapable of grasping this realization, there would be no language. There would be no society. There would be no humanity. 

What I’m getting at is, the white people cajoled into making their struggle statements don’t actually believe what they’re saying. Most are probably operating under duress, just hoping to get this shit over with. The true believers view it as a purification ritual, absolving themselves of sin by admitting to sin. And the handful who are naive enough to assert dignity are shunted out of the workforce, made to go live under a bridge where they belong. 

And... jesus. This has been a theme of my recents posts, which have become more infrequent because all of this just seems so hopeless. There’s a simple question that’s sitting in front of everyone’s face but no one seems to have enough guts or decency to ask it: do we really want to normalize dishonesty? To this degree? Why is lying such a fundamental part of everyone’s worldview? Do we think this is going to end well?

Even if you can rationalize it, even if you honestly think this is just social progress and creating a society of violent, paranoid tattletales is the only route to equity, are you not capable of grasping the consequences of your demands? They’re not hidden. They’re in plain sight, as far away from your physical being as your phone is from your face. We’re calling for destruction. We are calling for mass violence. This isn’t a silly thought exercise. This is the real world, and this will end in horror. 

[perhaps-in-anotherdream]

[CN] Victor’s Soft Wilderness and Enchanting Words Event (Day 6-9)

Day 5: Here!

⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for content yet to be released in the global server! ⌚

–

✧ [Day 6] ✧

Delivery Guy: Excuse me, may I ask for MC? I have a delivery for you.

When I hear the delivery guy calling from the door, I dash over at galloping speed and open the door.

Last night, Victor said that there would be a “special express delivery” today and asked me to sign for it.

MC: [talking to herself] So I can see what’s inside?

I open the package with excitement. A straw hat, decorated with a red ribbon, sits quietly in the box, with a note lying next to it.

“A little reward for a certain dummy who’s been working hard to collect local cultural materials.”

I walk out of the room with the hat on, stand in front of the mirror excitedly, and spin around twice. A smile that is hard to conceal climbs onto the corners of my lips.

It appears that the hard work of collecting materials beneath the scorching sun has been filled with motivation instantaneously.

–

[Diary]

“I wonder if Victor needs a straw hat,” –– this question came to my mind on the road. It went so far as to me unconsciously browsing through several stores. But unfortunately, I didn’t find anything suitable for him. I’ll go back to check it out another day.

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [Day 7] ✧

MC: I can’t believe how good the milk is here! It actually feels like the same about Souvenir’s!

–

[T/N]: Keep this “hunch” of MC in mind, cause it’s a crucial one! ಡ ͜ ಡ

–

I’m rendered pleasantly surprised by the flavor I taste in the little milk store I’ve found on the street.

MC: I wonder if Victor has tried it. Let me take a picture of it for him.

Just as I’ve turned on my phone to take a picture, a message from Victor pops up.

–

Victor’s Text: I was just drinking milk, and it tastes pretty good. You can give it a try.

MC’s Text: What a coincidence! I was just about to tell you about a superb tasty milk too!

Victor’s Text: Is it a bottle with a bow on it?

MC’s Text: Eh? How did you know that?

Victor’s Text: Dummy, because we are drinking the same one.

–

As I stare at the words popping up on the screen, I feel a sweetness more intense than the milk within me.

Perhaps this is the “identical brand of sweetness” which belongs to us.

—

[Diary]

When I got back, I lay in bed editing my Moments for today. When my finger streaked across the picture of the milk, I hesitated for a while, then canceled the selection. Preserving this “tacit chemistry” with Victor just for myself is enough~

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [Day 8] ✧

In the last few days, I don’t know if it’s because I haven’t tasted Victor’s cooking for too long, but I always feel that something is missing.

MC: Why don’t I try to reconstruct Victor’s craftsmanship!

I walk into the kitchen, only to find a post-it note pressed underneath the refrigerator sticker.

The recipes are on the table to the right of the fridge, and there are also processed ingredients in the refrigerator. Remember to pair up the meat and vegetables. I’ve specially reserved them for a certain someone to satisfy her cravings.

(Cook carefully, and don’t blow up the kitchen.)

I fry the lamb chops according to the recipe. Although the appearance is worlds apart from how it looks when Victor cooks, the aroma that pervades the air is still familiar.

I cut off a piece and feel the familiar taste capering across the tip of my tongue.

It seems that even the yearnings that have accumulated over the past few days are slowly melting away along with the food.

–

[Diary]

Replications are inevitably bound to end in failure after all… those failures whose original appearance can no longer be discerned–– I’m sorry! In order to not be found out by Victor, I can only make you guys disappear quietly!

–

┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈┈ ◍♡◍ ┈┈

–

✧ [Day 9] ✧

The picking garden is full of children and parents who’ve come to experience it. I, on the other hand, am alone as I carefully select the tomatoes of my choice.

Kid: Mom! All the tomatoes here are so sour! Boo-woo-hoo...

Mother: Don’t cry, don’t cry. Let’s go over there. The tomatoes over there are sweet.

When the mother and child have left, I speedily run over, carrying a basket.

I pick a tomato with a heart full of anticipation and wipe the dewdrops off it using my hands.

As I lightly take a bite, the rich sweet and sour taste of the juice overflow in my mouth.

MC: Ooh~ so sour! I’m gonna use you to prepare tomato candies.

I turn the heavy tomato upside down in my palm. The words Victor said when we returned home from the tomato garden echo in my ears.

–

[Tidbits]: MC is referring to “Harvest Date.”

–

“Using heavily acerbic tomatoes can accentuate the sweetness of the white sugar. When making tomato candy, the sourness is rather essential.”

I unconsciously pull out my phone and look at the date–– one step closer to the day we will see each other.

MC: [consoling herself] Just endure for a few more days. You’ll definitely be happier when you see him again.

—

[Diary]

When Victor and I see each other, I’m going to make him taste the tomato candies I made.

P.S: Before that, I’d better trick him into taking a bite of the tomato first this time. The thought of seeing Victor furrowing his brows from the sourness begins to make me look forward to that day.

–

☘️ [Date]: Here!

—

#sorry i almost abandoned this half-way ahah :> life’s been very “kind” to me these days so–– ಥ‿ಥ #🥺❤️ #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mr love victor #mlqc #mr love queen's choice #love and producer #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #mlqc cn #mlqc translations

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐬 — 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐬

This contains spoilers for my day 25 kinktober fic.

wc— 2.2k

cws/tags— death, blood, vampirism, love/sex as a religion and worship (please let me know if I missed anything!)

TITLE

The title, of course, is a shortened version of the idiom “to bite the hand that feeds you”, which means to act poorly towards the person who is helping or has helped you. Not only is the title a reference to the actual events in the fic (Satoru literally bites the reader’s palm to feed off their blood), but it also functions to call into question whom the idiom is directed towards.

Upon first reading, it is easy to see that the idiom is in application to Satoru. This is supported by the reader’s words:

“I’ve been so good to you, and you’re talking back.”

Here, we see that from the reader insert’s perspective, letting Satoru feed from them equates to being “good”. While this is true—Satoru is a vampire who has killed and feasted upon innocent human beings for centuries, the reader does not owe him the kindness of their blood—we must also consider the application of the idiom in reverse.

Upon further inspection, it is more clearly seen that the idiom is also applicable to the reader. After Satoru has fed off the reader’s blood and treated them so reverently after performing oral, even going so far as to soothe the reader after they achieve their orgasm, we must come to terms with these actions are undeniably good. With this in mind, the reader’s newfound reluctance to kill Satoru is given new depth.

On the one hand, the reader is no longer certain that killing him is the right thing to do. On the other, despite their reluctance, the reader is still considering their duty as a vampire slayer—that they should kill Satoru on principle, regardless of his expression of humanity.

The final line of the fic underscores the ultimatum: “Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?” 

EPIGRAPH

Here is the entire quote. In bold is the section used for the epigraph of my fic:

“Most people live for love and admiration. But it is by love and admiration that we should live. If any love is shown us we should recognise that we are quite unworthy of it. Nobody is worthy to be loved. The fact that God loves man shows us that in the divine order of ideal things it is written that eternal love is to be given to what is eternally unworthy. Or if that phrase seems to be a bitter one to bear, let us say that everyone is worthy of love, except him who thinks that he is. Love is a sacrament that should be taken kneeling, and Domine, non sum dignus should be on the lips and in the hearts of those who receive it.”  ― Oscar Wilde, De Profundis

While the original quote is not about oral sex, in the context of it being an epigraph to this particular fic of mine, it is encouraged to be interpreted that way. This was chosen because the fic blurs the line between sex and worship. 

In Matthew 8:8, Jesus is approached by a centurion who asks Him to heal his servant. Since the centurion knows that a good Jewish man like Jesus would cause scandal by coming into the home of a Roman soldier, the centurion says “Domine non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum sed tantum dic verbo et sanabitur puer meus.”

In the New American Bible, this text is rendered “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.”

Domine, non sum dignus -> “Lord, I am not worthy”

LANGUAGE CHOICE

The Power of Names

“Speak, monster,” you said in a cool, steady tone. [...] “Oh, come on. Why the formalities?” he taunted in an airy whisper, a smug lilt to his tone. “Don’t you think we’re past that?” [...] “Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering. His eyes drank you in with an uncanny hunger. “Gojo Satoru. Though, please, Satoru will do just fine.”

Satoru’s smugness and lingering pride function as a way of veiling his desperation for intimacy in his last moments. Despite the reader’s attempt to distance themselves from Satoru, he insists on being called by his first name. It’s worth noting that despite Satoru and the reader not having a close relationship at this point in time, calling somebody by their first name in Japan usually means some kind of close kinship or relationship.

To kill

- “Tell me your name before I slay you tonight,” you spat, your will unwavering. - “Have your taste before I slaughter you, Satoru.” - “Where’s the beast I came to slaughter tonight?” - “I’ll teach you manners before I slay you tonight.” (<- fun fact! This is actually a reference to this fic) - “You can kill me now, and I’ll die human,” he murmured.

slay: to kill in a violent way

slaughter: the killing of many people cruelly and unfairly, especially in a war OR the killing of animals for meat

kill: to cause someone or something to die OR to stop or destroy a relationship, activity, or experience OR to drink all of something

Not once in the entire fic does the reader say in speech that they will “kill” Satoru. However, if you interpret the final line of the fic as the reader’s own train of thought:

“Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?”

It could be argued that this changes.

In this fic, to “kill” and to die are incredibly intimate acts and are implied to be signifiers of humanity.

Play On Words

“The blood. The blood in the chalice—that bait you left for me. Was it yours? Did you… alter it?”

alter: to change something, usually slightly, or to cause the characteristics of something to change

altar: a structure with a flat top, often shaped like a table, that is used in some religious ceremonies, for example as a place to put important religious objects

When writing this particular line, I kept in mind that “alter” and “altar” are homophones. With this in mind, it is easy to argue that Satoru drinking the reader’s blood they used as a way to lure him is symbolic of drinking wine at Communion, which is done to commemorate the death of Christ and to represent the mutual communion of believers with each other.

“Though after sharing a little death with him, could you kill him?”

The phrase “a little death” comes from the French saying, “La petite mort” which means "the brief loss or weakening of consciousness" and in modern usage refers specifically to "the sensation of post orgasm as likened to death”.

In the most literal sense, the final line is in reference to the reader’s orgasm brought on by Satoru. However, it is also in reference to the lapse in judgment from both parties (the reader is a vampire slayer who should be killing the vampire, and Satoru is a vampire who should be fighting for his own survival). 

The word “sharing” is incredibly important—this is the first real moment where the reader and Satoru have been ‘united’ over something.

Last Meal

“Please,” the longing etched into his contorted expression spoke of desire both primal and inexplicable. “One last request before it’s over. Please.”

A condemned prisoner's last meal is a customary ritual preceding execution. In many countries, the prisoner may, within reason, select what the last meal will be.

Dialogue tags

- “You disgust me,” you hissed, pressing the blade to his neck so that it was perilously close to breaking his skin. - "Did I say you could bite?" you hissed through gritted teeth.

While “hissing” is to say something in a quiet angry way, it is also associated with angry/frightened animals—and vampires. Not once does Satoru ever hiss. 

JUXTAPOSITION

A brief overview of some of the juxtaposing themes/imagery:

Humanity/Monstrosity

- The raw power that you expected to emanate from a monster so ancient, so sinister, seemed to have dulled into something strangely human. His aura of malevolence was overshadowed by a pitiable aura of need. - He pressed closer to the flat of the blade—the dichotomy of his action hauntingly human.

Predator/Prey (Vampire/Vampire Slayer)

The tableau is one of stark contrasts—the resolute hunter and the feeble prey, the chilling void of the night and the warmth of desperate need.

Blood/Nectar

- A languid, serpentine motion as his tongue darted out, collecting the remnants of blood, your blood, that clung to his lips. The taste, metallic and potent as you knew it to be, was like the sweetest nectar to him. - The taste of your blood, infused with the sweet essence of your very being, flooded his senses.

Angels/Demons

- His eyelids parted, revealing pupils dilated to a darkness. Those eyes, a chromatic anomaly amidst the desolation of his existence, were a cerulean that defied nature's palette. They were too blue, too vivid—a celestial fragment from the vast expanse of the heavens that had fallen into his wretched possession. - He was disturbingly beautiful: Far too angelic in appearance, though you supposed it was a façade to lure in his prey. 

What is Seen/What is Said

Note how the descriptions consistently portray Satoru as beautiful, even if the reader says otherwise.

- Satoru’s head, heavy with the weight of his longing, found its place on your lap, a gesture that radiated a delicate surrender. His silvery hair, like silk against your legs, contrasted starkly with the increasingly depraved display. “You really are vile,” you breathed, the sting from the wound shooting up your arm.

Gentility/Depravity

- His lips sought redemption in a sequence of fervent kisses. They trailed across the delicate skin of your wrist, your knuckles, and the tips of your fingers. The gesture, if not for the lingering urgency of his movements, would have held a sweet tenderness, an attempt to mend what had been broken. Amid this tangled web of feelings, the grinding of his arousal against you persisted, a relentless echo of his desire. The moans that escaped him seemed to punctuate each kiss, a wretched symphony of need.

Pleasure/Pain

See: the whole fic lol.

LOVE AS [XYZ]

Love As Religion

Depth of Emotion: Describing love as religion suggests that it is a deeply held and fundamental aspect of human experience. This metaphor highlights the emotional intensity and significance of love in one's life. Love, like religion, can inspire devotion, commitment, and a sense of purpose.

Spiritual Connection: Love as a religion implies that love can create a spiritual or transcendent connection between individuals. It suggests that love can be a source of meaning and purpose, much like religion is for many people. This metaphor can be used to explore the idea of finding transcendence and spiritual fulfilment in love.

Moral and Ethical Considerations: Just as religions often have moral and ethical guidelines, the concept of "love as religion" can be used to explore the moral and ethical dimensions of love. It raises questions about how one should treat their loved ones and how love can be a force for good in the world.

Sacrifice and Devotion: Love as religion can also be a metaphor for the sacrifices and devotion that people are willing to make for the ones they love. It emphasises the idea that love can inspire acts of selflessness and dedication, much like religious devotion.

Love As Worship

Reverence and Adoration: When love is compared to worship, it emphasises the idea of reverence and adoration. Love is portrayed as a powerful force that demands admiration and respect. This metaphor underscores the idea that love can be all-consuming and awe-inspiring.

Rituals and Symbolism: Love as worship may involve rituals and symbolic acts that signify one's commitment and devotion to a loved one. Just as religious ceremonies and rituals have symbolic meaning, the act of showing love can be filled with symbolism and meaningful gestures.

Transcendence: Love as worship can also suggest a form of transcendence, where individuals elevate their loved ones to a higher status in their lives. It can explore the idea that love can lift people beyond their ordinary existence and provide a sense of purpose and meaning.

Sacrifice and Submission: Like religious worship may involve sacrifice and submission to a higher power, love as worship can be a way of expressing the sacrifices and compromises one is willing to make for the sake of their loved one.

RELIGION AS A SEMANTIC FIELD

In literature, a semantic field, also known as a lexical field or semantic domain, refers to a group of words or terms related by their common theme or subject matter. These words are typically grouped together because they share a connection in meaning and are often used to convey a particular concept, idea, or image. The purpose of using a semantic field is to create a specific atmosphere, convey a particular emotion, or emphasize a theme within a literary work.

kneeling, serpentine/serpent, celestial, heaven, wretched, damned, angelic, chalice, transcended, reverence, offering, blood, artistic, surrender, testament, declaration, redemption, plea, lust, confession, power, bliss, monster, beast, God, sculpted, submission, painted, refrain, bloodlust, surreal, obedience, kiss, mercy, haven, devotion, divine, masterpiece, worship, manifest, bore, ardent, adore, tribute, gratitude, mantra, token, appreciation, creature

#[ ☠︎︎ ] — ex.plicit #cw blood #cw death #tw death #[ ⌕ ] — reece's lectures

[forabeatofadrum]

aap noot mies (1/14)

Summary: Blaine Anderson is just your average New Yorker. One day, he spots an ad by Kurt Hummel, seeking a Dutch language tutor and he decides to go for it. After all, being an actual alien that knows every single language in the universe has to be good for something, right?

Notes: Welcome to my contribution to the @klaine-word-scramble! I am super late to the party, but better late than never! I came up with this idea in 2018 (!) and it felt great to have a reason to revisit it.

This fic is still a WIP, but I hope to update every Wednesday and Saturday.

Also, a huge thanks to @cerriddwenluna for coming up with the summary and for answering to my erratic DMs about the title. The title translates to monkey nut mies, with Mies being a Dutch name. aap noot mies are the first words of het Leesplankje van Hoogeveen, a plaque that was used to teach children how to pronounce Dutch words accurately.

I hope you enjoy.

AO3 | S&C

--

WARN - 7 points

There are a few things Blaine should clarify.

Yes, aliens exist. Blaine should know, since he happens to be one.

No, aliens aren’t green and they don’t have many weird knobs. Blaine looks human, or better said, humans look alien.

Yes, aliens have weird superpowers. After all, Blaine has one.

And no, aliens are not going to take over the world using those superpowers. Blaine doesn’t really know how him being able to speak all languages of the universe would help him dominate Earth, but not that he’s interested.

Being a polyglot, which is the human term that best describes Blaine’s superpower, does have its non-world-threatening perks, especially in a multicultural city like New York.

He loves visiting all kinds of areas of the city, to talk with the locals who have immigrated from all over the world. He enjoys being able to fully understand Broadway shows that use different languages, including the ones with sign language. It’s very cathartic to help clueless tourist with finding their way.

And it leads to some extra cash.

That’s what’s on Blaine’s mind when he sees an ad on Craigslist from a certain Kurt Hummel, who is in a dire need of a Dutch tutor.

This isn’t the first time Blaine was someone’s tutor. It’s a great thing, since some languages are so obscure that some people are willing to pay a lot, which Blaine in turn donates to research on lost languages (because that’s the only limitation to his superpower: he cannot speak languages that are lost). Blaine reads through Kurt’s ad, and Kurt writes that he’s sorry that he can’t offer a lot of money, but for some reason Blaine feels compelled to react.

He checks Kurt’s profile. There’s no photo, which is something Blaine’s friends warn him for. Blaine always argues back that even if someone has a photo of a face, you don’t know for sure that it’s real.

Blaine’s made up his mind.

He’s going to react to Kurt’s ad!

--

This Kurt lives all the way in Bushwick. Blaine takes the train and the moment he gets squished against a metal pole, he’s jealous of Wes, whose superpower is teleportation.

Or when he’s finding his way to this ‘loft’ and he fails. Then he’s jealous of David’s navigation power.

Look, being a polyglot is definitely useful, but there are even more useful powers out there! New York’s crowdedness is great for Blaine’s power, but it leads to Blaine being lost more often than he’d like to admit. Maybe he should get over his grudge against technology (it’s an alien thing!) and download something like Google Maps.

Blaine’s ten minutes late, but once he finds the right building, he lets out a relieved sigh. He takes the elevator to the right floor. Kurt had written him that it looks shady and that there’s no doorbell, so when Blaine’s at the door he knocks loudly.

The door slides (slides!) open and Blaine is greeted by a man so handsome that despite his linguistics skills, Blaine’s rendered speechless.

#klaine word scramble #glee #klaine #multichaptered #holy fuck I wrote #2022 #2018

[labryinth11]

Are all stories true?

etymology … story = history

Great question. Our memories consist of constantly revised stories. We rearrange recollections to help provide premises for things we experience in the present. Memory distortion: an adaptive perspective.

It’s unsettling to realise, but we make sense of what’s happened in the past by what’s happening now (we might call that ‘causality’) and we make sense of what’s happening now by what happened in the past (we might call that ‘historical precedence’). These concepts might appear identical, but they are actually different projections of the same sets of datapoints.

I suggest Causality joins the dots ‘from left to right’ (looking forward to show what happened next) and History joins the same dots ‘from right to left’ (looking backwards to see what happened before). In concert, these performances of patterns compose what we consider cogent, like contrapuntal harmony. They actually adjust their tuning to match one another - like mathematical modelling of a time-series.

So, if I were to ask you ‘what did you do today?’ you will actually tell me a story. Even if it is very detailed, the narrative will feature a perspective that will produce a picture according to inclusions and omissions. ‘I had a nice cup of coffee’. Black or cappuccino? What volume of it? At what moment and in what manner? How many sips did you take? Was there a spoon on the saucer?

Without encoding every possible property of the state of affairs you are naming as an event, have you told ‘the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’? Is such a thing even possible? How much truth is enough, and what are you intending to truthfully communicate to me? The fact that you had one cup, the physics-chemical properties of the coffee, or that you enjoyed it? Surely the truth must include all of them! Otherwise you are cherry-picking in order to render your reality!

But that’s just what we do. That’s what we always do. In scientific data there is this devil called ‘noise’. Stuff that is ‘insignificant’. The signal-to -noise ratio is the heart of any evidence. How do we know what matters? Well, it depends on what we are trying to model. When I was a kid doing molecular biology people still talked about ‘junk DNA’ like it was a fact. Who does that now, in the age of epigenetics? (Regulatory RNAs and the demise of 'junk' DNA)

So, ‘what happened’ starts to become a deeper question than we might realise when we consider how communication across time (even when we use video recordings from certain angles) necessitates the reduction of reality into sets of symbols (be they words or even pixels) such that what we recall as a representation of what happened is never ‘what happened’ - it is our picture of what happened.

Pictures communicate different properties. Here is one of my favourite pictures of Time. Anyone who knows the title of the image will see why I am using it as an example here.

“The Persistence of Memory”

Did this really happen? Of course not! Clocks don’t melt. However, this really happens and is happening even as you think about what I have already said.

In summary, all stories can be true in a sense, even when those stories involve sentient mice and grateful dolphins. Don’t panic (and always take a towel) - that doesn’t mean there is no distinction between forensics reports and fairytales. However, what aspects of truth a story is intended to communicate stipulates its form. The restaurant at the end of the universe may not be a place in space, but we have all been there.

Serious or satirical? Like Wittgenstein suggests, that depends on whether you get the joke.

— david moore on quora

[blacklodgemusictx]

Salim Nourallah: Record Release Mini Tour - Night One

Standing in front of the Lonesome Rose honky tonk in San Antonio, I am keenly reminded of what it was *not* when I last stood here. When last here it was January. It was not 95 degrees.

I’m starting to sweat. I gravitate to available outdoor seating: a row of what appears to be old movie theater chairs… stuffing coming out through loose cushion stitches appears to be *squint* hair…?

Jason Garner is there. I’ve never actually spoken to him, but with his bare, tattooed arms and cheerful blue mohawk, he’s recognizable to say the least. He’s crouched over taking pictures of a cactus by the stairs. The cactus is smiling.

“We’ve never actually met. We’re LizNDoug (run it together. All one word. Can’t have one without the other… like peanut butter and jelly)… Salim’s friends.”

Sure! He’s seen us at shows. The same way we’ve seen him. He disappears inside to see if a Salim could be located. No, he’s gone off to eat.

I continue wilting. It’s 15 minutes to the announced door time, but there is no one around. Absolutely no one. The key to walking in where you may or may not belong is confidence. Just walk in. So we did.

The difference between the bright sunshine and the low light dazzles my eyes. A benevolent shadow form coalesces and hugs me. My eyes adjust. Olivia Willson-Piper. There she is being happy to see me again - still getting use to that: kind people being happy to see me for no other reason than my basic existence. She’s there with Marty having a bite to eat.

Marty is a vegetarian. He informs us while delicately unwrapping his… wrap (?) that he also doesn’t like peppers. He tweezes them out while we chat.

Olivia and I end up under a light source comparing tattoos. I start naming off the menagerie of animals that dot my arms. And let slip that my favorite chicken - an artistically rendered Lavender Orpington on my left forearm- is called Olivia. She seems delighted.

John Dufhilo appears. I haven’t really ever spoken to him before, but just like Jason Garner, he is immediately recognizable. We are Salim facilitated Facebook friends and not too long ago, I added my voice to those on said social media platform rejoicing as he recovered from a massive heart attack. He surprises and delights me with a hug. It is wonderful seeing him well and hearty.

Joe Reyes is there. We know him a little better than some of these satellites we have met in Salim’s orbit. He has the best smile. Seems genuinely delighted to just be in a room with air. The addition of friends and the opportunity to play music? Even better.

At some point Salim appears. It’s hard to talk amidst the bustle of a bar waking up for its nightly duties. Something upsetting happened to him the day before. I hug him. I got nightmare family news (related to the nightmare of my family… namely it’s toppled, usurped, disgraced patriarch. Daddy issues? I’ll have a lifetime subscription) this very day and have spent a good portion of my afternoon crying.

He’s going to play, “Let Go” from his new album, he tells me. I like it… this is an excellent idea. The *only* thing that would give me peace right now is that very [impossible] action.

Time passes. Positions shift. Marty dons glasses and moves to a different table. He looks like a stern bookkeeper going over accounts. In reality, he’s making a setlist.

More time passes. I don’t mind the wait. To get my fix in the vicinity of musicians, I used to queue up first thing in the morning and spend all day without food or water to be first in, front row for The Flaming Lips. My only reward for that might be a faraway wave from Steven or a chat with Kliph.

Sitting inside the dark and cool, talking to these fascinating people - my friends - this is heaven.

Early on, Doug is recruited to run merch. I’m not surprised. The merch table has become our station. Doug is in his element. Me? I’ll helpfully point at the records. Tell people after the set where the songs they thought were catchy originated. Tell them ‘A Nuclear Winter’ yes, that’s the newest one. But I stand here next to him proudly. Whatever you need. Whatever helps.

Salim and the Treefort Five are first to play tonight (he tells me later their new name is ‘Salim and the Philistines.’)

I am deeply deeply biased at this point… but they sound incredible to me. Seeing Salim backed by a full band… he comes alive in a completely new way as a performer. I’ve been lucky enough to behold this two other times - Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas in 2019. Then this year (2023) opening for the Old 97s. I love my friend as an energetic front man.

This time is different and monumental. This time Marty. Marty Willson-Piper formerly of Australian band The Church (this man is the whole reason we were brought in to warm regard of Salim Nourallah - he and Doug share a mutual love of The Church.)

Marty and Olivia came over in 2018 to be enfolded in to the Nourallah musical family. Recording, producing has happened even with a global pandemic to work around.

This is work coming to fruition. Nuclear Winter finally birthed. Marty is finally on stage by Salim’s side. I know this is monumental for him and I love it. I love witnessing this. I love being here. Love that he wants me here. Love that these amazing people jam packed in to this tiny room are our friends now too.

The amassed gents rip through a mix of Salim standards and a heavy dose of things from the new album.

The set end nears. I’ve snapped my pictures. Taken my videos. All in the name of seeing; witnessing; presence.

Olivia is on stage. I know ‘Friends for Life’ is coming. That’s one she started playing on during the shows 6 mos ago. This one makes me sad. I have a dear dear friend who allowed me to turn him on to Salim (there is no greater compliment than to let me show you the music I love… then love it to). This is his favorite. My friend is in Greenland. I haven’t seen him in months.

Friends for life… if I had to sum up my time with Salim it would be with those three words. If you are lucky enough to ever be on the receiving end of Salim’s regard, you have a friend for life. Just shut up and enjoy the ride.

But then it’s time. Time to ‘Let Go’ - another song made more achingly beautiful with the deft application of Olivia’s bow.

I cry. Bitterly. Let go, he tells me, surrender to the things I can’t control. Best advice possible… I’m so far away from that right now, all I can do is feel sorry for myself.

The set is over. Back to husband in the merch nook (we’ve seen many incarnations. This one is nice. Padded booths made into their own cozy corner.)

I feel wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. An older gentleman asks me if I’m ok. Brings me water. Oh good. I look as bad as I feel.

The Deathray Davies are next. I know John Dufilho fronts this configuration, but I’ve never seen them. I also don’t know how many people are in the band. Musicians appear - to tired eyes - to swarm the stage like clowns from a tiny car.

They tear in to their first song and I like them immediately. Their energy is palpable and consuming. Nick Earl appears to be old school Seattle grunge: rakes his hands across an artfully battered Jazzmaster, long hair hanging in his face.

That energy is catching. I spy my first dancer of the evening. This woman gives no fucks and it is a scene to behold. Her shuck and jive is part Ministry of Silly Walks part scraping-gum-off-her-shoe. She gyrates with an oily self aware sensuality. At one point, her untethered breasts seem in danger of escaping. Not so fast. She doesn’t miss a beat: stuffs the offending mammary back down through the armhole of her sundress. Not today, titty.

She. Is. Magnificent.

Salim is with us at this point. I start relaying what I have seen to Doug. Salim wants in to the conversation. I smile thinking about how I will pay tribute to her, “Just getting inspired.”

It’s at this point, the night takes it’s massive, sudden toll. I’ve got a stabbing pain in the back of my head. Great. When I fantasize about death, it’s quick. I don’t want to stroke out. Here I come, it’s The Big One.

… or I’m hungry and tired and dehydrated.

Salim says it’s ok, you don’t have to stay. Marty and Olivia are already gone. The place has cleared out in a hurry. Even those disciplines of rock have to get home at a reasonable hour on a weekday. There’s work in the morning.

I hate to miss Buttercup, but I don’t think Joe will blame me for feeling poorly.

So we sneak off to the healing powers of Whataburger.

I will live to rock another day.

#singer #songwriter #salim nourallah #joe reyes #marty willson-piper #the church #john dufilho #deathray davies #buttercup #lonesome rose #honky tonk #san antonio #treefort five #jason garner #salim and the philistines #nuclear winter #album release

[ulfwolf]

Samsara -- Musing 302

I am not trying   to build a life— I am trying   to exit one

Even the sweetest   touch of Samsara is nothing but a   Nightmare

Samsara is variously defined as the world of illusion, as the world of suffering, and perhaps, these days, as the world of fake news?

The Buddha held, rightly I firmly believe, that life is Dukkha.

This word, Dukkha, is Pali for, what is the most common translation, “suffering”. Now, these days it is probably politically incorrect, or religiously incorrect, or something-or-otherly incorrect to just come out and say that “Life is Suffering,” but I don’t think that the Buddha much cared (or cares, if he still looks down on us from the Tusita heaven) to avoid hurting feelings.

I think that for the Buddha, “suffering” would be a mild, almost wimpy, rendering of what he actually meant.

Yes, I believe that Gotama Buddha did mean suffering, that he meant painful, deep, lasting agony, anguish, distress, misery, torment, torture, pick your synonym of choice.

He saw life for what it actually was/is and he called a spade a spade.

Not so these days for suffering, torment doesn’t go so well with the mellower view that life isn’t all that bad, not really, there is much good to be had here, and hadn’t we better tone the Buddha down a notch or two? Perhaps, “life can be, at times, not entirely satisfactory,” or, as one guru keeps insisting, “life can be stressful”.

I’d say.

It really depends on from what layer of understanding you view this Earthly, human (and nonhuman alike, for animals are not spared: it’s all eat or be eaten around here—a zero-sum game if I ever saw one) life. From the Buddha’s enlightened view, and he was firm, life is suffering, torment, agony, no need to pussyfoot around that fact.

Yes, while there are pleasant, some will say pleasurable, sensations and emotions here and there, even those (if you take a good look) are suffering. Even such highly rated and sought-after sensations as sexual orgasms or, for that matter, the ethereal flight of a beautiful piece of classical music, are nothing but prison wall decorations, and if you buy them (which humans, as a rule, do, you’re also buying the wall and with that also the prison itself, i.e., life as we know it here on planet Earth.

Obviously, this is an unpopular view: dark, defeatist, pessimistic, fatalistic, what have you. But this only if you cannot see beyond the prison wall and the prison itself.

Another angle: Peter Englund’s “The Beauty and the Sorrow: An Intimate History of the First World War”. This amazingly well-researched and, yes, very intimate (told from the view of twenty or so individuals who lived, and died, this war) story, lays life out in front of you, and it is not pretty.

This, the “Great War”, has nothing great about it. It was a four-year abomination, an actual hell. No two ways about that. Buy the book and take a look for yourself.

Then, there’s the sequel, with the Holocaust along with Hiroshima, and yes this is what humanity is capable of. The only tangible improvement of the Second World War over its predecessor was that people died a little quicker—better weapons. And probably better medics; they knew how to stuff the drooping intestines back into the shot-asunder soldiers as they screamed for more painkillers or even death itself.

We’ve been busy brushing this under the carpet ever since, even to the insane degree of making heroes out of the best killers and then creating an avalanche of hi-res video games where killing is the best thing on earth; much like we’re brushing under the same carpet the current right-wing insanities and terrifying wars while admiring (applauding) the prison wall decorations.

It does irk me that too many Buddhist teachers and gurus do pussyfoot around the plain misery that is this life—at least on this planet.

Yes, this planet. Sometimes I seriously think that planet earth is an experiment gone drastically wrong and I think the Buddha saw that and tried to wake people up to that fact—he still is.

Just saying.

::

P.S. If you like what you’ve read here and would like to contribute to the creative motion, as it were, you can do so via PayPal: here.

[wispycecilia]

people-free bookstore.

akira kurusu x reader

[14:29] - 1298 words.

synopsis: locked in a library while its raining. oh, and did i mention that you’re alone with a hot dude too?

notes: pure fluff. mentions of prominent literature figures. akira used instead of ren. no spoilers, just the 'i am thou..’ speech :)

a/n: yall. i wrote this two years ago. TWO YEARS AGO. AND IT HAS BEEN GATHERING DUST FOR THAT LONG. i revamped it to the point where it’s basically unrecognisable to the first draft, but i just wanted to share some of my old writing w/ u all!! u can definitely see the rookie mistakes still </3

The feeling of the bonded leather made a smile tug at your lips. It had always been like this: with the countless rows of spines facing outwards, the smell of dusty parchment and coffee filling the air - the bookshop in a secluded corner of Shibuya had been your home; your sanctuary.

The atmosphere was unparalleled - there was no other place as calming as here. South-facing windows made light leak through; rays of comfort lining your face.

Time passed by, and those rays of comfort disappeared - replaced with dreary rains as the melodious tune drifting through the air stays consistent. A puff of cold escaped your lips, leaving a trail of disappointment in its wake.

‘So much for going home…’

The rain continued, wed thuds echoing into the quaint bookshop. They were like bullets battering against the roof. You could tell that in order to avoid getting your books wet, going home had to wait a bit.

‘H-Hey guys. You gotta leave soon. I know it’s raining and all, but I gotta wrap up my shift in a bit…'

A meek voice caught your attention. There was no way she actually expected you to go outside in this weather - right?

You opened up your mouth to protest, but a masculine voice beat you to it. ‘With all due respect, there’s no way we’re going out there.’

Immersed in your own world, you failed to realise that there was another person in the cozy shop that wasn’t the shop-keep. You expected to see no one impressive, maybe just a face that blended in with the remaining crowd – a normality, even - but you instead lock eyes with the prettiest boy you have ever seen. You were openly gawking. And doubled with the fact that he rendered the poor worker speechless with just a singular sentence? It was almost comical.

Looking at him closer, you were able to pinpoint why exactly the worker was speechless. The blush on her face said it all. Staring shamelessly, you struggled to keep your eyes to yourself as you studied the stranger’s features. With framed glasses and tousled hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in years, he could easily be mistaken as your average passer-by. But he was enchanting. There was something endearing about his plain look; his aura leaking with pure confidence. He could captivate even the strongest people with just one look.

What a piercing glare. The thought wandered into your mind carelessly, foregoing any prior thoughts about the man.

Unable to continue the staring contest, the worker averted her attention to you. ‘By the looks of things, I’m guessing you’re not leaving either, right?’ Giving a hesitant nod in return, the girl groaned. ‘I don’t get paid enough for this. Seriously,’ impassively gesturing to the counter, all previous sense of her nervousness dissipated. ‘This is where the keys are. Lock up when you’re done, and not a word of this to anyone, okay? You’re putting my job at risk here.’

Walking over to the entrance to make her leave, the girl spared one last look over to you two, hands briskly unwrapping the only umbrella from the rack.  ‘I’m only doing this because you’re attractive… The boy. Akira, I mean.’

Wait. They know each other?

And just like that, three became two.

‘The girl has no shame, huh? Totally into you, dude.’ You gave a little smile to your side, in hopes of removing the tension between you and the boy, Akira, if you recalled correctly. Oh, why won't the rain just let up already? ‘Seems like it’s not gonna stop any time soon… So much for going home, I guess.’

His stare was too much for you. Suddenly, the window seemed more interesting than the hundreds of books you were surrounded by. Yet, in the midst of the window's reflection, you swore you saw Akira’s eyes crinkle up in amusement at your pity party. His smile was cute; his name was cute. He was cute.

‘Well, if we’re stuck, we might as well get comfortable, right?’ You walked over to the couch at the centre of the store, gesturing him over with a wave of your hand. Encyclopedia of Thieves was left askew. A childish name filled with equally immature drawings. A teenager definitely left it here.

Oh screw it, literature is literature. Might as well give it a read, right?

Mimicking your actions, Akira grabbed an obscure book off of the horror shelf, before proceeding to sit on the furthest end of the couch you’re on. The novel in question, however, caught your attention.

‘No Longer Human? As in, Osamu Dazai’s?’ That’s one of my favourites! I know it’s cliche, but it’s fantastic nonetheless, really!’ In the midst of your excited sprawl, his mouth hangs open for a bit. Oh no, did you get too carried away? ‘Sorry, I tend to get a bit… Excited over these things.’

‘It’s alright.’

So, he was a man of very little words, huh? That’s alright - it adds more mystery to his persona. Maybe that’s why you’re attracted to his charm in the first place.

You two pause, and with the initial rush of adrenaline and excitement gone, the chatter slows down into a lull of nothingness, replaced with the melodious piano music that drew a line between the tranquillity of strangers. The silence was one you would have with an old friend - it wasn’t awkward whatsoever; it was calming.

That’s when a realisation hits you.

‘Ah did you realise--’

‘We’re alone, aren’t we?’

Completely neglecting the fact that that’s the longest sentence he’s said to you, you stood up in excitement, ‘Don’t you realise? We’re in a people-free bookstore! This is like… the coolest thing that has ever happened to me! W-Wait here! I’m going to get something.’

You excitedly browse through the collection of novels and eagerly grab some until a pile forms within your hands. While you dump them onto the couch - spreading out like falling dominoes as a result - he smiles at your excitement. You were like an excitable cat. Adorable.

The not-so stranger stands up and does the same, picking up novella and putting it on the couch tentatively, creating a tower of books.

You sit down and urge him to follow suit through your smile alone. ‘Here! Look, this is my favourite at the moment. It’s Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, and the plot is fantastic. The author actually takes risks, which is like, something none of ‘em do nowadays. A feat in itself, if you ask me.’

He nods - and this is when you realise, even after everything that has occurred – Akira’s an awesome listener. A stark contrast to your talkativeness.

‘I’m reading this one at the moment,’ He pointed at the cover that read Snow Country, and you questioned Akira’s taste in literature right then and there. ‘The story is just as bleak as the cover implies.’

You laugh at his comment, and the impromptu book show-and-tell begun.

Deep within his mind, Akira heard it.

‘I am thou, thou art I. Thou hast acquired a new vow. It shall become the wings of rebellion that breakth thy chains of captivity. With the birth of the Page of Pentacles persona, I have obtained the winds of blessing that shall lead to freedom and new power.’

Two people, alone, in a bookshop. And with the smiles and laughter filling up the bookstore, the smell of petrichor fails to reach your noses; coffee and parchment, the scents of home, settled in its stead.

The fact that it had stopped raining almost an hour ago failed to dawn upon the duo. But you two didn't care; you were busy basking in the limelight that had been meticulously crafted.

Maybe something more than just a confidant has been formed: a relationship that surpasses the boundaries between acquaintances and lovers.

#persona 5 x reader #akira kurusu x reader #ren amamiya x reader #akira x reader #ren x reader #persona x reader #p5 x reader #persona 5 #akira kurusu #ren amamiya #akira fluff #persona 5 imagine #persona 5 scenario #anime x you #anime x reader #ren fluff #persona 5 fanfic #akira x y/n #ren x y/n #akira kurusu x you #ren amamiya x you #wispywrites *; #thieves collection *;

[joongernaut]

no doubts

pairing: johnny suh x reader

genre: slight angst, suggestive, a little fluff if you squint, implied smut

word count: 1.1k

prompt: #9 “don’t raise your fucking voice at me.” + #21 "lay down and stay still." (honestly forget what prompt list i got this from LMAO)

•••

"[y/n], you're overreacting." johnny sighed, trailing right behind you and into your shared home. you had sped walked up ahead of him and after closing the front door shut, he turned around to meet your glared expression with your arms folded across your chest. "am i overreacting, john?" you started, the use of the name you rarely used for him making him roll his eyes. "so, it's no big deal to you that you and your ex are 'buddy buddy' like that?" you questioned, fingers briefly coming up to make air quotes.

you had met his friend before, multiple times actually, as you had mutual friends and would bump into each other quite often. a simple hello with some friendly small talk. not once was it mentioned that they had dated nor fucked each other. that wasn't until your shared group of friends all went out together tonight, drinking and talking amongst each other with some of them being a little too drunk for their own good. "y'know," haechan had started, his words slurring a bit, "i like you with johnny way more than i do with whatsherface. the arguing, god, it was so annoying when we were roommates. not to mention the loud, nasty sex they would have. it drove me insane!" he rambled on, making a gagging noise for added effect. you had almost completely tuned him out by the end of his sentence, eyes zeroing in on the two aforementioned people as they stood amongst some friends side-by-side with her nearly leaning on him.

you wouldn't consider yourself the type to get jealous easily or to cause a scene but the more you stared at the two, too close for comfort and too close for your liking, the easier it was to tug him away and demand ask him to take you home. though he was a bit confused by your sudden behavior, johnny assumed you were just tired and decided to call it a night. it wasn't until you had started giving him the silent treatment on the car ride home that he noticed something was wrong, inevitably leading up to the build-up of the current argument.

"we were friends before we dated. when it didn't work out, we just went back to being friends. what's wrong with that?" he asked, mimicking your stance and folding his arms over his own chest. you scoffed, more annoyed than before. "what's wrong is that this is news to me now. why didn't you mention this to me before? you know, before we started hanging out with her? and why the fuck did i have to find out about it from your friends?!" your voice rose at the end of your line of questioning, the tone making johnny's stare harden.

"don't raise your fucking voice at me." johnny warned, taking a step closer to you. this only pissed you off even more, taking a step closer as well until you were face to face. "and if the roles were reversed? then what? you'd be okay with me being friends with my ex that i fucked?" you nearly yelled, voice remaining the same volume as before. "[y/n]. enough. calm down-" johnny had started until you abruptly turned around and began walking away. "FUCK. YOU!" you spat out.

making quick strides towards your bedroom, you yanked it open and attempted to slam it shut but johnny's boot-clad foot stopped it before it could. the sudden action caused you to stumble back a bit as he kicked the door open enough for him to slip through. he took two large steps towards you until he had you toppled over onto the bed flat on your back with him now partially hovered over your body.

you looked up at him with a stunned expression, rendered speechless. his hand was planted beside your head to hold himself up while his knee came up high between your thighs on the bed. your whole body tensed up as he lowered his head towards you, his warm breath hinted with alcohol and a bit of mint fanning over your face as he spoke. "you don't listen, do you? i said don't raise your fucking voice." he growled in a low tone. the gaze you held with johnny, along with his proximity as you practically could feel his body heat and the anger radiating off of him, made your stomach clench.

"john-" you started, attempting to prop yourself up on your elbows but he pinned you to the mattress with his large hand firmly placed against your chest. the same hand then grazed over and past your collar bones lightly, wrapping itself around your neck with a small squeeze. "lay down and stay still." he commanded, another squeeze making you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in until now. "and listen to me. please." he added, voice softening only slightly. "all of that shit happened years ago and we’ve both moved on.. i didn't mention it because it doesn’t matter to me. you matter to me, right now.”

you averted your eyes from johnny’s gaze, letting out a huff of frustration. “i just wish you had told me…” you mumbled, a small pout forming and he couldn’t help but chuckle before leaning down to press a quick peck to your lips. “all you had to do was ask me, baby. i have nothing to hide from you. i’m all yours.” he said, the hand that was on your neck now coming up to caress your face as his thumb lightly brushed along your cheekbone. you leaned into his touch, turning your head to place a kiss of your own to the palm of his hand. “show me that you’re all mine then.” you murmured but his ears easily picked up on the words and the next moment he was fully on the bed, slotted up against your body. your legs had to spread out further to accommodate the size of the man above you and yet it felt like he wasn’t close enough.

you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist until he was nearly rutting into you. johnny leaned down to press his plump lips against yours again, this time more firmly, as his hand found its way back to your neck to hold you in place. a tight squeeze from his fingers had you gasping out a moan and his tongue took its time covering ever inch of your mouth, the place where your hips met rubbing deliciously against each other as you felt yourself getting wetter at the friction. johnny pulled away, the two of you panting, as he pressed his forehead to yours with a smirk and you couldn't help but smile back. “i’ll show you as many times as you want if that means you’ll never doubt me again.”

#didn't come out 100% how i wanted but it would've turned into something a lot longer so! #drabbles #johnny suh #nct fic #nct 127 #kpop #angst #smut #suggestive #reader insert #johnny x reader #johnny suh x reader #nct #nct fics #kpop fics #fluff #kpop romance

[kasha-formerlydrabbletastic]

Blowing Off Steam

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Things have always been tense between the reader and Bucky, but what happens when things come to a head?

Word count: 4,269

Warnings: Mature readers only 18+ - minors do not interact! Vaginal sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, Dom/sub themes (who doesn’t love a bratty sub), unprotected sex (always use contraception), swearing.

.

.

.

.

“You’re lucky I saved your ass!”

“Well, no one fucking asked you to, did they?”

“No, so it looks like I’m not such a fucking prick after all, eh, Y/N?”

“Nope. You’re still a fucking prick, Bucky. Nothing in this world will ever make me change my mind about it either.”

“Need I remind you that -”

“Oh, shut up, the both of you!”

Steve’s voice cuts through the argument, effectively rendering the pair of you mute. It's surprising how long it's taken someone to crack, given the fact that your argument with Bucky started about an hour ago when the team entered the quinjet.

"Every goddamn time you're around each other you gotta argue about something," he continues, holding the attention of most of the team. "I don't want to hear another fucking word out of either of you for the rest of the ride home."

"Good job, Dad," Tony quips.

"But Bucky -"

"But Y/N-"

The pair of you speak at the same time, but Steve cuts you off again.

"Not. Another. Word." He punctuates each word with a jab of his authoritative pointer finger into the air between you. "This is the end of it. Silence. Now."

It takes a moment as you wrestle with the impulse to protest, but you ultimately sit back into your seat, folding your arms tightly over your chest. Bucky seems to do the same, his expression grumpy as ever as the two of you lock eyes.

"Fuck you," you mouth, extending a middle finger toward him.

"Fuck you," he counters silently.

You roll your eyes, settling back once more.

There has never been any real explanation, but from the moment you met him, you and Bucky have locked horns. He's stubborn, pigheaded, so full of himself and the way he operates that you can't help but be annoyed by him.

Then again, a good number of the team are cursed with the same qualities but you seem to get along quite well with them.

What is it about Bucky?

***

Per Steve's demand, there wasn't a single word passed between you and Bucky the rest of the way home. You stripped yourself of your gear after Steve's Dad Moment before sitting back and allowing yourself to take a nap the rest of the way home in your t-shirt and tactical pants. It wasn't until you got into the compound and to your desk in the team's shared office that any of your frustration boiled over again.

"Fucking asshole," you muttered between gritted teeth as you glanced over at Bucky's empty desk; his paperwork sits on the surface, needing to be done, but the man himself is nowhere to be found. Granted you are the only one at your desk doing paperwork.

Or so you thought.

"Thinking about me again?" you hear him say behind you.

You swivel in your chair to face him, his face smug as ever as steam rises up from the two mugs of coffee he holds.

"Well, not everything is about you, Bucky," you say. "Believe it or not."

"I would believe it if it were true," he grins; you make to reply, but he carries on. "I was gonna give this to you as a peace offering," he says, gesturing with one of the mugs of coffee, "but I don’t think you’ve learned Steve's lesson yet. So I'm just gonna keep it for myself. I am so tired, anyway."

He strides toward his desk, swaggering with each step, and it's almost as if you can't help the knee-jerk reaction of sticking your foot out into his path. His feet get caught up with yours, tripping him up enough that he loses grip of the mugs and stumbles forward; the mugs smash on the floor, but Bucky's reflexes refuse to let him fall too. He straightens up quickly, turning on his heel and staring daggers at you.

"Enjoy your coffee, Sergeant Barnes," you chuckle.

"What the fuck?" Bucky shouts.

"Oh, I'm sorry," you begin, wanting to taunt him but you get no further.

"Y/N, Bucky."

The two of you turn to Steve, who has finally returned to the office dressed in a basic t-shirt and jeans. He is more stern than you've ever seen him, standing with his arms crossed and his expression disappointed. He is very much the captain with his stance, staring the two of you down as if you were naughty children.

"Clean this up and then meet me in the conference room," he directs, his voice low and tone ominous.

You watch as he leaves, then switch your gaze to Bucky; you don't know what's about to happen, but something tells you Steve has had enough of the bullshit. It's possible you're about to lose your spot on the team, you think, and panic fills your chest as you stand from your chair, ignoring Bucky to the fullest as you reach for a trash can.

"Fuck," you murmur, picking up shards of mug and tossing them into the bin.

Bucky appears shortly after with several towels in hand, wiping up the coffee and smaller pieces before just chucking them into the bin, too.

With the mess cleaned up, the two of you silently march to the conference room where Steve sits at the head of the table.

"Oh, good," he says sarcastically, "you two managed to work together and accomplish something in a timely fashion, how about that?"

You take your seat next to him, wanting to ask what this is about but knowing full well what he's about to say. Bucky sits opposite you, quiet and brooding, and you feel a lurch of annoyance in your belly. You roll your eyes again, looking to Steve, trying to convey in your eyes the question, "How long do I have to stay here with him?" Steve doesn't look at you, though, his eyes fixed on his folded hands in front of him before he speaks.

"I don't know what it is about the two of you being around each other, but whatever it is, you need to cut it out," he says. "It's detrimental to the team working as a whole, not to mention it is fucking irritating."

Something in you rises to be defensive, but another, more rational side begins to kick in, keeping your mouth shut for a moment.

"The number of complaints I get from everyone else is almost ridiculous, guys. And it's only a matter of time before the two of you are bickering like an old married couple and someone gets hurt because you're not giving your full attention."

You had been so caught up with how much you and Bucky annoyed each other that not much else in your mind spared the time to think about how it might affect the team and your missions. Steve is right - and you know it - that one of these days, you and Bucky will be going at it and one of you will slip. You won't necessarily be the one who suffers, but it's likely that if the two of you continue on with your childish back-and-forth, you might lose track of a target, lose a mission, or worse, lose a teammate. With that thought, shame floods you, and you sit back in your chair, crossing your arms over your chest and gritting your teeth to keep from saying anything stupid.

"With that being said," Steve continues, "you two need to figure this out as soon as possible. What really gets me is that you're both so valuable to the team, but you let your bullshit get in the way of your effectiveness." Steve glances at the door, his expression shifting ever so slightly. "Actually... I'm gonna leave you two here for a minute, something just came up."

The slightest surge of panic rears in your chest as Steve gets up from his chair. You watch him incredulously as he leaves you here with Bucky, closing the door behind him. If you're not mistaken, though, you hear the door lock and your panic peaks just a little more.

You rise from your seat, following Steve's footsteps to the door and trying the handle; it doesn't budge.

"Fuck," you mumble. "FRIDAY, unlock the door, please."

"I'm sorry, Y/N," FRIDAY replies, "the orders are to keep the door locked for the next thirty minutes, barring an emergency."

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" you grumble, rubbing the palms of your hands into your eyes.

You almost don't register it, but you hear Bucky chuckle, a quiet laugh that brings your attention to him.

"What's funny about this?" you demand, just as quietly.

He sits back in his chair, strangely relaxed given that he's locked into the room with you. There's genuine amusement in his expression as he lounges, setting his hands on top of his head.

"Typical Steve," he says, looking at you with a sparkle in his eye. "Thinking he can save everyone."

You don't say anything, but shrug helplessly in agreement - probably agreeing with Bucky for the first time since you've known him.

"I guess he doesn't realize that he can't save everyone," you mutter, sitting back down.

Bucky shrugs this time. "That thought has never even occurred to him, I can promise you that."

Sparing a glance at Bucky, you fall into silence, unsure of what to say. He doesn't offer anything either, his smile slowly fading as the seconds tick on. The air thickens around you, the awkwardness growing more ungainly the longer neither of you speak. Though, it's possible that the whole thirty minutes have elapsed or that it's only been a few seconds before you figure out something to say.

"I'm sorry I tripped you earlier," you say quietly.

Bucky had been staring at the table, but he brings his gaze to you, studying you with a curiosity he has never once shown you before. He seems to take his time before he replies.

"I accept your apology," he says, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table. "I'm sorry for... everything."

The moment hangs there, seconds ticking by as the two of you study each other; now that you look at him, finally confronting the reasons why you tease and antagonize him, you figure that maybe he's not always so grumpy-looking. There's a sparkle in his blue eyes, something witty and sweet that you've never allowed yourself to notice before. He's got a strong jaw, pretty pink lips, and a smile to die for. At once, it clicks why you've been so eager to step on every one of his nerves.

Something shifts in his expression, and he pushes his chair back, standing up. He doesn't take his eyes from you as he circles the table, but you push your chair back, too, taking after his lead. By the time he reaches you, you stand, facing him as the space between you shrinks.

Then, as if magnets pull you together, the pair of you collide; Bucky's flesh fingers curve around the back of your head, cradling it as he lowers his lips to yours. Despite how out of the blue this is, you melt into him, your hands finding his waist and pulling him close. His kiss is warm, his body taut under your touch as his other arm curls around your body, pressing your chests together. Your skin tingles in every place it meets his as the kiss deepens, each of you parting your lips for the other as your tongues explore new territory.

Then, as if your bodies can't get close enough, Bucky leans forward, his hands gripping your thighs as he lifts you onto the table. He doesn't once break the kiss, but as soon as you're settled, his hips knock your knees apart. Instinctively, your legs wrap around him, urging him closer to you. Your arms curl around his neck, too, making sure he doesn't get too far away from you. He responds, taking you in his arms in kind.

You don't know how long it lasts, and you don't care, especially when his lips stray, tracing your jaw and finding your pulse.

"Oh, Bucky," you sigh, your skin on fire from his touch.

"James," he says quietly against your neck.

For a moment, you pull back, staring into his eyes and smiling.

"James," you acknowledge, and he smiles too.

In the next second, though, a wickedness settles into his expression, a sly grin taking the sweet smile's place as his hands meet the button and fly of your pants. He pulls them open, his hand diving immediately into your panties.

"Fuck!" you gasp as his fingers slip between you lips, brushing over your clit to briefly dive into your heat.

"God damn," he groans. "Doll, you feel so good. You're so fucking wet for me."

You scoff, looking him dead in the eye. "Please. I'm sure if it were anyone else I'd still be just as wet."

"You sure about that?" he says, his eyes glittering with promise as he presses his fingertips to your clit, circling the singing nerves as if he's known how to all his life.

"Mmm," you hum, your fingers bunching into the front of his shirt as you pull him forward. "We'll just have to see, I guess."

"You're damn right," he says before crushing his lips to yours. He slips his fingers into you, his thumb working circles against your clit, and you moan into his mouth. "That's right, doll. I make you feel so fucking good, don't I?"

A sly smile of your own tugs at your lips as you pull your head back.

"Meh, I've had better."

He pauses for a moment, staring you in the face before he chuckles. He takes his hand from you as he uses his free hand to push you by the shoulder, urging you onto your back before he tugs your pants off, taking your panties with them.

"Spread those legs for me, Y/N," he orders softly, and you comply.

At once, his hand finds your heat again, his metal fingers diving in and curling against your g-spot as his flesh fingers work your clit. In no time at all, you writhe on the tabletop, the entirety of your energy focused on not coming, not giving in to his ego. It's no use, however, as he hits the right spots at the right time.

"Fuck!" you grunt, your toes curling as ecstasy explodes from your core; the orgasm rips through your body, rushing through your blood with a ferocity you've never known before as your heart pounds from your chest.

"I fucking told you, doll," Bucky teases, his hands slowing down before he removes them. "Look at you. All wrecked for me."

"You wish," you say, rising up onto your elbows to see Bucky's grin falter just slightly. "Why don't you really wreck me, James? Why don't you fuck the attitude out of me?"

Heat floods your body at the idea, but just then, Bucky smiles wider as the mischievous glint in his eyes seems to take him over completely.

"You want me," he begins slowly, his hands dropping to his belt, "to fuck," he undoes his belt, popping open the button on his pants, "the attitude," he pulls on the zipper, slipping his underwear down enough that his cock tumbles from its confines and into his hand, "out of you?"

Your eyes fix on his engorged, weighty flesh as he strokes himself, imagining what it would feel like to be split in half by it.

"You want it," he says; it's not a question at all, but an entirely accurate statement.

You meet his eyes once more to see the cockiest expression on his face.

"And what if I said yes?" you reply.

Bucky leans in, his lips close to yours.

"Beg me for it," he murmurs against your mouth.

"No," you say, pushing him away gently as you slip off the table; your hand just barely closes around his girth and strokes. "I won't beg for it." You get to your knees, coming face to face with his gorgeous cock. "But you will."

"You think so, Y/N?" he laughs, but moans the minute you take him into your mouth. "Fuuuuuuck."

You swirl your tongue around the head before taking him as far back into your mouth as you can. Bucky nearly whimpers the moment the tip enters the back of your throat and you swallow around him. It takes everything you've got to keep from laughing at him as he leans over, bracing himself on the table.

Bobbing your head along his shaft, you listen to him; he curses, making pleas to God as you work him up. He tries to hold it together, but the way you suck and lick and tease has him squirming. Before you know it, though, he yanks himself from you with a growl, picking you up off the floor and turning you around; his erection presses against your ass as he twines his fingers in your hair, pressing your hips against the table.

"Baby doll," he croons in your ear, his chest hard against your back. "You think you're so cute, eh? Just you wait, Y/N. Just you wait."

He presses you down onto the tabletop, his hand still gripping your hair. Almost instantly, you feel the tip of his cock brush your lips, sliding along your heat to press against your clit for just a moment. He does this a few times before he finally presses into your center.

The moment hangs in the air as your anticipation grows, your yearning to be filled finally being granted only Bucky doesn't continue. He stays, just the tip of his cock planted in you for a moment before it slips out again, and you let out the smallest whine.

"Oh, doll," he says, his tone mocking. "Did you want that? Did you want my big fat cock inside you?"

You collect your wits, unwilling to let him win.

"I bet you want to get inside me, James," you say, your hand finding his in your hair. "God, I bet you want to fuck me. I bet you've always wanted to fuck me, from the minute you met me."

He slips his cock along your heat again, and you bite your lip to keep from moaning as it meets your clit; he bounces his cock against it a few times before teasing it with gentle circles.

"I bet you've thought of nothing but this pussy since I joined the team," you continue, baiting him into giving in. "I bet that's why you're such a prick, because you could never have it. You wanna know what I think, James?"

"What do you think, Y/N?" he replies, replacing his tip back into your center as he leans over you, his face growing closer to yours.

"I think," you say, adjusting so you can see his face better, "that there have been so many times that you've imagined having me. Times when you found yourself imagining me in this exact position, with your dick buried inside me, and couldn't help but rub one out. You ever fucked yourself to the thought of me, James?"

Bucky chuckles. "Doll, you have no idea. But if we're placing bets, I bet you've done the same. You think I don't know? On all those missions we've been on, you think I didn't hear you fuck yourself in the next room? That I don't know that's how you blow off steam?"

You smile as he presses just a little further into your heat.

"Doll," he says, standing up and bringing you with him until your back arches against his chest, his lips brushing your ear as he continues, "you think I haven't heard you call my name?"

"Looks like we're at an impasse," you chuckle.

Bucky laughs too, dragging hot, wet kisses along your neck for a second.

"Nah," he says, letting go of your hair as he slowly curls his hand around your neck, pushing your head back onto his shoulder. "Because I've got the upper hand here."

"So you think," you quip as he presses just a little further into you; your body tenses, awaiting the full feeling of his cock.

"Oh, I know, Y/N," he says, retreating just a little. “I know for damn sure. Now, what do we say?”

“I don’t know, what do we say?”

He offers a dark chuckle as he pulls all the way out. “If you’re not gonna be a good girl, I won’t fuck you.”

“I wish I could believe you, Barnes,” you reply. “But seeing as how I haven’t complied with you yet and you’re still here with your hard-on poking me in the ass cheek, I just can’t take you all that seriously.”

“That’s fair,” he says before suddenly letting go of you. 

You turn around, fairly surprised as you watch him hitch his pants back up, putting his cock away.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you say with an incredulous laugh. 

“Well, I’m sitting back down until Steve gets back,” he says, checking the time. "There's still about fifteen minutes before he gets back."

Once more collecting your wits, you smile. With an idea coalescing in your brain, you stride to his side of the table, hopping up onto the tabletop right next to him to ensure that he sees everything you're about to work with.

"Well, then," you say, spreading your legs as your fingers meet your aching clit. "I hope you don't mind, but I'm a little worked up right now and I need to, as you said, blow off steam."

Bucky's smile falters as his eyes drop from yours to between your legs, watching you work. The very fact that he's watching sends another flood of arousal to your already dripping cunt, your need for release growing stronger by the second.

"Mmm," you hum, slipping your fingers into yourself.

Bucky doesn't look away once. On the contrary, he rises from his seat, looking pained as he witnesses your pleasure. You put on a show, your moans and whimpers growing more frequent; the move has the desired effect as Bucky's hand drops to the erection in his pants, palming it through the fabric.

"Fuck," he murmurs, yanking his pants down once more. He moves forward, hand around his cock to position himself inside you, but you were waiting for this; you lean forward, pressing your hand against his chest to stop his progress toward you.

"I'm sorry," you say, "but what are you doing?"

"I'm fucking you," he says, stepping forward once more, but you hold your ground.

"Says who?"

"Says me."

He moves forward again, but you still keep him at bay.

"And what do we say, James?" you purr.

"What?" he replies.

You lean closer to him, your lips almost brushing his as you say, "Beg me for it."

"Are you serious?" he says, getting impatient.

"Damn right I am," you reply.

Bucky struggles with it for a moment, but seems to decide to fold.

"Y/N," he says, stroking his cock, a drop of precum beading on the tip. "Please."

"Please what?" you reply, relishing in the frustration showing through his features.

"Please, please, let me fuck you."

You grin, satisfied that you won, as you let your hand slide around the back of his neck from his chest, pulling his mouth against yours as he immediately buries himself inside you.

"Ah!" you moan against his lips as he fills you to the hilt.

"God fucking dammit," he groans. "You feel so fucking good, Y/N."

At once, he begins thrusting, his hands holding tight onto your hips as he moves. You lean back onto one arm, your other hand finding your clit once again, pressing circles against yourself.

"Fuck, Y/N," he says, his thrusts growing quicker.

His cock drags along your g-spot, the perfect sensation to accompany your clitoral stimulation. In next to no time, you snap, your body bombarded by your next orgasm.

"Oh, fuck," Bucky says through gritted teeth as you pulse around him.

His grip tightens on you as his hips press quicker, harder than ever, before they stutter; he pulls out, his hand grasping his cock and stroking it until he comes. Spurts of cum land on your thigh, thick and warm, as Bucky tries to get his breathing under control, his forehead landing on your shoulder for support.

He takes a moment, straightening up once he’s gotten control of himself. As he backs away, his eyes fix on yours, a soft grin pulling at his lips. He puts himself back together, zipping and buttoning his pants deliberately.

“You win,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“I know,” you laugh, watching as he moves around the table to grab your pants and underwear from where he pulled them off of you. He walks them back to you, handing them over. “Clean it.”

Once more, his mischief is written all over his face as he bends down, using his tongue to mop up his mess. The sensation tingles along your thigh to your core, and you wish you had longer than just the thirty minutes allotted to the two of you. Your fingers tangle in his hair, staying put as he stands back up.

“Good boy,” you say, pulling his face to yours for a kiss.

“Looks like I’m your bitch now,” he says with a chuckle.

“Oh, doll,” you say, taking delight in the look on his face as you use his word. “It was bound to happen.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #bucky barnes fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfiction #reader insert

[thefanficmonster]

Chaos Magnet

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None :)

Genre: FLUFF, HUMOR, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When Y/N get invited onto a stream with the gang by Jack (Sean) she’s not sure what to expect but it’s safe to say that such chaos is not something she could’ve ever imagined.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your lovely request, it really had me laughing and still had me be awe-struck by the adorableness of the idea. Sorry it’s been such a long time since you put in the request but I still hope you come across the fic and read it! Love, Vy ❤

“Alright people, silence in the call for a moment!“ Jack calls out when the lobby’s counter has finally reached up to nine, leaving room for one more person who is yet to join, but apparently he doesn’t care much that he’ll probably have to repeat himself when the tenth person enters the call and lobby.

“Jack, you should know by now, the day there’s silence in this call is when some supernatural force murders all ten of our mics. It just won’t happen, deal with it.“ Charlie, who was having an ‘intense’ discussion with Toast up until Jack’s interruption, says sarcastically, chuckling ever so slightly, enough for it to be contagious and make me crack a smile as well.

“There won’t be silence, I’ll be talking. If only the rest of you would LET ME.“ Jack replies just as sarcastically, getting Charlie to let out an actual fit of laughter. When his chuckling subsides along with the rest of the chatter in the call, Jack finally gets to have the speech he mentioned, “Right, ok so here’s the deal folks: today we have a guest addition to the stream, curtesy of mine because I’m obsessed with her channel. As you might or might not have noticed, there’s one person missing from the lobby but she’s gonna be joining us any minute now. As I said, I’m a huge fan so you better not embarrass me or I swear I’m gonna kill you first when I get to be an impostor.”

I don’t know what the others are thinking - probably something similar as what I’m thinking though: Noted, embarrass Jack to the best of your ability. Trust me, getting him flustered in front of his YouTube idol is well worth the death in Among Us he’s threatening us with.

“Also keep in mind that she’s of a different kind, not of our breed if you will - she’s an ASMR YouTuber. Not those who eat in the mic just because they think it’d be pleasant for people to hear.“ Jack goes on to explain, the way he’s described this girl’s craft is quite intriguing, especially when you consider how confidently Jack expressed his distaste with ASMR in the past. He’s always claimed not to be a fan but here we are, I guess people really do change.

“Thank you for making it seem like I do more than just cut up soaps, Jack. I really appreciate it but don’t bump the bar up that high, people will be disappointed when they actually visit my channel.“ An unfamiliar voice appears in the call out of nowhere. Though, unfamiliar is not the adjective I should focus on when describing this girl’s voice. I’ll list a few more but even they won’t do it justice: pleasant, awing, mesmerizing, unbelievable, out-of-this-world...I really could keep going.

“Oh come on, Y/N, you don’t just cut up soap. You turn them into bath bombs too!“ Jack laughs, earning him a playful scoff from the newcomer. “Oh yeah, almost forgot - Everyone, this is Y/N, our ASMR artist.“

“Please, some ‘artist’ I am. The people in my comment section would disagree with that description.“ She giggles after kindly responding to each and every greeting the gang sends her way, myself included. “The word I’ve seen people use most when describing my channel is ‘cringey’ so....yeah.“ She laughs, a genuine laugh instead of the bitter one I was expecting to follow such words.

“That seems to be the cool kids’ favorite word, don’t dwell too much on it.“ Rae tells her reassuringly, “What’s important is what word would you use to describe your channel?“

Y/N hums, sounding as though she’s fallen in thought but that’s only one brief moment before she answers. Or begins to, at least, “Well, if I were to describe my channel with one word it’d be....BEEFY!”

That one out-of-context word, screamed out by such an angelic voice has me breaking down with overwhelming laughter collapsing all my ability to hold back.

“Out of all the words, you’d choose beefy?“ I somehow manage to ask between fits of laughter that render me breathless.

“She’s a vegetarian, I think, I don’t know why she’d choose that word.“ Jack too is laughing his butt off but has a significantly better grip on it, “Y/N, care to explain your peculiar choice?“

There’s a lot of shuffling and random noise on Y/N’s end before her reply finally comes, accompanied by a weak meow, “Sorry guys, that was a classic cat of Mr. Beef Stronganoff seeking attention by being chaotic.” She says through laughter, her words followed by another meow which was a lot more clear, seemingly closer to the mic, “He took down my mic, and he seems like he wants to do it again....BEEFY NO!”

For some reason, even with that explanation in mind, I can’t keep myself from laughing. Come to think of it, I think the explanation only makes it funnier.

“Ugh, darn it! I saved my mic but he ran across my keyboard and turned my webcam off how do I turn it back on?“ Her voice dies down for a few secs before it reemerges from her end, “Ok nevermind I got it. Now I can answer...what was the question again?“

Recovering from his laughing fit, Jack manages to repeat the question, “What word would you use to describe your channel?”

“Oh that! Right, ok. Um, I’d call it aesthetically pleasing and BEEFY NOT THE ROUTER CABLE YOU DUMMIE!“

She’s insane. Or her cat’s insane. I can’t tell. Maybe both. Either way, I can’t help but feel like I’ve found a soulmate in this literal stranger. It’s safe to say us chaos magnets like her and I, we don’t only attract chaos, but also chaotic individuals. I’m so glad she magnetized me to herself. Or was it the other way around? We may never know - mystery is in the nature of us chaos magnets, you know.

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