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cesium-sheep · 2 years

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@crippled-sheep I don’t know that I feel up to an actual back-and-forth so it may require further revisiting, but I did want to more clearly explain my actual point of disagreement from the other day while I have the (many, many) words for it.

so first a point of clarification, I strongly strongly prefer the term “neurodivergent” over “neurodiverse”. I know they’re nearly identical and probably come from the same linguistic root but neurodivergent pairs much more clearly with neurotypical, and “neurodiverse” has “handicapable” vibes to it for me. neurodivergent (or neuroatypical, which is harder to parse and less ideal) also still has a connotation of Weird, divergence rather than diversity.* my primary issue with broadening “the neurodivergent/neurodiverse community” to cover the entire mental illness community is that “the neurodivergent community” already meant something specific. the term is already in use. and it’s really really valuable for autistic/adhd folks (and folks with other closely related disorders by internal experience, not by behavior, behaviorists can kiss my grits) to be able to find each other easily. we’re not being offered a replacement term and there wasn’t one already in use, so as an autistic person who required access to community in order to figure myself out, it feels very much like nt mentally ill folks going “mm, no, ours now” and actively taking something away. (also see how useful a quick recognizable distinction is even in this sentence.)

if we had a replacement term in common use it really wouldn’t bother me that much! I’d still have some qualms with it** but I probably wouldn’t bother raising a fuss directly when other people used it.

it’s kinda like how the nonbinary community has moved away from using “nb” as a shorthand for ourselves, because we were told that the black community had already been using nb to mean non-black presumably longer than we’d been using it to mean nonbinary, so our use was causing unnecessary confusion and potential distress.*** broadening “neurodivergent” to mean the whole mental illness community and its offshoots/relatives causes unnecessary confusion and distress, as it was already being used to mean something more specific and losing that specificity breaks up community and muddles meaning (which distresses me lol).

I absolutely do think there should be a destigmatized umbrella term available for the broader community! which I did say even in my initial dissent. but I don’t think it should be chosen by actively taking away from a subcommunity, and I also don’t think a word change will magically fix any prejudice against mental illness. based on my own experiences as an ad hoc practitioner, a mentally ill person, and an advocate, I feel efforts are much better directed at destigmatization of existing community terms rather than finding (appropriating) one that might be more mainstream palatable and pouring effort into widespread adoption while leaving the subcommunity it was appropriated from in the lurch.****

tl;dr: the only actual point of disagreement I have is over recent appropriation of This Specific Preexisting Term as the umbrella term due to the additional harm I see from it compared to using the preexisting umbrella term of “mental illness/disorder”. everything else you said about community and subcommunity and representation I genuinely totally agree with.*****

I hope that makes things a little clearer, even if we still disagree about the relative levels of harm between the two.

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* (and I don’t think using “neurodivergent” for one and “neurodiverse” for the other would work, as others will definitely struggle to parse the distinction. to the point where I genuinely couldn’t remember which one you used in the original context until I scrolled back to look. you were using “neurodiverse” and I was using “neurodivergent” and we both proceeded as if it was the same word.)

** (mostly demedicalization of some genuine potentially medical concerns to a degree that smells suspiciously like unexamined internalized ableism, which will significantly negatively impact people’s willingness to seek proper support and potential treatment at a time when we already have tiktok folks going “oh there’s nothing wrong with you you’re just a ~star child~” or whatever to audiences of millions. “oh I wouldn’t benefit from medication or therapy or other forms of treatment/support for mental illness I’m just ~neurodiverse~” yknow? which to be fair in my current usage of nd isn’t generally the case, we’re very big on medication and other supports for folks who would benefit from it even though there’s a very strong push for total demedicalization of autism in particular.****** I just feel that’s how I often see it used by people outside that subcommunity.)

*** (altho there is an even older use as a shorthand for “nota bene” often used to highlight important context, which I’ve picked up from friends that have done academic writing and very nearly used a couple times when writing this :v still think the black community wins custody of that one through a combination of both precedent and priority, especially given the “nota bene” use is generally very distinct contextually and not in direct connotative competition.)

**** (like how the disabled community as a whole is pretty firm about using the term disabled, or the chronically ill community is pretty firm about yes really I am Sick.)

***** (I think, to clarify the original original point of contention, the reason most people use “neurodiverse” to mean “autism and adhd” is because. that’s already the subcommunity term that was in use. we’re focusing on our subcommunity because that’s always been what we mean when we say neurodivergent. and the fact that usage is actively in flux seems to be causing distress and confusion for those who mean the broader usage as much as it is for those who mean the more specific usage. there absolutely should be community and resources for the broader usage gathered under an umbrella term, but I just would really prefer it if a different term could be used, such as the preexisting “mental illness/disorder” umbrella. because while I don’t think the specific usage has any distinct priority over the broader usage, it absolutely has precedent, and ignoring the precedent causes harm in excess of the harm I see in deferring to precedent.)

****** (but not the common secondary disorders that can come from existing as an autistic, importantly - I think the distinction is mostly just “treatment” for autism is generally far more harm than good, with some exceptions that are focused on functioning in a neurotypical world rather than actually treating symptoms. which is generally not the case outside of autism, at least for modern outpatient treatment of the mental disorders I’m familiar with as an ad hoc practitioner. also I’m so sorry for putting a footnote in a footnote lol I just have Many Opinions and A Very Large Character Limit)

#long post #ableism ment #ask to tag #crippled-sheep #text wall sorry :/#the nd urge to clarify every single point vs the nd struggle to read densely packed text: fight!#(note that I'm using my current usage of nd not the broader use under discussion - generally doesn't apply much outside the subcommunity)#(at least certainly not as consistently)#I tried moving my parentheticals down into footnotes to make it slightly more readable #I have no idea if this is better or worse.#(personally I find it worse I have more difficulty with footnotes than I do with text walls)#(but hollyrose has been making an effort to make her text posts more accessible)#(so I figured I should at least make an effort when addressing em directly)#(even if the rest of the blog remains personal blog textwall hellscape)#(since I'm really not that bothered about others being able to parse it)#(as long as y'all can filter out what you need to avoid)#(but this post isn't just for me so :v )

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lucyandthepen · 3 months

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last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off.

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately.

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.

“You love me, right?”

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.

“You know I love you, right?”

You smile slightly. “No but?”

“No but,” he agrees.

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.

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thebibliosphere · 1 year

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Hey! I saw on your posts that you have MCAS. I might as well, so I was curious about your symptoms and how you got diagnosed. I've got intestinal reactions to a suite of food that have been escalating in recent months. But my skin test came back negative for all of them and for the pollen they might be caused by (birch). I'm getting some blood tests in January and an EpiPen. But I'd love to chat about your symptoms and diagnosis journey. ❤️

Hello friend. Sorry to hear you might be suffering as well. If you want to peruse my #mcas tag, there's a lot already in there.

I also test negative for a lot of food allergies, both on the skin test and the blood test, but thats because MCAS allergies are not always the result of true IgE-mediated allergies, but our mast cells being wonky and triggering other mechanisms within the cell that lead to mast cell degranulation which manifests as allergic reactions and sometimes full-blown anaphylaxis.

The reaction can take several hours to days to appear, which is why we can eat something fine one day, but if we eat it again the following day, we react. (leftovers are the worst offenders because it allows time for histamine to build up in the food. If you want to keep leftovers, freeze them and reheat the next day.)

It's also why some of us experience slow-acting anaphylactoid reactions as opposed to the rapid onset anaphylaxis most people are familiar with.) Other true IgE allergies, like birch, can cause cross-reactions, the most common of which is oral allergy syndrome, which is possible to have alongside MCAS or by itself.

Aren’t bodies ‘fun’?

If you suspect MCAS, something you maybe find helpful is doing a low-histamine diet to weed out the worst trigger food offenders from your diet.

The SIGHI histamine food list is the most comprehensive and up-to-date list for spotting any potential red flags in your diet that may be affecting histamine levels:

A dietician is advised to help you with this, as a low histamine diet is very low in nutrients and shouldn't be done long-term to avoid malnourishment. However, some of us wind up on it long-term due to the severity of our MCAS and require prescription supplements and also sometimes IV infusions. Fortunately, now that I am stable and getting better, I have been able to put more foods back into my diet, which is the hopeful end goal of treatment. (I was down to 2 safe foods in 2019 and was starving to death while my then-doctor insisted I had an eating disorder. After proper treatment with mast cell stabilizers and treating an underlying case of pernicious anemia, I’m now up to 25!!! 🎉🎉🎉)

Unfortunately, not all healthcare providers “believe” in MCAS or histamine intolerance though Covid has changed a lot of minds. (Nothing like patients going into idiopathic anaphylaxis in front of you to change your world view real fucking quick). If you encounter one of those providers, move on as soon as you can. They’re not up to date on current medical research and are doing a disservice to their patients.

Thankfully, at least here in the US, many younger doctors seem to be coming out of med school with a basic grasp that mast cells can go rogue and that MCAS is real and the lesser-known though just as severe cousin of mastocytosis.

Sadly, they’re primarily still being taught to test for it using the mastocytosis method (checking the blood for elevated tryptase levels), which is not always indicative of MCAS because, unlike patients with mastocytosis, our tryptase levels fluctuate based on flares. Theres also a 24-hour urine test you can do which is more accurate but, again that’s unreliable because it requires stringent temperature regulation (nothing like having a bucket of pee in your refrigerator for 24 hours) and if the urine isn't kept as cold as possible right up until the moment of testing, the results could give a false negative.

I test negative on every single test (except biopsy, which many doctors try to avoid) and would need to be tested during a bout of anaphylaxis, which no ER is going to pause to do. Fortunately, a lot of doctors are now diagnosing based on clinical presentation, patient history and how patients respond to initial treatment of mast cell stabilizers.

There are a couple of more heavy hitters they can try, but the most basic are a combination of your run-of-the-mill h1 and h2 type histamine blockers, commonly sold over the counter as Zyrtec and Pepcid. (obligatory: always check with your doctor before starting any new medication)

The tmsforacure website has a list of MCAS friendly doctors in the US:

(I do not recommend any of the Mayo clinics, sadly. I’ve yet to hear from a single fellow mastie who’s had a good experience with them or come away feeling like a person afterwards. It seems a lot of their testing is aimed toward mastocytosis and is rooted in some weird bias of wanting to keep MCAS seen as ‘rare’, when really it’s just rarely diagnosed.)

You can also usuay find doctors in your area by checking out local support groups on places like Facebook and Reddit. The Reddit groups are pretty good, tbh.

Oh, and it would help if you also looked into whether or not you have a Vitamin D deficiency, as vitamin D is required for mast cells to remain stable and even a mild deficiency can mess us up.

A chronic lack of Vitamin D in our society has also been linked to an increase in things like asthma and other allergic diseases. So that one is just good for everyone to be aware of.

I likely missed something in that deluge of text, but hopefully some of it was useful to you. If you want to ask more specifics or even just chat my inbox is (usually) always open. My health is not great right now, so I’m struggling with my IMs but I always try to respond to asks.

Take care! Rooting for you to get the treatment you need.

#chronic health tag #mcas #long post #food mention

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intermundia · 1 year

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Hi! Just wanted to let you know that I saw earlier today that you and another Obikin writer I really enjoy left/had to take a break from twitter, and I wanted to send some love. I figured this might happen because that side of the fandom has become really aggressive and uncomfortable (and frankly, really creepily fetishistic), like, legit acting like schoolyard bullies over their kinks, and I wanted to send some love and support your way. You're an amazing writer and seem like a lovely person, and I'm really sorry you were made to feel so uncomfortable and unheard by what should've been your own community. No one deserves to be forced to see their identity constantly reduced a fetish, or worse, a joke. You're not alone, and you're very appreciated.

No need to post this, but I just wanted to slide some <3 to you after a rough few days (weeks, months, etc) in the Obikin fandom.

thank you, this means more than i can really say. being trans is a source of a great deal of pain in my life, pain that i do in fact get therapy for, but i'm trapped living in an area where transition is impossible, fascists bring AR-15s to pride, and there's no way for me to live a life that is authentically my own. i'm trapped in a body that i hate and has caused me just so much pain and grief.

i have used that pain and turned it into art, writing almost 700k words of obikin stories that i've given away for free to other people, especially meant for the ones suffering like me, trying to offer them solidarity and escape. people have enjoyed them and i'm proud that i've made connections with people this way. it's healed something inside of me that i hadn't known was a wound that even could heal. i guess for the first time, i didn't feel lonely. the community has given me meaning back to my life, and i am grateful beyond words.

so many people have been accepting and kind, that i took it for granted.

i just.. obikin has been the first community where i felt seen and accepted for who i was. i love obikin so much, and obikin twitter was a site i wanted to join because i kept getting links for incredible art and wanted to just see it all myself. i met such cool people there, and have had a mostly wonderful time engaging with other people who are just as obsessed with obikin as i am.

however, there is a small community of people on that site who really, really love the kink of feminizing men, drawing them in an exaggeratedly feminine style with breasts, mpreg, and lactation, and calling him "mommy" over and over, things which make me very uncomfortable, but i strongly support their right to make the art they like.

SO i have spent literal months blocking and muting every single time i see it. i know very well that my triggers are not other people's problem. it's frustrating that sometimes when i have blocked people, it's been seen as rude by the blocked people, but the alternative is to see content that makes me intently uncomfortable, so what do they want me to do? i don't shame people for liking it, again it's a ME issue, so i've tried so hard in good faith to curate my feed.

but no matter what i do, almost every time i log into twitter, i still see untagged images of kinks that i find just really upsetting. so i asked for people to tag their feminization stuff as a courtesy so that i could effectively filter it out. i didn't demand it, just explained that it hurt and like, asked for some consideration. i just figured that idk once people realized they were inadvertently hurting others they would be kind enough to stop. we're all part of the same community, and it's what I know others in the space would be kind enough to do.

it didn't seem like that big of an ask to me. idk i'm like. genuinely hurt that people would do that and don't understand why they couldn't just either tag it or block me for asking if they didn't want to. either would have been fine! it was hard seeing the general sentiment being that people should just get over it and avoid asking for help. it felt like people were choosing to be mean instead of kind, and i felt shamed and rejected from participating with everyone else bc my trauma was inconvenient.

idk i just thought in a space for queer people to enjoy transgressive fiction there would be more understanding of the diverse needs and sensibilities of the community. i think tagging kinks is a low-energy way to help protect other people who are passionate about obikin, and it makes other people feel welcome and heard in a space that's for everyone to share.

i've been really hurt by this experience, and it's started to feel like.. if my feelings don't matter as a member of the obikin community, why am i offering thousands of hours of my time to them? as someone who writes from a place of pain rooted in my trans identity, it seems pretty unfair that they're entitled to feast on the fruit of my hurt if they don't care about me as a person at all.

tldr; i left twitter and don't think i'll be going back.

#long post #gender talk #sorry to go off but i'm like #deeply hurt to the point i want to stop writing #and writing is my coping mechanism so like #idk #why are people mean when they could be nice?

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whmp · 4 months

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in case you're just here for the good stuff, i'll be tagging my personal ramblings as #whmpersonal so you can avoid em BUT this is tangentially related to the game project i'm working on, so stick around i guess? tl;dr: i'll probably make a more coherent post where I ask ppl for help (especially artists). also, i'll be more attentive and answer your asks faster, hopefully. : )

anyway, after a bit of a "review" of my creative process (and i guess my uhh way of living in general?) i've noticed that it's a huge clusterfuck. and that it has been since i was a kid. without some external pressure or an imposed structure (like deadlines, parents or strongly worded emails) i just sort of relied on random surges of productivity to carry me through life. on one hand, it's kinda fun: most of the time i'm not doing anything valuable and then all of a sudden i condense weeks worth of work into several sleepless days during which i feel like An Immortal Unstoppable God. lighting bolts shoot from my fingertips, my eyes glow in the dark, and my caffeine-to-blood volume ratio is hovering around 1.

unfortunately, it's not really sustainable. the "not doing anything valuable" stage that takes up most of my time is not me just chilling. it's me freaking the fuck out about not doing anything despite wanting to and finding myself just. not able to. not to mention that some things just need minor, but constant maintenance - at best i'd just forget about them and face the consequences later on. at worst i'd be acutely aware of them while procrastinating, clueless as to what's wrong with me.

couple that with a couple other unhealthy habits, a microscopic attention span and wow, i fit like all the criteria for adhd. i gotta admit i was super sceptical at first when doing any research, since, well. how the fuck am i even supposed to gain any unbiased insight into this. anyway, i spent a stupid amount of money on an official diagnosis (seriously why is this not covered by insurance gsygx), it took a million meetings and tests and i get a piece of paper that says i have add and deserve some medication.

this has also made me realize that i'm spread out super thin when it comes to projects. i love every single one of them, but im going to have to be a bit more realistic in terms of what can remain in "when it's done" limbo and what needs a bit of a push. the whump game is unique in that it's not just me who wants this to eventually get released. so! what this means is that it needs a proper, project structure. not a .txt on my desktop where i keep a backlog of missing features. but must important of all, it needs ~*people*~. this is the first time i took a step back and estimated how much time everything would take me and yeahhhh i was being very optimistic when i said "playable build in 2023" lol. i've been hesitant to ask for help bc 1. i'm stubborn : ) 2. im bad at coordinating stuff 3. i can't pay ppl - like seriously, there is one person making a model for me (if you're reading this sorry i didn't ask if you want a tag but this is just a personal post where i keep yapping) and it's looking so clean and professional,,, you gotta sell this as an asset.

HOWEVER im getting past the mentality of "i gotta do as much as i can by myself". and also taking meds so that im able to focus on tasks (both gamedev-related and others) and actually pay attention to what im doing. which is great news for development! and answering asks! ill be making a dev post where i tag all the ppl and will also ask for help.

that's it. im on a train rn and bored out of my mind so this is why this post exists, sorry. anyway check out this screenshot of a moment in clone high that i relate to deeply.

#whmpersonal #<- this is the tag #isn't it creative like wow i had to think about it for a couple of minutes #not tagging it as whump dev since it's just me rambling #I'm so bored you don't even know #this train is already late by like an hour??? god #shout out to łódź fabryczna gotta be one of the ugliest train stations known to man

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quoththemaiden · 10 months

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I saw your tags in the poll comments and I had to jump into your ask box. If you want to reply to comments, don't be afraid to do it! People love nothing more than to interact with the author. People comment to express their love for your work, and I can promise nothing make them more happy than to have a reply from the author!!! It's a "my comment had been seen and made them happy, yeah!" feeling.

My tags, for context:

This poll is wild to me. Tumblr's interpretation of fanfic etiquette seems completely backwards from my internet upbringing.

Back on ff.net, where the number of reviews wasn't even a sortable field, it was still uncool for authors to respond to the reviews. Every fic would end with "Please R&R!!!" but actually interacting with reviewers was the kind of thing you were supposed to grow out of as you went from a socially clueless young teen to a socially competent older teen. Saying "That's exactly what I was going for!" or "Oooh just wait, you'll love it!" or "I'm so glad you liked it!" was really just patting yourself on the back for being awesome, and saying "No, you don't get it--" was too defensive. (Putting "I've been blown away by the response to this fic" in an A/N is sufficiently self-effacing if used sparingly, though.)

On AO3, looking at the comment section of a fic and seeing that an author has responded to every comment with "Thanks!!" or "❤️" feels similarly desperate to me--

--and not just cringey, but also vaguely unethical because it's artificially doubling the number of comments on a site that does allow sorting by comments. Like, let your fic stand on its own merits instead of trying to game the system with fake reviews.

But on Tumblr, there's those AO3 etiquette posts going around saying "kudos are for if you finish reading a fic; comments are for if you enjoyed it." And that just feels backwards. Shouldn't kudos be for if you enjoyed the fic enough that you think it should be boosted in the rankings so more people read it? Comments, on the other hand, are mandatory on every fic you read unless you can't find even a single good thing to say about it. (And you're still obligated to rack your brain a bit to see if you can at least pull out a "Wow, that was an interesting premise!" or "I really love this trope so thanks for writing this!" or "This was such a fun line!" and just try not to be too obvious about damning with faint praise.)

I've had authors respond to say, "Hey, sorry I haven't responded to your comments yet, but I've been reading them" and I'm always like... my dude, that's not how this economy works. You write fics and I leave comments. You don't have to write fics and respond to comments. Take a load off.

Obviously if I say something particularly insightful it's nice to hear the author's thoughts back, and I've had some cool conversations about their inspirations... and the friend I talk to literally every single day is someone where we both loved each other's fics 20 years ago and we got started talking because of it... so it's not like I think it's never okay to respond to a reviewer.

(And, frankly, a lot of my comments are a couple paragraphs long or I'm leaving a dozen comments in a short timespan, so it hasn't usually felt weird when authors do respond to me to comment on some highlights.)

It's just absolutely baffling to look at that poll and see that 88% of authors do or think they should respond to comments, so I'm clearly in the vast, vast minority.

It's absolutely, mind-bogglingly wild. And since it's purely a cultural thing, being in the minority means I'm wrong, and I need to come to grips with that. Like, I'm going to need to actively, consciously work on flipping my judgement-o-meter from "responding to comments is inappropriately clingy and must be actively avoided" to "responding to comments is good and expected" because the former is a social norm I internalized decades ago and now I need to go through the active work of completely flipping what's rude and what's polite -- which is a thing that happens all the time as we get older, of course, but it was a shock to encounter it here.

#9-to-1 implies it isn't even a relative thing like “it's rude for Americans to eat with their mouths open but fine for other cultures”#9-to-1 is OVERWHELMING and “no that's cringe and weird” wasn't even an OPTION on the poll #i'd say it's a generational divide but it isn't like the Tumblr userbase is young #so there has to have been some other kind of cultural shift in the decade i was away from fandom #so i guess i just need to get over it and get with the times #but it would definitely help if someone could explain what changed so i could internalize WHY responding to comments is now acceptable #like does it have something to do with the shift from “reviews” to “comments”?#like because it's socially unacceptable for movie producers to respond to movie reviewers but exchanging comments on social media is normal #or is it something else?#but the culture may well have changed a decade ago so who would even remember?#so i feel like any responses would be “saying 'thanks' to a compliment is polite”#which... yeah #but also no #because the author-reader relationship is fundamentally different since authors are providing a service #and readers are obligated to repay them with comments #so #argh #fanfiction #ao3 etiquette #ff.net etiquette #Am I so out of touch?.meme

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mevweasley · 1 year

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about me under the cut

✆ any pronouns, professional no-one kisser, part-time dying fandom watcher, low-rated pitchfork albums enjoyer, pretentious old books reader, small talk hater. self-doubting but a self-absorbed critic

✆ likes pretending i'm truman burbank with my own tv show for 30 years and counting where i talk to the mirror and greet every single person and everyone watches all my shenanigans real time while eventually getting my life ruined and controlled by the people around me /hj

✆ i do not support all the problematic things my faves have partaken to, i only liked them for their character portrayals, pieces of literature they made or art

✆ i tend to reblog a lot of things, i deactivated my account a couple of times due to porn bots and i've been here since 2012. currently have 10,400+ posts in only under two months

✆ i normally post what i'm interested on atm

✆ i sometimes swear but not that much i took it out of my system; if i ever use them i add trigger warnings

✆ sometimes i vent here with the "personal" tag, just don't mind them if you're uncomfortable with such topics.

✆ dni if you're just a straight up rude person in any form, if you spam, -13 or 30+, too much nsfw content, people who love to hate on others' healthy interests, and if you're too invasive of me and the people i care about's private space, if you support controversial and morally incorrect topics or fetishes that hurt people or creatures, etc

✆ byi i use tone indicators and content warnings, i'm a minor and it takes me quite a long time to warm up to new people so i might not be able to respond to your messages in a long or casual manner; my attachment is fearful-avoidant; i might respond in a more formal tone but it depends if we get closer. feel free to raise questions and say constructive comments, i'm sensitive and i overthink a lot but i'm slowly working on it. sorry if i'm not good with articulating my ideas, if i ever ramble pls lmk.

✆ not comfy with pet names unless we're close

✆ my inbox is always open (i only talk to my 2 close friends here daily but i still hop on other accounts from time to time i just don't use other messaging apps if you feel like asking me anything just hmu here and I'll try to respond, just be respectful) but i don't think i could respond in a quick manner atm. i've been very busy with school.

✆ https://prns.cc/wfocv || biromantic, aroace, enby

✆ if i'm not on tumblr i'm surely on character ai or ao3 or reddit or pinterest or youtube or spotify or tiktok, watching or listening to fandom content

✆ has diagnosed adhd

✆ if you found out about me from personality database no you didn't /hj

#bio #about me #me #tumblr & en pronouns /mevweasley #pinned post #might unpin this next time #just a summary of me

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sweetlittlegingy · 1 year

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I posted 891 times in 2022

That's 319 more posts than 2021!

221 posts created (25%)

670 posts reblogged (75%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@topguncortez

@sweetlittlegingy

@bradleybeachbabe

@sunlightmurdock

@unicornships

I tagged 529 of my posts in 2022

Only 41% of my posts had no tags

#jake seresin - 178 posts

#jake hangman seresin - 160 posts

#top gun maverick - 108 posts

#top gun: maverick - 103 posts

#better man universe - 101 posts

#gingy writes - 83 posts

#top gun - 83 posts

#gingy answers - 72 posts

#jake seresin x reader - 64 posts

#glen powell - 60 posts

Longest Tag: 110 characters

#i want you all to know the hot and heavy make out scene will be living rent free and taking up my entire brain

My Top Posts in 2022:

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Father Figure Jake x Single!Mom

✦Word Count: 5.2 k

✦Warnings: Ansty, Fluff, slight smut (Jake calls himself daddy once), pregnancy, deployment, sad Maty

✦A/n: I have tried to post this like 8 times, it better work. I'm sorry for the wait guys, I hope you like it! Lots of love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The low ache in your back had become a constant; leaning down to pick up the second batch of laundry, the six-month belly just out of the way. Rising back up, one arm carrying the laundry, the other caressing your more than noticeable bump.

You feel a sharp kick, pressing your palm back into the spot, you can feel Little Miss move, pressing farther into your hand. A laugh falls from your lips, she wasn’t even here yet and she was stubborn just like her father.

The pregnancy came as a surprise, though you weren’t trying to avoid pregnancy, it still was a shock when you found out. The four pregnancy tests you’d taken, after being nauseous every morning for a week, proved that your family was about to grow by one.

The shock of it all, couldn’t stop the nerves from kicking in.

Your pregnancy with Mathew hadn’t been easy. Your nausea lasting the whole 40 weeks, making it hard for you to maintain a healthy weight. You ended up getting weekly IVs from the hospital and being up on two different nausea medications.

In the first trimester, this time nausea hit you hard and at all times of the day, the bathroom had become a second home, and Jake could barely handle it. Constantly at your side, holding your hair or rubbing your back. Mathew had been ecstatic when he found out, though the now six-and-a-half-year-old, had a hard time seeing you so sick.

Even having a conversation with your belly, telling the baby that they needed to be nice to you.

That was before you found out that you were having a girl, and thankfully the nausea had calmed after your fourteen-week mark, making your days actually enjoyable.

You’d been able to find out the sex of your baby just before Jake deployed when you were twenty weeks, and you’d both been thankful he could be with you in person to hear.

He’d been overjoyed when you the doctor told you. The smile never left his face on the drive home. Telling you, now that you had one of each, the next one could be a surprise.

You’d smacked him and told him, you wanted to get through this one before even thinking about another. Jake had only given you a teasing smile and kissed your hand, resting it in his lap for the drive home.

That was a month ago now, and all three of you were missing him terribly. Right after you’d found out you were pregnant; Jake had taken to talking to your stomach nightly. You’d told him that the peanut was too small, but he hadn’t cared. Holding nightly conversations with them, ranging from stories about flying, to what had happened during his day.

You’re sure that Little Miss had gotten used to her daddy’s voice, because now without his nightly talks, she has taken to becoming very active during the night. Mathew was having quite the time with Jake being gone as well. The first week he had cried every night and though his tears had slowed, the month had been wearing on the little guy.

Thankfully school kept his mind busy during the day, and Lacey had promised to call if he got upset during the day. Summer vacation was just around the corner for Maty and though he loved second grade, he was so excited about the year ahead. He was going full-time on base and Auntie Lacey, Bob’s wife, would be his teacher for third grade.

You were thankful for the relationship the two of you had developed over the last 2 years, she’d become one of your closest friends and was always there to help with Mathew.

When she found out that you were expecting and that the boys were getting deployed, she took up a permeant residence in your home. Taking over pick up and drop off completely, saying that your house was on her way to school anyway.

Your house was in fact a good bit out of her way, but you weren’t about to argue with the woman. Bob might have been quiet and shy in public, but his sweet, loving teacher of a wife, was anything but.

Lacey, like her third graders, was an endless ball of energy. She was the most positive person you’d ever met and extremely organized. But when she decided that something was going to happen, then it was happening. Her stubbornness rivaled that of Jakes. A fact that had you cackling, when the two of them bickered.

Placing the laundry away, you head back into the kitchen, looking for something to snack on before you start on dinner. Music streams out of the speaker on the counter, a playlist that you’d made after Jake threw you into the world that is 90’s country, on a trip to Texas. You’d fallen in love with the music, on a night out and always listened to it when Jake was gone.

You hum along to the beat of Brooks and Dunn, swaying your hips along to the music, hand resting on your bump. Little Miss takes to rolling around, clearly enjoying the music.

“You like that one sweetpea?” The song changes and she rolls again. “Your daddy’s gonna be pleased with your taste in music.”

You grab the strawberries out of the fridge, singing along to the music. Your mind wandering, sure that Jake and your little girl would have the exact relationship stated in the song.

“When she was three years old on her daddy's knee, he said you can be anything you want to be. She's a wild one, runnin' free.—”

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1,312 notes - Posted October 4, 2022

Better Man Universe Masterlist

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dad!Jake x Y/n Son (Father/Son Relationship)

★ Fluff ❊ Angst ✓ Smut

✦A/n: Requests are open, for this universe. As well as TopGun fandom and Outer Range Fandom

Better Man Song Rec Playlist

Spotify Playlist Masterlist

Everything You May Need To Know

Epiphany ★✓

You Can Call Me Babe For The Weekend ★❊✓

I Don't Need Your Closure ★❊✓

Better Man ★❊

I Don’t Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends ★❊

Just Come Home ★❊

The Best Thing That's Ever Been Mine ★

Autumn Leaves and Pumpkin, Please? ★

Can't Breath Whenever You're Gone ★❊✓

Tis' The Damn Season ★

I Couldn't Ask For Anything Better ★❊✓

Something That Will Haunt Me When You're Not Around ❊

SNAPCHAT SERIES

Part 1

Group chat:

Wrong Chat

Brownie Fiasco

Tis’ The Damn Season

Baby Daddy

Instagram:

Meet Josephine

Jacob Grant Seresin *que swoon*

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1,451 notes - Posted September 20, 2022

Better Man

✦Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 6.7K

✦Warnings: Fluff, Angst, mentions of SA (previous relationship), self-hate, shitty schools, bullying, possible thoughts of suicide (on explicitly stated). Please let me know if I missed something.

✦A/n: Repost, the original is no longer showing up for me. I’m not sure what happened, if your seeing double I apologize.

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

The incessant buzzing coming from your pocket continues, as you listen to Admiral Simpson and Admiral Bates go over mission plans. Attentively listening and marking down any changes that need to be made to the paperwork.

As the admirals Administrative Service Manager, you held the responsibility of keeping all things “Top Gun” in order: including incoming pilots, flight schedules, and the newly permanent Dagger Squadron.

You subduedly shift silencing the buzzing, again focusing on Cyclone and Warlock.

“I want a new set of recruits coming in, with Maverick training them.” Cyclone gives you a pointed look. “I want him to be on board by the end of the week. You both, can go over applicates and find those best fitted.”

You silently nodded, jotting down that you need to draft a letter for Mav and get it to him before Wednesday.

“With the success of the Uranium Mission, DC is going to want to see what else the Dagger Squadron can do. I want them flying new drills and layouts every day. Draft up a few different sets of flight plans, get them on my desk by Wednesday morning.”

“Of course, sir. Two days will be more than enough time to draft up three or four, and I will have a handful more done by next Monday.” You trail off as your phone starts buzzing again.

Pausing to grab it while Cyclone and Warlock keep chatting, you realize that it’s Mathews school calling. Raising your hand in a silent gesture, you glance up and ask if you can be excused for a moment. To which Cyclone nods, signaling to the hallway.

Rising up, you not so slowly, make your way to the door and press answer. Miss Clarks voice rings through your phone, telling you once again that Mathew has been called to the office.

“Miss Benjamin, you need to come in. Principle Davis wants to talk to you immediately. Mathew is fine, though he has been placed in the corner and will not be allowed recess time.” She mutters harshly.

You slowly shake your head and lean up against the wall, “What happened?” you question. Waiting for a response that doesn’t come. “I know that Mathew is not the only child at fault here. So, I’m going to ask again, what happened?”

You know that your sweet Mathew would never hurt someone without probably cause, and even then, it’s unlikely. Though this is the first call you’ve received from the school, you’ve been in three other times for words with the principal. Discussing another upper-class student that had been picking on Mathew.

The same excuse being thrown in your face that, none of the teachers saw the bullying and that Mathew was lying. Though the last time, Mathew told you that the other boy had pushed him and scrapped his knees. Markings on his knees, you saw during bath time, that night confirmed that he had been pushed.

Each visit you had, the school ignored you and claimed you to be an overprotective mother.

“Mathew hit another boy, Miss Benjamin.”

The statement shocks you at first, but then you question why Mathew hit him.

“Well Mathew says that he was hit first, but no one saw it.”

“You’re telling me, that my son was hit, then defended himself, and you didn’t think to lead the conversation with that information.”

Pushing off the wall you start to make your way to your office. “I will be there in 20 minutes.” Grabbing your purse, leaving the paperwork knowing that you will be coming back to the office enviably.

“Also, Miss Clark,” your voice steadily rises. “Get my child out of the damn corner.” You all but yell before hanging up on the woman.

Stepping out of your office and running into Lt. Bradshaw, you bounce off him. He grabs your arms steadying you, as you apologize.

“You okay there, Y/N” He questions quickly realizing how stressed you are.

You can feel the frustration seeping from your bones, tears lining your eyes. Working to steady your breathing, in any possible way to avoid crying.

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1,553 notes - Posted September 19, 2022

I Don't Start Shit, But I Can Tell You How It Ends

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother, Dagger Squad vs. Davis

✦Word Count: 2.8 K

✦Warnings: Protective!Hangman, Angry!Hangman, Protective!Dagger Squad, Asshole Guy, Failed Drugging, Jake hints at killing people...

✦A/n: The Dagger Squad finally gets ahold of Mathew's old Principle. They really hate the man, we all do tbh! Day 2 of 500 celebration!!!!

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

See the full post

1,616 notes - Posted October 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

You Can Call Me Babe For The Weekend

✦ Previous Chapter | Next Chapter |Better Man Universe

✦Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Single!Mother

✦Word Count: 15.4K

✦Warnings: Fluff, slight smut angst, mentions of abuse (previous relationship), self-hate, protective brother Bradley (let me know if I missed anything.)

✦A/n: This is out two days later than I planned, but you asked for a long part. So, here it is! I'm pretty proud of this one, it was definitely writing from the heart. Much Love - G

✦Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

You were ecstatic that the work week was over, you were even more pleased that you had gotten off work early. You had finalized all the flight planes for next week and had already started prep for recruitments. You’d only been back on the North Island for 4 months, but time had flown. You had gotten into a comfortable rhyme, working under Cyclone and Warlock, even forming a “friendship.”

You and Warlock got along great, and you considered him a good friend, though you and Cyclone still had your moments in which you completely disagreed with each other. Most the time it was a contest between the two of you, to see which of you would break first.

For the most part, your work life at Top Gun couldn’t have been better. You had also heard from your father that Commander Kazansky was pleased with your work, and how quickly you had the office back up to naval standards.

Your life outside of Top Gun, well just outside of the office, was great as well. Bradley had introduced you to some of the other pilots, who welcomed you into the small group with open arms. You had even created a pretty strong bond with one of Bradley least favorite people, Lt. Jake “Hangman” Seresin.

Bradley had a talk with each of you when he learned that you had been hanging out in the beginning. Bradley had made the point that he didn’t fully trust Jake, and thought that it would be better if you avoided him. He was convinced that Jake was going to hurt you, even more than you already were.

You had told Bradley that you were in fact a big girl, who could take care of herself and that you didn’t think Jake was like that. You also promised Bradley, that as of right now, you had no intention of getting in a relationship, and that Jake was just a good friend.

That was 3 months ago and though Bradley had let up a little bit, he was still holding strong on his big brother position. Ready to defend and protect you at all costs. It was honestly hilarious how serious he took it. Though you were extremely thankful in knowing that he would always be there if you needed him.

You knew that the group usually got together at the Hard Deck for drinks every Friday and you, luckily, were going to be able to go as well. Your parents had offered to watch Mathew over the weekend, claiming that they hadn’t seen him in forever.

They had just seen him on the prior weekend, when you all got together for Amelia’s birthday, but who were you to deny them of the little munchkin. Mathew was already 2 and a half, quickly changing from your baby into a little boy, and they wanted to get as much love in before he got too active for them to handle.

You hadn’t told Bradley or Jake that you would be coming out, just in case plans changed, and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

Pulling up to your parents’ house you went to get a sleeping Mathew from his car seat, the drive wasn’t long from base only 30 minutes, but he was due for a nap, and he’d been teething morals. Meaning he hadn’t been sleeping well and was grumpy all the time, the extra sleep time was greatly welcomed.

Situating Mathew on your hip, you grab his bag from the passenger seat, and he wakes slightly. He wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and falls back to sleep, just as your mother comes out to meet you.

“Hello sweetheart, let me take that for you.” She takes Mathew’s bag and goes to give him a kiss on the head. “Has he been asleep long? Your father is just in the kitchen, he’s so excited to have him all weekend. Got’s all sorts of plans.” She gives you a teasing smile, poking fun at your father.

“He fell asleep on the drive and daddy just loves his grandbabies. Don’t make fun of the poor man, he doesn’t know what to do with himself now that he’s retired.”

When your father found you were moving back, he decided that needed to retire. Claiming that he needed to be able to help you with Mathew. He most defiantly didn’t expect all the open time he had, which led to him doing all sorts of home improvement projects. The newest being, the sandpit and playset in the back yard.

He claimed that the kids needed it. Though Amelia was ten now, and claimed it was for babies. While Mathew was still too small to play on anything, fully by himself.

You were thankful that your parents were so involved in Mathew’s life and wouldn’t complain at their antics.

“Honey, Y/n is here, and you need to turn down the TV. Maty is sleeping and I don’t want that football game waking him, it’s a rerun anyway.”

Rounding the corner, you see your dad; he had been making lunch, though when he sees you, he quickly comes over to take Maty out of your hands. He gives you a quick kiss on the head and goes to lay Mathew down in the play pen that they kept.

“Thank you so much for watching him, Mom. It really means the world and if you need anything just call.”

She gives you a nod, while putting the bag away and unpacking the frozen snacks you had brought.

“Sweetie, you seem to forget we raised you and Penny, both troublemakers.” Your dad lets out a chuckle and starts on lunch again.

“Me and your mom have everything that Maty could need, I even got teething gel today. Now you get out of here, you’re making me miss the game.”

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1,705 notes - Posted September 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#I feel like they should be Gingy’s year since August #because that’s when I started writing #the life of gingy #year in review #tumblr2022 #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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one-abuse-survivor · 2 years

Note

all this american bullshit is stressing me out, like the abortions and the tracking periods to see if someone's pregnant (etc) is so stress inducing.... AND I DON'T EVEN LIVE IN THE US. Yet most of my friends do and I worry for them, my parents don't see what's wrong with it, that I know of at least... I don't discuss things with them often. but it's so fucked up and I might have another panic attack cause idk what to do even when it doesn't effect me

I’m really sorry you’re struggling with this, nonnie. I’ve felt similarly before, where I was so worried about things so big and so outside my control that I felt like the only thing I could do was panic. Before anything else, I want you to know it's completely understandable to be worried about this situation, especially if your friends are affected.

I’m going to give you some advice based on how I handle this, but remember you’re allowed not to take it if you don’t want to.

1. Set boundaries. I know it’s tempting to doomscroll on social media and stay updated on every single detail of what’s going on, and I know you desperately want to help, but the truth is you can’t pour from an empty cup, and the only thing you're going to accomplish if you don't set boundaries is to trigger and drain yourself. That’s why I find it so important to take as many steps as possible to control how you engage with the thing that’s stressing you out. Here’s some ways to do it:

Filter tags and words on Tumblr and other social media. On Tumblr, in particular, I recommend filtering the following tags: #current events, #US politics, #roe v wade and, if the broader topic also stresses you out, #abortion. Remember: filtering the tags doesn’t mean you’re avoiding the topic or pretending the problem doesn’t exist. It means you’re giving your future self the chance to decide when to click through and interact with this topic, and when to scroll past because you’re not in a good mental headspace. You’re also giving your future self trigger warnings so that you don’t unexpectedly read upsetting info (or at least it happens significantly less often).

Ask your friends to ask you before talking about the topic. It’s okay to ask your friends to be careful when they bring the topic up with you, for example by asking if it’s okay to bring it up before doing it to give you a chance to say no. You can also ask them to add a trigger warning at the top of messages dealing with the topic, or even to spoiler them if you’re on discord.

2. Once you’ve taken these (and any other) steps to limit your interactions with the upsetting topic, try to focus on what you can control:

What are abortion laws like where you live? Are there any local associations you can help, even if it’s just by following them on social media and sharing their informational posts? If you regularly attend a school or a workplace, can you look into their sexual health protocols? You could try to make change there, for example by raising awareness about the need for period product/contraception baskets, or by hanging up some posters with information on nearby abortion clinics or on where to get cheap/free period products, contraception, or pregnancy tests. (These are just some ideas!)

How can you improve your mental headspace? Is there anything that will make you feel better when you’re spiralling? Any comfort shows, or foods, or people you can talk to? When you’re in this headspace, ask yourself if there’s anything you can do right now to make yourself feel better (like decluttering your desk, drinking water, or stepping away from your devices for a little while, for example).

You can make to-do lists with manageable goals and focus on getting those done; this can sometimes help ease the feeling that we’re out of control and paralysed.

3. Make a plan to handle future panic attacks. Once a panic attack has been triggered, do you have any activities or exercises that help you get through it safely?

If you do, you can write them down in a list so you can check it out when you've been triggered. The app Clear Fear has a space decidated to keeping a list of things that help you during anxiety/panic attacks, if that's something you're interested in.

If you don't, looking into exercises that help others cope with panic attacks might be helpful! You can look for breathing gifs or videos and save them somewhere you'll remember to look for them. You can get some ice cubes ready in the freezer if you want to try holding ice to ground yourself next time you have a panic attack. You can also fill a box with objects with peculiar textures (like play-doh or stim toys) and try using them to ground yourself when you need to.

If you find yourself unable to control the panic attacks or to set boundaries, and these emotions start (or continue) to interfere with your day-to-day life, I'd consider talking to someone, like an adult you trust (if you're a minor) or a therapist (if you can and want to). This isn't something you need to fix on your own, and it's okay to ask for help.

If anyone else has any other advice, please feel free to add on!

#ask #current events #US politics #roe v wade #mental health #online boundaries #panic attack tw

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plum-pitt · 3 months

Text

not to be that mf on main but like,,,,,

fuck multifandom one shot books, and honestly one shot books in general to some extent.

In this post I pulled out of my ass out of sheer frustration while looking for a fic to read, i will messily lay out my grievances, then make suggestions of what authors could potentially do differently to avoid these issues.

Section 1: Me Angy

First off- the tag and fandom lists on these things are ALWAYS 50 miles long and take up like half the damn page on Ao3, and istg a good amount of the time they’ve got like a single 1000 word chapter and haven’t even been updated in like 2 years

They absolutely destroy filters for things like tags and word count.

like if i’m looking for a longfic to binge read, i don’t need these books of one shots, when i’d maybe be interested in 10% of what’s in it, clogging up my search results.

plus if you’ve got even just one single oneshot in there with an icky tag i’ve filtered out, then i’m never gonna see any of it even if i might’ve actually liked what the rest had to offer!!

The fandoms are also like a whole other beast. God forbid you’re looking for an actual crossover fic between two franchises because sorry bout ur luck there kid, you’re gonna be spending a stupid amount of time weeding out random fandom after random fandom in the filters section just to get rid of these oneshot books and find what you’re actually looking for.

Section 2: Suggestions

If you’re an author just trying to keep your page organized by keeping all your oneshots together somehow, then put them in a series! That way they can all be tagged individually and more people who’d want to read them will be able to find them, and they don’t jack up the filtering system!

Kinda sorta relevant to the conversation too; if you’re making a fic for a franchise with a bunch of different iterations, and you’re don’t necessarily have a specific version in mind when writing it, or perhaps are making an original iteration all your own, then for the love of all that is good, do not put every iteration in the fandom tags.

For example, if i’m looking for say, fanfic of Zelda: Twilight Princess, and you’re writing a Zelda fanfic set in your own version of the Zelda universe. If you tag literally every single game in the franchise that has a fandom tag to its name, then your fic will come up even if it’s not at all what i’m looking for.

Most multi-iteration fandoms of that nature have an overarching tag that looks something like:

*insert random franchise*- and related fandoms

It’s there for a reason! If you’re not sure what version you’re writing for, or you’re making one up, then just use that! It can still be found by anyone scrolling through fics on that general tag, and doesn’t get in the way of readers on the hunt for something more specific.

In Conclusion:

i ain’t trynna be a dick, but some of yall don’t know how to tag and it’s working to both your, and the readers detriment. Thats ok tho! it’s not like there’s a rule book out there that lays out exactly what to do, and thanks to that everyone has subtle differences in how they decide to label their work. i’m just pointing out some minor inconveniences i’ve gone thru as a reader and some possible solutions for authors that could circumvent them.

this is in no way a personal attack on anybody, not sure why anyone would think that it’s literally fanfic tags, but just trynna cover all my bases here. Ok bye

#also irrelevant to the premise of the post #but still a tag tip #if you have ocs in your fic #JUST TAG Original Character(s)#if you wanna specify more characteristics in other tags that’s fine #but ALWAYS keep the plain Original Character(s) tag in there as well #same goes for y/n and reader insert stuff #fanfiction #fanfic #transformative works #Ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 author #goddam this is a mess💀#thoughts from the pit

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soulwillower · 3 years

Text

semi-charming • bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested: Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :) + AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH + don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au,

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional.

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that.

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake.

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise.

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door.

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes.

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either.

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music."

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off."

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation.

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding.

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give.

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in."

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it.

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him.

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?"

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms.

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?"

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person.

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst.

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg.

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall.

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!"

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him.

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either.

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts.

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet.

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack."

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf.

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot.

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you.

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip.

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane. "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly.

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth.

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away.

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid.

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh.

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from.

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done."

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated."

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly.

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are, i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk.

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out.

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you.

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you.

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own. "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving?

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants.

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes.

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down.

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate.

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once.

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure.

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?"

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to."

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock.

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back.

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly.

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan.

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums.

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out.

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce.

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building.

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours.

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

"you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to.

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already.

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple.

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours.

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close.

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters.

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall.

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous.

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease.

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie @decafcoffeew

#bill denbrough #bill denbrough smut #losers club x reader #losers club smut

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maddiwrites · 3 years

Text

Breathe With Me

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Summary: After finding out who hurt you on that horrific night, JJ helps you through another panic attack and makes plans to protect his girl.

Note: This was requested a long time ago after a chapter of my rewrite was posted! Instead of doing JJ x OC, like requested, I changed it to JJ x Reader so that people who don’t read my rewrite can enjoy it too. Hopefully this is okay with ya’ll.

Word Count: 3.5k

WARNINGS: Sexual Assault!!! This chapter has descriptions of sexual assault. Please do not read if this is TRIGGERING!!!!

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673

Masterlist

It was another regular day on the island. Hot and crowded with tourists. With everyone working, you decided to tag along with JJ and Pope to delivery groceries for Heyward’s business. Usually this meant going to Figure Eight, your least favorite place to be. Normally it didn’t creep you out too much, but because of a rather recent incident, you didn’t like being there.

Right after your dad went missing, you spent a lot of time with Kie as she lived out her Kook Year. Avoiding the Pogues and John B and surrounding yourself with stuck up assholes and their expensive drugs and alcohol helped you forget about your own family crisis. You would do anything to take your mind off your dad’s disappearance even if it meant getting high on whatever was offered to you. You didn’t ask twice about what it was. You figured if the rich people we’re doing it, it couldn’t be that bad right?

One night you did a long line surrounded by Rafe and a couple of his buddies. Pretty much everything after that was a blur. Your memories are fuzzy, like a puzzle piece you can’t piece together. The last thing you remember is your black hitting something soft, like a mattress or a pillow. You thought you heard the zipper of your shorts being pulled down but figured it was Kie helping you change into a pair of pajamas.

The next morning you woke up practically naked with a blanket covering your bottom half and your bra pulled down to your stomach. You began to panic and ran your hands down your side, flinching at the tenderness by your hips. The skin was yellow/green and getting ready to bruise. Your breathing became shallow and your throat tightened up. You fumbled around the room you didn’t recognize for your clothes and slid them on, not caring what was backwards or inside out. You stumbled out the door and tip toed down the long staircase of the large house you were in. Figure Eight, you thought.

You didn’t go home first. You went to Kie’s house. Because your body ached. Because you wanted to cry but didn’t want John B or the other boys to hear you. Because you were afraid to be naked around anyone but another girl. The second she opened the door, you sobbed into her arms and told her what you think happened to you. Kie tried to get you to go to the police or even the hospital, but you couldn’t fathom the idea of anyone knowing about what happened. Not even a stranger. Because you were embarrassed. You blamed yourself for this happening to you. You were high as fuck, trying to forget about your family troubles. You were the one to make yourself weak and vulnerable. No one else. Someone just took advantage of the position you put yourself in.

Kie didn’t pressure you. She wanted to support you in whatever decision you made, despite wanting justice for you and sending whoever the sleaze bag was to jail. She sat on the toilet and talked to you as you showered slowly. You spent most of the time staring at the wall and feeling ever inch of your body. You felt so dirty and no amount of soap or scrubbing could make you feel any cleaner.

You stayed at her house for a couple of days until John B eventually texted her because he was worried. You both decided it was time for you to go home, but you never told them what happened. You were afraid of what John B and even JJ would do if they found out. And the last thing you wanted was for either of them to get hurt or in trouble.

John B didn’t notice something was off as much as JJ did. He could tell you were being more quiet and reserved than usual. Your usual style of crop tops and jean shorts changed to sweats and baggy t shirts. You slept with your door locked and didn’t touch a single can of beer since you came home.

Moving on from that night was a slow and gruesome process, one you don’t know if you’ll ever fully recover form. Luckily for you, JJ was a great distracter. He was an amazing story teller, he could make you laugh with a small hand gesture, and his laugh could draw you in for hours. No one was surprised when the two of you eventually started dating. Not even John B, who was a little apprehensive about it at first.

To JJ, everything came to light when another make out session became heated. Like that morning, it became hard to breathe and your mind wandered off to what could have happened to you that night. In a blink of an eye, you were back in Figure Eight with someone pulling your zipper down. You could physically feel the bruises on your hips again and your skin burning.

A panic attack emerged and JJ was left confused and lost. Fortunately for you, he was quick to realize something was seriously wrong and helped you through it. He breathed with you and talked you down. When you were calm, you explained what happened. At first he was pissed. Pissed at whoever could have done this to you and even a little bit at you and Kie for keeping this from him. He was ready to charge out of the house, grab John B, and find the sick son of a bitch who would touch an unconscious girl. But your cries stopped him. He’s never heard pain in your voice like he did that night. It physically cracked his heart into a million little pieces and he dropped every instinct he had and stayed with you instead.

Since then, he’s been the most supportive and protective boyfriend. At every boneyard party, he would keep an eye out for any Kook that decided to show their face on your turf. He took note of anyone looking at you in a weird way. He carried the gun he stole from Scooter in his backpack for protection. He was serious about using it too. No one touches his girl and gets away with it.

Luckily, nothing happened between JJ and any Kook. No one made a move to talk to you or tease you. Kooks kept their usual distance from you, which not only made you feel better for yourself but because you didn’t want something to happen to JJ. You know the rules of the game of this island. Nothing bad ever happens to Kooks. They don’t know consequences.

When Pope docks his boat, he asks if you would come with him to drop groceries off at the Thorntons. If he did it alone, it would cause two trips and he doesn’t want to waste time.

As you go to agree, JJ steps in and shakes his head as he looks between you two. “I don’t think thats a good idea.”

“Why not?” Pope asks, completely clueless.

You subtly shake your head, silently begging for JJ not to say anything. Pope and John B still didn’t know and you want to keep it that way. Sure you would feel safer with JJ by your side, but you won’t be alone. You will be with Pope. And who would try to start something in the middle of the day anyway?

“It’s fine, J,” You tell him. You even try to joke. “I’m sure you’ll survive one hour without me.”

When you kiss his cheek, JJ turns to look at you with his brows pinched together with worry. “Y/N...”

“Seriously, J...” You say. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.” You whisper that last part as Pope turns to get the bags.

“You have your phone?”

You nod and pull it out of your pocket to show him. “Yes. I’ll call you if anything happens.”

As JJ walks in the opposite direction of you and Pope, you feel the tension in your shoulders get tighter. The sight of these homes gives you flashbacks. The worst part about all of this is you don’t even know who hurt you. It could’ve been anyone - a touron even. It would be easier to know who did it so you know who to avoid.

Pope notices your change in behavior but doesn’t mention it. Instead he keeps a silent eye on you and studies your every movement.

As you pass the golf course, you hear a couple cat calls and cheering from a group of teenagers. When you look up, you see Rafe, Topper, and one of their friends making their way over to you. You take a step behind Pope, hiding behind his body and keeping your eyes trained down on your shoes.

“What do we have here?” Rafe whistles as he comes closer. He looks down at the bags in your arms and the beer in Pope’s hand. “Bring us something?”

“These are already paid for,” Pope glares at them.

“Oh, right, right,” Rafe nods as if he understands. Then he takes is golf club and swings it at the brown paper bag in Pope’s arms, causing everything to spill out of it.

“Dude!”

“Sorry, man!” Rafe holds his hands up in fake surrender. He leans down to pick up a beer bottle and tosses it to his tall friend. “Trevor, you feeling thirsty?”

The guy, better known as Trevor, cracks the beer open and takes a long sip. When he looks down, he spots you and eyes your figure up and down. Then he smirks to himself and a shiver runs down your spine. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you. Like a piece of meat or someone he knows too much of.

Rafe catches his eye and smirks to himself. “Ah, yeah. I forgot. You and Routledge have some history.”

Pope looks over his shoulder at you and sees your chest rising and dropping at a quicker pace. You’re gripping the bags in your hands so tight that he can see your knuckles turning white. You look away from the group of Kooks at the golf course with a frown on your face. Something was wrong, Pope thought.

“Yeah, you could say that,” Trevor chuckles. He looks at you again and tilts his head. “What? You don’t remember me?”

“Pope...” You feel like you’re choking. How could he know you when you have no idea who he is? You don’t like where this is going.

Trevor continues, “Can’t say I blame you. You were out of your mind wasted that night -”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Pope says, looking between you and Trevor. He wasn’t one to get confrontational or angry, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. He didn’t like how you were acting. Something wasn't adding up. He knew you’ve hooked up with Kooks before, but this one was different.

“Almost as dead as her daddy,” Rafe chuckles. Something in Pope snaps and he pushes Rafe back by his shoulders. In retaliation, Rafe raises his golf club and smacks it against the middle of Pope’s back, causing him to fall down with a thump.

“Pope!” You cry and drop the bags you were holding and kneel next to him.

“Hey,” Trevor touches your shoulder to try and pull you away from the two fighting boys, but you flinch away from him.

“Don’t touch me! Get away from me!” You cry.

Trevor immediately holds up his hands in surrender and takes a step back. Your outburst causes everyone to freeze in their movements, even Rafe and Pope. The wheels in Topper’s head start to move a little quicker too. He looks between you and Trevor and feels off about your connection. You looked terrified. And Y/N Routledge was almost never terrified.

Even though you are outside, you feel claustrophobic. Your heart is beating so heavily against your ribcage that you wouldn’t be surprised if it were to break your ribs. Pope notices you’re two shades paler and having a hard time breathing. Tears are silently falling down your face and you continue to crawl away form the group of Kooks backwards.

“Y/N...” Pope says quietly.

“We should go,” Topper says. He never hated you like some of the other Kooks did. Sure you never got along, but a small part of him thought you were cool. He knew something was extremely wrong and he couldn’t help but think it had to do with their friend, Trevor. He looks at Rafe who continues to stare at you with surprise. “Dude.”

“Yeah...” Rafe says slowly. “Trev, let’s go.”

The three Kooks scatter back to the golf course. You squeeze your eyes tightly and grip the fabric of your shirt, pulling it away from your body because right now it just feels suffocating.

“Hey.” Pope crouches down near you and lightly touches your shoulder. His touch feels like an electric shock, making you flinch even further away. When you open your eyes, you’re back in some random Kook’s house on a mattress you’re unfamiliar with. “They’re gone. Hey, they’re gone.” Pope tries to be gentle with you, but he also wants to get you out of here and in a more comfortable setting.

“JJ,” You manage to say. Your throat feels on fire. “I need J-”

Pope immediately starts fumbling for his cell phone and dials his best friend’s number. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he impatiently listens to the ringing. “Come on. Come on.”

JJ answers. “Hey! Sorry I’m on my way back now. You’ll never believe how much this lady tipped me. I swear I’m coming on every -”

“JJ, shut up and listen to me. Y/N...” He glances back at you and sees you’re hunched over with your forehead resting on your knees and your fingers through your hair. “She’s having a panic attack or something. I - I don’t -”

“Where are you?” JJ’s once elated tone has dropped to a more serious one.

Pope tries explaining what part of the golf course they are near.

“Okay. I’ll be there in five minutes. Pope, get her under some shade or something. And if you can, try to get her to look at you. She needs to open her eyes to see where she is.” Pope nods, forgetting that JJ can’t see him. “Pope!”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. Okay, doing that now.”

JJ hangs up the phone so he can run faster.

Meanwhile, Pope crouches down in front of you again and says, “Y/N/N, hey. Can you open your eyes?” Pope lightly taps your ankles. “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just me.” You slowly blink your eyes open and sniffle back the tears. Pope smiles when he sees he’s made some sort of progress. “Hey. JJ’s on his way. Why don’t we move you under some shade? It’s getting pretty hot out here. Can I help you up?”

You nod and let Pope help you up and bring you a couple feet away under a large tree. Your back rests against the bark and you try taking deep breaths to calm the swirling nausea in your stomach.

It was Trevor. It had to be Trevor. From the way he looked at you, to the innuendo Rafe made. You knew in your heart that it was Trevor who had hurt you that night.

A part of you always wanted to know who did this, but another part of you wished you never figured it out. Because now his face will haunt you forever.

About a minute later, you hear another set of footsteps quickly coming your way. You panic, your immediate thought going to Trevor. Would he come back?

But then you hear your boyfriend’s beautiful voice. “Hey.” His tone is soft and gentle. “Hey, baby. Look at me. It’s JJ.” You open your eyes and meet the lovely blue one’s you fell in love with. He grins at you and takes your hands in his.

“I’m so - sorry,” You sob, suddenly hating yourself for bringing this back up to your boyfriend and ruining Pope’s work routine. “I - I -”

“Hey,” JJ says and pulls your hands to his chest, palms down. “Remember what we did last time? Match my breathing, okay? Ready? Take a deep breath.”

Pope watches with awe silently from the sidelines. He’s never seen this side of either one of you. You so panic stricken and scared, JJ so intent with concern and intuitive.

You follow JJ’s breathing until you feel calm enough to breathe on your own. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” JJ shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

You look down at your hands that are folded in your lap. You want to tell him. Of course you want to tell him. But you’re afraid of what happens next. You’re afraid of how JJ will respond.

“Rafe, Topper, and their friend Trevor jumped us,” Pope answers for you. Like JJ, he’s also curious about what happened. Of course he was there for the physical breakdown, but he wants to know more about what you’re going through emotionally.

“Did they hurt you?” JJ looks back at you and inspects every inch of your open skin for signs of scratches or bruises.

You shake your head. “No.”

“Then...”

“I know who it was,” You say, your voice as soft as a whisper.

“What? You mean. -” JJ’s head snaps back and forth between you and Pope. “Who?”

You dip your chin into your chest to hide your tears as they start to flow again. You take a deep breath and look back up at your boyfriend. “Trevor.”

“Who the fuck is Trevor?” JJ looks at Pope.

Pope shrugs, “I don’t know. He was golfing with the other two Kooks.”

“Where’d they go?” JJ stands up, causing both you and Pope to follow him.

“No, JJ -” You try to pull him back to you but he slips his wrist out of your grip.

“JJ!” Pope calls out to JJ who walks in the direction the other three disappeared to.

“JJ, stop!” Your voice cracks which makes JJ turn around to look at you. “Please. I just want to go home.”

JJ freezes and bites down on his bottom lip, feeling conflicted. His head is telling him to run after the Kooks and beat every single one of their faces in until he finds the one named Trevor. But his heart is telling him to walk back to you and take care of you.

“Okay,” he decides and wraps his arm around your waist. “Let’s get you home.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

After you fall asleep later that night, JJ tip toes out of your room and silently shuts your door behind him. You passed out early, exhausted from the panic attacks and crying. In the living room, Pope, Kie, and John B are waiting. You had no other choice but to tell John B what happened. Now that Pope knew, it felt wrong keeping it from your brother as well. Of course it caused an argument, but in the end, John B only wants the best for you and to protect you. Which is why they’re here now.

“Ready to go?” JJ looks directly at your brother.

John B holds up his car keys. “Let’s go.”

“Whoa, where do you think you’re going?” Kie grabs John B by the elbow and glares at both of them.

“Where do you think?” JJ says.

When Pope and Kie stepped out of the room to check on you, JJ and John B both secretly decided that when you fell asleep, the two of them would sneak out and find this Trevor person and give him what he deserves.

“Don’t be stupid,” Pope says, looking between the two. “You know how this works. The two of you end up getting in trouble and he gets to walk away clean.”

“I don’t care. I’ll kill him -”

“You can’t,” Kie says.

“I’m not asking for your permission, Kie!”

“Where’s the gun?” Kie says. “If you’re going to do this, I’m not letting you bring the gun. Leave it here.”

JJ looks up at John B who reluctantly nods his head for JJ to give it up. The blonde sighs and reaches into the back of his waistband and pulls it out.

“This is a bad idea,” Pope says again even though he knows the other two don’t give a shit. In a way, he kind of respects it. He would go to if he didn’t have a scholarship to worry about.

“Keep an eye on her. We’ll be back in a couple hours,” John B says.

“You better hope you are. Because if you’re not, you’re only going to be making this worse for her,” Kie tells them.

Kie’s words have both John B and JJ rethinking their decision. But only for a split second.

JJ nods. “Don’t worry. I’d never leave my girl behind.”

#jj maybank #jj x reader #jj fic #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x reader #jj #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagine #outer banks imagine #outer banks fic #obx fic #obx imagine

1K notes · View notes

tsukishumai · 3 years

Text

pairing: Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!reader word count: 2.7k (idk I’m sorry) tags/warnings: fluff, smut, NSFW, bondage, oral(f!receiving), MINORS please DNI with this post a/n: a big thank you to @forgetou and @neobakas for beta-reading this piece for me. ilysm <3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

You were always incredibly considerate of Sakusa. It had been that way from the moment the two of you had met. You didn’t scoff at how he needed to be the first one in the locker rooms after practice, or laugh at his post-game rituals. You quietly adjusted to his odd habits, no fanfare or complaints. You never did so with any disdain nor treated his quirks as if they were a nuisance. You just accepted those parts of him without a second thought, considering it just as important to him as his limbs.

So yes, Sakusa fell for the kind girl that made him feel normal – the one that avoided taking him to crowded places, and stitched his jersey number onto a face mask. He thinks your jokes are hilarious, and he feels proud when he’s the one making you laugh. He likes it when you cook his favorite meals, and he appreciates the way you stay up to wait for him when he gets home a little late. He notices the effort you put into always looking pretty for him every day, always waiting for him to initiate contact for fear of invading his personal space.

But that’s just the thing.

Sakusa doesn’t want any personal space from you. He loves the way you smell, and the way your skin feels beneath his fingers. He daydreams about holding you in his arms, and rubbing circles along your back as you relaxed against him. He gets butterflies in his stomach when you kiss his cheek without asking him first, and he revels in the timid look on your face when you apologize for doing so.

He doesn’t mind. Why would he? Despite any preconceived notions one might have of him, Sakusa enjoys affection – from the right person. He’s not going to give Bokuto a high five, nor is he going to shake Hinata’s hand. Sakusa never fails to get the odd look from Atsumu when he slides his hand into yours without a second thought, or when he ‘allows’ you to brush his hair away from his face.

Sakusa wants to scoff whenever he hears that phrase. He doesn’t allow you to touch him. He yearns for it like his lungs need air.

So of course he notices when you try to keep him at arm’s length.

You were never afraid to tell him how you felt, easily slipping I love yous and I’m missing you into daily texts and conversation. It made his heart flutter, but Sakusa wasn’t a man of many words. He’s not sure how to write a love letter, and he’s never even picked up a poetry book. When you ask him how much he loves you, he’ll just look you dead in the eye and say “A lot?”

No, you won’t be receiving sonnets nor prose about his undying affection. He’d much rather just show you.

His every touch is filled with so much care, delicate but sure as they travel across the stretch of your skin. He places gentle kisses along your pressure points, feening for the feel of your pulse against his lips. He wants to taste every inch of you, and commit the sensation of you on his tongue to memory.

Yet whenever he tries to lower his head past your navel, you push him away. You try to distract your rejection with your kiss, rolling him over instead to take him entirely in your mouth.

It’s not that Sakusa is complaining; how could he when he’s pumping his dick into your silky throat, watching your saliva dribble past your chin as you choke on his length?

He forgets about your denial until his next attempt, when he’s nipping at the skin of your hips, moving his mouth to forge a wet trail that lead to the space between your legs, and yet again you pull him up from his spot, kissing him and grabbing him until he plunged himself inside of you instead.

As he collapses next to you in bed, wrapping his arms around you while you nuzzle your face into his chest, for the first time ever, he feels unsatisfied — as if he hadn’t done all that he could have.

He brings this issue up to you the next day, unabashedly asking why you wouldn’t let him kiss you.

“What do you mean, Omi?” You asked, confused. “We kiss all the time.”

“No, I mean,” he turns slightly red as he gestures to your crotch, “There.”

The flustered look on your face shouldn’t have made him hard, but it did. He liked the way you stuttered and widened your eyes, searching desperately for the right words to say.

“I dont know,” you answered finally, “I figured you thought that kind of stuff was gross.”

You cut the conversation off there, no longer wanting to speak on the subject, but it haunted Sakusa for the rest of the day.

Gross? Why would you think that of him? Don’t you know that he wants to claim ever single inch of your body, wants to dip his fingers into you and watch your eyes roll to the back of your head, wants you to sit on his face until he can’t breathe? Had he not been doing a good enough job showing you this?

Sakusa shakes his head, feeling disappointed in himself.

It’s alright. He’s got a plan.

Later that night, as he ran his hands along your waist, lightly dragging his nails across your stomach, he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “I want to try something new tonight.”

You didn’t even think about it as you nodded your head eagerly like he knew you would, gazing up at him with half-lidded eyes that screamed of lust.

He sits up, and you try to sit up with him but he just pushes you back down onto the mattress. You looked up at him curiously as he reaches down the side of the bed to where he placed a plastic bag with his earlier purchase.

Sakusa’s hand emerged holding a pair of silver handcuffs, and he smirks at the way your eyes gleamed with excitement.

“Hands up,” he commands, and you quickly obliged. He looped the handcuffs behind the bars of his headboard, cuffing one of your wrists on each side. He left it slightly loose so as not to injure your skin, but as you struggled against your bindings, Sakusa was pleased to find that it would be impossible for you to get out.

Your arms were outstretched above you, and Sakusa roves his hungry eyes over your dips and curves, so exposed and vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do.

But only one thing was on his mind.

He begins with a soft kiss placed in the crook of your neck, ghosting over your collarbones before leaving marks all across your chest. You fidgeted beneath him, and he placed two hands on your waist.

“Stay still,” he commanded, and you simply gulped.

Sakusa dips his head back down, supple lips enclosing around your hardened nipple, and you arched into his touch. You shiver when his teeth nips at you, while he brings his other hand to cup your other breast, fingers pinching and twisting the previously ignored bud until you were a whimpering mess.

He disconnects his mouth a loud pop, but it wasn’t long until he begins to drag his tongue across your stomach. His direction slowly moves further down, and he can feel you slightly tense up. He ignores the way you try to wiggle your body away from his ministrations; you have nowhere to go, and he has you right where he wants you.

Sakusa draws circles around your navel, his hands finally coming down to rest on your hips.

“Omi,” you say nervously, the handcuffs lightly clinking against the metal bars they were attached to, “I’m not sure if...”

Your words died on your tongue when Sakusa’s grip tightened on your hips, looking up at you through his lashes before darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

“Relax,” he cooed, “Be a good girl for me.”

You nearly choked, your throat feeling dry watching Sakusa move his hands down to your thighs, kissing his way down to uncharted territory. You felt uneasy, and nervous, unable to keep your insecurities at bay when you felt Sakusa lick at the junction of your thigh and pelvis. He was so close to you – what if he thought it was dirty? Or didn’t like your scent? You could feel the warmth of his tongue trace up your pussy lips, and it was involuntary the way you tried to kick him away.

Suddenly, you felt a hand grip you tightly behind your knees, forcefully pushing your legs apart and up against your chest. You gasped in surprise, face turning red at your position. You squirmed against Sakusa’s grip, but his hold on you was strong, and the silver cuffs around your wrist were doing their job well.

“I thought I said be a good girl?” Sakusa questioned, his expression stern while he had your legs pinned down. “Or am I going to have to punish you for being such a disobedient little slut?”

The butterflies in your stomach manifested themselves as the slick wetness between your legs, and Sakusa smirked at the starstruck look on your face.

“I’m a good girl,” you whispered, though the position you found yourself was anything but.

Sakusa responded by pushing your legs even wider, looking down to admire the view. He could feel the tip of his dick struggling against his boxers, a large wet spot on the material indicating just how much he wanted to wreck you. But that could wait.

You start to feel shy under his intense stare, trying not to wiggle away and get another reprimanding.

“Omi, what are you – ahh!”

Sakusa licks one long stroke up your slit, and you couldn’t stop your entire body from shivering. He could feel your legs tremble beneath his fingers, and who knew just one lick could already elicit such a reaction from you?

He moves one hand away from your leg, using two of his fingers to spread apart your folds. Like a man finding treasure, he plunges his tongue onto your swollen red clit, sucking and nipping at it gently before flattening his tongue, drawing patterns that made you feel like your entire body was on flames.

Your head was thrown back against the pillows, back arching as you struggled to catch your breath. Sakusa flicked his tongue against your pussy so expertly, alternating his speed and rhythm in a way that had your legs shaking violently.

“Ohh fuuuuckk,” you managed to groan out, gripping onto your bindings so tightly, your knuckles were turning white. The lewd sounds of him lapping at your clit could only be heard in between your gasping breaths.

Sakusa flicks his tongue up one last time before pulling away slightly, staring up to drink in your flushed expression. Your tongue was lolled out the side of your mouth, eyes rolled back and chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Your arms hung limp from its tether, and Sakusa can’t think of a prettier picture.

He looks down at your shining cunt, glistening and swollen and Sakusa didn’t think twice about slipping two fingers into your slopping entrance.

He hooks your leg over his shoulder, smiling as you thrashed helplessly, body reacting fiercely to the way he hooked his fingers and found your gspot with ease.

You squeezed your eyes shut, screams and moans filling the room, unable to adjust to the pleasure of Sakusa rhythm.

You could feel the heat pool into your stomach, tightening in a knot so fraught with tension, it was only seconds before you snapped.

Sakusa could feel the way you pretty little cunt began to tighten around his fingers, quickly slipping in a third one and burying them in deeper.

“Ki...kiyoomi.. I’m .. I’m gonna —“

Sakusa latches back onto your clit, flattening his tongue and sucking in rhythm to the way he pumped into you.

Your legs tightened around his head, but Sakusa didn’t stop. He could feel every tremble, every shake of your thigh against his cheeks, blocking out the sounds of the way you called out his name.

You bucked your hips up into his mouth, and he could feel you gush on his tongue. Sakusa lapped up every single drop, and you felt your body twitch as he continued to lick your sensitive clit. Finally, he surfaces from his meal, looking up at you with your sex dribbling down his chin. It was sinful the way he withdrew his fingers from your cunt and reached up to shove them in your mouth. You sucked on them eagerly, eliciting a smirk from the wavy haired man.

“You taste so fucking good, don’t you?”

Sakusa pulls away, standing up to get rid of his boxers before quickly returning to his spot on the bed.

Your arms were numb, and your legs felt weak, but Sakusa gave you no chance to recover from his previous performance, grabbing your ankles once more and pressing your legs down into a press.

“Such a good fucking little whore,” Sakusa murmurs in your ear, nearly crushing you in the process. “You just let me do whatever the fuck I want, don’t you?”

Without a warning, he slams into you in one hard thrust, the only retaliation coming from your mouth was a strangled groan.

“This pretty pussy is all mine,” Sakusa muttered, keeping your ankles steady by your ears, his cadence unforgiving, and unwavering.

“Omi.. I.. I can’t —!”

Sakusa responded by angling his hips to hit your sweet spot, reaching deeper than you thought possible.

“Yes, you fucking can.”

The crude sounds of his drive were only amplified by the way you gushed all over his dick, the mess you made staining the 400 thread count sheets he so carefully picked out for the both of you.

Sakusa wanted to hold out longer, he really did. But the way you looked under him right now, so fucked out and stupid, he couldn’t help but feel himself get closer and closer to his limit.

“Kiyoomi— please!! I can’t —“

In one swift movement, Sakusa pulls out, pumping his cock until he spilled hot white all over your stomach.

You hadn’t done anything but lay there — bound, at that — but you were desperately gasping for air, your heart beating so fast, you thought it would explode out of its cage.

Sakusa sits back on his heels, equally out of breath, his dick growing limp in his palm, though it still twitched at the sight of you covered all over his cum.

He leans over to give you a peck on the nose, leaving you to walk to his attached bathroom.

He returned a few seconds later with a warm towel, gently cleaning the mess he had made all over your stomach. You nearly fell asleep at his touch, only opening your eyes when he unlocked the cuffs around your wrists.

Your arms fell back down limp, and Sakusa chuckled, kissing the red marks left by the cold silver metal.

“I’m sorry for this,” he mumbled against your skin.

You smiled at him lazily, bringing a hand to tuck a loose strand of wavy hair behind his ear.

“Don’t be sorry.”

He smiled once more before planting a soft kiss on your lips. He settles into the empty space next to you, pulling you on to his lap. You laid your head on his shoulder, and your hand settled on top of his chest, sketching soft circles with the pad of our fingers. He rested his cheek on top of your head, while he supported your back and held your thigh.

“Did you… like that?” He asked quietly, his deep voice disturbing the calm that had nearly engulfed you.

You felt your face heat up, burying further into his chest. He chuckled lowly, holding you tightly and placing a kiss on your temple.

“I did… d-did you?”

Sakusa brings his hand up to your chin, tilting it upwards until you were facing him.

“I loved it.”

He leaned down to place a gentle kiss, filled with all the tender love and care he never gets to say.

Suddenly, He pulls away.

“Hey, what are you—“

He slid his hands beneath the back of your knees, picking you up bridal style in one easy movement. He turned around and made his way back to the bathroom.

“Come on, let’s take a bath first.”

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gyusfavlibra · 3 years

Text

YOU MAY NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK ANYWHERE!!!

This is a imagine I made on my Wattpad that hasn't been released yet so I posted it here. @ivnasfilm is my wattpad btw!

Warnings: Fluff? Smut? Sexual interactions, language, cockblocking, Ward Cameron mentions, grinding, mentions of sex

••••

"Are your parents home?"

"No, they're at Thornton's for a couple hours."

"Sarah and Wheezie, too?"

"Yes," Rafe replied to his questioning girlfriend, Y/n. The duo have been dating for a year now. Y/n has been inside Rafe's house many times. She met him through her brother Kelce. He was pretty worried about it at first, but eventually Kelce would've had to get over it because Y/n is 18. She's a legal adult. She can do whatever the hell she wants.

They got closer by attending parties together, spending days at the country club, golf course. Sometimes even just sitting and talking at the beach. It was more than enough for both of them and they enjoyed it all. They made it official by attending Midsummers together. It was a pretty big deal to them since every single Kook would now know that Rafe Cameron officially had a girlfriend.

The first time she met Sarah, they hit it off pretty well. Did sleepovers, painted nails, read magazines about hot guys. Basically girly stuff. Even took fun trips on the Cameron's boat to get away from their boyfriends. They became best friends and truly loved each other's company.

Just like Rafe enjoyed Y/n's.

"Sooo, can I come inside?"

He leant his head back against the car seat. Staring at the girl who was sitting in the driver side of her vehicle. "Can you come inside?"

"Yeah, or- do you want me to?"

The mood in the car lightened as their talk became less questioning and more seductive. Y/n leaning over the center console, her breath hitting Rafe's face in all the ways he likes. Her hand reached over, brushing against his thigh.

"Do I even have to answer that?"

She shook her head at the Cameron before connecting their lips. Softly and gentle was how it was starting off, before Rafe placed his hand onto the zipper of her jeans.

"Not in here. Let's go inside."

"Okay."

The couple exited the car, Y/n making sure to lock it, and headed inside the house. Rafe using his own key to get indoors. They ran up the steps to Rafe's room, shutting the door behind them. Y/n removed her maroon crew neck, sitting herself on Rafe's bed as he removed his t-shirt.

He gently pushed her down sliding his heavier body between her legs. Leaving little kisses from her chest and up. He knew better than to give her hickeys on the neck because of Kelce so he avoided that.

His hand ran itself up and down her waist, giving it a small squeeze. They liked skin pressure. Tension. They began moving upwards, pushing under her cami top. A cropped tank that protected your breast if you didn't want to wear a bra. She tend to wear them often when around Rafe for these special purposes. And today, she just got lucky.

His thumb grazed the side of her breast. "Can I take this off?"

"Mhm."

"Hey Rafe, I need a the U-"

Before he could continue, Wheezie came barging through the door. Covering her eyes. Rafe groaned at the fact that his sister didn't knock. Knowing whenever the door is closed, you knocked.

"Wheezie, we talked about this-"

"I know. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting," she sighed. "Hi, Y/n."

"Hi, Wheez."

"What do you need? Why aren't you at dinner with dad and Sarah?"

"Halfway through the dinner, Rose threw up because Topper's parents made snail and she didn't like it. She made an excuse saying she was probably coming down with the flu. So we came back early."

"What did the Thornton's say?" Y/n asked. Intrigued by this hilarious story as Rafe put back on his shirt.

"Nothing. Just that we should head home just incase they could catch whatever it was."

"That sounds awesome!"

"Yeah, I know. Hey, wanna see the video."

"Oh absolutely," Y/n exclaimed, getting up from Rafe's bed. He sighed as he watched the two girls laugh at the gross vomiting. Althought part of him was glad Y/n was getting along with his little sister. "That's freaking gross. Cool. Like really cool. But gross."

"Yeah, i'm gonna upload it to my Instagram."

"Tag me?"

"Obviously."

"Awesome! Thanks."

Rafe stood. "So, what did you need?"

"I need the USB cord to connect my phone and laptop to upload the video in a file just in case dad and Rose make me take it down."

He huffed out his breath, walking over to his desk. He opened the top drawer, pulling out a mid-length white cord, handing it to his sister. She thanked him and tried to leave, but Rafe stopped her at the doorway. Death glaring her.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone. Chill out. Not like I wanna talk about it and picture it again."

"We weren't doing anything."

"I may be young, but I'm not stupid."

"She's got a point," Y/n agreed. Wheezie fist bumped her and left. Rafe shutting the door behind her. He turned to Y/n who just shrugged at the annoyed boyfriend of hers.

He smiled as he walked up to her, pushing his face close to hers. "Now, where were we?"

"You tell me."

He chuckled, the vibration against her lips sending chills down her whole body. He kissed her seductively like he did once before. This time Y/n pushed Rafe down onto the large bed, enough room for her to switch that position.

Her hands rested on his ribs as she grinded her clothed area against his member. A moan escaped her lips as a huff left his. The jeans in between them horrifying this exciting interaction.

She swayed her tongue and lips against his neck. His eyes rolling to the back of his head, letting out a grunt. She scooted down a few inches so she wasn't sitting directly on top of his belt.

"God, these pants got to go."

"So do yours."

She undid the strap of his waistline. Next thing was unbuckling his pants. She undid the button that lied above the zipper before grabbing the loose metal tab, pulling it down it's line.

"Rafe, dad needs you downsta- HOLY SHIT!"

"OH MY GOD," he groaned out loud. Y/n pushed herself off the dirty blonde, landing beside him. Sarah stood in the doorway, eyes covered, laughing.

"Stop laughing."

"You guys were totally about to do it," she sang as she pointed between them.

"Shut up, Sarah."

"Dad wants you. Said something about the golf course or country club. One of the two. I don't know," she shrugged as she sat beside Y/n. Rafe looked to his girlfriend.

"I'll be right back. You," he pointed to Sarah. "Be gone before i'm back."

"Will do, dickeroo."

Rafe left downstairs as Sarah turned to Y/n and smiled with eyebrows raised. "What are you staring at?"

"Uh...you. Were you guys about to have sex? Since when?"

"Well our first time together was months ago. Like 3 or 4."

"When we were first friends, you said you never planned on having it until you're married. Since when has that changed?"

She shrugged. "Since I met Rafe."

"You guys are too adorable. Well you, not him. Can't stand him."

"Yeah, I know. Sometimes I can't stand Kelce. I wanna kill him."

"Yeah, well let me get going before Rafe tries to kill me." (No pun intended)

She hugged Y/n before leaving the room, just as Rafe walked back in. This time locking the door before shutting it. "That is the last interruption for the night. I told everyone I was going to bed."

"Well, good cause I am trying to get my freak on," she laughed as he jumped back onto of her. Finishing what they've been trying to start.

Thanks for reading!!!

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter Five: Paris Revealed (Stories/Memories)

AO3

Marinette flinches back as the room erupts in shouting. The younger boy, who was definitely younger than her and yet almost (if not definitely) taller than her, was fiercely glaring while he screamed at Mr. Wayne in….was that Arabic? The man that walked in with him was waving around the knife in his hand while Dick yelled at Mr. Wayne, his face filled with confusion instead of fury. Glancing around for a way out, Marinette makes eye contact with Alfred who nods behind him. Sneaking away from the group of angry men, Marinette follows Alfred into the kitchen and instantly feels at home. And much calmer.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, breathing deeply to avoid spiraling again. Alfred simply hands her a cookie before turning around and putting water in a kettle.

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Marinette. It seems Master Bruce has forgotten all sense today and is instead insistent on acting like a fool. It was wrong of him to announce you like that, without preparing you or the boys beforehand. I do hope that his atrocious display of proper manners doesn’t make you want to leave.” Alfred says, and Marinette’s eyebrows shoot upwards. Was he? Was Alfred actually blaming this situation on Mr. Wayne? Was it Mr. Wayne’s fault? Did he not actually hate her? Did he just make a mistake?

“I- what?” Marinette says, unsure of herself.

“You, my dear, are not at fault. Your father didn’t tell any of his sons that you were coming to the manor today, or that you existed in general. And judging by your face, you weren’t prepared for the boys to be here either.” Alfred clarifies.

“Oh. No, I wasn’t. Mr. Wayne just said that he wanted to get to know me, and he knew I wanted to get to know him. I- my birth mother passed away. But my Maman knew her, so I can find out from her how I’m similar to Bridgette. But neither of my parents knew Mr. Wayne, and I just wanted to know if I was like him, I guess. I didn’t even know who he was until two days ago.” Marinette admits.

“As in you found out Bruce Wayne was your birth father two days ago or-” Alfred trails off, waiting for her to clarify.

“Oh no. I found out the name of my birth father awhile ago. It’s just- I really don’t pay attention to celebrities. The only ones I really know are designers. So I didn’t put two and two together, and I didn’t even know about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises until a few days ago. My friend Adrien made me google him and that’s when I found out about...the boys.” She says, stopping herself from saying her brothers as she was still unsure if Mr. Wayne actually wanted her like he wanted the others.

“Well I’m certain that things will start to calm down shortly. In the meantime, would you care for some tea?” Alfred asks, holding up the kettle. Marinette nods gratefully, trying hard to stop her inner spiral from drowning her.

---

“What do you mean daughter?” Damian snarls, finally switching to English. Bruce blinks at the boy before sighing.

“I mean, you have a biological sister.” He says, tired and wishing he had been able to convince Marinette to go somewhere else. Not that he didn’t want her to meet her siblings. But it definitely wasn’t the laid back first meeting that he wanted.

“You mean half-sister.” Damian spits out, crossing his arms and sticking his nose into the air.

“Shut up, Demon Spawn. She’s our sister, get over it. Where’d the kid come from? Her mom drop her off?” Jason asks, obviously trying to actually understand the situation.

“No. I first met her at the Museum and had my suspicions. She’s in Gotham on a class trip, and before you ask, yes. We had a DNA test done and yes, I am her father.” Bruce says, frowning when he sees Dick’s hurt expression morph into one of excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait! Was she the girl who was sassing the Joker?” He asks quietly, practically buzzing with excitement. When Bruce nods, Dick cheers and runs from the room. Okay then.

“Wait, she met the Joker?” Jason asks, his expression turning dark. Bruce watches his son’s face morph into one of disgust when he puts it together. “She’s the French kid he had at gunpoint, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Which is one of the reasons why we both thought the manor would be a more appropriate meeting place rather than somewhere public.” Bruce says, sighing as Damian once again starts screaming. This was not what he had planned.

---

After just a few minutes with Alfred, Marinette already felt calmer. Calm enough to giggle at another story about something that one of the boys- one of her brothers- did. Calm enough to let her guard down. And mess up.

“If you wanna see something ridiculous, you should look up the 26th time Monsieur Ramier was akumatized into Monsieur Pigeon. He made all the buildings turn into bird cages and all the food turned into bird seed. Luckily it didn’t last long, but seeing the Mayor of Paris stuck inside a giant bird cage was kind of hilarious.” Marinette rambles, giggling at the memory. It was definitely a needed akuma, situated right between two super destructive akumas. Monsieur Pigeon was, while a nuisance, always a breath of fresh air. His akumatized form was brought on by his fierce protectiveness of the pigeons, which luckily never led to death for civilians.

“Pardon me, Miss Marinette, but could I ask what you mean by ‘akumatized’?” Alfred asks, his posture suddenly stiff. Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. She told someone outside of Paris about the situation happening in Paris. Well crap. Normal Parisians didn’t know about the media block that she had set up with the help of the Mayor and Max. But after her calls to the Justice League were ignored, and she realized how disastrous it would be for a member of the League to be akumatized, the media block was the best choice. Time to act clueless.

“Akumatized, as in, a person is possessed by an akuma? Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s been happening in Paris for almost two years.” She says, hoping he doesn’t ask to see any evidence. This isn’t good, this is awful, this-

“And what is an akuma?” Alfred asks. Okay, this isn’t too bad.

“It’s an evil butterfly sent out by the villain, Hawkmoth.” Marinette says, giving out more information than she’s really comfortable with. Okay, time to change the subject, no more questions about heroes or villains or-

“Marinette!” A new voice calls, sliding into the kitchen, almost immediately falling over.

“Master Dick, have you forgotten about your ban on the kitchen?” Alfred asks, his lips quirking up in amusement.

“Awww, Alfred, I just wanted to talk to Marinette. I feel bad for all of us overwhelming her back there.” Dick says with a pout that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him. Despite obviously being at least ten years older than her.

“Don’t feel bad. It was just...a lot all at once.” Marinette says with a small smile.

“So I have to ask, are you the one who sassed the Joker at the Museum the other day?” He asks, a wide grin on his face as he sits on one of the stools. Marinette’s eyes widen and she blinks. How?

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t a big deal though. He thought I was a Wayne- well, I guess he figured it out before I did- but I think he just wanted to scare my class.” She says, waving her hand to brush off the topic. She really didn’t want to talk about the Joker. Because she was sure it would turn into-

“I apologize for asking, but have you been caught up in the villain attacks in Paris before?” Alfred asks, Marinette instantly panicking. Sure, she’d been caught up in almost every single akuma battle as Ladybug. But there were a few on record where she was targeted as Marinette, and even a few battles that she assisted as Marinette. And then there was Kwami Buster…

“Well, a few. But basically everyone in Paris has dealt with it at some point. That’s just what happens when there’s an attack so often, you know? And my school seems to be a hotspot but that makes sense because teenagers are full of negative emotions and-” Marinette cuts off her rambling, cursing herself on the inside. Great job, Mari. Now they’re going to be worried or they’re going to think you’re a freak or-

“What do you mean negative emotions? Why would that matter?” Dick asks, his previous cheerful smile replaced with a look that clearly meant business.

“That’s how the villain chooses his targets. Negative emotion. If someone is having a bad enough day, he can take control of them and give them powers and basically destroy the city trying to get to Ladybug and Chat Noir, who are our heroes. I only know what’s been posted on official sites like the Ladyblog or miraculousparis.org.” Marinette says, smiling apologetically and hoping that this conversation can be over.

“Have you ever been akumatized?” Dick asks, tension suddenly filling the room.

“No, thankfully. I’ve found ways to manage my negative emotions so that they can’t take me over. I don’t blame anyone who has been akumatized, it’s hard not to be. But, I also don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I was akumatized.” Because then her family would be a target. Because Hawkmoth would know her identity. And if Hawkmoth’s insistence on her being akumatized was anything to go on, she’d be a devastating akuma. And if Ladybug wasn’t fighting in the battle….would the cure even work?

“That is a lot of pressure, Miss Marinette.” Alfred says softly after a moment of tense silence. Marinette grins brightly.

“I can handle it, don’t worry!” She says, hoping no one can tell how hard it actually is. How hard it is constantly being strong. Never truly feeling a negative emotion.

---

Bruce winces at the faux cheerfulness in his daughter’s voice. He had only found out about the Paris situation a few days ago, but he was determined to fix it. Find a solution. Do something to help the city and by extension, his daughter. She’d be going back there soon. Back to a city that was being held hostage by an emotional terrorist. Bruce would fix this. He had to.

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