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erensonly · 3 months

Text

thinking about sweet data analyst!reader being quiet as a mouse always scaring the boys. scares them so much they think abt getting her a bell. lets get into some backstory bc this may be a mini series 😈

contains: extreme fluff, ooc writing, love is used as a pet name, no pronouns used, references to DV pls read at your own discretion.

you were the new data analyst for the 141. before, you only worked with Kate, gathering and analyzing data for her but she thought you would be so much more helpful to the task force since their old analyst had retired. you were hesitant at first, not really wanting to be around a group of men. why should you leave your comfort zone?

this did not work with laswell. she had taken you in after you stumbled to the gates of the base, attempting to stop crying to give them an explanation and sporting bruises on your face and hands. luckily she had been there to meet with john when she had heard the guards complaining about a crying woman refusing to leave. she had helped you in more than one way. even allowing you to stay with her until you could find a job and move by yourself.

when she had found out you knew your way around computers, her face lit up like a christmas tree, telling you she had the perfect job for you. you were hesitant to take the job, knowing the work she did involved the military, you didn't know if you wanted to take the job. you had tried to convince her that it was fine, but once laswell has her mind made up, that's it.

thats how you ended up here, wanting oreos. you didn't mean to scare them at first. they were a little scary and you wanted nothing to do with them at first.

you just wanted the oreos but ghost was in the way, facing the opposite way with his head in his phone. you stood there awkwardly at first,not wanting to ask the big man to move but you really wanted those cookies. you stand there for a bit debating if you'll wait for him to leave the room or grow some balls and just ask him to move. you decided on doing neither.

you made your way towards him as quickly as you could; the plan was to just reach up and grab the chocolate cookies so you could go back to your desk before ghost could say anything. trying to get closer to the cabinet, you find yourself pushed up against the counter, a large hand wrapped around your wrist. when he realized it was you, he let you go with a big sigh. "scared the shit out of me. when did you get in here?"

"uh.. not too long ago." that was all you could muster, the man was too intimidating. you awkwardly shuffled towards the cabinet with the cookies and reached up to get them. mission accomplished, you thought to yourself. slithering back to your desk, you leave ghost stunned and only able to mutter a quick "bloody hell" before going back to his phone.

----

the next time you interact with the 141 outside of working it's with gaz. from the small conversations you had, he seemed very nice with a kind smile and calming aura. this time you were trying to make your way to price's office to give him a manila folder with the information he requested. you had walked to the door but heard talking, maybe he was busy. you decided that you would wait to give him the folder so you wouldn't have to speak to whoever was in the office.

it felt like time was going so slow and by the time the person had walked out, you were leaning against the corner of the wall, head against the wall in a way that you had have to almost round the corner to be able to see you. you looked up, and the man look like he just had a heart attack. clutching his chest like he was clutching his pearls and purse and breathing heavily. "Jesus, love,gotta say something. have you been waiting out here long? you could've just came in, y'know?" all the questions were becoming overwhelming when you just gripped his lips to silence him.

it took his look of surprise and a bit of thought to realize what you did. you had just grabbed the lips of a soldier. not just any soldier but a heavily decorated soldier who was apart of The john price's task force. he could kill you faster than you can say you're sorry. "oh my god, i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to, you just kept talking and i didnt know what to do. please don't kill me." you had finished your mini rant only to see him doubled over in laughter. he was in tears.

"did you just silence me?" he asked between laughs. you didn't understand what the hell was funny, this man is going to kill you. while he was still laughing and trying to get soap on the phone, you tiptoed into price's office to give him the folder, telling him that if he found you dead on base it was gaz before scurrying out of his office. john was left looking confused because he had just heard kyle laughing a few seconds ago.

----

next was soap. sweet, sweet soap. he genuinely did his best to welcome you into their group, but you didn't really seem interested. he eventually just took any interaction you two had and replayed it in his head over and over again. you were just so sweet, how could he not? you still got lost on base sometimes since everything was one monotone grey and everything looked the same. and it was just your luck that the only people around were new recruits and other people you never spoke to. turning, you see soap heading toward the mess hall.

when you sped up to catch him, he's surprised. he even did that cartoon cat jump they do before running off. he started saying something in a language you don't understand when you cut him off. "not sure what you're saying but i agree. anyway, where's the gym? i need to ask ghost a question." he was shocked to see you turn around and wait for him to lead the way. he couldn't help the smile that came across his face. such a hasty girl; you always said everything you needed to say as fast as you could before turning away, giving him a look at allat movement back there.

he laughed again before helping you find ghost. and you still don't get why these men find you so funny. there is nothing funny about them being so scary.

----

lastly, we got my husband john. he was made aware of your situation and why you acted the way you did before you started working under him. he couldn't help but think you were a sweet, hard working little thing. never with much to say, and so skittish. he may have told you that he doesn't know how to access the files on his computer just so he can see you come to his office with a folder. is it a crime to want to see such a sweet face?

john had told you he would like to see you after debriefing and that he would just let you know. but you had already finished your work of the day an you spent your free time playing whatever games you could access on your computer. you eventually started to feel restless so you decided to sit in price's office until he got there. there was a couch in a corner of the room, worn but comfortable. you could imagine the boys laying on the couch talking mindlessly to john.

you had sunken into the corner of the couch, curling up in a way that you would have to step completely into the office to see you sitting there. it had been a good 10 minutes of sitting in silence before you heard footsteps approaching the door. you couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but it sounded like john was on the phone. he, not long after, walked into the room, holding his phone between his shoulder and ear with a stack of folders in his hands.

"-exactly. yeah i'll be on it right away. bye." and as he's turning around, you're sitting up straighter and he yells. and i mean one of those old people, "help i've fallen" type of yelps; and he drops his files on the floor. you just give him a blank stare.

"good God. when did you get in here?" you just shrug, brushing over the question. "what was it that you needed from me sir?" that's when he knew, you were going to be the death of the 141. literally.

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forever-rogue · 1 year

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hi miss bee 🐝💛 would you pls bless us w more joel x wife!reader 👉👈

since it was joel being protective of reader maybe this time it can be the other way around where he comes home from a patrol and is slightly injured and she makes a huge fuss over him and then tries to o make him feel better through some sugar and spice 😋🫶

AN | Well, well, well how the turntables have…anyway, I love this concept so much! 💕

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You paced around the kitchen as you waited for him to walk through the door. You’d already been waiting…and waiting and waiting. You’d done so much that you’d made enough baked goods to feed a small army; it was something to keep your mind and hands occupied.

“Holy shit,” Ellie’s big, brown eyes went comically wide as she stepped into the kitchen and looked at the mountain of cookies and muffins and breads. You turned to face her with a guilty little expression on your face, “that is a lot of food.”

“I…yeah,” you admitted sheepishly, “I was going to go and give some stuff to the neighbors…I needed a distraction.”

“Joel?” she asked hopefully, her eyebrows perking up as you leaned against the counter and shook your head.

“Nothing yet,” you sighed, trying to keep all the bad thoughts and worries at bay, “I’m sure he’ll be back any time. Soon.”

“Of course he will,” she promised, wanting to keep you from panicking while trying to convince herself of the same thing. The truth was that she too was worried about how long he’d been gone. He should have been back two days - he was almost never late, “Joel’s a stubborn old man. He’s coming home no matter what.”

“He is and he will,” you agreed, “I just…I want him home.”

“Me too,” she confessed quietly, “me too.”

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Long after Ellie had gone to bed, and you should have as well, you were still sitting on the couch. Waiting. After every couple of minutes, you’d look at the door as though you were somehow going to will him to come home. You’d read the same page of your book about ten times, but still weren’t fully sure what was happening.

But then - as you were almost dozing off - you heard it. The unmistakable sound of the door being unlocked and then slowly opening. You tossed your book to the side and jumped, scampering to the door. When it fully opened you found yourself face to face with your husband.

“Joel,” despite your best efforts, tears were rolling down your cheeks, ‘you’re home.”

“You’d never get rid of me that easily,” he smiled, a tired and crooked thing, “hi baby.”

“Oh my love,” you threw yourself into his arms and held onto him tightly, melting into his familiar body, and enveloping yourself in his scent, “I’m so glad you’re home. I’ve been…”

You trailed off as you pulled and looked him over. You could see the grimace on his face, despite his best efforts. It was then that you noticed the bruising and cuts on his cheek. He could sense you growing worried and shook his head, “baby-”

“What happened?” you stood in front of him and reached up to take his face in your hands, gently brushing your thumb over his cheek, “who did this? Where else are you hurt?”

“It’s fine,” he insisted, but he knew that you weren’t going to relax. That wasn’t your nature; you were caring and nurturing and always fiercely protective of those you loved, “I’m not that hurt.”

“I don’t believe you, Joel Miller,” you reached for his hand and gently pulled him over to the couch. You reached for the hem of his sweater and silently looked for permission to take it off. He gave you a small nod and you tenderly pulled off his sweater, and set it to the side. Your frown only grew when you noticed all the bruising on his left side, “what happened? I hugged - oh no. I squeezed you so hard. Did I make it worse?”

“I did this to myself,” he insisted as he reached for your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “I tried and fell - landed too hard on my side. Just a clumsy old fool.”

You huffed lightly - you were still worried. Nothing that he could say would change that, “has one of the medics or anyone taken a look at you? Are you sure-”

“I’m sure,” he tugged you softly towards him onto the couch and you reluctantly sat down next to him, “nothing permanent and nothing terrible. Just a lot of bruising and soreness and some cuts. I’ll be alright, I promise.”

“You know that I’m still going to worry,” you huffed, making a small sound of surprise as he shuffled you so you were perched on his lap. You delicately ghosted your fingers along his ribs, sighing softly at the lavender haze on his skin, “you’ll tell me if it hurts?”

“Of course I will,” he set his hands on your hips and gave them a gentle squeeze, “baby, let me just enjoy being back with you. Let me enjoy you.”

And you almost gave into him - almost. You wrapped your fingers around his wrists and shook your head. Your husband groaned heavily as he tossed his head back dramatically, “nuh uh, Joel Miller. Not right now.”

He was a good man through and through, so while he was going to be dramatic, he was going to respect your wishes. He sighed softly as he took your hand in his and brought it to his lips, placing a delicate kiss to your knuckles, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you melted under his reverent gaze, “I’m glad you’re home, my love.”

“I will always come home to you,” he promised and you knew it was true. It still didn’t mean, however, that you weren’t going to take care of him. Oh no; as long as he was hurt, you were going to take care of him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel was fast asleep next to you, snoring softly and bundled up in blankets. You, meanwhile, weren't able to sleep and were sitting up and leaning against the headboard, an unopened book on your lap. You were too busy worrying about Joel, and if the extent of his injuries were more than he was letting on.

You'd made him take a long, hot bath before getting into bed, taking care of his cuts and scratches. There wasn't much you could do for the bruising besides be gentle with him.

"Baby," he murmured softly, eyes still closed as he rolled onto his side, "sleep."

You couldn't help the small snort of amusement that escaped your lips. He knew you way too well. The book was tossed onto the bedside table as you turned the light off and snuggled up to him. He wasted no time in throwing an arm around your waist and pulling into his body. He could feel you tensing up with effort to keep from hurting him.

"Relax," he insisted through kisses pressed to your shoulder, "'m alright."

"Promise?"

"Swear."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You slipped out of the house before either Joel or Ellie were awake. You pulled on some clothes and walked over to Tommy Miller's house, going over the conversation you planned on having over and over again in your head. You didn't want to be over the top or dramatic but you also felt instinctively drawn to protect your loved ones.

You knocked on his door and rocked back and forth on your heels, trying to remain calm. When Tommy opened the door a few moments later you reached for his hand and pulled him onto the porch light.

"Hey - hi- what's up?" He looked confused for a moment before noticing the worried expression on your face.

"What happened to Joel?" And yeah, everything you'd practiced in your head faded into non-existence. You sounded as hysterical as you felt, "he c-came home and he was hurt."

"It's okay," he put a hand on your shoulder and gave you a gentle squeeze, "I had him checked out as soon as we got back."

"He's -"

"A stubborn old fool," Tommy insisted as you couldn't help but chuckle at him, "but he's okay. The steps to the cabin on our route were slippery and he fell. He wasn't paying enough attention and down he went. That's all."

"And you're not lying to me?" You visibly relaxed when he nodded. At least now you had the reassurance that nothing was seriously wrong, "good. I know I probably seem -"

"Protective," he finished for you as you smiled softly, "loving. That's all."

"Yeah," you agreed, "thank you, Tommy. Thank you for keeping him safe."

"He does just as much for me. Besides, we're all family," he gently nudged your side as you laughed softly, "but you're welcome."

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

By the time you made it back home, you heard commotion in the kitchen and were met with the smell of coffee and delicious foods. Your heart kicked into overdrive as you almost ran into the kitchen, expecting to find the worse but instead -

“Hey baby,” Joel wore a lazy smile as he looked at you from over the cup of coffee he was drinking while Ellie was busy making pancakes. You relaxed sightly at the sight of your family, “what’s wrong?”

“I…” you ran a hand through your hair in exasperation before shaking your head fondly at them, “Joel, you should be resting!”

“Hey,” his voice turned soft as he put his coffee mug down and stepped over to you and touched your cheek gently. You pouted at him, and if you weren’t so upset he might have laughed and kissed it away, “it’s okay, I’m okay - I’m right here. Please don’t worry about me.”

“But you’re all…bruised up,” you looked at him with big doe eyes and he sighed wistfully, “I don’t want it to get worse.”

“I know,” he promised, “I know it’s all out of love. I’m sore, but that’s all. It already feels better just being back home with you.”

“I like to worry,” you admitted as your face grew warm and he brushed his knuckles along your jaw, “I can’t help it.”

“And that’s okay,” he insisted, “I love you, baby. You know you’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Or me!” Ellie chirped from the stove, a bemused little smile on her face.

“I love you yoo,” you went over to the young girl and gave her a tight hug which she pretended to abhor but you knew she loved it. You turned your attention back to Joel and gingerly hugged him too. Joel responded with a bone-crushing hug that had you breathless and giggling, “Joel!”

“It’s alright,” he leaned down and kissed you softly, stealing away all of your worries and fears, “promise.”

“Okay,” and finally, a real giggle bubbled up as you leaned up to kiss him in return, “I love you too, stubborn old man.”

“But I’m all yours, baby.”

“And I’m yours too.”

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller one shot #pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo

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hunn1e-bunn1e · 4 months

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hiii i just read "your melon bread" fic of denji and IT'S SO GOOD (i smashed the follow button immediately lol)

and i saw your asks are open so can i request a part 2 of it where the next day when denji, aki and power are patrolling the town and they walked pass a bakery and denji remembered what happened yesterday and forced aki to get inside and buy him melon bread but was greeted by the reader who's family owns the bakery (this is my first time requesting so sorry if it gets confusing and feel free to ignore this if u dont want to or if it makes u uncomfortable :3)

and can i be the 🦈 anon thankksss hope u have a good morning/evening/night ^_^

Denji Hayakawa - "Half Your Melon Bread" 2

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Hey 🦈Shark anon! Sorry for the absurdly long delay, but I've finally completed your ask. At first, I was just going to ignore it since “Half Your Melon Bread” was supposed to be a one-off thing, but the more I thought about it, the more I came to like it! —Benny🐰 Part 1

🍞•♡•🥐•♡•🥖•♡•🫓•♡•🥨•♡•🥯•♡•🥞•♡•🧇

Aki was… perplexed to say the least. The fiend(?) that he had been tasked to watch over hadn't so much as muttered Makima's name since yesterday; it was kind of unsettling. All the blonde idiot seemed to do was stare off into the distance and mutter something about bread.

While the topknot-styled man was a bit relieved that he wasn't being bothered by both of the idiots under his watch; he did grow a bit concerned. It seemed as though Power had as well, judging by the hard stare that she was drilling into the side of the Chainsaw Devil hybrid's head. The strawberry blonde hadn't uttered a word since they left the house; only staring at him in silence with a deep frown on her face.

Denji himself was deep in thought. That stranger… he never got their name; they left before he could ask. He did remember their face though, so he'll definitely thank them when he sees them again and maybe they'd let him touch their chest—

Bonk!

The dirty blonde walked right into a light pole while he was distracted by his thoughts. The boy groaned as he clutched his head in a futile attempt to soothe the pain and the ringing in his ears. As he looked at what he'd run into, he saw a soft yellow light in the corner of his eye. Turning his head, he saw that he, Aki, and Power were standing in front of a bakery.

A bakery… Baking… Bread is baked… Oh! Melon bread! He could get some of that here!

Quickly, Denji walks into the building, ignoring the annoyed protests of the senior devil hunter and cheers for food from the blood fiend. The smell of buttery freshly baked dough immediately permeated his nostrils as he walked through the door. It was a comforting but hunger-inducing smell that had likely not only him, but everyone else in the building heavily salivating.

“Welcome to Chubby Bunny Bakery; I can help you right over here, Sir.”

A voice from behind the dirty blonde draws his attention from observing the bakery's interior and to the order station.

The devil man's eyes widen as he sees the figure standing behind the display case. It was the stranger from yesterday in the park! They were holding onto a sheet pan of cookies; sliding the display case glass backing to the side and putting the pan of cookies inside.

“It's you!”

Denji exclaims as he, rather rudely, points at them; finger only inches from their face due to how close he already was.

The stranger stares at him for a bit before they chuckles and gently grab his wrist to pull his hand down. They grab a small menu card from a stack of them that sits next to the register and place it in front of him with a small smile.

“Yes, it's me, bread boy. Did you have anything in mind already? If not, you can look at our menu here to help you decide.”

The stranger tells him, tapping the menu card between them twice.

“Oh! Uh– melon bread. Pl—”

The devil man was interrupted by a firm grip on his shoulder flipping him around to face an incredibly annoyed aki.

“And what money are you going to use to pay for it? Not mine.”

The raven-haired man asked rhetorically as he glared at the younger boy.

While Aki was talking the stranger came back to the front with a beige wax paper bag in their hand and held it out to the dirty blonde. Denji gingerly took it in his hand, ignoring his superior's irate rantings, and pulled out the glazed treat. He took a hesitant bite and his cheeks flushed a soft pink as the sweet melon flavor washed over his tongue; ignoring the aching in a few of his poorly managed teeth.

The stranger smiled at him before turning to the top-knot-baring man with their hand out expectantly. Aki sighed as he realized that he would be paying for Denji's food after all. Shoving his hand into his back pocket; he takes out his wallet and reluctantly forks over the needed amount, though not before he throws a nasty glare the younger boy's way.

“So, uh, I never got your name. Or gave you mine, really. I'm Denji.”

The dirty blonde shyly muttered between nibbles of his sweet treat.

The stranger chuckles at his timid demeanor, figuring that he was just feeling a little embarrassed by the fact that he had no money. They rest their chin in the palm of their hand as they look him up and down; thinking about how he kind of reminds them of a dog.

“Well, nice to meet you, Denji. I'm [Name].”

They introduce themself lazily; taking his hand in theirs and giving it a firm shake.

Suddenly though, the baked treat was snatched from the dirty blonde's hand by a wild Power as she dashed to the door.

“Sharing is caring, henchman!”

The blood fiend shouts as she is chased out of the door by both males.

[Name] stares at the door for a few seconds before letting out an amused chuckle. What a strange bunch, they thought with a smile.

🍞•♡•🥐•♡•🥖•♡•🫓•♡•🥨•♡•🥯•♡•🥞•♡•🧇

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

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oogaboogasphincter · 5 months

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a bowlful of joel-y

summary: he was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot / and his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; / a bundle of toys he had flung on his back, / and he looked like a peddler just opening his pack / his eyes — how they twinkled! his dimples, how merry! / his cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry! / he had a broad face and a little round belly / that shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly || you never would have guessed who you find stumbling around jackson dressed up as santa claus on christmas eve night, leaving presents for all the kids in town. you take on the role of santa's elf and help him deliver his toys - and land yourself on his nice list just in time for christmas morning.

word count/warnings: 4.8k+ words EXPLICIT (18+ ONLY) MDNI! // reader has insomnia, a pinch of grumpy joel but he’s mostly jolly (at least by his standards), one mention of alcohol/drunkenness, christmas/holiday fluff, a conversation about loss and grief around the holidays (joel talks about sarah), description of panic attacks + healing❤️‍🩹, food and eating (milk+cookies ofc), unprotected piv sex (do as i say not as i write), jackson era!joel, friends to lovers teehee

a/n: merry christmas @lisadean! i'm so so sorry this is three days late, i got a head cold just as i was putting my finishing touches on this and i didn't want to post it without a final read-through :( i hope you enjoy your secret santa gift as much as i did writing it! 🤭🎁 i want to thank all my besties at @pedrostories for organizing this event, it's what introduced me to the blog and i'm so excited and honored to be participating in it both as a writer and moderator this year 💗 i wish all my readers a very happy holidays!! (pls let me know who made the beautiful gif above, i found it on pinterest w no credit ☹️)

It’s Christmas Eve and you can’t sleep.

No matter how hard you try, your shuttered eyes can’t keep.

You toss and turn with increasing agitation,

Thoughts of going downstairs gnawing with temptation.

It’d just be a little peek, you reason,

Of the freshly fallen snow of the season.

With a huff of exertion and a swaddle of flannel,

You get up and trot down the stairs, passing the candles burning on the mantle.

The decorated tree twinkles with light to emit holiday cheer all through the night.

You push aside the heavy drapes of your window and you see red;

Specifically, a fur-trimmed three piece set.

Astonished by what to your wandering eyes did appear, you lean in and begin to peer.

You must be being deceived by your eyes, you think to yourself. The apocalypse has brought to life many horrific figments that you wished were bound by imagination, but the magic of Christmas is something that seems too good to be true after such atrocity has ravaged the Earth. Maybe your vision is bleary from your biting insomnia caused by the latter, or you’ve endured enough that your mind is gifting you a glimpse back into some innocent happiness that you feared you lost long ago. To your surprise, the broad man outside doesn’t vanish with the blink of your eye; instead he trudges along in the snow with a harsh sense of reality, his back bent at a painful angle and his feet falling heavily with every step, bearing the brunt of his costumed weight plus the filled sack that is slung over his shoulder.

Whoever this is - whether it’s a do-gooder or some bloke that had a few too many spiked eggnogs at the Tipsy Bison - it looks like they would appreciate some help. You slip your boots on and head out, wrapping your arms around yourself to cinch your flannel pajamas closer to your frame to shield yourself from the icy midnight flurries. Santa’s back is to you and he doesn’t seem to acknowledge your approaching footsteps. His grunts of exertion are carried on the wind that swirls around you in ribbons: his pack looks even heavier up close than it did from your living room window. You make an effort to announce yourself by grinding your heels into the snow, making each step crunchier than the last.

For a fleeting moment, you relish the childlike wonder that overtakes you, that this could be the real Santa. His heart must be pounding in his ears because when you tap his velveteen shoulder softly, he jumps in shock. It’s immediately apparent that the erratic movement hurt his back further, as a large hand comes to support the small of his spine and he groans when he straightens his neck. The sack drops from his grasp into the snow below. You’re already apologizing as he turns haggardly on his heel, towards you, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. Do you-”

Santa finally rounds on you and your breath catches in your throat. Framed by a faux white beard and the furry trim of his hat are big, gorgeous brown eyes that throw icicles at you with an annoyed stare. His thorough costume fails to work on you - you could recognize those beautiful, baby cow-esque eyes in an instant. A joyous cloud of condensation wafts into Santa’s face as you burst into a fit of uncontrollable laughter, doubling over with tears in your eyes.

He steps forward and covers your mouth with a black leather gloved hand, “Don’t you know anythin’ about stealth?”

The saturation of Joel’s Texan accent increases whenever he’s irritated, tired or relaxed, you’ve noticed, or whenever his controlling grip on stoicism slips just slightly and he’s allowed to return to a more organic version of himself. To his grumbling annoyance, you’ve told him how cute you find it - especially when it’s followed by a blush of tamped-down flattery that crumbles his carefully constructed grimace.

He lets go of you when you’re able to stifle your giggles to a soft chuckling. You eye his outfit up and down, raising your eyebrow in approval. He tries his best not to mirror your bemused smirk. “ What are you doing, Joel Miller?” you ask incredulously.

“What’s it look like I’m doin’?” he grouches rhetorically. You patiently await his answer anyway with a grin that spreads to your eyes with every second that ticks by. He eventually secedes with a sigh, his broad shoulders deflating with exhaustion from more than just your affectionate pestering, “‘M… deliverin’ toys to the kids. Getting a present from Santa is a formative experience. No kid should have their magic robbed of ‘em.”

“Isn’t Santa just one big lie though?” you ask, genuinely. You remember the truth that your friends tried to peddle you while you were still a believer, asking you all kinds of questions as a test to your logic. How is he able to get all across the world in one night? If he’s so big, how is he able to fit down the chimney? Does Santa have to take bathroom breaks, and where?! Most of all, you remember the horror that washed over you when you confronted your parents with your newly-acquired facts, and to your fear, they confirmed the lie. It took you a while to have faith in anything they said after, to the point of absurdity - it took months for you to believe that taking medicine will actually make you feel better when you’re sick.

Joel stiffens. Some inexplicable reason makes you think that it’s not just because of his aching back and tired knees. His voice is tight, uncomfortable, “Yeah, I guess…”

He gradually warms back up, his words spliced with tired breaths, by explaining to you that, “Tommy told me that in years past, the adults would leave presents on Christmas morning, under that big tree they decorate in the town square,” he points behind him to the afar twinkling lights with his thumb, “just before the kids woke up. But since we found that fir tree lot about twenty miles out, everybody was able to get their own tree this year. I asked around if they think it’d be a good idea for someone… f’ me… to be Santa. So that all the kids could have the experience we had. Y’know… leave cookies out an’ all that.” He waves his hand noncommittally and looks off to the side like he thinks the whole idea is ludicrous, as if he doesn’t care. As if he isn’t the sweet, kindhearted man who introduced the very idea.

You fight hard to disguise the enamor that strikes your heart and threatens to leak into your gaze. So you turn to a reliable defense mechanism: teasing. “So… the costume is purely for your own enjoyment then?”

That pulls a breathy chuckle out of Joel’s chest. “I can’t have the kiddos wake up and see some old man in their house. You gotta keep up the illusion, girl.” He nudges you on the shoulder with his knuckles. When he leans in you can smell his breath, warm and sweet with faint notes of spice and cinnamon. His unprecedented playfulness always throws you for a loop and makes you squirm on your feet, a flustered smile warbling on your lips.

It strikes you in inappropriate moments like these that you have the privilege of being chummy with one of the most sought after men in Jackson. A man whose charms you’re not immune to, but you guess you’re better at hiding their effect than others are, as Joel tended to avoid those who openly expressed intimate interest. A man who you so desperately desire, but force yourself to hide your attraction for.

Joel sighs, bending to pick the sack handle up from the ground, “I’m bound to wake them up if I keep fuckin’ lumberin’ around like I am.” You can see how the heavy bag of toys weighs on his back and worsens his heavy-footedness. You can practically hear the alerting scuff of his boots against creaky floorboards, rousing sleeping kids and luring them to spoil their own surprise. “I damn near woke the first one up, ‘cause this fuckin’ sack got stuck between me and the door, an’-”

He cuts himself off, gaping with offended bewilderment watching you try to smother your laughter. The image of him wrestling with the bag, let alone in a full Santa costume, is simply hilarious. A deviousness glints the smile that tugs on half of his face, “Oh, so you think my struggling is funny?”

“No, it’s just…” you search for a more suitable word but guilt shines through your twisted smile and speaks for itself. He lets the silence fill the space between you two for an uncomfortable stretch, running out your fuse until you can’t hold back your giggling.

He puts his hand on his hip, fixing his gaze on you with lighthearted scorn, “You gon’ stand there and laugh at Santa ,” he jeers, scolding you for making fun of an innocent, jolly old man, “or are you gonna make yourself useful?”

For a moment you completely forget why you had come out here in the first place. Joel was legitimately having a difficult time and you had wanted to aid him in any way you could. However, his badgering demeanor has put an equally brattish spin on your helping hand from its chivalrous beginning. You defiantly square your shoulders.

“Actually, I will. I can be like an elf to your Santa. The elves do all of the hard work, anyways. Making the toys, wrapping them, packing the sleigh and caring for the reindeer. And Santa… eats cookies?”

Joel scoffs, pretending to not like the idea of some help, “Oh, yeah? You and what costume?” He jerks his chin at you, looks you up and down for your lack of costume. It’s hard not to pay any attention to the heat that rushes your cheeks thinking about him looking at you like that under different circumstances. He’s right though: you’ll need a costume to maintain the magical facade.

A Christmas miracle bestows itself to you in the front yard you’re standing next to: a snowman outfitted as an elf.

You go over and delicately pluck the pointed hat off of the top snowball so as not to disturb the icy artistry. You pull it down on your head, wiggle, and the movement gives the bell at the end of the point a jingle. “Ready when you are, Mr. Claus.”

Like on patrols and other tasks you’ve been paired with him on before, you and Joel make a fantastic team delivering holiday cheer in the night.

You’ll come to a house, quietly padding up the snowy front steps; Joel will sift through his bag for the correct present for the specific child; and hand it off to you to put under the tree inside. The parents in on the trick have left their doors unlocked and their kids have assembled platters of cookies, varying flavors from house to house, with a note of gratitude for their beloved Santa tucked underneath. You can only hope that the kids’ excited jitters for the following morning have worn their energy levels down enough that they’re soundly slumbering so you can pass through undetected. The bell on your hat is a hazardous giveaway to your presence, so you opt to leave it outside with Joel to ensure your drop-off is silent. There’s no chance any wandering eyes will catch you out of disguise, though, because, as quiet and quick as a mouse, you’re in with a gift and out with empty hands in a flash, ready for the next one.

A couple hours in and you’ve deposited gifts to three quarters of the kids in town. You’ll definitely finish before the Christmas morning sun even thinks about peering over the horizon. Despite the share of labor you’ve accounted for, Joel continues to have a difficult time trudging through the snow, so you both slow down to a pleasant, unhurried stroll to fulfill the remainder of your recipients.

“You okay?” you ask tenderly, smiling softly at him when he cranes his neck to meet your eyes. He nods, his voice tired and breathy, “Yeah, just… old .” He spits that last word out, with bitterness coating his tongue. The imperceptible shake of his head is impatient, agitated, that his body isn’t up to par with what it used to be capable of.

Jackson has softened him, there’s no denying that, but you don’t think it’s such a bad thing. You only arrived at the settlement a year ago, a year into Joel’s stay. He had immediately shown you friendliness, a desire to help you settle in, to care for you. It struck you as odd when you heard the stories from other townspeople of what he was like when he was first welcomed in; that he was the cold, standoffish brother of their warm leader, Tommy, that his permanent scowl radiated a sourness, bordering on ungrateful. The par-baked sociability that you were introduced to was apparently underdone; his face flickered with uncomfortability when any affection was pushed on him, whether it was a simple compliment or a brotherly nudge to his shoulder. Joel couldn’t hide himself from you, though. His desire to surrender was so strong, so yearnful, but he constantly restrained himself from the comfort, the love, with an understandable fear that it could all be taken away.

Accidentally, you forced him to face his fears. He enjoyed your company and soon sought out more and more opportunities to spend time with you until you were inseparable. You began to frighten him when he realized what you were to him, a friend , but it was too late; he couldn’t stay away from you, no matter how loud the loathsome voice in his head screamed for the safety that isolation guaranteed. His biggest source of anxiety now isn’t something reasonable, like clickers: it’s how far into the future he wants to go with you.

Back in the present moment, you shrug, “Well, I think you’re doing a good thing, Joel. Old or not.” The tip of his nose and cheeks are beet red from the frosty air and itchy costume, but his blush deepens to a magenta upon hearing your words. He diverts his eyes. It’s sweet, in a way, how he has trouble accepting praise even from one of his best friends. You dump more validation onto him, because he deserves it, “The community will really love you for this, you know. I know how much you like your solitude, but it’s nice to see you involved. It suits you.”

“I guess literally,” he gestures to his suit of red and white and you laugh together. Despite the tarnishes of age and stains of neglectful wear, the costume does fit him nicely. Just like the infamous poem, it complements his eyes that twinkle under the starlight and his merry dimple that deepens when he laughs. He even has the little round belly to complete the look, though you’re sure he has as much disdain for his softened shape as you have love for it.

The night hours wane in proportion with the fun you’re having. Joel’s silent for a while, and though quietness is never awkward between you two, you can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about.

You only have a few presents left to deliver when Joel says, “Sarah loved Christmas.”

You slow down next to him to direct your undivided attention on him in this tender moment, but he waves his hand at you to keep moving along. Always some degree of averse to comfort, you work with him however he’ll let you. He faces ahead into the snow coming down, but that’s not what he’s looking at; his gaze is slightly unfocused, like he goes into a dimension that only he can see. You’ve seen that expression on him before and know that snapshots of memories are drifting by in his mind.

His voice is happy to match his smile, only wavering with emotion slightly as he shares with you, “She’d always be eager to start putting the decorations up right after Thanksgiving, always so giddy to go to school and do all the festive little projects they had ‘em doin’. She’d get so into it, she’d come home with glitter all in her hair,” he laughs softly and so do you. “The fridge would be completely covered with her paintings and crafts by the time Christmas came around…”

He stops in his tracks to take a sharp breath in, looking up to the stars with damp eyes. A touch to the permanent fixture on his wrist - his watch - grounds him and restores his smile, despite the painful tinge it now has. You simply observe him for a moment, give him the patience he needs. Then he continues a bit somberly, “I always got a real tree, I didn’t like none of that fake stuff. I would’ve gone and cut one down myself if they grew better than they did in Texas.”

A detachedness casts over his eyes. He breathes hauntedly, “Maybe a lot of things would be different if I hadn’t lived there.”

He sniffles and shakes his head to try and dispel his thoughts, getting irritated that they infiltrated him in the first place. You take a gingerly step forward and lay your fingers over his with impossible tenderness, stroking his quivering knuckles.

“Sounds like she would’ve loved being your little helper tonight.” A stroke of happiness glimmers across his face, colors him back from his ghostly hue.

“Yep, she would’ve been all over that.”

With all of the delicacy you can muster to cushion your shameless, vital honesty, “I bet she would be proud of what you’re doing… of you .”

You reach into his bag and take out the last remaining present, placing it into his hands so he can be the one to close out the magical evening and deliver the final gift. Joel nods with residual tears in his eyes, “I can only hope.”

“I know,” you reassure him.

The corners of his mouth, downturned in shame and grief, begin to perk up ever so slightly. It sends you over the moon. A staggering leap of growth for Joel are imperceptible steps to others, but you’re always by his side to assure him that there’s nothing wrong with his pace.

You’re the one to wait outside this time while he sneaks in. While he’s disappeared for a few moments, you think about how he used to react when Sarah was brought up - or more likely, when his thoughts brought her to him unprovoked. He’d have brutal panic attacks, where his heart would pound violently in between seizures of oxygen, courtesy of his crippling lungs. He’d be rendered debilitated for days afterward, trying to collect his shattered remains and haphazardly piece himself back together.

But now, as he slowly closes the door behind him and turns to join you, his commendable progress frays your heartstrings. Though his eyes are still hurt and his heart still gives him problems, he’s able to talk about his daughter with unbridled joy . Her memory is no longer an abyss of torturous guilt; it has blossomed to remind him of all the happy days she did have, of what a beautiful soul she was and can continue to be in his heart. He’s realizing that instead of solely mourning her wrongful death, he can carry on her life by spreading the joy she instilled in him all those years ago. You view it as one of the highest honors to hear about her and to be friends with the wonderful man who raised her to be the kind girl she was. Seeing Joel’s misery lessened by any number makes you so happy you could cry.

Joel comes up to you and concern crosses his face, “What’s wrong?”, upon seeing the gleam to your eyes, putting a heavy hand on your shoulder.

“Nothin’,” you say with a shrug and a proud smile, subconsciously parroting his accent.

“Congratulations on another successful year, Santa,” you hold up your hand for a silly high five. Joel obliges with a resounding chuckle. He intertwines his fingers with yours, holding your hand long after the celebration. “Couldn’t have done it without your help,” he mumbles sheepishly, “Thank you.”

Since you were the one picking up Santa’s slack for the most part tonight, you were also the one to take bites of cookies and sips of milk to leave as evidence of your visit. It only dawns on you now that Joel hasn’t had any treats the whole night. What a holiday abomination!

“I think Santa is entitled to his fair share of payment,” you playfully nudge at Joel’s belly and he swats your hand away with a grunt. “I made some cookies of my own, and I have some milk to pair if I’m remembering your tastes correctly.” He shakes his head, rolls his eyes. “Wanna come back to mine for some?”

Joel squeezes your hand in his, “Sure.”

The morning sun still has a few hours left to sleep by the time you and Joel cross your threshold. The house you were gifted in the center of town is small, but it’s a haven nonetheless. When you first moved in, Joel was assigned to check all the inner workings and help furnish, but most importantly he helped you return to yourself: what colors you liked and didn’t like, which way you preferred your living room to be arranged, where you wanted your mugs stored. It was incidental, trivial things, but their impact was seriously underestimated. He helped make the little blank-slate house yours.

He enjoys being in it as much as you do because he’s constantly surrounded by you and the evidence of your habits and patterns. The rings of coffee staining your side table, next to the bookmarked novel on the arm of your couch. The shoes dropped unceremoniously by your front door. The dish towel powdered with the flour of cookies you made earlier, their mouthwatering scent lingering in the air with the dry, residual warmth from your oven. He doesn’t know if he wants to consume you or be consumed by you, but either way he knows one thing: he’s bewitched.

In the kitchen, he leans against the counter as you pour him a glass of milk and plate some cookies. The long night’s energy expenditure has worked up quite an appetite in him, so he doesn’t waste any more time and takes a bite.

“You have to dip it in the milk and let it get soft! They’re best that way,” you offer, but he just waves you off with affectionate annoyance.

From his sloppy eating, a piece of chocolate has smeared itself on his upper lip and into the hairs of his mustache. It makes you smile. Without thinking, you lick the pad of your thumb and bring it to his face to clean it off.

Joel’s lips part, as if with practiced ease, so you can really get in there. It’s so natural , so domestic between the two of you; it’s startling. His eyes are on you and you can feel them, watching you with brazen intensity as you prod the plushness of his lip, but you keep your own gaze focused on your work.

You flicker a fatal glance into his. Joel wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in for a kiss that’s a strange mix of gentle and intoxicating. Just as it registers in your brain what is happening, he’s breaking away and it makes you want to cry.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked first, goddamn fool …” he grumbles to himself. He goes to remove himself from you further, but you pull him right back by the chest of his t-shirt that’s damp with sweat.

“You should’ve.” You press your lips to his with ravenous fervor.

You pull him to the living room, to the chair that he picked out for the space when you first moved in. The soft suede reminded him of you, he had said, and you didn’t realize what his true meaning was until now. His fingertips skim over your exposed skin, addicted, yet tentative in their touch of such preciousness.

You swiftly rid him of the rest of his costume down to his underclothes and he soon follows to undress you until you’re left in your base layers. You’re practically shaking with need, wishing you could take your time with him but you’ve been pining after him all night (really, ever since the moment you laid eyes on him over a year ago.) That goofy costume couldn’t hide his delicious figure and he makes you delirious now that he’s exposed; his broad, inviting chest; his sexy, burly arms; his cute little ass.

He shares your desire’s impatience. He falls onto the chair, pressing against the back. You climb into his lap, straddling his thighs, and wrap your arms around his neck to pull him into you for another desperate kiss.

One of his hands balances you on your hip and the other fumbles with his belt buckle frustratingly. He groans impatiently into your mouth, but your aid is being dispersed elsewhere; your fingers are tethered to his hair, brushing it and grabbing it and pulling it.

Finally he solves the metallic riddle and you both sigh in relief when his stiff length is released, slapping against your thigh. You reach down and stroke him from base to tip a couple times, making his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure. This is going to be quick, you both know it, but that doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable.

You’re just as near to bursting as Joel when you sink down onto him, inch by glorious inch. He digs his heels into the floor in preparation to fuck up into you, but you beat him to it and begin to ride. He groans loudly, his arms constricting around your waist and burying his face into your neck. He’s holding you so tight that you can barely move; it makes your thighs burn deliciously with the amount of effort you have to put in to keep up your pace. You work up a sweat to rival his as a fresh sheen breaks out on his brow.

Combined with the heated passion, there’s an enamored twinkle in his eyes, an adoration. One that screams that four-letter L word, the one that his brain wants to profess to you from rooftops but that his heart can’t work up the strength to say it and make it real.

The holidays are run on magic, anyways - you’re content to give him all the time he needs.

“Please, Joel,” you whisper breathlessly into his ear, wanting his body if you can’t have his heart just yet. That does him in; his hips stutter beneath you and his warmth fills you up, radiating up from your core until it tickles the underside of your pounding heart. Your own release is brought on by his sly fingers against your clit and it seizes your movements, rippling in tantalizing waves from head to toe, until you’re reduced to a puddle in his arms and slump against his chest.

Hazy with exhaustion and a potent shot of dopamine, you barely register him tucking a blanket around you before you succumb to some much-needed sleep.

The Christmas morning sun breaks over the horizon a few hours later. Amidst your throes of passion in the darkness of night, you hadn’t realized your front window’s curtains were strewn wide open. You and Joel both startle awake when a particularly harsh sunbeam glints off of a frosty white snow bank, shooting directly into your unprepared pupils.

You bury your face into his chest, groaning with embarrassment, “I really hope nobody starts singing that they saw an elf kissing Santa Claus.”

Your newly minted lover chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and holding you ever closer, “Eh, all the kids were asleep. And if any adults saw…,” he shrugs, “Fuck ‘em.”

Now, your blanketed bodies remain safely hidden from the happy kids running about and cheering in the streets with their new toys. Joel watches on with you, smiling despite the sleep deprivation that prohibits you from even thinking about moving an inch. And with Joel beneath you, surrounding you, why would you?

“You know, I’ve been thinking for a while now…” he continues, running a finger delicately down your cheek, “I’ve been wanting to promote my head elf, but she’s already at the top of my list.”

You poke him in the chest playfully, “Hey, I’m a seasonal worker. Last night was a one-time deal. Well, what happened before we got home was a one-time deal,” you specify.

Your clarification brightens his smile. “How d’ya think… Mrs. Claus sounds?”

Your heart leaps. “Sounds like just what I’ve been wishing for.”

You settle in to watch the rest of the morning unfold, with the joyous kids playing, their contented parents observing, and the snow swirling in the air in dreamy trails.

“Merry Christmas, Joel.”

He presses a tender kiss to your forehead. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

summary excerpt from “‘a visit from st. nicholas” by clement clarke moore

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rentsturner · 8 months

Text

Bruised Knuckles - A.T

Warnings; reader has punched a wall, mentions/descriptions of injury, mentions of (non-specified) scars, content that some people may find as very similar to self-harm, reader is paranoid and insecure. If any of this triggers you pls don’t continue to read. a/n: I originally wrote this about a different person but I've rewritten it for Al for a bit of comfort after a rough few days. If you don't like it, don't read it. Thanks @martinipoliz for being my hype man

It’s a cold day in London, the skies grey and cloudy over the city.It’s been a long day without Alex. He’s been out since the early morning at the recording studio, the boys being in the middle of recording their next album, leaving you to spend the day alone in your tiny apartment. As much as you don’t want to admit it, the isolation has gotten to you - you slipped, more than once. Yeah, you regret it, but also there’s that nagging need for more at the back of your mind. You try to push it out, to forget about it, but the cold in the air doesn’t help to ease the ache in your knuckles.

The door to the apartment shuts with a click and a jangle of keys, footsteps heading towards the door, the click of Alex’s boots rhythmic on the hardwood floor. He’s back. A wave of relief floods you, before you remember and your chest clenches in panic.

‘Alright, love?’ Alex flops onto the bed with a lazy grin, stretching his arms up over his head.

‘Yeah, fine, you?’ Keep it simple. You busy yourself with a stack of books by the bed, straightening the pile of your shared novels so it’s not about to topple over. Keep the hand busy.

‘Yeah, alright. I missed you. Took us so long to record one of the new songs, Cookie kept messing up the solo so we all just ended up leaving it for the day.’

You nodded along and let him recount the rest of the story. You’re admiring the way his dark lashes flutter against his pale skin and how his arms flex as his hands come to rest behind his head, when you realise that Alex has stopped talking. And you’ve stopped moving.

‘Your knuckle…” his eyes dart down to the hand you’ve been trying to hide ever since he walked through the door. Busted.

‘Oh.’ You move to get up, anything to get his eyes away from your swollen knuckles, red lines criss-crossing over the flowering purple bruises where your hand collided with a solid brick wall. Multiple times. The open cuts are still weeping, even though it had happened hours ago.

‘It’s nothing, just tripped on the stairs. Don’t worry about it.’ You offer a small smile, but it doesn’t fool Alex.

‘No.’ He moves as you do, standing in front of the bedroom door to block your escape. His arms are crossed over his chest, stance serious, but the worry in his brown eyes betrays him. ‘Love. Let me see it.’

He holds out his hand, pale fingers reaching out to you, calloused fingertips brushing against your wrist gently. He knows how to help. The hand reaching, an offer of support, reassurance, love, all those things that you crave but can never admit. Emotions aren’t your forté - never have been.But Alex knows that. There’s no secrets between you. You almost laugh out loud at the thought. No secrets, but you won’t even show him your hand.

Alex would do anything for you, you know that - he tells you all the time. Days spent in bed chatting shit to each other.

‘I’d write a whole album just for you, y’know?’

‘Would you now, Al? I think I’d prefer a book of poetry.’

‘Well I’d write that as well. In a heartbeat.’

Bright eyes, wide smile. Your Alex. He’s joking, of course, but his tone is so serious, his answer without a second of hesitation. Your heart skips a beat.

So now, you give him your hand (and your heart).

He takes it tentatively, one warm hand underneath, the other poking at your raw knuckles gently. When one of his prods reaches a tender spot, you wince and he moves his finger away, meeting your gaze in apology.

‘You punch something?’ His brow creases, a hand running instinctively over his unruly locks, before scratching at the back of his neck. He’s been growing his hair out recently, letting the brown strands begin to curl around his ears, not using as much gel in it as he used to. He looks gorgeous. Then again, he could shave his head and you’d still think he was the best looking man on earth.

The sting in your hand brings you back to the present.

‘No.’ You look away from Alex’s gaze, knowing that in doing so you’ll give yourself away, but not having the energy or willpower to stop yourself. Much like the ‘incident’ earlier in the day.

‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’ Alex huffs, not in anger, but in frustration - frustration that he wasn’t there to help, to calm you down. ‘Let me clean it up, give me a sec.’

His hand rubs at his eyes, scrunched shut for a moment. There’s dark bags marring his pale skin there - he’s tired too, the long days at the studio beginning to get to him. He goes to move to the bathroom, but you grab his arm with your good hand, gripping it as tight as you can. Don’t leave.

‘No, Al, it’s alright, I’ll sort it.’

But he shakes his head. He doesn’t look happy. Not that you’d expect him to, but…he’s getting frustrated with you, you can tell.

‘You can’t clean yourself up with one hand. Just wait here, alright?’

The inkling is worming its way in now, from your subconscious to your conscious, until it's at the forefront of your mind. He’s angry, he’s disgusted, he’s going to leave. He’s not going to the bathroom, he’s going to the front door so he can get out of here. You’re sure of it. He’ll call Matt or Miles and tell them how crazy you are, how he can’t deal with it any longer.

‘I’m sorry.’ The whisper escapes you and you have to bite the inside of your cheek so no tears will spill. The words are almost silent, your hand dropping Alex’s in defeat.

But Alex turns his head at your weak apology, stopping in his tracks.

‘What? Why -‘

With a jolt, he notices the way you’ve changed - unable to look at him, arms beginning to wrap around yourself, one fist clenched. He knows what’s happening.

‘No, no, love, I’m not angry.’

He’s back at your side in a heartbeat, bringing his hand up to your chest, thumb carefully wiping away the rogue tear that’s tracking a salty path over your cheekbone.

‘I love you. I just want the best for you, alright? I don’t like seeing you hurt, just like I’d fucking hope you wouldn’t like seeing me hurt.’

His face breaks into a sad smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and you realise he’s right - of course he is. You don’t want to see him hurt, but that’s what you’re doing. He’s hurting just from seeing your hand, it’s obvious from the crease in his brow, the usual bright glint of his eyes dulled and flat. Alex has got too much to deal with already, you’re just one extra problem to add to the mix. You don’t want to be his problem.

And suddenly it’s all coming up to the surface, ready to combust, explode, these emotions that you never really have a grip on. You bottle them up and push them down, so far down that the only way they can escape is through a rush of anger, jagged and uncontrollable.

But instead of that, you bury your face into Al’s neck and let it out as slowly as you can.

‘I’m sorry, I was angry, I just wanted to feel something. Some pain. I don’t want to make you feel like this. I’m sorry.’

You’re clutching onto the fabric of his dress shirt like your life depends on it, trying to push the thought of how expensive it probably is to the back of your mind. You can’t possibly let go of him - he's the only one you have left.

Alex is steady, your rock in a storm of emotions. He listens, stroking your hair, long fingers threading through the strands to knead at your scalp, knowing it tends to calm you down.

‘You’re alright, I promise. I promise you, love. I know you get angry. I know you. And I know what it’s like to want to feel something, trust me, I’m far from innocent myself, you know I've had some bad times. We can get through it together, or we can be a mess together. I don’t care, as long as we’re together, honest. I’m not going anywhere.’

And the sincerity in his eyes, those familiar bright brown doe eyes, it convinces you. He means it.

You stay like this for a few minutes, your good hand clinging onto Alex’s shirt sleeve, the other grasped tightly (but not too tightly) in Alex’s grip. His right arm is around your waist, pulling you closer, as if in doing so he can pour all of his reassurance, all of his love, directly to your heart. He knows it’s not possible. But he tries anyway. Because he’ll do anything for you. Your Alex.

He helps you clean your hand later, shushing you everytime you wince (though that isn’t often). His hands are steady and confident as he dabs at the cuts with alcohol, wrapping the gauze over your knuckles and securing it with some tape, humming to himself as he works, the steady tune in time with his deft movement. You wonder if it's one of the songs from the new album - some of them he will share with you, some of them he prefers to keep as a surprise for the release. He doesn’t look up until the job is done - and a good job it is too. Alex kisses the bandages gently when he’s done - a silent ‘I love you. I care for you and I love you.’

And you smile, a smile that fills your whole body with warmth, a smile that drowns out the demons, if only for a little while. Because how can you not, when you have Alex. He tries his best and so do you - neither of you can ask anymore. You’ll be a mess together.

‘Let’s order takeaway and watch Blade Runner, eh?’

Or you’ll get through this together.

#Alex turner #Alex turner x reader #alex turner fanfic #Alex turner x f!reader #arctic monkeys

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atlaswav · 4 months

Text

ADDICTED TO THE RUSH ♢

INFO: 3k words, aiku oliver x fem! reader SYNOPSIS: strange things, a man did, when his knowledge of women was suddenly upturned by your very existence — the anomaly to his capricious heart, the addictive rush he'd been yearning for. WARNINGS: making out 16+ (shame.), hard drugs, hallucinogens, please don't do drugs kids, ESPECIALLY NOT FROM RANDOM STRANGERS LIKE OLIVER THIS BITCHASS, angst?? with happy ending. please be drug safe, not like this guy AUTHOR'S NOTE: not proof read and this is nothing except shame and delusion i'm ashamed and also simultaneously proud but i'll probably look back on this later and barf. listen to waiting for love by openside the title is inspired by that song. ++ if this is romanticising drugs in any way pls lmk idk what came over me. also likes and reblogs are really appreciated i'll give you a cookie 🫂

Contrary to what many would think, Oliver Aiku didn’t exactly consider himself one for parties. If anything, the thrumming bass that vibrated through the crowd, the alcohol stagnant in the air and the humidity of sweating bodies was an immediate line in the sand. He did have a reputation to keep, however, so what was one girl from the next when his name became a mantra on their lips?

Oliver wasn’t one for drinking, drugs or anything of the sort, either. Despite what his teammates may think, he would never have taken anything beyond a celebratory drink. Even though he’d been offered far worse on multiple occasions.

The professional soccer player couldn’t possibly risk any harm to his health, could he?

But he supposed, if he were to take the strangely glimmering, iridescent pill that was offered to him at the subway station in the dead of night, it’d be catastrophic. Strange things, a man did, when his heart was confused, brimming with reckless abandon.

What was another wound to his soul than what already was?

He’d ingest it against the voice of reason, and his head would start to spin after a few moments. Were there two of those men standing in front of him? The lights would begin to flicker in his vision, and the ground would rise up to meet his face unceremoniously, while he dreamed of a faraway paradise. A paradise filled with gaudy colours, rippling images, and infinite traces of you.

You, you you – your narcotic smell everywhere, your hypnotic laughter around each corner and bend, the hue of your irises flashing in the peripherals of his vision. He’d turn, aching to catch your evasive gaze, but you weren’t there.

Slipping through his fingers like water, fading into the effervescent shoreline. Trying to bottle sunlight – preserve seafoam.

He supposed that’s what loving you was like – would be like – not that he would know. It was an addiction in its own sense; chasing something that wasn’t there, yet yearned to hold.

He supposed that if he ingested that pill, and if all these things happened to him, then loving you was a drug.

He got unbelievably high from your presence, the rapid beating of his heart, your quiet smiles, shared furtive glances, secret whispers, your feather light touch skimming across his skin, your voice’s melodic cadences.

He’d give up anything to try again. To turn time on its head, watch the sand fall inversely through the hourglass and give rise to the words that were lodged in his throat. To stand his ground and not run away like the coward he became when it came to you. But of course, Oliver Aiku was not one for such things either.

And he hated himself for it.

The lights above shone a myriad of colours into his bleary gaze, the ground beneath him rumbling. What was that screeching noise?

It hurt his ears. He wanted to curl into a ball to escape it, but his limbs betrayed him.

His annoyance only spiked as people started to pour onto the platform, the ground shaking with footsteps and indistinct voices.

He told himself that he should move, but the iridescent lights above him were swirling into shapes, and he wanted to watch the bubbles float towards him, shining incandescently.

Wait. Bubbles?

“Oliver? Oh my god.”

He stirred, temples throbbing. Your voice started to haunt him too, it seemed. Lilting, soothing, lovely. He wished you’d speak again. He needed you to say his name again. It sounded like honey when it fell from your lips.

“Oh my god, Oliver, wake up.”

He mumbled something, faintly aware of a face in front of him. Your face. Beautiful, but marked with worry. He willed himself to reach out, to hold your cheek, to brush your hair away from your face, but he couldn’t.

“He’s off. On a trip to another universe. What did that guy give him?” another voice, this one less lovely. A dissonant cadence that had him remembering training. He hated training. Only because his team mates wouldn’t stop pestering him about you, once they’d finally found out about you.

“Hang in there, Oliver. We’ll get you home.”

Home? To him, home was wherever you were. He was entirely content to fall asleep in your arms, on the grimy platform floor.

Arms tried to lift him, but the six foot man was liquid in their arms.

“C’mon, can you move?” his teammate asked. “What did that guy even give you?”

He grumbled something. Tried to get his legs to move. Stumbled backwards, hitting his back on a wall.

“He said “a ticket to heaven for a night”, whatever that means.” You supply.

“That’s not reassuring.”

“Sendo, let’s just carry him. It isn’t too far anyway.” you huffed, looping one of his arms around you. He tried to cling to you with both arms, but his limbs flailed uselessly by his sides.

“Alright, fine. You’re buying me a drink after this, Aiku.” His teammate’s voice irked him, even in this state of bliss.

The walk back to his apartment took far longer than it should’ve. It was quiet, occasionally broken by the heaving of breaths, clouding in the winter air. Wisps of colour followed them out of the subway station. Was that a whale swimming towards them? No, that was just the light. The stupid, colourful light.

He creaked open his eyes, and the world started to swirl in his vision. Were they standing at his elevator? Is that why the wind had stopped blowing into his face? He leaned into your warmth, cheeks red from the cold.

“You can go now, I got him from here.”

“You sure?” His balance slips as Sendo removes himself from Oliver’s grip.

“Yeah. ‘Night, Sendo.”

“Yeah, yeah, message me if something happens. Goodnight.”

You stand there in silence with him, waiting for the elevator to arrive. His face presses into the crook of your neck, stubble grazing your skin as he mumbles something.

“Oliver, what did you do?” you sigh.

He frowns.

“You okay?”

He huffs.

“Silent treatment, or high out of your mind?”

He doesn’t respond. Spots start to appear all over the place. Spinning, spinning, spinning. Waves of dizziness wash over him, and his grip on your arm tightens.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” you haul him into the elevator, leaning against the wall as the ascent starts. Oliver wobbles dangerously, threatening to collapse as his knees start to give out.

“Why did you do this?” you mutter. “Is it because of what I said?”

His eyes snap open. As close to snapping open as his traitorous body would allow in this state of his. Your eyes meet his, and he feels himself wanting to drown in your gaze forever. His mind was just as traitorous as his body.

No, he wants to say. It could never be your fault.

But he doesn’t. His tongue is lead in his mouth, so he just looks at you in a stupor before you sigh and shake your head.

“You don’t have to reciprocate anything. We can still be friends.”

Your confession only hours before had felt like a weight finally lifted from your chest, quickly replaced by another. Heavier, more suffocating. When he’d run from you, it took everything within you to not run after him and beg.

He hated anything remotely permanent, he’d once confided to you. He found an appreciation for the fleeting moments of affection of one night stands and miscellaneous, faceless, nameless women – no strings attached, tying him down. Heaven forbid you become the object of his hatred, along with the object of his – disgust? You couldn’t tell, with Oliver. There was never any telling what he’d do.

You drew the keys from his pocket, unlocking his front door as he stumbled forward, nearly face planting on the floors.

“Come on, you big baby.”

“...Stars.”

“What?”

“Stars on the… ceiling.” me mumbled, eyes half closed.

Worry rushed through you as you seated him on the couch. Just how strong was the drug he took?

“What did you take?” you grasp his shoulders, shaking him lightly. He mumbles something close to ‘Don’t worry’. If anything, you begin to worry more as his head falls to one side.

“Oliver.” Your voice is a song in his ears, drawing up images of the waves at sunrise, bleeding orange, pink and purple into the deep blue of the water.

“Oliver, stay with me.”

“‘M fine.” he manages. “Dizzy.”

“Let me get you some water.” your presence – the warmth of your touch – disappears, and his eyes open in alarm.

He hears the sound of water being poured, then soft footsteps shuffling around. His apartment is dark, the only light drifting in from the balcony, illuminating the room with a pale glow.

“Here, drink.” you lift the glass to his lips, and he begrudgingly takes a couple of sips. Some water spills from the corner of his lips, down his neck. His Adam's apple bobs. His trembling hand comes up weakly to lower the glass, but he doesn’t release his grip as he meets your eyes. Pupils blown out, hardly on this plane of existence.

“I love you.”

You nearly drop the glass.

“You’re high. Say that to me when you’re sober.” you pry free from his grip, setting the glass onto the low coffee table in front of you. “Want to go to bed?”

He shakes his head, the movement apparently as much as he can muster. “Here.”

“Huh?”

“Here. With you.” he mumbles.

“What?”

Then you take a seat next to him, and his head falls onto your shoulder. His body seems to relax in your presence, wholly at peace.

You sigh. If “heaven for one night” meant anything, he’d be fine by morning, but you debated calling an ambulance anyway. Should you call the ambulance? Was that crook at the subway trustworthy? You glance at the peacefully sleeping man beside you, chest evenly rising and falling. He seemed fine, but he had taken drugs from a stranger.

You reach for your phone just as he grumbles, flopping his entire upper body onto your lap.

Okay, no, then.

Oliver’s soft snoring is almost endearing as he nuzzles his face into your thighs. You heave a sigh, running a hand through his neon green edged hair. He seemed to lean into the touch. No, it was your imagination. You lean back against the leather sofa and close your eyes, hoping for the night to pass sooner. Hoping that he’d sober up by morning, and spare you a trip to the emergency room.

Hoping to hear those three words in the lustre of clarity.

—

His dreams were filled with phantoms; phantom hands, faces, touches. Phantom words spoken into the air, disappearing in smoke, and only spurring his guilt. Yet as he woke from his stupor, the world smelled like you. Coaxing him back to the dreamscape. Exhaustion hit him like a tsunami, meeting him with a thundering headache.

His vision didn’t fare any better as he opened his eyes, the world a mess of swirls and blurring patterns. He groaned and flipped over, only to realise where he was.

The disorientation of sleep melted away as he finally came to his senses. Sweat, thinly beaded across his skin, his clothes clinging to his body. He lay curled up on the couch, head nuzzled into the pillows – warm, soft –

“Oliver? You awake?”

He snaps to attention, sitting up the moment he hears your voice.

The plight of his dreams, the palliative cadences that he wished he could despair in.

His head throbbed from the blood rushing to his head, and he swore quietly, swaying as he adjusted.

“How are you feeling? Are you alright?” your eyes are wide with concern, and something in his heart tugs.

The night before is an empty slot in his reel of memory, a smudge of bright, neon lights and dancing shapes as he attempts to recall exactly what happened. How he ended up sleeping on your lap, how you’d ended up at his apartment. Did you sleep over? It looks like you didn’t sleep at all, with the dark circles under your red rimmed eyes.

You abruptly get off the couch, heading into his kitchen. He hears the pouring of water, then you return, gingerly handing him the glass. He takes it, confusion slowly turning to realisation as he remembers.

And the memory of his cowardliness, his recklessness, his awful string of decisions that led him to seeing stars rushes through him like ice cold water.

“You okay?” you ask, voice soft. Treading on eggshells.

He nods, downing the glass of water.

Quiet, strung on a humming wire, envelops you as he attempts to find the words that kept escaping him. The words that he swore he’d never speak, even though you were right in front of him, still worried. Despite it all. You’d stayed, despite everything.

Would he have been a coward for pushing you away? Sparing you from the inevitable heartbreak that he’d dole out like his meaningless plethora of apologies, incapable of anything prolonged more than one night?

“Oliver,” his gaze snaps to you. His name was like ambrosia on your lips. He wanted to hear it spoken again and again, a prayer, a worship, a plea.

“Did we…” he trails off, sheepish. Oliver Aiku, bashful of his escapades.

Your cheeks redden slightly as you shake your head, unwilling to meet his eyes.

Silence, the capricious thing. Teetering on the edge of ruin, speared into disrepair with words that could shatter or mend your heart. Your heart, aching to be given away. Aching for the one that you couldn’t have.

Your name echoes through his empty house. The early morning sunlight peers through the windows, casting warm light on your face. Rejuvenating, almost divine.

“I’m sorry.”

Your heart drops.

“I don’t know how to–” he rubs his face with his hand, heterochromic eyes gazing at some point beyond. “I’ve never had a way with words.”

“You don’t have to say anything.” your bitter smile breaks his heart. Digs the blade in and twists, spilling burning acid into his veins.

He can feel his world crumbling around him as you stand, turning around. Heading for the door, for the threshold beyond that would mean you were finally gone. Finally out of his life, finally gone from the dreams that you haunted, from the touch that he craved.

He should be glad, but instead, like an addicted man, he reaches out, grabbing your arm.

“Wait,”

You turn to face him. Hope glimmers in your eyes and he can only feel guilty. His love wasn’t something that he could offer, his heart wasn’t one that could stay with yours for as long as he would wish, and it was another thing that he despised himself for.

He despised himself for not being able to love you the way you should be.

If only he could put it into words.

“You don’t need to comfort me.”

He sighs. “I’m not trying to comfort you, I just…”

You frown, stepping closer. “Then what, Oliver?”

If only you knew the effect you had. “I don’t have a way with words,” he starts. “But I’ve always believed that actions can speak louder.”

“What are you–”

Your words drown in his mouth as he pulls your mouth down to meet his. He drowns your gasp of shock, offers reassurance with the measured brush of his tongue on your lips. If Oliver had anything to show from his reputation as a womaniser, it was knowing how to treat a woman.

The kiss burns with a fervour that you can only describe as hunger. He kisses like he’s been starved, addicted to your taste, your touch, shivering as your hands wander into his hair. His breath catches in his throat as your nails scrape his scalp, muffling a groan as you bite his lip.

You pull away all too quickly for his liking. His starvation is in his eyes. Your breaths are quick, ragged, and he tries to kiss you again, but you press your index finger to his lips.

“Are you still high?” you ask, voice carrying that hint of joy that he wanted to illuminate.

“No.”

“Are you lying to me?”

A smile breaks out on your face as he sighs heavily, catching your wrist in his hand. “I might be, but I can think straight.”

A laugh from you, and he thinks he’s doomed. Fated to be wrapped around your finger for the remainder of his sorry life, a jester for your amusement. How quickly the tables have turned on him.

“We’ll see, Aiku.” you press a kiss to his forehead, smile luminescent in the dawn sun. Despite the sleepless night, watching over him in his state of oblivion, you were radiant. The object of his secret desires, the hubris to his mercurial heart.

“Wait, what?” As you turn to leave, he scrambles up from the couch, but his limbs won’t let him catch you. “Where are you going?”

“Home.” you cast him a coy smile. “If your actions speak true, come find me when you’re sober.”

Then the door opens and closes, before he can retort. Gone with the wind, scattered like seafoam on the shores of golden sand.

He falls back onto the couch with a huff, the ceiling still swimming slightly in his vision. Never again, he’d take any drug from any sketchy man in a subway station. He didn’t need drugs, alcohol or women anymore, he could discard his reputation completely. He didn’t need such things anymore – not when he had you.

You, you you, with your haunting presence, eluding his grasp like sunlight in a jar. He’d normally relent, turning to the next woman fawning over him, sweep her off her feet with his aloofness and casanova grin.

But now he had you, and the chase was a thrill that no drug could replicate.

You were his dopamine, he was hopelessly addicted.

written by @atlaswav, published 4th of February, 2024

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yowyowyaoi · 10 months

Text

Kisame’s Daily Texts from the Akatsuki

From Deidara

Me and Tobi found a big muddy hole full of earthworms, let’s go fishing! 😁

We finished it last night, sorry

I was just teasing him!

Exploding or boring?

Not a tea person but thanks anyway

LMAOOO he probably pissed himself 🤣

Pls tell Itachi I’m not gonna hurt her I just want to pet her for a while!

Leader said he’ll kill us if we do it again so no probably not 😓

You gotta use the conditioner too or else it won’t be effective

I’ll ask him but he don’t really like places like that. Says they’re too happy 🙄

From Hidan

If you have two does that mean one sleeps while the other fucks or ?

No offense but it’s literally so boring I can’t sit still that long

I would say he’s giving you blue balls but.

Can’t imagine giving a shit but 🤷‍♂️

Tried that once. Got the mask halfway off and suddenly felt like I was drowning. Never again.

Old bastard said no 😑

You need to watch him he takes like two bites and pushes the plate away

How? Half of us are gay half are insane and some are both 🤣

One dick, two dicks, your dicks, BLUE dicks! Lol get it??

From Sasori

Thanks but water erodes my “skin”.

I’m done reading it, you can borrow if you like.

Please make sure he puts on sunscreen he’s too stubborn to listen to me.

Don’t really remember all that well but I believe it was ice cream.

He has to *want* treatment and so far he’s turned down every offer Kakuzu or myself has made.

They make for more appealing puppets if they have some unique physical characteristic while they’re still living.

I’ll probably marry him some day but first he has to work on not blowing himself to bits.

Oh of course. You know you don’t need to ask.

From Kakuzu

Hey I almost beat you and I’m 60+ years your senior.

Just this once … no charge. Worth it to see him freak out like that.

I’m not very well-versed in animal anatomy but I can take a look and try my best.

EVERYBODY pays. Itachi too.

Fits nice. My thanks.

This place is falling apart, if it’s not one thing it’s another.

It’s annoying but I don’t see any serious long-term effects.

From Konan

That’s so sweet, thank you ☺️

Write down the exact kind for me, I’ll pick it up the next time I go to the market.

He’s a sweetheart isn’t he? 🥰

I’ll take your word for it, but ducks are so cute I don’t think I could eat one.

Come to my room I have some eye drops that’ll help him.

If I let that happen no work would ever be done and they’d likely kill each other.

So many miles, with these heels it’s hard on my feet.

If you want it that rare then there’s really no point to me cooking it at all 😒

At this point the yelling has become background music.

Me on one shoulder and Itachi on the other. You big show-off 😁

From Tobi/Obito

You only beat me because Deidara distracted me!

Forty cookies isn’t even that many. Plus Itachi ate two more.

Kakuzu said to earn the money myself so I stole one of his bounties 🤷🏻‍♂️

Itches. A LOT.

Can’t stand tea but if you have any hot chocolate, yeah.

You should hang out with Zetsu more often then. Like one never-ending picnic.

He really wants to go but I don’t have a pole. You have a spare?

Yeah but he might let us get a fish-tank if YOU said you needed it, like for health or something

Sushi? Isn’t that cannibalism?!

Fuck him AND his perfect ass. Literally and figuratively.

Don’t give me that “kid” shit, we’re like the same age!

From Zetsu

You want to split that guy’s leg with me? He was very fat, lots of good meat 😋

He’s a good man but doesn’t his dubious emotional state concern you?

It’s a lot like hearing two voices at once. Constantly.

It’s no fun if they don’t scream a bit first. You know this.

I did the scouting; that lake about five miles up the road is both deep and fairly clean.

Let’s hide under his bed and scare him. I bet money we can get him to soil himself while crying for that damn Jashin 🤣

From Nagato

I thank you for the tea. It helped me to sleep.

Well, keep an eye on him.

The pain is worse when I stand but Sasori is working on prosthetics for me that may solve the problem.

As long as you return in time for your next mission.

Get that looked at as soon as possible. We can’t afford to have you out of commission.

I do, but she deserves so much better than myself.

I’ll speak to Kakuzu about getting you a new one.

If you two are going to do that, please keep it away from our hideouts. It disturbs Konan to hear the screaming.

From Itachi

I ate this morning. Promise.

That wasn’t Hidan’s fault, I’d forgotten to take my pill so my reflexes were slow.

Just consider it. Uchiha Kisame. Say it out loud. It’s beautiful 😌

Can you check if I left that shirt in your room?

Dei and I went there last night. The manager banned us for life because Dei set off a C3 in the men’s room. 😑

Fine. You buy the skirt I’ll “model” it for you.

Sad. Come stay with me please.

You worry too much.

That picture is for YOUR EYES ONLY.

Aww what do you mean? Kitty loves you she’s not trying to eat you!

It’s one that Konan gave me. It’s really good you’d probably like it too.

Tea?

I didn’t *fall* in, he *pushed* me. Big difference.

Mom taught me when I was younger. I can teach you too if you want.

You’re mine too. Always ❤️

#the akatsuki #texting #kisaita #kisame x itachi #kisame hoshigaki #itachi uchiha #tobi #obito uchiha #hidan #sasori #deidara #kakuzu #zetsu #konan #nagato #Akatsuki Daily Texts Series

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thatdeadaquarius · 1 year

Note

PLS YOU’RE SO FUNNY your pspspsps is too strong I’m back with more asks hello how are you I’m loving your takes on sagau! I thought of a contribution by the power of the pspsps imagine like the languages in teyvat are based on the nations’ real life counterparts (like Japanese for Inazuma) but like only loosely. So creator knows like exactly 3 words in Japanese and think they’re gonna take that and somehow make it work but they get there and understand NOTHING. They finally understand like one word but turns out it means something completely different in this version of “Japanese” so they think someone told them hi and they said hi back but they’re just going around saying “fuck” and no one wants to tell them

ANOTHER ONE YUHSSS LURING BACK IN FOR MORE im doing well tysm for asking ya flatterer!!

aw u think im funny??!! 🥰 well geez here i thought i was just going feral over sagau/isekai genshin stuff and it was like a dam burst and all yall were just coming down with me funny or not 🤷‍♂️

(Hey askers look ive got cookies 🍪🍪🍪 :) if u ask smth ill give u one!!)

Nice to know the humor translates, but holy fuck this ask is like 10x funnier than anything ive written so far or come up with LMAO PLEASE NO ONE WANTS TO TELL YOU-

____________

This is exactly what Portugese vs. Spanish is like i stg

Im not fluent yet but i know a decent amount of spanish at this point, but when i was first learning it i ran into some Portuguese and couldnt really read it and was like?? Oh ok maybe this is too many vocab words i dont get yet, and showed it to another person who spoke some Spanish and they were like ".. Uh, wtf is that?? What is that???🧐😟 Thats not even Spanish, but why is it almost???" And they just kept trying to read it so hard bc they thought it was so close it should work 😭

Anyway the point is i feel like that is just you in this scenario over and over again lol

Its like teaching a little kid language and they happen to pick up the cusswords the best,

Omfg ur around Beidou about to head to Inazuma (bc i like to think u traveling with Aether/Lumine and they r sweet enough not to abandon ur weird ass)

And Beidou just keeps cussing in Liyue's-almost-Mandarian-Chinese-but-not, and ur like trying to pick smth up bc it sucks none of ur little bits and pieces of lang. from ur world have worked so far, and she keeps saying this one word over and over again, to this angry looking Liyue guy, oh hey wait a minute, that's the Mandarin word for "hello"!! Maybe she's using it sarcastically?? She smiled afterward, oh Kazuha's laughing!! Maybe it means smth different? But they still look positive abt it so eh, cant hurt, and you sort of know how to say it!!

"你好 !! (nǐhǎo)", you do a little wave too :)

(I just used straight mandarin for this pls tell me if not right-)

Hey you did it! Sort of, you didn't really do the tones right, and you look over to see if they got it, and oop-

Everybody froze and looked at you, before Beidou starts screaming laughing, Kazhua's wheezing so hard he's leaning on a barrel nearby, the traveler is trying to keep it together, but u can see Beidou's ridiculous laugh is contagious and is spreading rapidly to crew members and to the traveler,,

The angry Liyuean man no longer looks angry, oh, he's leaving, welp, you can tell u did smth funny, but u havent a clue what u actually said

Every now and then Beidou will come up to you and try to teach u more Liyuean words, but anytime the traveler sees it they shoo her off, she has a shit-eating grin on her face, while the traveler looks unamused or is at least trying to hide their amusement

(There r so many characters that will take advantage of this and only try to teach you cuss words, at least at first, CHILDE, kaveh, VENTI, Itto, BEIDOU, Xinqiu the little prankster, ppl i can think of quickly god i gotta look at a character list)

Beidou BEAMS anytime u say "nîhâo" now, and gives u a thumbs up everytime 👍

You learn much later that you probably should just give up trying to say any of your world's lang. That sound equivalent to each genshin country's lang. bc apparently the few words you know from them are either random shit like "egg, bowl, etc." Or straight up explicit "fuck, shit, piss etc."

__________

I didnt have too much to add bc that is a GREAT AND HILARIOUS idea all on its own (esp if u did it in front of more serious characters or situation)

So pls forgive if lackluster writing happened!!

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!! COME AGAIN!! AND YOU'LL GET A FREE COOKIE!! :]

✨️🍪✨️

Cheers,

🌒🌧🌊Aquarius♒️🌌🌘

#genshin imagines #genshin impact #sagau #gender neutral reader #genshin sagau #genshin sagau ideas #my asks #ask box open #please send asks #come hither #i have cookies #pspspspsps #genshin isekai #genshin god reader

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on-leatheredwings · 2 months

Note

How I feel before the fic - 6/10, 😐🙃🫠🙍🏻‍♀️

Right off the bat, can feel how frustrated darling is with the way dami asks things!!! Can practically see the fuckin eye roll as he asking where and with who!! (As if he probably doesn't have a tracker on half the shit darling owns)

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

Firmly believe that yes Dami is much better than when he first arrived at the manor, he still has those moments where the teachings fucking seep into his frontal lobe like something awakening. Hence the 'owning' darling part and the fact that he gets why it's not socially acceptable but.....neither is half of the other things he does so it's kinda catch 22 with that one for him at times.

AND RHEN SAYING HE WOULD HAVE STOPPED HAD HE KNOWN DARLING FELT THAT WAY WHEN IK FOR A FACT HE WOULD SIMPLY NOT BE SO OPEN ABOUT IT!!! HE WOULD KEEP THEM AS INSIDE THOUGHTS !

Damian the manipulative king ngl

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

Damian really thinking he can talk darling down until being "threatened" with darling actually leaving!

My baby boy, yr father's relationships are ALSO UNHEALTHY! FIGHTING ESPECIALLY IN SUCH CAPACITY ISNT WHAT IT MEANS TO BE IN LOVE?!??!

him on his knees as a way to show you his devotion, willingly kneeling before only you and ever only you is something that means the highest level of love and devotion. And then the please, and the kissing? It's him trying to show you the fact that you're his deity and only wishes to keep you safe from the grime that is humanity! AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

He just wants his soul to mingle with yours<3 your life lines intertwined in such a way that it'll extend past this life time<3 you'll be each other's in any and all times.

Damian is dastardly good at reminding darling why it's him. The way his body was born into this world to be with you and give you pleasure, as you were to him. You've belonged to each other since your first breaths and you will continue to be so until your last. At least, that's what he thinks.

The way you write Damian is so good, I really just adore it because it's so him but also just.....I can't see him falling in love normally. It always ends up like this, it's damn near hereditary. It's so good. Loved this fic and all the other Dami fics you post<3

Me after reading this - 9/10🫡🙂‍↕️🤤😲🥴🤭

Also no cookies yet, forgot I needed to soften the butter so been waiting on that while reading.

Much love Damian anon

Pls the way Damian is questioning darling like it's an interrogation! And then is almost like okay and? When darling answers him!!! Like sir!!

tell me why i got pissed off and i wrote it KJGHJSLDJFAHISD . while damian worships darling he also is. Damian. also at that point he just thought 'oh we're fighting right now. whatever. lovers fight (bruce x talia/selina) its always fine in the end,' not 'oh i'm about to lose your ass' KGHDSIOJHISDGI so he course-corrected real fast

Man's probably thinks manipulation is much more extreme than what he's doing, probably considers what he does is just expressing himself :/

EXACTLT YY EXACTLY YOU'RE IN MY BRAIN . YOURE IN MY BRAIN!!!! LIKE ITS JUST HILARIOUS THINKING ABOUT YAN DAMIAN B/C HE REALLY JUST THINKS HE'S EXPRESSING HIMSELF. he thinks "i'm just being forthcoming this can't be manipulation." HE'S SOOOO MISGUIDED AND EVIL BUT DOESNT EVEN KNOW IT. ITS SO SAD I LOVE IT . he thinks mistreating you would be like physical abuse or yelling at you.

IM GLAD YOU LIKE HOW I WRITE HIM... i'm still trying to nail all the parts of him <3 the beautiful, devoted parts <3 the bitter, spiteful parts <3 the dark, broken parts <3 he's such a conundrum what will i do with him

AND THEN ASKING TO CORRWCT HIS BEHAVIOR? ESSENTIALLY BEGGING TO ATONE FOR HIS SINS AT THE FEET OF HIS DIETY????

damian and his reverence for his darling is just peak idk what to say . 🚬 he doesnt just love you he genuinely worships you. also redemption is a huge part of his arc in canon (redeeming himself from being an assassin even though he literally was raised and groomed into it help), he finally believes he can change. you've changed him! he can change, just give him a chance.

THANKY OU FOR THE LONG REVIEW TEEHEE MADE MY DAY... i like can't look at my fics once theyre posted but i also just love to talk about them or really, just the characterization in them...

and rats! no cookies now.... BUT COOKIES SOON!!!

#ask

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helianskies · 5 months

Note

Office parties suck, please? I suffered through one last night, need someone else to do it as well. If you can have Spain or England or both in the story I'll be happy.

hi anon! i hope you have recovered from your endeavour - please have a cookie for bravery 🍪 - and pls enjoy this bc well,, suffering is temporary. Arthur is about to learn that :) (also shame on me for making this engspa but anon honey you did ask for one or both idiots and this is an engspa addiction zone i can't be stopped >:'v)

Mull

Office parties suck. There is no debate to be had on the matter, and Arthur knows his mind is not going to be changed by attending this year’s party.

Last year, he’d been roped into it—bribed with free drinks and the potential to schmooze for a promotion he ended up losing to Greg of all people—and by the time he got home, the holiday spirit had been drained out of him like mulled wine from the keg.

So this year, he is adamant. He is not going to the damn office party, no matter what!

…until, that is, a certain someone comes over to his desk in the morning as he’s buried in his emails, and catches him with his guard down.

“Are you coming along this evening?” someone asks.

Arthur hums to acknowledge there’s been an interaction, but his eyes are trying to make sense of the words he’s reading. Seriously, does he need to be in this email chain? He could do without the nonsense and plain stupidity, especially on a Friday!

“It’s my first since working here,” the other goes on, a muffle in his mind. “I hope it’s good…”

“It’ll be fine,” Arthur mumbles. His eyes are still on his screen. His brain is still deciphering paragraph-long sentences.

“I was wondering, though… If you aren’t going with anyone else, would you… consider going with me? Just so I’m not the, uh, the weirdo going in alone, haha…”

His finger clicks the mouse, deleting the email.

“Yeah, sure.”

“R— Really?”

Another three emails have since appeared in his inbox. Arthur wants to cry.

“Mmh…”

“Wow… Thanks, Arthur!”

And at long last, he looks away from his computer, unsure what it is he’s being thanked for, only to find Antonio smiling at him. Antonio, one of few ‘friends’ in the office he has. Antonio, who’s been there for only about six months yet is universally adored. Antonio, who, at least in private, is probably adored by no one as much as he is adored by Arthur, who, as he continues to look at the other, realises what he has just done.

He can’t even be mad about it.

He can’t say ‘no’ now, because it would likely upset Antonio.

He can’t do anything, in fact, other than smile back at him and ask, “Shall I meet you there?”

“I can pick you up,” Antonio offers, as his heart screams. “You aren’t far from me.”

And that is what happens, then, later that evening after the work day is over, the office is closed, and Arthur has had a chance to freshen himself up.

He still can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe, firstly, that he is going to the damn Christmas party again, but he also can’t believe that he’s that useless a human being he hasn’t even had the decency to tell Antonio since his unwitting agreement that, actually, he doesn’t want to go! He could have made an excuse! Something like, the cat’s ill, got to run to the vet, or maybe, suit shrunk in the wash and I don’t think going naked is wise so I’m out!

But no! He’s bottled it! And now he’s there, standing in a not-that-warm venue, dying over making small talk about his uneventful holidays-to-come, and longing for his bed.

Somewhat luckily for him, after a few moments of further lamenting, his saviour appears with another glass of hot wine (it’s all the company thought to provide other than prosecco, and he just isn’t a bubbles man!).

“Here,” Antonio says, passing over a glass. He stands next to Arthur as the blond takes a sip and savours the warmth it provides.

“Thanks,” Arthur replies.

“No worries,” Antonio nods. “I think it’s the least I can do for you, after dragging you out here. I’m starting to regret my choices…”

The Brit just can’t help but snort, humoured. “Office parties suck,” he remarks, to which Antonio hums in agreement.

“Remind me not to do this next year,” he says. “All this effort for cheap wine and stinky cheese!”

“Not your cup of tea?”

“Not my…?”

“Not your thing,” Arthur clarifies. “Not your idea of a good party.”

“Oh! No,” the brunet responds, shaking his head before taking a sip of his wine. Then he says, “My sort of party involves better music, more dancing, and more drinking. I would hazard to say that mulled wine is not really ‘my cup of tea’ either.”

“No? Is it not a bit like sangria?”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Sorry…”

“Still,” Antonio says, “I’ll make it up to you.”

Arthur doesn’t want him to feel obliged or guilty; cheap wine and stinky cheese aside, he’s had a nice evening thanks to some shared laughter, some moaning, and some, well, cheap wine and stinky cheese.

But in all seriousness, Antonio has been good company. Even if he would have liked to have stayed home, he… can’t deny he’s enjoyed the opportunity to get to spend time with Antonio away from the office. It’s been nice to just talk with him, without the pressure of it having to be work-related somehow, managers looming over them. It’s been nice to feel at ease, and more like themselves—more real—even if only slightly.

So Arthur tells him, “Don’t worry about it. The evening hasn’t been too unbearable.”

“Oh?” Antonio croons. “You think?”

“Yeah, well, you’re not unbearable.”

“Flattery! How kind,” the other jokes. “I’m still going to make it up to you. I feel responsible for your suffering.”

“What suffering?” Arthur remarks as he sips his wine.

“It’s like you said, no? Office parties suck?”

“Oh, yeah. For sure.” He lowers his glass. “They suck less with good company, though.”

Antonio stares at him for a moment. He can feel his gaze—can feel the warmth and nerves grow the longer it goes on. Arthur holds his cards close to his chest and says no more, his own eyes turning to the room, their colleagues, the small talk to come.

But then, just out of the corner of his eye, he glimpses a smile. A lovely, soft, wine-humoured smile.

That’s all Arthur needs to convince himself that… maybe not all office parties suck…

[ ficlet collection on ao3! ] [ prompt list here! ]

#helia writes #hws england #hws spain #engspa #glad to this day i have not had to experience an office party like these poor fools #but hey maybe toni will take arthur out for a drink to make up for it all as promised :3c #and who knows what could follow >:3c #also pls consider this my 'christmas fic offering' this year #i haven't planned anything else so ;')

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wh0-1s-m1aaaa · 1 year

Text

Js a lil treat for my scream 1996 lvrs :)🤍

Notes: this is my first time writing on here pls be nice :( ANYWAYS here’s a lil blurb of them at the beach :D

Honestly kind of randy centered for plot sake and a bit of sarcastic bimbo reader sprinkled in for flavor and like I didn’t really finish this so I mighttttt make this 2 parts (pls don’t murder me pookies💔)

Platonic!AFAB! reader x main 5

Word count: roughly 1000

———————🌊🏝️☀️🐚——————

• in a world where they (sid, tate, billy, Stu, and ray) where all *platonic* besties: they plan a beach day in the nearest town with a beach about 2 hours out.

•Tatum has Sidney and randy in her red buggy. While stu has billy and y/n in his Nisan skyline with his serf-board zip tied uptop.

•The reason they ride in separate cars in both due to space and Stu’s music taste💀. Tatum and Sidney have every piece of beach equipment known to man settled in her buggy and this takes up about 3/4 of a car by itself, leaving Sid the passenger seat and randy stuck between 3 sets of chairs and an umbrella. As for Stu, he listens to the trashiest, cheesiest, pop music you have ever heard on full blast the ENTIRE time. Even with you and billy complaining (billy isn’t so much complaining as he is annoyed and turning the volume down and Stu keeps turning it back up) and swearing your ears are bleeding the entire time😭.

•Once you guys FINALLY get to said beach randy is forced to go and find a spot for y’all to set up base. (through vigorous complaining ofc, but he gave in after Sidney asked) he then proceeded to search for all of 5-7 minutes before picking a spot randomly after getting tired of stepping on seashells and almost tripping on what used to be a sand castle and is now a lump of sand. He comes back to you guys (out of breath and on the verge of death bc he is a lanky babygirl of a man) and tells u guys to scope out the spot he found.

You all decided it was good enough and started unpacking the hoard of beach equipment, well you, Sidney, and Tatum at least. Randy is turning red already and was forced to put on sunblock. Billy is just standing off to the side with his arms crossed watching you guys set up, so helpful right? And Stu ran to the water the second he dropped the umbrella and god knows what else he carried in the sand and left with a simple “see y’all byeeeeeee” (and he was gone😔💔)

After what seemed like at least a millennium you guys where finished unpacking. Tatum was trying to tan, Sidney was on a towel under the umbrella reading a book, billy found the boardwalk through his smartypants context clues and like the incel teen he is went on his merry way to find some girls (and possibly a guy) to talk too. Randy is basically off at sea searching for Stu bc he needed him for something or other. Meanwhile Stu is nowhere to be seen in at least a 30 mile radius (why randy is searching for him? Let alone In the OCEAN? You have no idea.) you where simply watching randy in the water slowly drifting farther from your home base with no sense of direction (genius huh?) and laughing at him to yourself.

After randy wandered WAYYYYY too far out you got up to yell for him because if he goes out any further he will be in the news by tomorrow morning as the dumbest man in woodsburo. He heard you after about the 7th call and yelled he was looking for Stu, intriguing to you considering he and Stu never really actively go on hunts for each other, but regardless, you call out to him saying he’s too far out and as if you said the magic words a big fat wave crashed down on randy. And like the smart cookie you are decide to ALSO get in the water and save him from drowning (super sexy hot funny life saver y/n🥰🥰😻) so you Scurry up to the water in your hot pink 2 piece bikini (or wtv you want ofc) and like the badass you are, you don’t find him, BUT he does find you. “JESUS randy you scared me, I thought you where like a kraken or something” “y/n were in knee deep water your fine” randy said to which you replied and ended the out of breath conversation with a simple “still”. Both of you are looking like wet poodles and the rough waves crash against the 2 of you for a hot second before the seemingly second sense kicked in and you both look to land only to find yourself on (seemingly) the “other side of the damn world” as randy stated.

“Do you know where we are now y/n” randy said “no…..BUT I don’t think we could have drifted to far from our little camp. And uh Sidney or Tatum probably saw so no need to worry” “okay then so we should probably get out of the water and start trying to find them or the camp” he said casually slightly calmed from the reassurance you laced your words with “that would probably be a good idea” (and so you and Mr Meeks are now slowly but surely making your way onto the hot sand to hunt down the wizard of ozz and find your way home😻).

————————☀️🌊🏝️🐚————————

Okay so yea this is a 2 parter I’m srry my brain is having the worst writers block and I’m running off 2 hours of sleep,a granola bar, Wawa cold brew coffee, and hopes and dreams. Anyways to the porn bots and my 5 real followers I love yawl 😻😻♥️🫶🫶🫶🫶

#scream #stu macher #scream 1996 #Sidney #tatum riley #billy #billy loomis #randy meeks #scream 1996 x reader #beach fic #x reader #platonic #could be more later on but I’m lazy

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ivy-loves-chocolate · 1 year

Text

I posted 603 times in 2022

220 posts created (36%)

383 posts reblogged (64%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@ moonlight-sonata-1

@ mirandawesker

@ bisexualjohnnycage

@ drasin

@ animatedglittergraphics-n-more

I tagged 315 of my posts in 2022

Only 48% of my posts had no tags

#resident evil - 154 posts

#albert wesker - 106 posts

#ask - 71 posts

#mortal kombat - 52 posts

#anon - 49 posts

#chris redfield - 31 posts

#wolf anon - 29 posts

#shang tsung - 24 posts

#wolf anon’s oc - 20 posts

#fujin - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 64 characters

#add me to your tag list pls cuz i don’t wanna miss your works 💖

My Top Posts in 2022:

I wanted to include more characters but I didn’t have enough space 😭

288 notes - Posted July 18, 2022

Resident evil guys reacting to a reader trying to reach for something but it's too high for them.. would they help or just watch?..

Leon Kennedy

As you struggle to reach for the cookie jar that’s on the top shelf, Leon sneaks behind you asking if you need any help. You nod your head and he grabs the jar for you. While handling the item he smiles affectionately at you, because he finds it cute that you’re so small and constantly need for him. You could’ve easily grabbed a chair, but you prefer Leon to hand you the objects instead of taking them by yourself.

Albert Wesker

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304 notes - Posted February 9, 2022

Has someone done this yet?

443 notes - Posted December 23, 2022

I just read thru your second part of yandere wesker and him repeatedly filling up the reader with his cum rlly brought something out of me SNSKJSKJS so if it’s all okay to ask, may I request for hcs of the reader secretly having a thing for albert filling them up like a pot of honey and it’s kinda a secret given the type of man wesker the very instant he knows you enjoy something SKKSSKKS I just keep thinking about him and the reader doing cockwarming as they cuddle together after Really passionate love making bc wesker wants to plug up their bottom to keep his warm semen in there longer and I just have such needs rn FORGIVE ME ORZ

A/N: It's fucking sinful and I love it!

Warnings: smut

Characters: Albert Wesker and GN!Reader

Plot: the reader liked to be filled up by Wesker, but wants to keep it a secret for obvious reasons.

Ko-fi: if you want to support me by donating or commission me, visit this link. Thank you 😊

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492 notes - Posted April 24, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

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830 notes - Posted October 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #I’m sorry for the people I accidentally tagged

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bts-apocalypse-au · 1 year

Text

Jeon Hoseok P.O.V 🐿️ 11th April

(A/N: Unedited so . . . yeah. The timeline might be wonky pls be kind)

I'm still laughing when Namjoon leaves. Yet worry festers at the back of my mind, it's still very early in the morning and Namjoon must have been working all night if he's at work this early. He always over works himself, it would probably take an apocalypse to get him to take even a day off.

I start to take a look at Joon's keyboard but then remember that I have to start JK's order. A nice boy who comes in here for pickup around this time.

Just as I finish the boy appears. I've never seen his full face, except for his bright doe-like eyes because he always wears a face mask and baseball hat.

"Order for JK, please." He says and I can tell that he's smiling. Despite his tough appearances he never fails to be polite. I give him his coffee.

"Aren't you a little young for all this coffee?" I tease

He just laughs and walks towards the door, "Thanks, Mr. Jeon." I smile as he holds the door for the next customer. I stand ready at the counter but the man just sits down in a booth and stares out across the street at the HYBE building.

Even after 30 minutes he hasn't moved an inch, just looking at some kind of file over the table and taking notes. He hasn't bothered anything so I let him stay. Also because he's super cute.

"Excuse me sir." He says suddenly, I break my trance.

"Um, uh, yes?"

"I feel bad just sitting here and not ordering anything, what would you recommend?"

This cute guy is asking me what I recommend ahhh! "Uh, the egg sandwiches are good."

"Okay, I'll have that then."

"Do you want it toasted or regular?"

He tilts his head side to side like a cat as if deep in thought, "Whatever you like best."

"Okay, untoasted it is."

—

I bring him his sandwich and he thanks me, handing me several paper bills. "Is this enough, I don't have my card on me?"

I count the bills, it's more than enough. "Here you can have these back." I hand him all the bills, "My treat."

He looks like he's about to argue but the next customer arrives, another regular. A teacher. "The usual, Mr. Kim?"

"Yes, big day of lesson planning."

I nod in sympathy. As I add whip cream to Mr. Kim's coffee the doorbell chimes and yet another customer enters a short blond man.

"Here you go Mr. Kim."

"Thank you." He pays for his coffee and leaves.

"Ah, hello Mr. Park." I greet him not expecting him to answer. He always comes and gets coffee when he's tried, I suspect he too has been working all night. "Is your work going well?"

"Busy as always." He smiles grimly and pays for his black coffee.

When he leaves it's quiet for a while and I get a chance to start work on Namjoon's keyboard. Soon the bell chimes and another customer enters, a boy who can't be more than 20. I've never seen him here before. He wears a badge that reads Seoul News group.

"Do you have tea?" He asks

"Yes, green, black and ginger teas."

"I'll have the green please."

"Okay coming right up."

"Thanks." He smiles, pays, and leaves.

The rest of the day is quiet and I hardly have any other customers so I decide to close early. Go home and relax a bit and fix Namjoon's keyboard. I wonder if he would notice if I just replaced it. Yes, unfortunately, he would.

—

It only takes me 45 minutes to completely repair they keyboard's working system and they keys so I decide to log on early and play Overwatch. I pull up the chat and contact Cooky, my gaming buddy.

(You): Hey Cooky! I'm off early, how about that rematch we talked about earlier?

GoldenCooky'97: Sure, I'm game! Where are you?"

(You): [A/N: map-coordinates-or-whatever-because-i-don't-game]

GoldenCooky'97: Cool! Heading over now.

We game late into the evening then the game begins to glitch. Cooky says it's glitchy on his end as well. I reload but it won't work. Then the screen goes completely black. I sit in confusion for a moment then something else fills the screen, some news station.

The news man starts to speak, but he sounds winded. "This is an emergency news broadcast, please stop what you're doing and pay attention."

I have nothing better to do so I turn it up a bit.

The news man breathes in deeply, then begins his report. "There has been a sudden surge of animal attacks and it appears that all the city's wild animals have suddenly gone rabid. We suspect that more than 100 casualties have already been sustained. Several power grids and other things like gas and water lines and water filtration systems have gone down as well. Oh and" Someone who I guess is a member of the news crew or whatever whispers something to the news man. "This is just in, officials are recommending you either get ready to stay put in your homes and or offices for a while or you leave Seoul immediately!"

I have a few seconds to think about this before everything goes dark. I scream, I can't help myself, and Mickey wakes up and jumps into my lap. I hold him close. And scream into his fur. I admit I am a dramatic person but this, this warrants a scream.

I get up and begin to pace around. Should I leave, what about my family and my friends? Oh my god are they okay, what if they're dead? No, no, no, calm down, you have to calm, but I can't!

I take my phone and try to call my mom, no answer and it's the same for everyone else. I scream again and again and again until I can't hear the screams anymore and my throat feels like sandpaper. Nobody comes up to ask if I'm alright or even to tell me to shut up, which is even more worrying. I look out the window and see people packing into their cars, the roads are already packed, there's no way I'd be able to leave now.

So I stay.

(3 weeks later) 1st May

The staying inside my small flat has taken its toll on me, I don't even see the point of living anymore. The city is empty of humans now and I see out my windows animals pace in the streets. Then I see something else, someone. A human, an actual person. . . a trail of blood.

I head down to investigate holding a cleaver and a cricket bat out in front of me. When I reach the street I recognise the cute man from the cafe. His leg is bleeding.

"Hey, hey! Do you need help? I can help!"

He just nods and lets me help him inside. Honestly this is the most exciting thing that's happened in awhile and helping someone, especially this cute guy, gives me a sense of myself again.

When I sit him down on the counter he winces. "I'm so sorry!"

"It's okay, I've had worse. That tiger was a nasty piece of work."

"Tiger!?" I look down at his leg and lift up the torn trouser fabric. Now that the wound is in full view I can see that it's some type of animal bite. "Were you bitten!?"

"Yes." He says too calm for the situation.

"You need a hospital!" Are the hospitals even open, "or at least stitches, let me see if I can clean it. I have a first aid kit, let me just grab it!"

I run as fast as I can to the bathroom but when I come back to the kitchen, he's gone.

I don't know his name. "Hello! Where are you, you don't have to hide! I won't hurt you."

No one answers. Something catches my eye. A note.

Thank you for helping me but I can't stay.

xxx-xxx-xxxx

Use in the case of an extreme emergency only

Agust D

I'm tempted to dial the number right now but his instructions are clear and he seems like someone who know's what he's talking about so I don't, instead I look at the file underneath the note. Something from HYBE labs. Does this man know Namjoon? I wish I could call Joon and ask but I have no idea where he is and I've already tried calling him.

The file is called Project S1LV3R

I boot up my computer and begin a deep search on the HYBE database as I skim the file. HYBE servers are very well encrypted and I suppose it's to protect high level research and intellectual property but it does seem a bit excessive. I push the thought down and get back to cracking code.

Before lunch I'm in. I make myself some ramyeon and sit back down to explore. What I find isn't much. Honestly if I was trying to keep a secret in this day and age I would use secure paper documents too. Unhackable without having physical clearance, which I certainly don't. (I wonder absently if Joon does). What secret are they trying to keep so securely.

I click on the folder and find 3 videos and 10 audio-files. The audio is mostly the same, barking, growling, whimpering, and whining of some sort of animal. I thought animal testing was illegal, what were they doing to it?

The videos look more promising but now I'm not sure if I even want to see them. I force myself to click. A white room fills the screen, a cage in the centre. The dog from the audio files is now visible. It looks healthy enough but curled up in fear.

"Test number one with subject number 134340. Test subject is a white American Eskimo, 10 months and 3 days of age. Test subject has been given a low dosage of the silver serum, the serum has been in its system for 3 days. If our hypothesis were correct then the transformation should be complete. Tests commencing now." A cold female voice declares.

A white gloved hand reaches out, the dog's fur bristles defensively then its skin begins to shift until there's no more fur and the dog has been replaced with a mirror. No, not replaced, the dog is the mirror. It's now reflective, metal. Its eyes glow, a monster.

The next video shows more white gloved hands poking and prodding the dog, testing the metal with everything from what appears to my unscientific eyes to be acid and a hot poker. I close my eyes as the dog's whines fade and the video ends.

I think I'm going to be sick. The nausea and disgust brought on by the cruel treatment, the nature of the transformation, makes my head swim, I wretch painfully into the sink.

I'm shaken, even more so than when the Panda went crazy at the zoo but this time I know what I have to do. I have to expose this, I'm not exactly sure what this is but I know I have to do something, anything, about it. I have to go to the lab and get those documents.

#11th April #eleventh april #Jeon Hoseok #Jung Hoseok #Hoseok #j-hope

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ryosmne · 2 years

Text

Calling out AOT simps.

Hey again, I did this last time with jjk, here's the aot version cause I felt like it, been pretty sick recently and bored out of my mind. This isn't ment to disrespect anyone, everything I say is meant as a joke and not to be taken to heart. I included the characters I already have an opinion on, idk maybe I'll expand the list. Anyways enjoy reading :>

Hange simps: Ok I see y'all, you're valid af, Henge is Hella hot but on a serious note how's your mental health doing? Carrying your friends issues isn't fun, pls take a break, have a cookie and sleep in fuzzy blankets you deserve it. They'd treat you like royalty, I can't roast you, congratulations on your choices. Either just as insanely upbeat as them or very relaxed and you need a person with a very upbeat personality to keep you leveled. 10/10 you're sweethearts and I've never seen an army of simps as hot and with different styles. Casual indie music enjoyer<3

Levi simps: You have attachment issues. There I said it. It's been like what? 9 years since the anime came out and you're still so down bad for this man ever since he baybladed his way into your heart. Most of y'all would drop every anime crush for him, he's top dog for you. Let's face it no one could get him to open up but I don't think you're ready for this conversation. Your family knows about Levi, your friends know about Levi, you're probably never letting him go. For that I'll say you're extremely loyal also you have unrealistic standards in dating. Pretty sure you're great cooks. You have low-key adapted his personality and you're badasses. Also valid 10/10 I think you like chill rnb, idk I can't read y'all.

Mikasa simps: You fell for her cause she's hella strong and gorgeous, she deserves the world and so do you, but for the love of God if I see another word about the unspeakable things you'd do with her menstrural products im coming for your internet connections. I'll skip the obvious need you have for her to beat you up, I love her too I'm down bad for her but I get my daily dose of grass touching, y'all should try it too. I hope you know she hasn't washed her scarf ever since eren gave it to her. 9/10 you need to chill, fucking mappa made us all feral. Dark clothes, You listen to mitski.

Eren simps: Welcome to group therapy, do you want to share something with the circle or shall I go first? :> You have extremely unhealthy habits. No you don't need more caffeine for today, I beg you have a sip of water and some fruit. You don't care if he destroyed everything on earth as long as you got destroyed by him too. You probably read a lot of modern au fics to escape the pain (don't be shy drop your recs in my comments pls, it's a need at this point). If you started the simping campaign in season four you probably simped for Levi before that. You now have a thing for long hair and man buns now. Dog person, alternative look idk I picture y'all with piercings and tattoos. You believe in traumatising people back, who am I to judge? How does it feel to have your entire simp list be villains? If mikasa simps need to touch grass y'all should probably go to a field and start chewing it up, you know what I'm talking about, I won't elaborate. 15/10 if you also simp for his Titan form, bmth enjoyer, if you don't know what music to play you go an Eren Jaeger playlist.

Reiner simps: Who hurt you? I'll just say it, daddy issues. You think you can be a therapist to him, probably give him comfort, you can't I'm sorry. I feel like he'd treat you ok, but please stop going after people who have issues it's not good for you. But I feel you he's so hot and troubled also honkers. You have a thing for big chested anime men, probably also a toji or Nanami simp, dare I say Yami? Can I be honest tho I really like y'all, you're chill and gorgeous with taste, I can ignore the mental health issues too cause this man is something else. 20/10 you give me grunge music vibes.

Armin: Smarty pants, you like control. I low-key think you're a bit crazy in a good way, you seem very calculated but lmao every decision you make is last minute :') you are very well spoken and seemingly calm. He'd treat you great I can't roast you at all, I'm sorry. 10/10 very good choice, let the rest of us burn, dark/light academia aesthetic, I think you get down to some K-pop.

Jean simps: People of culture, you're also cocky like him but not as hot headed. Another man that would give you the world, I also can't roast you, you make better decisions than I ever did in my life. MCU fan. You have a thing for side characters, I think you always like someone other than the MC. You have a thing for hands. 10/10 great street style looks, classic rock enjoyer.

Erwin: Unhealthy, he'd lead you to death just so he could see that basement. He's a crazy bastard, make better choices, you don't deserve to be eaten by titans. You have a thing for authority figures. -100/10 I picture y'all in sundresses and you'd look amazing, you deserve better.

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jellifysh · 2 years

Text

Getting Back Into the Swing of Things (part five)

Or, namjoon falls back in love with his ex (and his boyfriends do too)

Ot7 x reader (slow burn, roommates au, fluff, jungkook stops being shy, a ridiculous amount of pop culture references, this is a cringe free zone but you and jungkook are pretty cringe)

A/N: i moved the taglist down so it'll be less work to scroll past c: if i forgot you pls remind me I'm swimming in names over here :D

Edit: taglist closed!

"No, no, not like that! You're getting egg everywhere!" Jin cackled.

"Listen, I'm doing my best!" You whined. "How can you even crack two eggs with one hand?"

"I already showed you!"

Namjoon smiled to himself in the other room, reading a book in the daybed by the window.

You had been getting along with everyone better than he had expected.

Well, not everyone, Namjoon frowned. Jimin seems to have deemed you enemies from the start, and Jungkook was being shy around you for some reason that Namjoon couldn't quite parse.

But for the most part, you had adjusted well, and it seems to have benefitted you to have befriended Jin, the outgoing man helping you come out of your shell a bit, not disappearing as much as you used to.

However, Namjoon didn't even remember you having a shell in the first place. You certainly hadn't been shy around Namjoon, and when you were growing up you were always excited to talk with people, being quite popular among your class. You had always been charming, pretty and slightly reserved at times, but it never kept you from making friends.

Here though, you kept yourself in your room, as if trying to take up as little space as possible. Shying away from touches and attention instead of the cuddly way you were before, and answering in one word instead of the impassioned rants you and Namjoon used to exchange about all your favorite things.

He missed that, he decided, glancing at the bookshelf he had selected his book from. A bookstore nearby carried some of your old favorites, maybe Namjoon could buy a couple and you two could read together.

The idea of you and him doing something so familiar made him smile. Having you here, with his loves, scratched an itch Namjoon didn't know he had.

"I made cookies!" Jin swirled out the kitchen, placing the platter on the low table. You trailed after him, a small proud smile on your face, and a tray of drinks in your hands.

"And I made hot chocolate."

A rumbling sounded on the stairs.

Jungkook barreled into the doorway, Taehyung bumping into him when he stopped. "Cookies?!"

And just like that, you started slinking away again. It was like the more people in the room, the less you could stand being in it. You slipped into the kitchen quietly, under the pretense of grabbing more marshmellows.

Jungkook splayed himself over Namjoon's lap on the daybed and Taehyung laid over his legs. "Hey hyung, how was your day?"

Out of all of them, Namjoon, Yoongi, and Hoseok worked the most, at least consecutively. They owned properties and companies which involved a lot of paperwork and meetings and payment plans that needed almost constant organizing and managing. They could work from home more often than most, but unlike the rest of the guys, they were called into the office at least four times a week, attending to urgent or time sensitive matters that they needed their office space for.

Jin, Jimin, Taehyung, and Jungkook worked relatively little, as their lines of work usually called for them be on site for weeks to months at a time. Jin had mostly retired from big movie projects, taking smaller, more meaningful ones to allow more time to be at home and spend time with his boyfriends, but even then he was busy with magazine spreads and photoshoots, and when he was on call he was almost never home.

Jimin and Taehyung did modeling work, on location usually, flying to Milan and Hong Kong, Hawaii and Dubai, fashion and tourism centers of the work and doing photoshoots and runway shows, a new brand wanting them to display their work every couple weeks. They even opened up a fashion line together, mostly managed by other trusted allies, and offered creative input and inspiration for the pieces.

Jungkook mostly worked on the other side of the camera, doing photography for famous magazines and shows and even directed movies and short films under Golden Closet Studios, of which Jin acts as his advisor, offering an actor's perspective on movie making.

As such, their messy schedules caused them to not have as much time together as sharing a place would suggest. They all had some downtime these last couple months, but it was hard to tell how much longer it would last.

The maknaes were taking their time warming up to you, which was strange, as they were the more outgoing of the group. Namjoon isn't blind to the flaws in the older ones personalities, himself too cynical and analyzing of strangers, Yoongi was cold and uncaring, Hoseok being detached and apathetic, and Jin being condescending and snappy.

Not that the maknaes weren't also rough around the edges. You were already dealing with what seemed to be the effect of Jimin's persuasion. When he decided he didn't like someone he made it known, and Taehyung would always put Jimin first, no matter who was on the other end, and since Jungkook had met them, he'd idolized the two in a way.

They were all puzzle pieces that only fit each other, Namjoon had eventually realized, and they didn't care to change things either, becoming a group known for being tight knit in the high society they lived in. If they were ever found around someone the media didn't recognize as part of their circle, it blew up, and information on the individual was quickly dug up.

Namjoon realized at some point that might happen to you, as you'd been out in public with them, and started thinking of ways to preemptively stop anything drastic when that happened.

For now though, he answered Jungkook's question. "My day's been fine, I just got home about an hour ago."

"Why didn't you tell us? We would've come to hang with you!"

"I went up to the game room, it seemed like you were in the middle of a very important game of Overwatch."

Taehyung scoffed, "Yeah, but only because Jungkook doesn't know how to fucking heal--"

"You ignored me everytime they were diving me in the backline--"

"I thought you were a pro gamer--"

"Oh right, as opposed to your amazing skills? How many kills did you get again? Five?" Jungkook rolled his eyes. You walked into the room, plopping the marshmallows into the cups. "I bet Y/n's better at the game than you are. Y/nie, do you know how to play Overwatch?"

You froze like a deer in headlights "...I do, on console, though," You answered, eventually. "And it's been awhile since I played so--"

"That's fine," Jungkook grabbed a plate of cookies and a cup. "You couldn't possibly suck as much as Tae."

He deftly dodged the pillow Taehyung threw at him and gestured for you to follow him. You looked back at Namjoon before leaving and he just shrugged. Guess Jungkook was over being shy already.

Jungkook had not thought this through.

He usually spent his time playing games, watching videos or movies, and generally making his hyungs' lives more difficult. Him whining and dragging someone else to play video games with him after one of his boyfriends let him down was such a normal occurrence at this point, he just asked whoever walked in the room next to play with him in hopes they'd help him win.

He hadn't realized how used to you he had gotten, your presence somewhere in the background while he did something else, hearing your voice while washing dishes in the kitchen with Jin, or seeing his laundry that he left in the dryer nicely folded for him on the days you needed to wash your clothes at the same time.

You being here had started to become Jungkook's new normal, even though the thought of actually talking to you made him nervous.

Asking you to play video games with him felt so second nature that he hadn't realized you two hadn't had an actual full conversation until you were sat in the game room on his favorite gaming chair while he lounged on one of the couches.

"Wow, this is a cool setup." You were looking at the liquid cooling system attached to his PC, the purple coolant flowing through the tube with an amazed look on your face. "I've heard these are a lot of work to manage."

"Thanks, I built it myself. It took me a while to figure out actually but it was fun." Jungkook explained. He had inherited his dad's love for tech and took on stuff like this as a challenge, making his tech faster, better, quieter, and optimized for his personal preferences.

"That's so cool! I wanted to build my own too, but I'm not as good at PC games so I never bothered."

"I could always teach you?" Jungkook scratched the back of his neck, shyly. "I mean, I usually work from home when I'm not on any big projects, if you ever wanted to play something, I'd probably be here."

"That'd be really cool." You straightened up, moving away from the computer. "That day is not today, though. It sounds like you want a competent teammate and I am horrible at PC stuff." You chuckled.

"I'm sure you're not that bad. I mean, you can't be worse than like, Hoseok-hyung. He's great at dancing but gaming? Whole different story." He pulled forward this tall rolling shelf with game consoles stacked on each level, a remote holder and charging station on the bottom. "Which are you more used to, Xbox or Playstation?"

"Xbox. My brother had one growing up." You stated simply. "Just how many game consoles do you have?"

"Oh, like... six? Ish? I mean, we have three Xboxes and Three Playstations so that we can group up when playing video games, and only like, Me, Tae, and Jin hyung really play together at the same time, and then we all have a Nintendo Switch besides Yoongi and Namjoon hyung."

"Well, that explains all the TVs in here..." you trailed off, looking around at the screens mounted on the walls. Jungkook chuckled sheepishly.

"Yeah, having seven guys living together is gonna equal a lot of electronics. Where do you wanna sit? You can use Yoongi hyung's controller, he drops it the least."

You got comfy in front of a television, abandoning Jungkook's gamer chair for a beanbag and blanket and he settled in next to you on the floor. You played around in the training grounds before queuing up and playing together, having a way more fun time than you thought, even with you being rusty, screaming and laughing and even winning a couple games.

You hadn't realized how close you had gotten while playing, Jungkook practically pressed to your side. He seemed to notice at the same time, pulling back a little. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to crowd you or anything..."

"It's fine, I don't really mind."

"Okay."

He leaned back into you slowly, quietly going back to playing games. After a couple rounds, in between waiting for a match, you turned your head to see him staring at you.

"What?"

He smiled and looked away. "Nothing."

You laughed. "No, seriously, what?"

"You have a nice laugh." He shrugged, avoiding your eyes. "I was just thinking, this is the first time I've really heard you laugh."

"Thanks, I guess." You shrugged, focusing on the screen again. "I just haven't talked with you much."

"Yeah," He smiled apologetically. "I guess not."

The both of you continued playing games next to each otherlike that, laughing and talking until Jin called for dinnertime and you went and ate quickly, wanting to get back to gaming, despite Jin's yelling to slow down to keep from choking-- which made you both laugh so hard Jungkook actually did choke-- and you were up the stairs again.

Jin sighed, picking up the dishes. Tae and Jimin had gone out earlier on some date or shopping spree and Jin had already portioned out their dinner and left it in the fridge for when they got home if they wanted it. Hoseok set out to help by picking up the placemats and candles Jin liked to put out when setting the table.

"They seem to be getting along well." Yoongi commented, still lounging at the table and drinking from his glass.

"Yeah, I'm glad. I was worried it'd be hard for her to settle in, but it seems like things are better now." Namjoon said, helping Jin pick up plates. "I'm gonna speak with Jimin about going easy on her but he doesn't seem happy about it."

"Well, Joon, I hate to say it , but you did kinda spring it on us." Jin said, placing the dishes in the sink to rinse. "We're aren't the type to just get close with people."

Namjoon sighed, head in his hands. "I know, I just, I stopped thinking."

"That would imply that you ever started thinking in the first place." Yoongi snarked, lightheartedly. "There's no point worrying about it now. Jimin will get used to it, and she's already here. No changing the past."

"When did you become so wise?" Hoseok said, blowing out a candle.

"I've always been wise!"

"I have pictures of you with your hair in a Mohawk that say otherwise." Namjoon interjected.

"I'm going to bed." Yoongi grumbled.

A couple hours later, Jin walked up to the bedroom to go to sleep as well, seeing the lights in the game room still on. He peeked inside and you and Jungkook were sitting on a beanbag together, watching some streamers play Among Us and screaming about watching a teammate die right in front of them.

Jin watched you two for a moment, staring up at the screen looking absolutely entranced. "You two should head to bed."

"But they're just about to figure out the imposter."

"I'm pretty sure it's Corpse, those were some clean kills."

"Go to sleep, you brats! Ignoring me like I'm not standing right here!"

"Five more minutes pleeeease?"

He sighed. "Fine, when you both wake up in the morning and hate yourself, don't blame me."

"Yaaay!"

And from then on, Jungkook followed you around, seemingly over whatever temporary nervousness he had felt around you. When you helped Jin in the kitchen he was more prone to help out, volunteering to chop the onions or wash the dishes if it meant talking with you longer about video game stategies or mechanics.

At some point, Namjoon went to get water at night, definitely in the early morning and found you and Jungkook sitting curled up together under a blanket while a four hour long video of Five Night's at Freddy's lore was playing on the screen. He doesn't think either of you noticed him walking next to the couch with how your eyes were glued to the screen.

But the important thing was you were feeling more at home, and it gave Namjoon the courage to ask you to join when they decided to have a pool party, all of them having time off at the same time again.

It was at breakfast, the time when they all woke too quickly for you to escape back to your room after cooking with Jin, all of you sitting around the table eating.

"I dunno," you had said. "I don't even have a bathing suit."

"That's okay." Jungkook said, taking a piece of bacon off your plate. "You can just sit and hang out."

"I never go in the pool anyways." Yoongi added, almost nonchalantly.

Yoongi did that often, not truly saying exactly what he meant. But you still understood what he was saying: You wouldn't be left out. So you agreed.

Now, Namjoon was watching you and Jungkook laugh and joke around, him randomly doing a hand stand and you watching for a moment before copying him and trying to hold it longer. You failed of course because he has the core strength of a god so instead you pushed him over into the pool, making Jin and Hoseok in the water laugh like a pack of hyenas. Jungkook resurfaced, splashing Jin for laughing at him.

"Yah, why are you splashing me, she's the one who pushed you in!"

He leaned against the doorframe, connecting their house to their pool area. Jimin, coming from the kitchen with a drink straight from the fridge, leaned up against him, staring at them playing in the pool too.

"Hey, Jimin, can we talk?"

"I don't think there's anything to talk about." Jimin replied blankly, turning back around walking into the house again.

Namjoon sighed, following him deeper into the house. "Don't act clueless. Why have you been so rude since Y/n's been here?"

Jimin was facing the counter, leaning against it. "Now you're the one acting clueless. You have a high IQ, why don't you think about why I might be upset?"

"Upset is one thing, confrontational is another. She's being nice, why can't you?" Namjoon crossed his arms, waiting for him to turn around, and he did, glaring hard enough burn a hole in his head.

"Namjoon, do you even hear yourself? Ever since she's been here everything's been all about her! She has to be comfortable, she has be to happy, what about us? This is our home!"

"If you're so upset, why didn't you say anything before?"

"Because you said to be nice."

"But you said you were fine with it."

"That was before I knew that she was... yours. You didn't tell us anything. You treat her like you treat us, and you're not even dating her. How do you think that makes me feel, Namjoon?" Now, the anger on his face melted away to show the fear and sadness underneath.

Namjoon sighed. He was just scared and afraid because Namjoon acted without thinking, like always. He moved closer, taking Jimin's arms and pulling him into his chest. "I... I didn't think you would feel this way. Jimin, you know I love you, all of you, you're all the most amazing people I've ever met, I would never want to hurt any of you." Jimin looked up at him and Namjoon, brushed his hand against his cheek before continuing. "Jimin, I would never hurt you."

Jimin let out the breath he was holding releasing all the tension this argument and built up and melted into Namjoon's arms. "I just... I worry, darling."

"I know, I'm sorry. I messed up, I should be prioritizing better but I just--"

"No, no, it's... I'm not gonna say it's fine, because I'm still upset, but I'll be... kinder than before, I guess."

"Thank you, baby." Namjoon kissed his forehead and they walked back towards the pool party.

"Ugh, my drink is warm now." Jimin groaned, drinking it anyways.

"Hey, you're back! We need one more for volleyball, Hobi hyung won't play." Jungkook yelled, swimming up to the edge of the pool as they approached. You were in the shade with Yoongi now, talking quietly but happily about something on the colorful pool chairs, Jin was stacked on top of Taehyung's shoulders yelling at the younger man as he pretended to fall, and Hoseok looked like he was trying to get water out of his ears.

"Of course I'm done playing, you nearly drowned me! I'll referee from dry land, thanks." Hoseok said, sitting on the concrete a foot away from the water.

"I'll join." Jimin passed his empty cup into Namjoon's hands and jumped in, splashing everyone nearby and making Jin and Hoseok start whining.

Namjoon sat on a nearby chair, taking in everyone having fun and smiled. Everything was getting better.

~~~~~~~

Taglist open: @sunshinehobissunshine @pb-n-juju @bunnyrhe @7soulsbts @tinyoonsblog @royalchickens @urvirtualgfteehee @fangirlnonsense @deathincarnation @alngelias @jinswifeyy @not-today-19 @btsizlyfe @justsomoneliving @purplelady85 @just-me-and-myselfs @thinkaholicer @kookstempo @retrojennie @squishyturtle @bunzom @fuckinglittlekitten @canarystwin @scuzmunkie @stupendousliteraturewritingoaf @sugarrush-blush @bt21chim @maries110911 @creatorspalace @bjoriis @highinhopess @little-dark-empress @onlythebest-106 @cestlabellemort @rapunzel76 @kamen-tenshi @totallynoanalien @singukieee @gingerupset @sunshinee0-0 @candywire @avadakadabra93 @lvrseok @army5567 @musicismyoxygen @missinggot7 @silscintilla @jcrml

babes, if your name is red, I can't tag you </333

#poly! bts x reader #bts x reader #bts x y/n #ot7 x y/n #ot7 x reader #i'm going to throw in an insane amount of pop culture references for you and jungkook #gbist

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