#tired bored and fuzz-brained

[cultrise]

FACE RIDING. GETO SUGURU

ʚ CONTENTS NSFW, college bf!suguru, oral (fem!receiving), clit rubbing, suguru eats you out on the couch to relieve you of muscle soreness, making out, mention of him having a pierced dick ᵎᵎ wc 2.4k

ᵎᵎ check the mlist for kinktober here !

you opened the door to your apartment, closing it after you and throwing your bag on the floor with a thud. you were nothing short of exhausted, the long lectures and the quickened walks around campus making your feet ache and your brain fuzz.

you took your shoes off hastily, putting the keys in your bag before lazily entering the living room. you heard the sound of a door closing and a figure peeked its head out from your bedroom "thought i heard you.. you okay?" the honey-sweet voice asked as your face softened.

standing in the hallway, on his way to reach you was your boyfriend, suguru, who took you in his arms with no hesitation, caressing your locks as he planted a gentle kiss on your head. your arms instinctively wrapped around his waist, head buried in his chest as you let out a tired sigh. it was quite fascinating how quick your body relaxed the second the familiar scent hit your nostrils.

"you look tired" suguru's voice drops a few octaves, barely above a whisper. you can't help but let your eyelids droop - suguru's calming voice was, after all, the perfect motive to go to sleep.

"i am... missed you" you murmur as suguru smiles, bending down to place another sweet kiss on the crown of your head. his hands start rubbing at your back, making you purr in response. it was a good thing he was holding you because your legs were inching closer to giving out.

"missed you too, ugly" you rolled your eyes at the nickname. as loving as your boyfriend was, he loved calling you names. he thought he was hilarious. you didn't mind it in the slightest. you knew he wasn't fooling anyone. 'ugly' to him meant 'you're the prettiest thing i've ever seen' and 'stupid' meant 'my smart girl'... you felt at ease hearing him talk to you like that, especially since you knew he never meant it.

with a tap on your shoulder, suguru made you turn his attention to him as he gestured to you with his finger "wanna lay down and tell me about your day?" he inquired, hands cupping your face. you nod slightly, letting him place another peck on your forehead before you wrap your arms around his neck and jump up, letting yourself be carried by him to the couch.

you melt into his touch as soon as he lays down, placing you on top of him. his fingers play mindlessly with your hair as you caress his sides "long day?" you hum in approval, raising your head and placing your chin on his chest. your eyes stopped to scan his features, in awe at how pretty he looked, even after all these years of being his. suguru truly had no bad angle.. and you knew that better than anyone else, having seen him from many positions.

"had a lot of boring classes.. i have so many assignments" you sigh as suguru caresses your cheek, eyes fixated on you, as attentive as ever. you melt into his touch, body stiff on top of his. the long classes and big distances between them had your body sore, every joint and muscle screaming in pain.

"yeah? i'll help you out" suguru continues with his touches, making you smile. you raised yourself up, towering over him as your thighs hugged his hips, making the raven-haired man smile and look up at you.

"haven't kissed you today" you pout, making him smile as his hands rest on the plush of your thighs.

"yes, you have. before you left" you roll your eyes in disapproval.

"oh, and that's enough?" suguru shrugs, knowing well enough he's being annoying "come here.." you plead as you grab his jaw gently guiding his lips to your own. kissing him after such a long day feels almost euphoric, especially after you hear his small chuckle before he kisses back.

"you look pretty tense... sure you're okay?" he expresses his concern after pulling away.

"just a little sore, it's fine" you pull him back into the kiss, shutting him up. sure, you might've been stiffer than a plank but you knew cuddling suguru would make it all better. your thumb grazes his jaw and chin, humming in the kiss as you feel his hands move along your thighs and ass, squeezing it lightly.

it didn't take long for suguru to push his tongue into your mouth, the small sweet kisses at the beginning now turning into a fully-blown makeout session. it was nothing out of the ordinary, making out often being your quickest resolve to solve anything from tiredness to fights. any excuse you had, you would jump each other, gripping at each other's clothes and pressing your bodies together, desperate for more proximity. you often thanked fate for letting you maintain such a lovesick state with him, even after so many years, after so many hardships and issues. if anything, you got closer as each day passed, falling in love more with each other every day.

you pulled away, chest heaving and gasping for air after a while, chuckling at suguru's flushed face "what?" he squinted his eyes, a hint of a smile on his wet lips.

"you look dumb" you chuckled as you fixed your hair, pressing your hips down on his. you grinned even wider as you felt his semi-hard length poke your thigh. it was so easy to turn suguru on, this man was literally obsessed with you. funny enough, you could feel a patch of arousal form on your panties in return.

"i look dumb? we look the same!" suguru pulled out his phone, showing you his front camera. your hair was messy, the little bit of red tint remaining on your lips smudged and your forehead showed some beads of sweat. you couldn't deny the electrifying feeling of your makeouts even if you tried.

you slap his hand away, earning a chuckle as he puts his phone in his pocket again, before turning his gaze to you and admiring you. a small smile of adoration appears on his face, fingers tracing random patterns on your thighs.

"i can help with that exhaustion, you know?" and there it was. there proposal you were waiting to hear from his lips, the proposal he always gave you after kissing for so long you forgot how to breathe. you smile, sighing softly. it was tempting. very tempting. yet you were not sure you could move a single muscle.

"i don't know, baby... i'm too tired" suguru could almost laugh. he wanted to chime in and say how you had no reason to mention tiredness, seeing as he was the one doing all the work during sex anyway. he decided not to. his fingers trail upwards, from your thigh to your hips as he glides them down, caressing your inner thigh. he could feel the throbbing of your pussy against his lower abdomen, confirmation enough that you did want him.

"you don't have to do any work... you can just ride my face like a good girl.." his words go straight to your core, body heating up as your hole clenches around air. suddenly, you wanted him inside of you in any way possible, be it tongue, fingers or his pierced cock... if you had the option, you would've taken all three at once.

"you sure?" you ask as he smiles softly, reassuringly.

"of course. it's my job to take care of you" his dark spheres stare into your as his hand finds the band of your pants, staring down as if to ask you if you're sure. you nod, biting at your lip as you raise yourself enough to take your pants off and shimmy them down. and right before you slide your panties off..

"no, it's alright" suguru says, taking ahold of your hips and placing you back on top "i'll take care of those" his voice is hoarse, baritone, a common characteristic of his when he was aroused. it always sent chills through your spine, making you bite your lips in anticipation.

soon enough you find yourself hovering over his face, his long fingers buried in your thighs as he places kisses to your clothed cunt, not moving his eyes away from yours. his long hair is draped around him and you resist the urge to grab it “stop teasing…” he chuckles in response, the vibrations making your arousal pool on the fabric.

his index hooks around the side of the underwear, pulling it away so he can have access to your pussy. you can make out the hungry expression on his face. it had been a long journey to get you to actually sit on his face since you were always worried you might hurt him somehow, especially during orgasm. however, after many pleas from your pussy-drunk boyfriend it was easy to be persuaded. after all, who can resist a man with dark eyes & long shiny hair?

you grip the couch’s armrest as suguru guides your hips down to meet his lips, making sure you were properly sat before starting to lick painfully long stripes to your sensitive bud “s..shit” you whine as suguru moves his eyes away from the view in front of him to you, as if to ask ‘is it good?’

and he knew damn well it was. if you were to take a guess, suguru probably knew your body better than you did, always attentive and making sure you got pleasured before he did — or, never leaving you unsatisfied if you decided you wanted to blow him first. you could feel your boyfriend smirk against your pussy lips as you found it harder and harder to keep your composure.

“o..oh… right there!” you whine, looking back down at him as he hums in response. the combination of messy licks, sucks and kisses was too much for you and now his face was damp, slick dripping from his chin down to his neck. you covered your mouth as you decided to look at the wall in front of you, scared you might cum quickly if you continued to look at the erotic image under you.

and suguru? he was on cloud 9. even when he wasn’t talking, praising you for the good girl you were you could practically hear him, hear his thoughts, as he swirled his tongue into your hole and sucked on your clit. you were pretty thankful his mouth was occupied, otherwise, he would’ve probably teased you because of the desperate mewls you were letting out.

with each movement of his tongue, suguru pushes your hips further down, face now fully buried into your cunt as his nose grazed your clit. you could barely keep your eyes open anymore, brain filled with lust as you mindlessly began to grind your hips on his face.

suguru chuckles, a low and deep chuckle as he continues his ministrations “fuuuckkk…. baby, oh my god!” you whine as his thumb starts to rub on your clit, his eyes switching back to yours. heat rushed to your face as you realised his intentions: he knew you were getting closer and wanted you to look at him as you did.

“mmph.. sugu..” you whined as your back arched, hips rapidly moving against his face as he held the small of your back. his pants tighten, dick straining against his boxers as precum leaks from his tip… he thought the mere act of getting you off was enough to make him cum loads. your knees sink into the cushion under his head, hips bucking and pressing your heated core down on his lips.

the sounds of your needy pussy echo throughout the room, your slick making wet, lewd noises as you chanted suguru’s name. you were praying the neighbours would not complain (again) about the noise, but in truth, it was so hard to think of anything as your boyfriend lapped at your clit.

with your thighs hugging his head your body shakes, repeated cries and pleads of his name leaving your lips “oh— fuck.. sugu, i’m gonna–“ and before you know it your orgasm washes over you, that euphoric feeling you love so much, the feeling only he can give you.

you try to hold yourself steady, nails digging into the couch as you close your formerly half-lidded eyes, legs still shaking. with a lewd pop! you feel suguru’s mouth part from your cunt, a string of spit connecting the two “that’s my girl” he pants as you whine in response, still trying to calm down the sensation from your belly.

“did so good.. how was it, huh?” he inquires, bringing his lips to your thighs and engraving his scent into your skin, biting and sucking gently as he continues to look up. you look at him, lips parted and trying to find the perfect words. you can’t find any. you’re too fucked out of your mind to form words. you just knew you felt amazing.

you dismount his face, making him rise up to your level and pull you into his arms, lips pressing to your forehead “i want an answer, princess” he demands as you try your best not to fall asleep.

“mhm.. s’good…” you slur your words as suguru chuckles, left hand kneading your ass cheek. “want me to take care of that?” you ask as you stare his hard-on down. he shakes his head.

“no, baby. i’ll help you clean up and get some rest. that’s way more important” and with a soft kiss to the tip of your nose, he picks you up, taking you into the bathroom as he lets the bathtub fill up.

you sit in the warm water, a hazy smile on your face as you feel your body fully relax “well… it worked” you grin, placing your chin on the side of the tub as suguru kneels, forehead touching yours.

“yeah?” he smiles, eyes staring deep into your own and seeping with adoration. his pupils seemed to resemble hearts for a moment.

you nod as he stands up, taking the shower gel into his hand, ready to tend to you. his actions are halted as you untie his sweatpants, looking up at him innocently “wait.. you don’t have to–“

“i know. want to. then we can take..” you said as you lowered yourself, pressing a kiss to his lower abdomen “a long…” you press another, even lower, as you drag his pants down “needed…” you stop your kissing right above his cock, on the base of his happy trail “nap…”

suguru’s breath gets caught in his throat, hand instinctively going to the back of your head “fine.. be quick, want you to get some rest” and with an approving smile, you get to work.

© cultrise | don’t steal, copy or translate my works.

#✦— kinktober. #𐙚 — pages. #𐙚— dreamscape. #geto #geto suguru #suguru geto #suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #kinktober '23 #kinktober #kinktober 2023

[dino-thunder-green]

"This better be good"

Fictober Day 20

Trent Fernandez x Reader

Description: You and Trent had always been close. Until now that is. Hes been angry and distant, and you think you may know why. All you know for sure is that nothing is ok anymore. {3.3K Words}

A/N: WHY IS THIS SO MANY WORDS AHHHHHHHHHH anyways enjoy

--------------------------------

Trent had been distant lately. 

The spot where he usually sat by you in science was becoming empty far more frequently. When he did show up he was passive aggressive towards everyone. He’d leave class as fast as he came, and not even spare you another glance. Worst of all was that you couldn’t figure out where he kept vanishing to, or why.

You knew Trent. He usually had a mild temper and was quick to be rude to anyone to any extent, and yet here he was. You were sure that something was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out what could possibly make him act this way. So far you had ruled out fighting with his dad, because that usually left him more dreary than mean. 

Whatever it was, it was stealing him away from you. And there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

Where had it all gone wrong? 

Was this the same Trent who had to work up the courage to ask if you considered the two of you friends a few years ago? Was this the same Trent who was more intelligent then he let on sometimes, tutoring you through the mind-numbingly boring science homework? The Trent who was shy and caring and had an acute attention to detail? The same Trent who you had kissed not even a week ago?

That’s it. 

God, you were so stupid, you knew you never should have done that. Your feelings for him had been creeping up into your heart and growing ever stronger the longer you knew him. You didn’t want to make any moves to ruin your friendship so you had never confessed. Sometimes you had yourself convinced that he felt the same, that this tenderness inside was a mutual thing. The thought of how lovingly he had looked at you that day made you want to cry. 

You had been actually crying that day. You had a big test the next day and you felt far from ready. Your stress had been building up for ages and finally as you sat there drowning in your half-assed notes you broke down. It’s not that you didn’t want to try, it's just that the teacher had been no help and you had been so tired.

Trent, being the big ol’ softie that he is (well… was) understood your feelings completely. He had taken your hands and just murmured about how you always did better than you thought you would on tests and how you could borrow his notes and all of these other small musings. And he raised his hands up to your face and wiped away your tears with his thumbs. You had been sure that “just friends” didn’t do that kind of stuff.

Then you mumbled about how you just wanted to do good. 

And he looked at you and said, “You’re good at so many things.” and laughed, “I’m sure you’ll be good enough to do this too.”

That tender look he had in his eyes remained as you two got to work. 

But at the end of the night, when Haley had finally told you to get out and for Trent to close up, he walked you to the door, and he turned to you and he said. “You’ll do amazing, I know you will.”

You smiled uncertainly, your brain spinning from all of the work you just did, and jokingly asked, “And if I don’t?”

A soft laugh, “Impossible.”

And with your brain full of fuzz at 12pm, after hours of studying, you laughed too. Your heart felt so full. With the way he was looking at you, you could have believed you were the only thing in the world that mattered. So you unthinkingly cupped his cheek and gave him a quick soft kiss on the lips. It felt like the most natural motion in the world.

“You have too much faith in me Fernandez.” And then you realized. Trent stared at you, his jaw slackened slightly, his eyes searching. For what, you still haven't figured it out. Before giving him a chance to respond you just muttered a fast and panicked apology and a “Thanks for helping me study” and you bolted. He couldn’t follow you, even if he had wanted to because he still had to close up for the night. You had been wondering all week if he would have followed you if given the chance, and with the way he had been acting, you felt like the answer was clear.

That was the last time you had spoken one-on-one. And it was the last time you saw him before he had taken this bitterly sarcastic turn. In your mind you had constructed a timeline. You kiss Trent. Trent fakes being sick for four days because he can’t face you. Trent finally has to show up to keep up with homework. Trent becomes mean to make sure you know he doesn’t feel the same. Some details of this timeline didn’t make sense yet, but you were sure this had been all your fault. 

And so today, you were going to apologize.

He was being even more aggressive today, and not just towards you but to Kira, Conner, and Ethan. He hurried out of class, but you followed him out of class and down the hall. You called him, and luckily he stopped. You caught up and he turned around, looking extremely annoyed. The words rushed out of you.

“Trent… I know that I’ve messed up and I’m sorry for doing what I did, it was stupid and I was tired and I feel terrible about it, and please just know it won’t happen again.” 

Trent let out a scoff, “Yeah. It was stupid.”

You were taken aback. You knew he had been mad but his comment still hurt.

“I know that you probably want space, but can you at least not take it out on other people? Our friends don’t deserve this.”

Trent’s eyebrows went up.

“You think those losers are my friends?”

You felt a lump rise in your throat and anger boil in your stomach. “Yeah- I mean you hang out with them all the time.”

He let out a sharp laugh, “And I bet you think that we’re friends too, don’t you?”

You felt like all of the air had been knocked out of you. Tears pricked at the edge of your eyes, but you couldn’t tell at this point if it was from heartbreak or anger. He has every right to be mad about it, you didn’t even ask if it was ok to kiss him, but this was way past the line for a reasonable reaction.

“Of course I did” You heard a bitter edge entering your tone. “Why else would you spend so much time with me, helping me?”

“Have you ever considered that I only hang out with you because you won’t leave me alone? Trust me, I have far better things to be doing than helping you with homework that you’re too stupid to understand.”

You couldn’t breathe. You felt as if you were dying. 

Trent put the final nail in your coffin for you. “You really are stupid if you thought that I liked you.” he said smoothly, a triumphant expression on his face. Without waiting for a response, Trent turned and continued walking with a much more relaxed pace than before.

The tears you had been holding back finally fell and you screamed down the hallway at him. “FUCK YOU ASSHOLE”.

You turned the opposite way, holding your head down so that nobody could see your tears and you ran off to the bathroom, where you proceeded to break down sobbing.

----------------------------

He has been the most important person in your life. And you had ruined it.

At least, when you were alone, with no one to see you missing him you believed that you ruined it. When you saw him scowling in the hallway or slinking into class late you almost had yourself convinced that it was his fault. 

Your emotions were all over the place, and remained so for weeks afterwards. You hated him so bitterly for being such a heartless asshole, pretending that he cared about you. But at the same time, thinking of how he used to be you could almost swear that he did care. The way he had looked at you so tenderly and been so patient with you when you needed help seemed genuine when you thought back on them. But thinking about Trent being nice left a bitter taste in your mouth and gave you the urge to scream like a thorn in your throat. But you missed him. 

You really didn’t have any friends that had been as close as him. Sure Conner, Kira, and Ethan were nice but they were off doing their own thing so much that you were alone. Even Cassidy and Devon were nice, except they didn’t know Trent and so you couldn’t confide in them about the situation. There was simply no one to talk to.

So you sat for weeks, with your rapidly changing emotions and nowhere to put them. So they just stirred around your brain, confusing and frustrating you. You could guarantee that Trent probably wasn’t putting in this much thought about his treatment of you. You knew you’d be stuck feeling this way for a long time.

You hated him. You missed him. You loved him. You cried about it often.

You just wanted your best friend back.

—--------------------------

A few months later, Trent was back on good terms with the rest of your science table, you observed bitterly. 

Traitors. 

Just a few weeks ago they had felt the same about him as you had, but apparently they had a weaker resolve then you did. You hadn’t forgotten how he had treated all of you. You had also observed that Trent was trying to be nicer, even to you. You didn’t buy it. You had seen once before how quickly he could change, you weren’t putting your heart back out there for someone like that. 

Kira had been telling you all week about how he was trying really hard to make things right. And how he wanted to make up for how he acted. 

Considering the fact that Kira had been the one to find you sobbing in the bathroom, this pissed you off. She should know better than anyone how he had made you feel. The whole situation was infuriating. Boy lies about being friends. Boy begins to treat friends like shit for months. Boy apparently repents for his heinous actions and decides you are friends again. All is well. And they all accepted it, and were totally fine with it. And you were alone, sulking about how he could switch it up so quickly.

Kira was walking with you to your next class. “I know you’re still mad but I swear he's super different now and he’s trying really hard to make up for his actions.”

You’ve had this conversation before.

“People don’t just change that fast Kira, especially not as much as you claim he has. Besides, why would he even need to change? He seemed satisfied being a major jerkwad just a few weeks ago.”

“Maybe you should talk to him about it. He can tell you why he acted the way he did.”

You glanced over at her, annoyed. He had been trying to talk to you for days, but you had refused to stick around long enough to hear him out. 

 “I don’t need his petty excuses.” 

You could tell that Kira wanted to say more, but when you made your way to your seat without even looking at her, it became clear that the conversation had ended.

This was the angry part of you speaking. He had no right to just decide when he wanted to be nice, and then leave you crying when he didn’t. Plus, you knew that dark, angry part of him must still be there, it can’t just vanish after that many months.

He could do whatever he wanted, it was none of your business. You didn’t care how nice he was, or how mean, as long as he stayed out of your life.

But oh, you still missed him.

—-----------------------------------

Where was he? 

Ethan swore he’d have time to help you with your math homework. You had assured him that you’d figure it out eventually - as you had been since Trent had cut you off - but he insisted that he would help you after school at the cyber cafe.

He had insisted that you met at exactly this time at exactly this place. And you were here, like you said you’d be, and he's the one who bailed.

Well, as long as you’re here you might as well work anyways. You pulled out your math homework from the day and spread it out in front of you. You were currently working through the product and quotient rules in calculus. You had told Trent time and time again that you weren’t smart enough to be there but he’d insist that you were and that you just underestimated yourself. He always looked so smug when he asked you what you got on your tests, saying that if you were as bad as you said you were you must have failed, right? And then you, with a reddining face, would always mumble out about your A or B grade and how it wasn’t as bad as you thought.

You had no one ask you how you did after your previous test. That hurt more than it should have. Trent had left so many holes in your life when he decided to force himself out of it.

You scribbled out the answer to the problem you had been working on. It didn’t even look remotely right. First off, it was an imaginary number, and you hadn’t worked with those yet this year, secondly it was way too large to make logical sense. 

“You subtracted on the top instead of adding. Other than that it looks fine.”

You jumped at the sudden voice, whirling around in your chair to see Trent. He was standing, looking at you sheepishly. 

You were dumbfounded. And in your confusion the only thing you could manage to blurt out was, “Where’s Ethan?”. It sounded harsher than you intended, and you felt bad, but you didn’t apologize.

Trent rubbed the back of his neck, looking away from you, “He was just helping me talk to you.”

No. No, no, no. You could not be doing this right now. Out of all the things you’d rather be doing, talking with Trent wasn’t even on the list. You took a moment to stop gawking and compose yourself. At the same time you started quickly packing up your homework.

“Well? We’re talking aren’t we? Mission accomplished”

Trent tentatively sat down next to you, but not near to you. You didn’t look up from packing your homework.

“Please just give me ten minutes to explain. And if my explanation isn’t good enough then I won’t bother you again…” A pause, “... ever.”

Glancing at him you took a deep breath in. You pondered for a moment. You let out a long heavy exhale and turned your attention towards him, your backpack laying half full on the table.

You glared at him, “this better be good.”

Trent and you were now facing each other. 

“Do you know about the white ranger?”

You eyed him suspiciously. “The one on the news?”

Trent nodded. He paused as if he was trying to find what to say next.

“And you know how he was fighting the other rangers and isn’t anymore?”

You made a motion to grab your bag. This really wasn’t worth your time. Trent stopped you, placing his hand on top of yours.

You looked over at him. “I don’t have time for a shitty metaphor Trent.”

“It's not a metaphor.” There was an edge of desperation to his tone. 

“Well then where are you going with this?” Your tone remained harsh as you stared at him down.

He swallowed thickly and his eyes flicked over to where his hand was on top of yours. Following the motion you looked too, wondering what he was seeing. Your hand was on your brag, his hand was on your hand, his nails were painted black, the white gem on his bracelet shimmered slightly.

You looked back at him, eyes widening in disbelief. “You’re not serious,” you whispered, eyes going back to the bracelet. Trent’s dad had briefly mentioned the dino gems as scientific anomalies, and this sure looked like one. But you failed to wrap your head around what he was insinuating.

“It’s not a metaphor because I am the white ranger.” He muttered so quietly that you almost didn’t hear him.

You gaped at him, at a loss for words.

In your silence he continued. “Mesogog had filled it with bad energy and the day after… after the incident I found it.” 

He said your name, almost pleading for you to understand, “it poisoned my mind, it’s like I was someone else. I felt nothing at all, all I could think about was how bitter and angry I was, and it consumed me.”

His hand tightened around yours. He looked like he might cry. You felt like you might cry, that lump forming in your throat.

“But… you’re better now?”

Trent nodded gently.

“...Mesogog tried to kill me. But somehow I survived, and in the process that dark energy got removed from the gem. When it happened, the feelings just hit me. It’s like I was seeing color again or something. I felt… well… everything.”

“And those things you said?”

Trent sighed, “I didn’t mean them.” He adjusted his hand so you two were now fully holding hands, resting them on the table. Trent started tearing up. “I didn’t mean any of them.”

Your feelings hit you like a brick wall. Anger, sorrow, confusion, and hurt. So, so much hurt.

You started to cry. 

Trent scooted his chair closer to yours, so you two were knee to knee. He brought your intertwined hands down between you, taking your other hand as well. You clutched his hand as you cried.

“I thought you hated me- I thought I did something wrong-” you choked out, “I spent weeks trying to figure out what I could have done differently, what was wrong with me.”

You stared at where you held hands, unable to look him in the eye.

You tried to steady your breathing. “I know it was a stupid thought, but I began to believe that kissing me was so horrible that it made you hate me.”

“No, no.” Trent spoke gently, his voice trembling, full of regent, “there is not a single thing you could ever do to make me hate you. Ever since I’ve been myself again, I’ve been kicking myself for how you’ve felt. None of this is your fault.”

You sniffled. Trent let go of your hands and raised his hands to cup your face. He wiped away your tears, just like he had done that night.

“I could never hate you for kissing me.” He whispered sadly. “I spent the rest of my shift trying to figure out if I was dreaming.” 

He gazed into your eyes tenderly.

“And when I found the gem, and everything started hurting, all I could think about was how I never even told you I love you.”

Your hand came up to your face to cup his. You two were bent over, your faces so close you could see all of the blemishes and freckles on each other.

“You love me?”

Trent gave a small smile, “Since forever.”

You returned his smile, feeling warmth spread through your veins. 

“I love you too.”

He searched your gaze for any hesitance, and finding none, Trent kissed you. Except this time it was intentional, and it wasn’t a dream. For a moment it was just you and him, and forever.

You still had things you needed to work through. Your anger at him wouldn’t just vanish in a moment, even with an explanation. But for now it was ok. For now the two of you were ok.

Everything was ok.

#fictober23 #trent fernandez mercer x reader #trent fernandez x reader #trent mercer x reader #trent fernandez-mercer #trent fernandez #trent mercer #power rangers #dino thunder

[sarasa-cat]

Something I'm not enjoying but accepting for what it is.

Currently, after dinner is done, the kitchen is clean, and I settle down in my pajamas with my tea, my brain just fuzzes out.

Late evening was often a highly productive creative time for me but it isn't right now. (actually, it wasn't for a few of those years I was in day-gig either).

I think all of my Creative Output gets used up during the hours from waking up to just before dinner.

All I can do these days once I have my feet up and my steaming hot mug of late-evening herbal tea is just slowly and gently take in something that will entertain me.

Maybe a video game, maybe a movie/TV, maybe a book, (maybe fanfic -- I need to get back to that), or maybe a tutorial of some sort that doesn't require too much brain power from me. (Honestly, this is often the best time for those types of tutorials because I won't become bored or impatient while my ideas flow and flow).

.

tl;dr: still trying to figure out a schedule that works for me that fits in all of my things. I feel so behind on everything. Not in a stressful way, honestly, because I am too tired to be stressed. More in just a tired "oh well, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ " sort of manner.

[killmebythebeach]

That one Dream mindreader post by @lilyvines cuz it hasn't left my head (no pun intended)

...

Please. Just. Something.

...

Dream smiled. He had this war in the bag, 100%. Not only was he way more competent than any of them, he also had a traitor planted, and not to mention his mind reading.

He was on top of the black stone wall. It would be impossible for the revolutionaries to not notice him, he definitely saw Tommy and Tubbo look up at him, but they knew it would be futile to chase him out.

Dream peered down, looking into their run down van. He dug into their "president's" mind, hoping to get an edge in the upcoming war.

My... oh gosh I'm tired. I should go talk to Tomm- do I really want to talk to Tommy right now though. I should check up on them though and make sure they don't die. Or fight Dream he'll get all pissy about that. Is... I can't tell if that's new or not and I don't want to ask. Eh. Maybe I will ask just so I can make fun of it-

Dream shook his head, unteathering his mind. YIKES. While learning nothing important, at least whatever that was boosted his confidence. Okay then, he should check Tommy's mind. While loud and annoying, there must be SOME reason he was the "general's" right hand man.

Dream instinctively covered his ears, even if he knew it wouldn't block out a brain's noise, at the sound of some awful "music". He couldn't tell if it was a mix of string instruments of flutes or both but the high notes pierced his ears and the low notes just didn't sound good. Dream gritted his teeth and dug deeper, refusing to leave without SOMETHING.

Oh my gosh I am going to- what am I going to do- I'm going to scam! Oh I need to talk to Wilbur (Wilbur!) Oh and Tubbo! Tubbo Tubbo oh what is he doing I'm going going to go and... gah. Okay who's someone I can antagonize with no consequence uhm Sapnap wouldn't care too much but that's boring hmmmm...

Dream felt his eyes blurring as thoughts whipped around in his head. He was almost in awe of the pace Tommy talked at, he wondered how much got filtered into his mouth not because the boy had a filter, but simply due to the aerodynamics of his brain.

Maybe Fundy had something? Surely Wilbur would tell his own SON something. Anything. Please, just anything.

Dream jumped at the electronic sound of Fundy's brain. Like a TV fizzing out, loud beeping and static. He could almost SEE the white and grey and black fuzz.

Why we're they like this. At least he could see how someone was dumb enough to try and fight him, none of these people have ever had a coherent thought.

I've got my shovel and my trousers and my hat and da- Wilbur's in the van... would he want to see me? Should I tell him about my dream or about my new invention or- no he doesn't want to see me maybe I'll go hang with Eret yeah Wil's busy with planning and stuff-

Ugh. Dream could FEEL the daddy issues leaking off of the tinkerer. The best part to Dream was that Wilbur could DEFINETLY use a break from his own thoughts, and also definetly wasn't doing any war planning.

He peered down at the idiots, and not that he would ever admit it, begging for any valuable information.

There! Eret was over by the lake, laying down in the grass like a corpse. He specifically asked them to gather info, they were his mole, after all. Even if they couldn't root and burrow through minds, Eret must have picked up SOMETHING through their observations or even verbally.

Okay I got to think of something cool to say, do fish spawn in this water? I kind of want to say hi to- what was that song I heard earlier that Fundy showed me... I'll remember it eventually and ooh! Can't wait till I'm king I'm gonna have such a cool outfit and castle and crown and hehe hehe what would I even do as king actually would I have to put it through Dream? Probably. Maybe I should...

Dream groaned. WHY DOES NO ONE IN THIS "COUNTRY" HAVE SECRETS TO EXPLOIT?!?!

Dream paused, considering for the first time that any time they had anything on their minds they WOULD just say it out loud.

The van door creaked as Tubbo went up the rickety steps. Tubbo!

Surely- SURELY- Tubbo knew something. Easily impressionable Tubbo, very clever but never spoke on any of his ideas. Dream might have considered him a threat in another world if he had any motivation to finish projects or didn't just follow around the others like a lost puppy.

Like they said, crouching moron hidden badass. There was no way Tubbo wouldn't have something. Dream leaned forward, digging into Tubbo's mind.

I should make a bee house what's a bee house called... like an aviary but bees and... maybe I should ask Wilbur he knows a lot of words or Eret but how would I make it I need glass and oh my gosh what is Tommy doing! Tommy Tommy Tommy! He's about to do something stupid that's going to be funny- oh gosh what if I'm doing something stupid right now and everyone's thinking the same thing and-

Dream jumped out of the boys mind before he got stuck in the spiraling thoughts.

There was. NO WAY. These were the people he was fighting a whole ass war with. HE ENLISTED one of these guys, and this was their peak performance. Middle of a war. Bees, songs, and executive disfunction on the brain.

Dream spent a good minute up on the wall, contemplating his life, before jumping off and walking home.

Sure he had the war in the bag, but now he was more concerned for the L'manburgians than anything.

Well, at least HE didn't have any planning to do.

#dream smp #dream smp au #dream smp fanfiction #dream #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #fundy #eret #tubbo #blue tells stories

[grimweaver]

I did it. XD

#Lucien LaChance #ESO #tes online #cause why not? #tired bored and fuzz-brained

[naberiie]

u ever just feel like a bottle of television static

#what... what do i want #am i hungry? am i tired? am i bored? #who's to say!! #been a SUPER bizarre brain fuzz week lads

[blackberry-bloody]

so I haven't done much original whump in quite a while, but I really felt the need to fill my own prompt (even though technically this turned into waaaaaaay more than I intended, and the tail whump is kind of an after though in this it seems.), and I really wanted to introduce my boi Dayzel officially. So Here's two birds with one stone.

@darkwarfy, @icyheart-and-friends, @seagullsausage

Contains: creepy whumper, retrained whumpee, non human/demon whumpee, angel/non-human whumper, implied prior whump, torture, choking, broken bones, loss of limbs (not graphic/ not described), humiliation (if you squint, so just in case), stress position, snarky whumpee that doesn't know how to shut up, whumpee reaching their breaking point

Dayzel's breathing came wheezy and strained from where he was unhappily seated. The ropes pinning his wrists to each if the chair's arms were starting to cut bloody red lines from his tugging, and his vision was just a little hazy from the repeated blunt force injuries to his head. Still… He looked up at the man glowering over him, a smug grin plastered quite firmly from ear to ear. He was Dayzel Infernos, and he was not about to be bested by some punk angel trying to get all high and mighty on his ass. "Look, chicken wing-" a resounding slap echoed in the room as his head snapped to the side. He clenched his jaw and slowly turned his head back to glare at the very narrowed purple eyes that had gotten much closer. "Oh wow, don't like nicknames huh? I'll keep it noted." His voice was practically dripping with a toxic mixture of venom and sarcasm as he chuckled in the man's face and spit a globule of blood at him.

The look of disgust on his face made his smirk that much more smug as he leaned forward as much as he could with his wings tied to the back of the chair. Just needing enough to close the gap. He was not impressed. "Hey bird brain, I don't know what you, or your buddies that dragged me here are thinking you're doing, but whatever it is… It's pretty fucking pathetic." His tail twitched from it's position around his leg, swaying from side to side like a snake judging the creature before it. "You're not the first person to try and "teach the evil demon a lesson", hell you're not even the first angel. I've had humans do worse than you. All you've done is smack me around a bit and glare at me." A slightly manic giggle escaped, but soon turned into a coughing fit as he had to pull back to catch his breath and relieve tension on his wings. Once he opened his eyes again, he noticed the angel's expression had changed from one of anger and disgust, to something more unreadable…

Dayzel paid the change no mind however, and continued with his taunting."I've been here many times before and not a single person… Human, angel, or otherwise has yet to make me break. None of you have any creativity. You're all so dull."

"Is that so?" The man before him finally spoke. His voice was deep and commanding, but also incredibly soft. But in the otherwise quiet room… It was practically booming.

Dayzel's eyes snapped up once more and processed the moment, his grin faltering for only a split second, and only due to the surprise. "Ah, so he can speak. Wonderful. I was starting to get tired of my own voice. Oh wait, no, that's impossible." He laughed, the sound bouncing off the walls and making them echo. However, he was abruptly cut off as a hand shot out and grabbed one of his horns. It didn't hurt, but it was just jarring enough to make him wince. He let out a low growl and tried to tug it out of the angel's grip. Only for the man to laugh in return, and guide Dayzel's head into an uncomfortable position looking straight up at the ceiling. "For the record. Yes. It is so. And of all the times I've been caught, this doesn't even make the top ten." He bit out. He tried to jerk his head again to make eye contact… But his head was held firmly in place.

"I see. Then perhaps it's time I showed you some of my… Creativity… Hm?" Delicate and utterly cold fingers found their way to Dayzel's fully exposed neck, and ever so gently wrapped around the skin… Before the grip became crushing hard, cutting off his airflow entirely.

Dayzel gasped and, although he tried his best to hide it… He did start to panic… As he tugged on the ropes trying to reach up and claw his hands off him. Or even shift his head so he could bite him. But neither were really options, so he was just left to slowly choke on nothingness until his vision went black.

~~~ Eventually, and ever so slowly, Dayzel could feel himself being pulled from the black void of unconsciousness. The first thing he noticed was that he was no longer seated in an uncomfortable chair, but instead was laying face down on an uncomfortable floor. The second thing he discovered was that he was indeed still restrained, despite the new position… His arms twitched behind him to try and push himself up, but was only met with stiff and sticky resistance of boring duct tape around his wrists. He had yet to open his eyes, but he still rolled them behind his eyelids. “I thought you were going to show me creative, not cliche, pigeon,” he growled out, despite the somewhat still smug tone in his voice. “Oh, don’t worry your fake red haired head, I’m getting to it. Try not to pass out before I can, ok?” The same voice as before spoke somewhere directly above him. Monotone, flat, and utterly condescending.

Dayzel’s eyes finally snapped open and he tilted his head to try and see where the angel was, “What the fuck is that-?!” He was abruptly cut off as a boot was placed securely at the base of where his wings met and weight was steadily applied. “Oh” was the only thing he could wheeze out as he struggled to take in air with his rib cage being crushed. He attempted to seem nonchalant as he felt the angel shift his weight behind him… But that was quickly thrown out the wind as he felt soft hands carefully take hold of his tail, lifting it up to get a better look. Immediately Dayzel started thrashing under him, letting out curses and threats that could put a trucker to shame.

"Oh hush, no need to get so worked up yet." Was the only reply given. Well, the only verbal reply… The twist and added pressure on the tender muscle between his wings were his other reply all it's own. The motion itself was enough to stun Dayzel beneath him, reeling from the pain. The angel, of course, took advantage of this moment and swiftly tied a cord around the man's tail before releasing him. "See? Now, up you come."

Delicate hands corded through Dayzel's blood matted hair and yanked, startling Dayzel from his daze, guiding him to be standing upright.

Dayzel gasped and heaved for breath as he stood up, wobbling ever so slightly as he did so. Although, he'd deny it with the same vigor and venom as he would anything else that might bruise his ego. His eyes were ablaze with fury. "What the actual fuck is wrong with you?! As soon as I can, I promise I'm going to pluck you like a chicken!"

The angel's expression remained neutral as his hand made its way up to wipe the spit off his face. "Yes… I'm quite certain you'd like to. But do please remember you brought this upon yourself sweetheart." There was no warmth, nor malice for that matter as he reached up and patted Dayzel's cheek. "Don't worry, though, I'm almost ready to leave you alone."

"Don't you dare touch me like that!" Was all he could manage to growl as he snapped his face to the side and bit down hard on the man's hand. However, instead of pulling away, or even acknowledging the red lifeblood dripping down his hand… The angel simply tsked and gave Dayzel a look of… What he could only describe as disappointment… Which was enough to startle Dayzel enough to let go.

The angel's uninjured hand shot out so fast he actually flinched as his horn was once again grabbed and his head tilted back. The angel carefully and slowly maneuvered behind him once again, and as he was still held in place, Dayzel had no idea what he was doing. "Such a shame. Your wings are actually quite beautiful you know? I was hoping to merely pin them for this… But seeing as how you want to resort to such. Brutality. I shall return the favor in kind. They should make a nice mantle piece."

Dayzel felt his stomach drop. All tough guy act and threats thrown away as fear took over his face. Actual, genuine, raw fear… "Wait, please don't-!" But he didn't even get the finish as the angel gripped tightly at the base of his wing and twisted and wrenched until the limb fell to the floor. And before he could so much as gather his thoughts… He immediately started on Dayzel's other wing, doing the exact same. That too fell with a soft thud to the floor. Dayzel never cried… And that much held up… No, through his screams, instead he was sobbing. And once his horn was released from it's crushing grip, he too fell to the floor in a heap of himself.

"See? Now we're getting somewhere. Lesson one. Fighting only ends in pain." The shifting of the voice told Dayzel that the man was once again in front of him. He didn't respond. "If you don't acknowledge me, I'll cut off your horns next."

"Fuck you." Dayzel lifted his head ever so slightly to get a look at him… Splattered with his blood across his white uniform…

The man crouched down to be closer in view. "Ah, out of threats I see. That's good. That's progress. There may be hope for you yet." He reached down and delicately pet the tufts of Dayzel's hair and the fuzz of the back of his neck. And Dayzel hated himself for being grateful for the gentle touch as opposed to pain. He merely clenched his jaw. "Unfortunately for you, lesson number two is that hope is meaningless." His hand withdraws and he stands back up to his full height, before fishing around in his pocket for something. Once found, he pulls out a tiny two button remote, one up arrow and one down arrow. He presses the up arrow.

Confused, Dayzel looked up as he heard some sort of mechanical noise, like a motor. And that's when he noticed the cord going up, that was attached to his tail… Which was seemingly being lifted by said motor.

Again, panic rushed through him as he scrambled to stand up and tried to reach the cord just below the tip of his tail… But he was still far too dazed and in pain to grab hold and undo the knot, let alone with his hands tied. He watched as the angel started walking towards the door out of the room, meanwhile his feet finally couldn't touch the ground and he lurched forward with a hiss of pain. The motor stopped, leaving the wingless demon dangling from the cord and the tip of his tail. When he looked back… The angel was gone, leaving him to his own misery. "FUCK YOU!!!" He screamed again, this time raw and full of hate, so loud that it left him once again panting for air.

~~~

It started as a sharp pain, every muscle and joint screaming at him to get down. To ease the pressure. To stop what was happening. And it lasted like that for the first little while as he struggled against the tape and spun in the air. He even tried being upside down and climbing backwards up his own tail to reach the cord. It didn't work of course, but he was desperate enough to try.

Eventually, he figured he'd try staying as still as possible to reduce the sudden jerks on his tail. But then he got lightheaded, or his legs fell asleep and he inevitably had to shift again, sparking the pain once more…

However, after a while… The pain became duller, and more muted. Still very much there and ever persistent. But his tail was slowly losing its ability to hold him up.

Finally he lost the ability to move his tail at all. It had gone a tingling sort of numb and lifeless…

He slumped, folded in half, and without the strength to hold himself facing parallel to the ground. He didn't know how long it had been, nor did he know how much longer it would be… But for the first time, he felt completely helpless.

#jay jabbers #my writing #whump #villain whumpee #nonhuman whumpee #demon whumpee #Dayzel oc #nonhuman whumper #angel whumper

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 17

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Angst, very slight fluff

; Word Count: 6k

; Warnings: Emotional breakdown, depiction of a panic/anxiety attack, in depth discussion/description of depression, brief mentions of suicide, lack of self-worth, self-hatred, self-doubt, dissociation

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: I haven’t proof read because...well I don’t really want to re-read it. So forgive me for any mistakes! It’s early by a day because I’ve missed a few weeks so I want you all to have something on what is a rainy night here in England <3

PLEASE make sure to read the warnings on this one. This chapter is very hard hitting for anyone who has suffered depression/anxiety. I put myself back in the position I was in last year when I had my own breakdown and I know people have said before that I write in a way that makes you feel what the character is feeling. Therefore, please don’t read if you’re going to be affected by the warnings! And please also be kind if you don’t agree with the way I depicted this. This is how my own depression and anxiety affected me, only I didn’t have a Hoseok in my life. The experiences the reader goes through in this are the ones I personally have experienced. It’s still a reader insert, don’t worry. She after all has a lot of things I don’t, and I’m also okay, so don’t worry on that front either! If you feel upset about anything after reading this, please consider reaching out to friends, family, professionals or a helpline that specialises in it!

And remember throughout everything...you’re not alone! You’re not worthless and you are loved. <3

-

Leaning against the railing outside your work building, you let out a deep and heavy sigh as you read through the email you’d just received. It’s a rejection email. The third rejection email you’d received today and the twenty-third you’d received in two weeks.

After an in-depth talk with your parents and support from Chungha, Soyeon and Hoseok, you’d decided to finally try and get that career change you’d always wanted. Though you’d pointed out that you didn’t know what you wanted from life anymore.

You didn’t know what you wanted full stop. 

One of the things that you’d been most afraid of when you’d realised that your relationship with Hoseok was turning into something genuine and real, had been what was going to come after. Not in terms of breaking up, though that did terrify you as well, but how your mental state was going to cope.

You’d tried to explain it to the girls a few times in an effort to get them to understand what went on in your rollercoaster of a mind, and you’d clumsily told Hoseok a few months ago. Or you’d tried at least. 

Talking about your emotions wasn’t easy for you and the fear of being too honest about something so crippling with someone who meant so much to you already had scared you away from telling him too much. Your mind had balked at it, afraid that if he found out just how bad you got sometimes that he might just leave before he got in too deep.

So you’d given him a very bare bones explanation of what happened to you sometimes. He probably didn’t think too much of it at the moment as you’d been pretty cheerful throughout the start of your relationship; the bliss of him overriding any of your deep seated depression and anxieties.

Hoseok was obviously aware that you suffered from anxiety and had been very caring in regards to that, but it was entirely different to be with someone in the grip of a depressive episode. Your form of depression could almost be charted, it was that easy to see what was coming, and you’d been so afraid for the last few weeks.

The lethargy and disinterest that associated itself so strongly with your depression had been creeping back into your life slowly. It had frightened you, but you just didn’t know how to combat it. Doing things that were big or made you extremely happy always seemed to come with a huge cost, and the cost was unfortunately your mental health.

Every single time you felt exhilarating highs in your emotions, the feelings so joyful and euphoric from your excitement and pure happiness, you suffered a plunging crash afterwards that often felt like it sucked the joy out of your life. It was something you’d tried to cope with for years now, and sometimes you could go months upon months without feeling like it was affecting you.

But the happiness of finding Hoseok and all of the early stages of your relationship, from the first kiss to sex and meeting your parents, had finally waned. The last few weeks had the deep sense of unhappiness that plagued your negative moods spreading quickly.

It had started as usual with the slowly losing interest in going out; the energy you’d once had to be social outside of your apartment dying until the idea of anything other than work or grocery shopping was too much effort. Then had come the lack of interest in anything.

You’d always found it hard to see that you were slipping, only recognising it properly when you would realise that you’d been laid on your bed or the couch for hours on end, doing nothing at all. Any attempts to find something to watch on television failed as your brain couldn’t find anything interesting enough to keep it’s attention, games sat unplayed as you couldn’t find the energy to turn them on while even just reading bored you.

In particularly bad spells, such as your final year of college when you’d been so afraid of failing but also afraid of having to go into the real world, you struggled to find the energy to even get out of bed. Hygiene only became a thing because of your severe distaste of being unclean, but other than that your bed often became your home.

You would sleep for hours upon hours, napping the day’s away as you consoled yourself with the knowledge that you didn’t have anything to do and so therefore didn’t need to get up. Even though a small voice in the back of your mind told you that no, you should get up. You should do something.

That small voice was drowned out often though. Vanishing on a fast current of melancholy. It frightened you that you were experiencing that now again, even with the wonderful light and joy that was Hoseok in your life. Waking up long after he’d already gotten up on the weekend and realising that you didn’t want to get up and follow him, that not even the comfort of his arms was enough to soothe the jagged hole inside your soul that seemed to grow deeper and wider with every day that passed.

Applying for the jobs had been an appeasement to those in your life who were worried about you. You knew that Hoseok could tell something was wrong, but he just didn’t seem to know what to do or how to help. Understandable really, as you didn’t tell him what was wrong.

But staring down at your phone screen, the black letters bold against the white background that once more proclaimed you weren’t good enough, you felt something deep inside you break. Something that you hadn’t realised was holding on by the thinnest thread, chafing away with each negative thought that had passed through your mind over the years.

What’s the point?

The insipid question whispers through your mind.

Why am I trying?

A second slithers into place, taking comfort with its neighbour.

Why am I doing this?

A third nestles safely between the two brooding thoughts.

I’ll never be good enough for anything.

Leaning your head forehead, you let it rest on your hand on the railing, eyes closing as your other hand tightens on your phone. The hopelessness that your mind has spun to life explodes to life, multiplying into countless thoughts of desolation and gloom that somehow combine together to make your head feel heavy and your limbs tired.

Slumping down onto the ground, you turn and let your back press against the railings. It was your lunch currently and you were at the back of the parking lot that faced your building, the facade blank with no clue as to what was going on inside. 

Blinking slowly, you realise that your breath is stuttering, almost choking itself. Like your throat is closing around nothing while your heart races a thousand miles a minute. Glancing down, you realise that your hands are shaking violently and you try to swallow, the movement so hard. And then you press a palm to your chest, a small whimper leaving your mouth as you simply try to breath.

But it all feels too much. It’s all just too much.

There’s nothing inside your head but despondency and yet your body feels too much, like it can’t cope. Your mind swings violently between the white fuzz of nothing and the sheer panic of a looming sense of dread, the fear of failure, rejection. The fear that you meant nothing and your life was nothing.

I can’t do this anymore.

It’s a simple thought, only five words long and it dances through your mind like a leaf on the breeze. Effortless and simple. 

For a few seconds you think nothing of it, the part of your mind that wasn’t well agreeing with it and conceding that there was no point anymore. You weren’t doing anything useful in life anyway and you doubted anyone would truly notice if you’d gone. A cog in the machine of life, that’s all you were.

And cogs could be replaced after all.

But then that tiny voice that had been washed away earlier appeared again, resolute and defiant against the tidal waves of desolation that swamped it. The tiny kernel of hope and happiness that you’d once had, that had slowly grown and blossomed into a tree with roots so deep it couldn’t be moved. It was a little dejected and a little threadbare from lack of nourishment, but it was there all the same.

The part of you that didn’t want to give up, the part of you that wanted to fight for your life. The part that had spurred you to confidence to message Hoseok, that had encouraged you to keep going in college. The part of you that told you it didn’t want to give up, didn’t want to give in.

Your lungs are heaving now, body hunched over as you grip your legs so tightly, head pressed to your knees while salty tears drip down your face. A heartbeat that feels like it’s working overtime is so loud you can feel it in your chest, the tension in your arms and torso so strong that your muscles hurt from the ache of holding them for so long.

Eyes hot and stinging as the tears overflow, you press hard on your chest and try to regulate your breathing. Try to calm yourself down, to bring yourself back from the precipice of the pain and panic that you feel. The overwhelming rollercoaster of your emotions is giving you whiplash, the melancholy you had been swept with being beaten savagely by the fear of your inability to breath and the panic of how dark your thoughts had gotten.

You needed to talk to someone, you needed to see someone. You needed someone there, someone to tell you that it was okay. That you weren’t worthless. That you had value, that you were loved. That you would be missed. That life wouldn’t be okay without you, that you were needed and necessary. Someone to push away your thoughts for long enough to just let you think clearly.

You don’t even realise you’ve dialled his number, fingers moving on autopilot as if your body is trying to help when your mind has become so paralysed. It’s not until his voice finally manages to pierce through the incessant self-flagellation that your mind is undertaking that you blink in confusion, brow creasing as you wonder why he’s here.

Glancing up, you wipe away at the tears that keep falling and stare at your phone, squinting to focus. The familiar smiling face of your boyfriend stares back, a photo taken weeks back on a date day to the beach. Your heart clenched tightly and your breath shudders, the wheezing sound as your lungs work hard to try and get oxygen loud as you have the odd mixture of desperation to talk to him along with the dread of annoying him.

One of the things you’ve always hated was talking about these personal issues with people. Even though you knew rationally that people would rather you tell them about what was worrying and upsetting you, the gleefully self-destructive part of your mind told you that you were annoying them with your concerns.

But Hoseok was talking through the small speaker, his voice loud against the quiet scenery around you with only your hyperventilated breathing being the odd noise. And then his words finally made sense, the syllables that had broken through your ennui turning into sounds you understood.

It was the confusion in them that caused you to listen properly at first, the way he said your name repeatedly before the ragged sound of your breathing obviously began to register. Then your name became more frantic, the fear in his voice slicing through your own inner wail of despair.

“Y/N? Hello? Y/N are you there? Hellooo? Y/N? Are you okay? Hey, are you...Y/N are you crying? Y/N? Talk to me, come on. Answer me sweetheart, baby answer me. Y/N what’s wrong? Are you crying? Y/N please answer.” His voice is getting progressively louder, the concern and worry louder and you suddenly feel even more self-loathing at the knowledge you’ve panicked him.

“Hobi.” It’s all you can get out though, the word pushing past the tightness of your throat as it contracts so violently, air struggling to get past. Clutching your chest, you recognise an odd wailing sound that escapes with each breath outwards. Hands shaking, you press the phone to your ear and let out a broken sob, trying to talk to him.

“Baby, baby what’s wrong? Has something happened? Are you okay? Have you had an accident? Is it your parents?” He fires questions at you quickly, trying to find some answer as to why his girlfriend has called him in the middle of a workday only to be sobbing and wailing down the phone at him.

Particularly when you both knew how much you despised talking on the phone.

But just the sound of his voice is soothing to the frayed nerves within you, a balm to the deep and aching pain that lurks inside. It’s not enough to pull you out your breakdown, not yet at least. This isn’t a film and television show and you’re aware enough to realise that real life doesn’t happen like that.

God you felt warm, so warm. So unbelievably warm but the sweat on your skin is cold, like you’re ill. Squeezing your eyes shut, you choke as you inhale too fast and your diaphragm jerks in a way that has you almost hiccuping.

Even though he doesn’t actually know what’s happening, Hoseok still manages to do the right thing. Because he stops his own panicked questions, his voice suddenly stabilises and a calm tone taking over.

“Okay baby...baby, listen to me. Okay, you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay. It’s going to be okay sweetheart, I swear. Come on, can you hear me?” A torn sound of acknowledgement leaves you, your muscles aching with tiredness from how hard you’ve held yourself.

“That’s good, that’s really good baby. I want you to listen to me, okay? Listen to what I say and then do it for me. I want you to try and breathe in, take a big breath. Really big, come on, do it with me,” You hear him inhale loudly and you try to follow, the shakiness overtaking. “And now it let out. Nice and slow, come on. Do it again.”

He continues on encouraging you through it, his deep voice that you’ve fallen so deeply for so soothing and reassuring. It almost makes you want to cry just hearing it, but you listen to what he says. Closing your own eyes and simply focusing on inhaling and exhaling, pushing all the negativity away until all that’s left is breathing.

Finally, after what feels like an hour, you realise that your breaths are jerky but almost stable. Deep breathes in and out help your body to relax itself, muscles releasing while the demons of depression and anxiety take a step back in your mind. They’re still there, you can feel them hovering over the edges, but you feel like you can cope again.

Wiping at your face once more, you sniff and almost burst into tears again when you realise how utterly pathetic you feel. How stupid you are to fall apart like that over a job rejection of all things. And those demons inch forward, whispering into the fragile parts of you.

“Y/N, are you with me? Are you okay?” Leaning your head back against the railing, you nod quietly before remembering he’s not actually there. The first time you try to speak, your voice is croaky and what sounds like a bubble pops in your throat.

The second time works though. “I’m here. I’m...Hobi...I just...I can’t.” 

Perhaps unsurprisingly, the words cause you to start crying once more. But this time, there’s none of the panic and fear behind them. These tears are blazingly hot, your skin prickling from the salt of them while your head pounds from the previous crying and emotional ride you’d just gone through.

This time, your tears were because you simply wanted him there. You wanted to just bury yourself in his arms and try to forget what had happened.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know what’s wrong, but do you think you can go back to work? Or do you need to come home?” The very idea of going back into the office, sitting at your desk and doing all the mindless jobs that you loathe and despise with every fibre of your being fills you with a surge of feelings that makes you gasp in pain, head shaking rapidly.

You can’t, not today. You can’t go back to that, you can’t go back to the thoughts that this is going to be your life. That this is all you’ll ever be. All you’ll ever be worth. That you’ll never be good enough for anything.

“No.” It’s whimpered out, so soft and quiet but carrying a level of pain that you can’t even begin to properly explain to him. He understands though, a quiet sigh of his own as he obviously considers what to do.

“Okay...go in and ask them if you can take the rest of the day off. Tell them you’re ill. That you’ve been throwing up or something, whatever it takes. Are you okay to drive? Or do you want me to come get you?” Glancing over at your car, the Hyundai your dad had helped you to buy that was a dream compared to your previous car, you chew on your lip as you wipe at your face.

“I can drive. I can drive, it’s not far.” 

“Good. Go home and rest. I’ll be home when I can. Do you want to talk about whatever just happened when I do?” Looking down at the ground, you consider it before sniffling quietly.

“Yeah. I think I should.” Your voice cracks on the last word, yet more tears filling your eyes as your lip trembles dangerously. The thought of telling him is terrifying, but you feel like you’ve gone too far down this dark road now. And you don’t want to walk down it alone anymore, not when what you’re finding is so terrifying and scary.

“Okay. I’ll see you at home then.”

-

It was surprisingly easy to get your boss to let you go home early, easier than you thought it would have been. But maybe you looked a little worse than someone who had been throwing up, given the puffiness of your eyes and the overall haggard appearance you’d managed to take on. You didn’t look well, which worked in your favour in terms of being able to go home.

But you didn’t look well because you weren’t well. And you knew this.

As soon as you got home, you’d practically torn off your clothes before slipping on a well worn pair of soft grey leggings and a fuzzy sweatshirt, the material so soft on your body. It’s approaching the end of November and you revel in the warmth it offers you, curling on the couch into a tight ball with your head buried into the velvety Pusheen pillow that Hoseok had bought you a few weeks ago.

The soft padding of tiny paws on the wood floor alerts you to an incoming presence and you smile tiredly when Kasumi jumps up onto the couch with you, chirping at you quietly before butting her head against yours. Gently, you stroke at her fur and sigh as she settles, her head buried firmly into your neck and her small body vibrating as she purrs away happily.

“Are you happy my little purrbaby? Yeah?” You whisper to her, running your thumb over her silken ears before pressing your nose against her sleek fur. “My favourite little girl, aren’t you? A purry baby.”

The next few minutes consist of you just muttering nonsense to her as usual, your hand stroking automatically as you revel in the solid warmth of her against you. She remains where she is, paws flexing open and closed as the she pads at your chest and you can’t help the tiny smile that escapes as she does so.

“I love you, yes I do.” Maybe it’s a sign of how bad of a person you are that the only person you feel even remotely comfortable saying that to is your own cat. A cat who can’t answer back. Though maybe that’s the point. She relies on you for survival, therefore her love is a given.

Other’s though?

Her ears twitch suddenly and her eyes widen, that familiar look of alarm taking over her feline features and causing her to jerk upright. Frowning, you coo to her before realising you can hear the door opening.

A quick glance at the clock tells you that it’s not even 2pm and your brow creases in confusion. You go to question whoever it is, only he appears from the hallway into the room and your throat tightens immediately.

Hoseok isn’t wearing a fancy suit this time, instead just a pair of black jeans with a black button-up, his socks a contrast in white. His work had since changed their dress code policy to smart-casual, hence his jeans. But he wasn’t supposed to finish until 5pm.

“Why are you here?” Your words aren’t nearly as solid as you intended them to be, the sounds shaky and he lets out a tiny sigh.

“You really think I was gonna stay at work for the next few hours after my girlfriend, who hates using the phone, calls me and all I can hear is hyperventilating and crying? And then she’s so not okay that she actually goes home? No way. I’m gonna work the time back later but I felt that you shouldn’t be alone right now.” He makes it all sound so simple, like there wasn’t even a question in his mind about what he’d do.

It chips away at something inside you, a chink in the solid wall of protection you’d built over the years that held back all your deepest and darkest fears and concerns from others. And in an instant, that wall shatters in a tsunami of emotion.

Lips trembling violently while your vision blurs from the tears filling it, you simply open your arms to him and whimper out his name in a tone so broken and lost that it almost makes Hoseok cry just hearing it. Not that you know that, nor can you see the way his face crumples for a moment at seeing you break so quickly.

You don’t see because the tears block your vision of him, but you feel it when he sits on the couch next to you and wraps you in his arms. Without a word, you squeeze your arms around him so tightly, as if you were afraid that if you let go then he’d vanish.

And you let yourself break in the comfort of his embrace, in the safety of presence and the reassurance of his stability. A horrible sound of pure agony escapes your throat, dragged from the deepest depths and a part of you is surprised at it. At how much pain it encapsulates.

Once you start though, you can’t stop and you simply cry into Hoseok’s arms, letting yourself go in a way that you never have before. Exposing your vulnerabilities and all the jagged points of pain inside your psyche that you’d kept hidden for so long, afraid that no one would care or would see them as a sign of weakness if you let them out.

Hoseok doesn’t judge you though, he doesn’t complain or sigh in annoyance. Instead, he spends the next ten minutes simply hugging you so tightly to him, his hands stroking your back in long movements that soothe you and reassure you that he’s here, that he cares. Vaguely, you recognise him whispering things to you but you don’t put enough thought into what he’s saying.

The earlier breakdown you’d suffered had been frightening and painful; the fear of not understanding what was happening properly combining with the gaping hole of self-hatred and feelings of inadequacy. This didn’t feel like a breakdown though. It felt cathartic almost, like each sob that escaped you, each tear that wet Hoseok’s shirt was another weight being lifted off your mind and shoulders.

By the time you finally calm down enough until the tears are silent and the only noise you make is the hiccuped breathing of someone who’s cried so hard their throat and eyes hurt, you feel almost relaxed. Maybe crying was a good thing sometimes, but you knew that it was because you’d come to terms with the fact that you had to talk about your issues and most importantly, you had to reach out to others for help.

Now the room is completely quiet, only broken by the occasional sniffle from you. You’d expected him to start asking questions immediately but he doesn’t, instead just holding you in a protective embrace while you calm down.

Oddly, it makes you feel a little better that he doesn’t freak out or pepper you with questions. His reassuring presence helps to calm your frayed nerves and you find yourself playing with one of the buttons on his shirt, bottom lip pouting out as you realise his shirt is plastered to his chest from your tears.

“I’m sorry about your shirt.” You whisper, voice hoarse and low. There’s no response for a second before he lets out a breathy laugh, warm lips pressing to your hairline affectionately.

“That’s fine. It’s just a shirt,” Hoseok pauses, shifting to hug you in a more comfortable position on the couch. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The way he leaves the question open for you lets you know that he’s giving you an out, a way to turn him down. You know he wouldn’t be particularly happy if you didn’t talk about what had caused you to have such a breakdown, but he would acknowledge your decision.

“I just...I got another rejection.” Fingers smooth at the wrinkles in his shirt, the text from the email running through your mind once more and you can practically feel your spirit sinking again. “I don’t know, it just...it got too much. I know it sounds really stupid and I can’t really explain it all or anything but...it was just too much. Everything has been too much lately and yet I just feel so empty and uncaring.”

Hoseok doesn’t interrupt you, letting you spill out your inner thoughts to him, even if they don’t make a lot of sense. 

“I’ve been...I mean...lately I...I’m not...I’m not okay.” Your voice wavers dangerously, lip trembling and you tighten your hand on the fabric of his shirt. “I just feel...I can’t...I can’t, I just can’t. I don’t feel like I can do this anymore, it’s just so hard. So hard to get up and go to work when I hate my fucking job. It’s like my mind is dying every second in there and my soul is shrivelling up too. But I’m not good enough to get out and I’ll never get out and all I can think is...is this it? Is this going to be my life? Is this all I’ll ever do? Is this all I’ll ever be worth? Is this all I’ll do? And the thought of this being all I do for the rest of my life is...I mean...I just...I can’t Hoseok. I can’t, I can’t do it. I don’t even want to wake up if I have to do this forever.”

The words are rushed from you, blurring together as you feel the deep hysteria and panic rising within you once more. Hands clenching his shirt are shaking while your breath is coming a little faster again and your poor, swollen eyes are stinging from the heat of yet more tears. You’d have thought you had none left to cry.

“It’s like everything is weighing me down, all of it. My job, my lack of career, my finances and just me as a person. It’s all building in my head and I just...I can’t. But at the same time I feel nothing inside. I wake up and wonder why I’m bothering to get up because I have nothing to do, I can’t focus on shows or games or books. I’m lethargic and unhappy and the idea of going out just makes me want to cry. I drove home from the store the other day and the entire time I felt like there was a hive of bees in my stomach, all angry and my heart was racing. I didn’t even know what I was anxious about! That’s not normal and it happens all the time. I’ve tried, for you and my parents and friends but it always comes back. I can’t do it anymore, I can’t.” You’re not entirely sure what you can’t do, but you say it so forcefully that Hoseok simply nods.

He doesn’t speak at first, contemplating what to say and trying to remember what his therapist had discussed with him all those years ago when he’d gone. It was hard, because obviously your case wasn’t like his. But he wanted to help, or at least try and guide you in the right direction. Because you were reaching out, and he wanted to be the one to hold you steady while you fought your way out of the darkness.

“How long have you been feeling like this? I’ve noticed you pulling away recently, I didn’t want to push you on it though.” Hoseok admits, his voice soothing as he runs a thumb along your cheek, wiping your tears away.

Almost childishly, you shrug. “I don’t know. It comes and goes. I always...I hate doing things that make me happy or excited because I always crash after. And the longer my happiness goes on, the harder and further I crash after. It’s like my mind can’t cope with just...being...normal.”

Hoseok shakes his head firmly then, pulling back slightly to get you to look at him. His eyes are worried and his expression is concerned, but you can tell he’s determined. You can also tell that you’ve just said something that he disagrees with.

“Don’t call yourself not normal. At the risk of sounding like some lame quote from the early 2010s, there’s no such thing as normal. You’re just...you’re not okay right now. I think we can both tell that. And there’s nothing wrong with not being okay. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re having mental health problems and I hope you won’t be angry with me for saying it but...this...today...baby I think you need to see a doctor or something. I can’t tell you what will help because I don’t know, and I don’t want to mess it up. But you have to want to get help.”

Looking down at your hands, you sniff quietly as you contemplate what he’s said. As per usual, he’s said it sweetly and in a way that isn’t offensive. The very idea of admitting that you had mental health issues made you quail inside, wanting to tell him that he was wrong and you were fine. 

But he wasn’t wrong...and you weren’t fine. 

“What if they don’t believe me? Or tell me it’s just in my head? Or that I’m just sad or something? And what if work finds out and they get angry at me? People will tell me I’m just faking it or something, looking for attention.” The stereotypes slip from your lips without you realising it but you’re worried.

Despite the push for being more open around mental health lately, you know that people still don’t view it positively. That admitting depression or anxiety can often come with an eye roll or an exasperated sigh. You knew how it went, you weren’t depressed you were just tired or weren’t willing to put in effort and so forth.

But you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t be, not when it felt so real and strong.

“Sweetheart, if they think at your work then fuck them. You already hate that place and you’re looking for something new. Don’t let them get to you, you are more important than anyone there. And if they want to act like shit around something as serious as this, then they don’t deserve you. Your doctor should listen, and if they don’t then make them listen. They’re there for you, not the other way around. It’s in your head purely because it’s your mental health and it can be helped. I won’t lie, it’s probably not gonna get cured. But you’ll find ways to cope. And I’ll be here for you. So will your parents and your friends. We care for you and we want you to be okay.” He rubs at your arms then, his touch warm even through the soft material of your sweater.

“I’ve watched you draw into yourself and it’s worried me for a while now. But if you’re willing to reach out to me at your lowest, which I’m going to assume that breakdown was your lowest, then I think you want help. I can’t make it go away, but I can help support you while you get your feet back under you. Will you consider going to the doctor? Please?”

Pushing your head into his neck harder, you sniff hard and pushing the sleeves of your sweater past your hands. Your heart races at the thought of discussing your personal issues with someone you don’t know, but you know Hoseok is right. You need help, you need to reach out.

Swallowing hard, you realise that you need to do what he’s suggesting. You don’t want to get back to that point where you realised you didn’t care if you lived or died anymore. Because you wanted your life to get better. You just didn’t have the tools to pull yourself out of the swamp.

“Okay. I’ll go.” His body relaxes imperceptibly at your agreement and you feel bad, realising how worried he must have been for you. But that worry vanishes when he tilts your head up to his, a sweet smile on his face before he kisses you gently.

“Good. You won’t regret it, I swear. And thank you. For trusting me enough to call me when you were afraid and for telling me now. I want to try and help you anyway I can. I know what it’s like to feel very lost and afraid. I just got angry at the world though. So...please talk to me when you’re not feeling okay, even if you think I’m going to be annoyed or can’t be bothered. Because I’d rather you talk and vent to me than do something else.” And suddenly, you realise he’s got tears in his own eyes.

Reluctant tears you can tell, the way he gives a small smile that’s forced, his dimples showing but no real happiness behind it. Swallowing, your own smile wobbles too as you realise that he must have been so worried.

“I will. I swear. I swear.” His lips press to your forehead, resting there long after he’s finished his kiss and you simply embrace it, absorbing his deep feelings to you that you can tell he has even though he doesn’t say a word. Unsurprising really, because you feel all the positive and warm feelings you have towards him blossoming through the hollowness in your chest.

He’s not going to fix you and you both know that. But you’re surprised to realise that you don’t want him to either. That this is something you have to start yourself. For your own peace of mind but also so that you don’t become reliant on him while pressuring Hoseok with something as precarious as your mental health.

You’ve reached out for help finally, and now you just need to accept the help you’re given in turn.

#armiesnet #networkbangtan #btscreatorsnet #btssunshineclub #hoseok angst #hobi angst #hoseok fluff #hobi fluff #j hope angst #j hope fluff #bts fluff #bts angst #hoseok x you #hoseok x reader #flower!hoseok #tw: depression #tw: anxiety #hoseok fanfic #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok series #hobi fanfic #hobi fanfiction #hobi series #j hope fanfic #j hope fanfiction #j hope series #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts series

[yeehawren]

Top Surgery Recovery

So I had top surgery on the 11th May and its now the 14th May. Recovery has been a bit harder than I initially thought it would be. 

I am quite a sedentary person so sitting and laying down for long periods of time and keeping myself entertained is nothing new to me. Plus I also had a lot of things that I was worried about alleviated by my surgeon. For instance I did not have drains put in and I have waterproof plasters (which have been a godsend, my morning shower is the highlight of the day) So I didnt have to worry about not washing, potential infection risks, full chest plasters that become very itchy, skin rashes etc PLUS I opted for no nipples so I didnt have to worry about that (I want to be covered in tattoos anyway so it made no difference to me about having nips or not) I was already on a high protein diet before hand so I havent had to make any new food choices (I’m autistic so changes in food is a big anxiety inducer for me) I have been taking arnica + the food I eat is also high in fibre. Basically I thought I prepped for everything and tried to make this as smooth of a recovery as possible.  

So yeah lol what I am trying to say is no matter how much you think you have prepared, you don’t know how shit is going to work on you.

Heres a little list of the things that I am struggling with.  

Brain Fuzz. I had no idea how fuzzy my brain would be after surgery DAYS later. I find it really hard to focus on anything and as I am spending a lot of time sitting or laying down (except when I have to do my stretches and general pottering around) Its really easy for me to get frustrated and bored because my brain can’t focus. So I am really just sitting there day dreaming or dissociating. 

The fucking BINDERS. As someone with sensory issues, I could never bind fully, it would instantly give me an anxiety attack to have that much pressure on my chest. I could just about tolerate sports bras so I was worried about having to wear them for 6 weeks constantly post op. But I just told myself its something that I have to do and its only temporary. I hate it.   

Posture. Because of my binder my posture is terrible and I have so many knots in my back because of it.

Sleeping upright. I get sleep paralysis when I sleep on my back so theres also that I have to deal with for the next however many weeks until I can comfortable lay on my side. NOT FUN.

Pain. The pain isnt so bad, I have had my chest tattooed and I would say that its quite comparable to that. Just a little more bruise pain than burning CANT MOVE or my scabs will rip apart pain. It feels a lot more secure because of the type of bandages that I have. I have surprisingly good range of motion with my arms. But I would say bruise pain is more exhausting than that burning pain. plus the pain from my poor posture and sleeping upright. its just ahhh tolerable but frustrating.  

Weird chest tingles. It feels like theres fizzy bubbles under my skin going up and down my chest. Its a very odd sensation that I wasn't prepared for.

How weird and bloated my belly looks. I cant look in the mirror yet without freaking out about my belly. It looks so swollen and out of proportion. So I can’t  enjoy looking at my results yet without freaking out about that. 

Peeing a lot and trying to get comfortable, that is really frustrating. Being super tired, not being able to get comfortable and then getting just comfortable enough to doze off, only to need to go for a pee because you were told to drink lots of water to help with recovery. Then starting that whole cycle again. Very frustrating.

Feelings. Its very easy to feel really low when you’re hurting. I don’t regret my surgery at all. I keep reminding myself how I felt about my body pre-op and how long I have wanted this, how I am gonna feel when I have my final results etc. But its very hard to feel great about it when you’re this low. I know I will feel differently when I feel more like myself but it is damn hard to keep positive. I’m feeling very sorry for myself that I have to put it through this much stress in order to be happy. 

HELP. My mum is taking care of me, but... yeah its not great. The majority of things I do by myself. so far she has cooked me a couple of meals and helped me get undressed for my first shower. Everything else I have done myself. The first hour I was home I was left alone in the house with my bedroom door open and our large dog jumped onto my chest while I was asleep. No one was there to help me, and then later that night when I had literally just gotten my appetite back (I threw up so much post surgery) I asked for food and had to wait for ages for my mum to fill out one of our foster placements housing benefit forms for them ( something they could of done themselves and deffo something my mum could of gone back to after helping me out) And then when it came to the evening, they went to bed super early and really laid it on thick that she was exhausted so obviously I felt absolutely awful asking for help with my bedtime routine etc. So not only did I have to do everything for myself, I also had to sort the kids out and the pets out.  So yeah Day 1 of recovery at home didnt exactly set me up to feeling safe and taken care of so I have felt the pressure of taking care of myself. Things since then havent been great either so thats another thing I am struggling with. I feel like an asshole complaining about it but we prepared for all of this and it feels like so may careless mistakes are being made, promises arent being kept and I dont want to be the asshole that calls it out. I am very vulnerable right now and I feel really let down. I don’t feel like a priority which I was assured I was before the surgery. Which also ties into my low mood and feelings.   

So yeah, Long Post but I hope it can help prepare anyone else going for top surgery. 

Things should only really get better from here, the first 3-5 days are suppose to be the worst so I am told so lets fucking hope because this sucks sooo much. 

#top surgery #trans #non binary #enbies #enby #they/them

[hopeisour4letteredword]

proof of patience ch1

Summary: In which Flynn grows a beard, and Yuri tries really hard to be a good boyfriend, even when he’s tired. Flynn tries... a little less hard.

Read it here or check the notes for the link to AO3.

Yuri climbs in through Flynn's window just after dawn, and Flynn is nowhere to be seen. Shit. Yuri is on a healthy distraction mission. He was hoping he'd have time to ambush Flynn before he got started on his day.

"That dumbass better not be working at this hour," he says to himself, swinging his legs in from the windowsill to climb fully into the room.

"The dumbass is in the bathroom," Flynn calls, muffled through the door. Oh. Oops.

"Cool, thanks. I'll wait out here. Snoop through your stuff."

"You can come in," Flynn says. "I'm just about to shave."

"Shave away the hours of your youth?" Yuri opens the bathroom door enough to peek inside. Flynn, standing in front of the mirror, glances over to give him an indulgent smile that Yuri is going to stubbornly pretend does nothing to his heart, thank you very much. The contents of his shaving kit are spread haphazardly across the countertop. "Why are you shaving at dawn?"

"So I don't turn up at my morning meeting looking disheveled," Flynn says. He goes back to arranging his shaving setup. Yuri slips fully into the bathroom, closing the door behind himself, and hops up to sit on a clear space of counter. It leaves him in arm's reach of Flynn. He exercises this ability by reaching up to pat Flynn's jaw and scratch his fingernails through the short, stiff hair. Flynn's eyelashes flutter closed as he leans into the touch. "Mm. That's nice."

"You've missed a few days," Yuri says. Probably more like a week, at least. He doesn't like that, less because of how Flynn looks and more because... well. If Flynn isn't even finding the time to shave, what else is he skipping? "Busy, are you?"

Flynn cracks an eye open. "Did Hanks send you to yell at me again?"

"He didn't send me, but he might have tipped me off that you've been working too hard."

Flynn puts his shaving soap to the side; his arrangement is completed now, but instead of starting his shave, he turns to Yuri. He strokes his knuckles along Yuri's cheek. "Hanks knows damn well what he's doing when he makes you worry about me. Don't make excuses for him."

"Grouchy," Yuri murmurs. He lets his own hand fall from Flynn's face. "Who's worried? Not me."

Flynn makes the same soft, amused sound he always makes when Yuri tries to deflect accusations that he cares. He rubs a thumb over Yuri's cheekbone. "So you climbed through my window at dawn to check up on me for completely non-worried reasons?"

"Check up on you? Psh," Yuri says. He kicks out a leg, hooking it around the back of Flynn's thigh to try to pull him closer. "Nah. I'm just here to catch you alone so we can fool around. Totally for my own benefit."

"Uh-huh," Flynn says, unimpressed. He lets Yuri's heel drag uselessly across the back of his thigh, unmoved. "At dawn."

"I would say I just know what I'm dealing with, but I did actually think you'd be in bed for at least a little longer. So really you're even worse than I was accounting for."

"I've got a long day today," Flynn says. "I wanted to get a head start on it."

"When's your meeting?"

"...Eight. But I wanted to meet with the Captains before we—"

"At what time?"

"Seven thirty."

"You need two hours to shave?"

"Like you know anything about how long it takes to shave," Flynn huffs. He pinches Yuri's smooth cheek. "Babyface."

Yuri mock-snaps at his fingers. Flynn snatches his hand back. "Don't be jealous just because I don't need to worry about accidentally slitting my own throat."

"Those of us who are actually capable of patience don't have to worry about that," Flynn counters. Fucking finally, he leans in to give Yuri a gentle, chaste kiss on the mouth. Yuri closes his eyes as he presses back into it.

"Can be patient," he mumbles, against Flynn's lips. Flynn huffs a disbelieving laugh.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mm-hm."

"In that case," Flynn says, pulling back—when Yuri blinks his eyes back open, he's smirking. "You can wait until I'm done shaving to have your fun."

Yuri groans over-dramatically in defeat, letting himself slump back against the wall. He doesn't mind that much, really. He is tired from getting up for this. He wishes Flynn wasn't up so damn early, burning the candle at both ends, but he's definitely not about to go back to sleep now, so there's not much Yuri can do about that one. And Flynn saying he has to wait to have his fun is as good as a promise that he will be having his fun, which means Yuri can hack out whatever chunk of time before his meeting Flynn would have spent rereading every report under the sun that was even tangentially relevant. That's Yuri's time, now. He can force Flynn to relax for a few minutes.

Anyway, it's not all that bad to wait quietly in Flynn's space while he shaves. It's peaceful, and his soap and aftershave smell nice, and at least Flynn is doing something to take care of himself. Yuri won't admit it out loud, but he likes the slivers of domesticity they manage to wring out of their busy lives. He basks in Flynn's proximity, watching as he rinses and lathers his face. He might zone out a little. He doesn't think he dozes off; his eyes are open and he's awake. That's how he can appreciate the moment, after all. Aside from their breathing, the only sound is the splash of water whenever Flynn rinses the razor between strokes.

"Maybe I should just grow it out," Flynn says, thoughtfully, as he drags the razor along the curve of his jaw. Yuri's not really listening, nodding along as he watches the lather and stubble disappear and leave smooth, soft skin in their wake. "Not have to deal with shaving for a while. That might be more convenient."

Yuri makes an absentminded sound of agreement. After a second, his brain kicks back into gear, and he frowns. "Pretty sure people with beards still have to do some grooming."

"Hm. I suppose it depends on the look you're going for."

"Well, I'm pretty sure people with beards who want to look reputable have to do some grooming, oh great Commandant."

Flynn grins as he pauses to rinse his razor again. "I don't know, some people are into rugged beards, aren't they?"

Is he actually considering this?

"Are you serious?"

"Not about not grooming," Flynn says. He still has a faint smile as he resumes shaving. He's almost done with one side. "I might be serious about the beard. What's your opinion?"

"My opinion?"

"Yeah. Do you think it would be an improvement?"

What would Flynn look like with a beard? He never tried growing out his facial hair when they were teenagers, or ever, that Yuri knows of. The short fuzz he's shaving off right now is about as long as Yuri's ever seen on him. How would a full beard look? Would it be the lighter blond hair that's on the top of Flynn's head, or the dark gold of his eyelashes? How would it change the shape of his face? That probably depends on the style he would wear it in... Why would Flynn want to grow a beard? Is this another attempt to present himself as mature, as a young man in a position of high authority? Did Finath have a beard when they were kids and Yuri's just forgotten about it? At least if he had, Yuri would have some frame of reference for how it would look on Flynn. But no, he realizes abruptly, he doesn't actually want to think about Flynn's dad when he's trying to decide whether Flynn would look hot with a beard; that's no good at all.

Scrambling for a safe answer, Yuri manages, "I like your face just fine the way it is."

Flynn blinks, then beams at him and ducks close unexpectedly to rub his nose against Yuri's. Yuri's startled inhale gets him a mouthful of lather from the side Flynn hasn't shaved yet. "Aww, Yuri. That's sweet."

"Flynn—Flynn, ew—" Yuri splutters, shoving him away and leaning across the counter to spit in the sink. Turns out the mouthfeel and flavor of soap has not improved since Hanks washed out his mouth for swearing when he was a kid. "Bleh—you got soap in my mouth! Gross."

When Yuri glances up again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, Flynn looks entirely too entertained. "I like your face the way it is, too."

"I like your face a lot fucking less right now," Yuri grumbles, retreating back to his corner of the counter with a scowl. "Jerk."

"Just trying to liven things up for you. I thought you were starting to look a little bored."

"Getting soap in my mouth is not a cure for boredom!" And he wasn't bored in the first place, but he's not about to tell Flynn he's content just to be enjoying his company.

"Seemed exciting to me."

"I'm leaving," Yuri complains, and makes no move to go anywhere at all. Flynn laughs and brings the razor back to his face. "You don't deserve my intervention."

"For my work habits or for the beard?"

"Grow a beard if you want a damned beard. You don't need my permission. It's your face."

"You're the one who has to kiss this face, though."

"I don't have to," Yuri says, and has no fucking idea whether he means that as a threat or a reassurance. Both, possibly. "And your dashing good looks don't hurt, but they aren't the primary reason I do it, so do what you want."

Flynn makes a face that suggests he wants to shower Yuri with more affection for that one, but he restrains himself. Thank the gods. Yuri doesn't want another mouthful of soap. He leans back against the wall and tries to ignore the faint aftertaste in his mouth as Flynn steadily shaves the other side of his face. At least he's not in danger of dozing off again. He feels fully awake now.

Finally, Flynn ducks down to thoroughly rinse away the last of the lather. Face still dripping into the sink, he reaches over to nudge Yuri without looking. "Pass me a towel?"

Yuri passes him the towel. Flynn carefully pats his face dry, and the next time he reaches over to nudge Yuri, Yuri shoves a new towelette into his hand before he can make contact. Flynn snorts fondly as he covers the bottle of aftershave with it and tips some out to soak into the fabric.

"Sure you aren't impatient?"

"I'm just being efficient," Yuri says, reasonably. "I already knew what you were going to do next. Why bother waiting for you to ask for it?"

"You've never been efficient a day in your life," Flynn says, wiping his jaw with the aftershave in easy, practiced motions. Then, in a spectacularly low blow, he says, "I mean, remember when you tried to fix the plumbing for the Lower Quarter?"

"Shut up, geez." Yuri kicks him, lightly. Like the ordeal with the aque blastia even counts. "I can't believe I got up early for you to be mean to me."

"I know. You could've just as easily waited until evening for me to be mean to you." Flynn tidies away the components of his shaving kit quickly, then sets it aside to give Yuri his full attention. As he leans in, he murmurs, "Glad you didn't, though."

"Oh?"

"Mm. Great start to my morning." He eases Yuri into a slow kiss, drawing back just enough to add, "Much nicer than shaving alone."

"I can think of some other more interesting ways to spend your morning than shaving alone," Yuri says, and when he hops down from the counter to pull Flynn back into the bedroom, Flynn follows easily.

Yuri's got other things to think about after that, and he forgets all about most of the conversation. Why would he remember it? He and Flynn say all kinds of nonsense to each other as banter. It's not like it will come up again, right?

#fluri #flynn scifo #yuri lowell #tales of vesperia #long post

[sendmyresignation]

this is mostly for my archive/organization but these are the song descriptions and answers from the hesitant alien quiz with their correct match if you’re interested

The Bureau:

Description- The world is purple-black stagelight darkness, the steady drumbeat ringer of your cellphone echoing in the enclosing corridor like a heart beating through the walls made of flesh. You can see red ahead, emergency lights beckoning you closer as you sweat panic. The roar of the crowd and the ringing of the phone all around you grows louder, becomes one in the same- you have no choice but to answer the call

Answer- What a wonderful beginning, a beautiful stepping stone. You are on the verge of some great change and it scares you how everything keeps moving forever and forever, on and on. But there are always constants if you look closely at yourself- hold on to the people you hold dear and the small things you love because there is love everywhere- in the creations, the steam of family recipes realized, the dial tones, and in between the pages of the bedside table books. Now that you've looked back, jump frequencies and step out into the sunshine of this new morning.

Action Cat:

Description- You're standing in a light red room, in front of an old television set with static moving across the screen. Suddenly, it rolls out of the box like high tide, surrounding you in the water-wave of pulse and sound. In the middle of the stream you hear a voice, barely heard over the rushing noise. You open your palm and feel the weigh of someone left behind. You open your mouth and you say sorry to the ghost reaching out. In response, the enveloping blanket of fuzz falls away like dominoes

Answer- A reconciliation through the fuzz. You are guilty of something, but don't know how to make up for it, how to patch together an adequate apology for the damage. Don't let your own desire to martyr yourself get in the way of telling the truth. Don't let the fear stop you from feeling love again. Don't let your desire to escape your past mistakes make you forget the good you found there. Reach out and gather beauty wherever you find it- because we all deserve it.

No Shows:

Description- The club is saturated in jolly rancher blues and the walls are shaking with the sound of the bass. Everything is muffled, even standing right next to the stage but when you're up behind that microphone it doesn't matter if no one can hear what you have to say  as long as the feedback you hear float through your head is truthful. The walls close in until the only person you're playing for is yourself and your loved ones and the blue walls and here you find where you were meant to be

Answer- An ode to finding your place. In the past, you haven't really felt like you fit in anywhere, that there is no space meant for you to occupy. You've had to fight tooth and nail for what you have and some days you give up and stew in your loneliness. But life is not a jenga board, you are not a puzzle piece looking for a home. You already belong to yourself and you've already made space for the people who matter. There is a purpose in what you have, so find satisfaction here, in who you are and the things you have to share.

Brother:

Description- It's raining- heavy droplets and reflective lights. You shove your way backstage, through the alley door, and enter a revolving space of orange, green, and red like a tilt-a-whirl. But even when you feel like falling over and eating the thick, growing tedrals of the shag carpet, the room is too crowded and the arms of friends and lovers and strangers hold you up

Answer- A song about holding on to drowning hands. You are grasping at whoever will keep you from crashing again, tight white-knuckles digging into shoulders and purple bruised fingernails from the squeezing- violent touches that ground you in the crisp pains of reality you are lucky to have people that inspire such passion for living in your survival response. But you're scared they're going to fall into the same rock bottom you're crawling out of, that your hands are sinking ships pulling them down with you. This is not true- you should never be afraid to ask for help, should always keep a strong grip on the ones you love and you'll all have anchors in the storm.

Millions:

Description- The floor is cool blue metal and you are a passenger on it's surface. Everything is spinning and spinning and spinning- a dizzying kaleidoscope of bright, beautiful lights. But suddenly the lights burn and the surface boils and you break apart, frying in the wonderous sunshine

Answer- A goodbye letter mailed to the wreckage. You are afraid to stop the train car you've boarded, afraid that there is no way to take a different path while the engine runs out of fuel. It's ok to jump ship sometimes. It's ok to quit when the heavy weight of yourself cannot be dragged further. You are not beholden by anyone else but your own livelihood. Say goodbye to the life you lead and apologize later, because you can't be sorry if you're dead.

Zero Zero:

Description- You're in the street- the shatter-crackle of glass under your feet as you make your way through the hazy path of the nightlife the only sound. Everything is quiet but there are nameless faces all around you. They keep coming up to you, silent, passing trinkets and toys and bloody organs into your hands as small talk. You want to go home but the neon lights pull you closer like a tractor beam until you reach the back door of the club. The air is suffocating but the smog is the only oxygen your body is familar with. Maybe if you hold your breath you can turn back and escape

Answer- An accusation against the watchful eye. You are tired of the way people perceive you, are tug-of-warring between wanting the purity of old connections you had back and wanting anonymity moving forward. Fitting yourself into past puzzle pieces while you morph and change is a fool's errand. You can't resurrect the past exact, you can only walk away and hope to recreate yourself anew.

Juarez:

Description- The world rushes past you in a streak of purple-orange desert - in a van, on a train, running on two feet. It never stops, you never stop and you can't even look down at your hands- they're too blurry. You don't know who you are in this inbetween space but maybe you'll reach your destination soon

Answer- The road trip song for the self-journey. You are at a crossroads, your whole life laid out in many different paths and no clear direction where to go. How can you decide what's next when you don't know yourself when you can't recognize your own desires? Just know, if you run fast and far enough you'll burn away the costume graphed to your skin and find the truth lodged underneath your foggy epidermis. Just know that each stage in the process of metamorphosis is still valuable. Is still you. Do not turn back halfway through discovery.

Drugstore Perfume:

Description- Face pressed against the glass of a subway car. The outside is tinged pink, like the glass is tinted and everything you see is just slightly wrong. It's subtle and nauseating but your eyes have long since adjusted to the strain. You're just waiting for your stop to arrive

Answer- A quiet call for running away. You are either stuck somewhere you are trying desperately to escape from or you've already made tire tracks so deep they can still see the scars of your leaving. No matter the small amount of solace you've found here, there is a blood deep desire to take a chance on what could be- otherwise you'll suffocate on the fumes of hometown glory. Just remember the smell never washes out so it's ok to catch a whiff and find a moment of comfort. That doesn't mean you were wrong to get out.

Get the Gang Back Together:

Description- Smoky bars and billards rooms clouded in red and green lighting. There's the leftover remains of a high school reunion crowding inside, getting a drink and getting swallowed in the fuzzy sound of the live band. You can't hear what anyone says but you think everyone is staring at you with jewel-green eyes and wide smirks

Answer- An elegy to old towns, old friends, and older gossip. You are paranoid about the way other people see you, afraid of the judgment strangers whisper when you're not around. But the urge to get out is too strong, it leaves you with no time to explain yourself. Sometimes, you have to craft the perfect alibi for your own disappearance. Do not allow yourself to be bogged down by falsehood, embrace the half-truths told about you in the dark. Become the boogeyman in other people's stories- it won't matter when you're free. After all, the only people who know the truth are the ones leaving too- hold onto that.

How It’s Going to Be:

Description- The figure of Puff the Magic Dragon flying through bright blue skies, weaving between flying pirate ships and landing on smooth, green hillsides

Answer- A storyteller's guide to getting up. You are a fairytale crafter, a person with stories leaking out of your head but you've always waited for early detonation. You'll give the world everything stop-blocking the flow and let the river-water drown you. You just didn't notice you grew gills along the way. Life is not easy when you can't control your own endings. Living cannot be contained in chapter headings anymore and nothing is certain. But the love that keeps finding you is too big and too boring and too beautiful to be a fable. Embrace the spaces unmentioned, the path unknown to you, and live in the margins.

Maya the Psychic:

Description- Bright purple light flashing like a beacon in the nighttime sky is reflecting on the surface of speeding cars, giving off stardust and gold sparks that passerbys cannot see. You run out into the street, collecting the magic reminants before they disappear

Answer- Song interference as a telepathic embrace. You are a person plagued by your own brain, the incessant rattling of your own thoughts drowning everything out. You scare yourselves sometimes with the disruptions, feel too useless to operate your own internal hard drive. But do not be afraid, you are not a monster and you are not alone. There are scores of clairvoyants with feedback filling their heads. You can hear them if you focus. So tune into the good noise, find your frequency, and never fly back down to earth.

Television All the Time:

Description- A bright plastic barbie doll house with a sad little boy inside. He's watching the rain batter the windows and flood the living room

Answer- A track for the dreamers stuck in the illumination of the television set. You are caught between what you want and what the world has placed just out of reach, dissatisfied with the imitation life you've tripped blindly into. Sometimes leaving is the only way to take back control. Sometimes falling on your face is the only way to feel anything but the empty fog. Sometimes real freedom is admitting you're not happy. There are good things all around you if you open your eyes, don't miss them because your eyes are trained on a mirage.

#i think i'm going to do something with these.... so i wanted to have them all together #i have something in mind but. idk. it might take a while.... #hesitant alien #my posts #writing library

[cupofteaguk]

impressions (m)

summary: Park Jimin has recently been a very active part of your life in a certain avenue (a physical avenue, to be more specific), but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything right? Right?

pairing: jimin x fem!reader

genre: halloween au, friends with benefits au, college au | smut 

warnings: mutual pining, sex against a bathroom door, unprotected sex 

word count: 5k 

.

It is seven thirty in the evening when the phone rings, a pretty normal thing to occur at a pretty normal time and yet it disrupts the entire flow of how you expected the night to go. Running on a solid hour and a half of sleep does terrible things to your mind, makes your limbs sloppy and your brain turn into fuzz at the simplest thought, your shoulders sore and your eyes burning—all the unfortunate aftermath of forcing yourself to cram out six essays within a night after quite literally waiting until the last minute to get anything done.

Although, to be fair, you’ve had a relatively eventful past few weeks that have consisted of new introductions and plenty of distractions that have done more than enough to pull you away from your assignments and even your day-to-day life and the functioning aspects that come with it. You wouldn’t say that it was (entirely) your fault that such a thing had to come into your life at the time that it had, but you had still encouraged it.

You sigh, moaning and groaning and turning over in your bed that adopts a slightly musky and lemongrass scent, unfamiliar and familiar and sinful and wonderful all at the same singular time—as you reach for the phone. Your eyes are barely able to stay open, for the lids feel heavy as does the rest of your body. You miss the nightstand once, twice, before finally grabbing the phone and bringing the device to your ear.

“Hello?” You grumble, the voice that leaves your lips raspy and terrible and exhausted and the person on the other side of the line winces.

“Ouch, sorry princess did I wake you?”

“Yes,” You protest, rubbing at the inner corner of your eyes so you avoid rubbing off your makeup. “And what did I say about calling me princess?”

“Well, you say I can call you whatever I want when I have my dick in you so I just assumed—!”

“Park Jimin!” You interrupt, sitting up slightly, the words shakening your heart but awakening you just enough so that your eyes don’t feel as heavy anymore.

“What’s wrong?” You can just hear the smirk in his voice and you don’t know if you want to give him the satisfaction of a response or just hang up so you can continue your nap.

But rather, you sigh. “I’m exhausted, Park Jimin, so you better have a good reason for disrupting me from my nap.”

“Ah.” Jimin lets out a noise of acknowledgment and you try to picture his current setting—probably leaning against the wall of his apartment, cradling the phone close to his ear. Maybe he has that delicate softness in his eyes that has only seemed to be reserved for you, especially within the recent weeks. You love that look on him. If you were being entirely honest, there’s a lot of things you love about him to the point where you might be in love with everything about him. And if the pair of you weren’t fucking and weren’t lowkey about the fact that you were fucking, then maybe you could actually summon the will to tell him how you feel. “That’s right. I forgot that you kicked me out last night so you could work on those essays.”

You scoff, falling back atop the covers and closing your eyes. “I didn’t kick you out! You volunteered to leave.” You leave out the part that yesterday had been the third time in the week he had slept the night at your apartment, leaving behind a few pieces of his wardrobe behind with the reassurance that he was probably going to be returning in the next few days. He only ever comes by when he’s horny, but perhaps trying to make that distinction paints this picture that his visits are rare when on the contrary, it seemed as if Jimin was always horny about something. Hence, which is why he was always here.

“For someone who was exhausted a few seconds ago, you seem pretty adamant on how I left your apartment last night,” He teases, but he’s smiling and you know he’s not trying to pick a fight with you. “But,” He starts, voice lowering and there is a touch of concern in the tone. “How did the papers go? You seemed stressed about how many you had to finish.”

Eyes still closed, the corner of your lips quirk up. “It was fine. I’m currently running on caffeine and energy drinks that I was inhaling during the night, but I have everything either printed or submitted and that’s the most important.”

Jimin exhales slightly. “That’s good to hear.”

“So,” You start again. “You gonna tell me the real reason you called? I’m sure it wasn’t just to hear an update about my very boring evening.”

“To be fair, every evening when you can’t suck my dick is boring—for both you and me.”

You roll your eyes, feeling that jerky sensation in your heart and something else in the lower pit of your stomach and you cannot help but curse the boy to the moon and back. Park Jimin is too bold, too good, too knowledgeable in what he does and what he does to you to simply exist the way he does. “Jimin…” You start.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” He backpetals. “Somewhat. But, did you forget what today is?”

“Jimin, if you’re really trying to play this game with me, I’m hanging up the phone.”

“Wait!” He interrupts, the smooth facade of his words dropping momentarily at the thought of you disconnecting the line with him. “No, no, okay. It’s Halloween. Remember Namjoon’s party that you promised you’d show up to?”

You whine, rolling over in bed again. “I’m exhausted!”

“Come over!” He protests as if the physical exhaustion of barely being able to open your eyes doesn’t counts as an excuse for not wanting to leave the apartment. “I’ll bring you all the Monster energy drinks you want! And I’ll buy you McDonalds french fries. And I’ll eat you out.”

You quirk slightly at that, your head tilted up and away from the blanket underneath you. You could use some more energy drinks and salty potatoes. And normally you would pass on having someone in between your legs but Jimin makes you see stars in more ways than one, and his previous comments have done enough to keep you awake for just a few hours longer. College life at its finest, you supposed.

“I’m expecting an extra large order in a private room,” You report, forcing yourself to roll one more time so that your feet can make contact with the carpet of your bedroom. You turn the call towards your speakers, pulling off your grummy high school PE t-shirt and sweatpants for your black jeans with the ripes along the legs and a random shirt you find from the floor. You slip it over your head, too tired and too distracted to notice the distinct material and rather focusing your attention on trying to find matching socks.

You can hear Jimin’s grin on the other side of the line. “Anything for you, princess.”

Does that include you and only you all the time?

You don’t speak the words, however, as you hang up with the promise you would try to show up to the house as soon as possible and Jimin accepts that. You leave the call feeling a little more giddy than you had before picking up the phone.

How does one explain the nature of your relationship with Park Jimin?

You can definitely pinpoint the start of it—a get together featuring mutual friends had been where you first met Jimin, and you could have sworn that the sun shined through him given the contagious merit of his blinding smile and lingering touches of his giggly laughs. You had heard pieces of his reputation through the grapevine of his charming ability to get girls into bed with him, but those previous pep talks with yourself about not needing to rely on a Park Jimin character to have a good time definitely failed you as soon as he opened his mouth to have a conversation with you.

The pair of you got along surprisingly well considering that you thought the spectrum of Jimin’s interests would only be limited to soccer, parties, and which sororities had the hottest girls. But no, there had been more depth to Jimin and his personality. He liked to read. He liked to take isolating walks at a time past midnight. You both happened to like the same shows and the same movies and the same authors. He was unassuming in his passions and you, a romantic with a soft spot for boys who like to read, did not stand a chance.

Throughout the evening, you and Jimin had elected to ditch the party after Jungkook and Taehyung started and continued to engage in a very passionate argument about the realms of Legend of Zelda—allowing the two of you to find refuge in his car as he took you on a little trip to show you one of his favorite views in the city.

An isolated area in a lonely car with just Park Jimin and his bright eyes and rosy cheeks—what would be the most obvious route for both of you to take? Yep.

Let’s just say that Jimin definitely had a lot of experience with engaging in car sex. And, naturally, it was the best orgasm you had ever received even if it was in the small and slightly cramped backseat of his vehicle.

It was Jimin, so you had assumed the hook up was a one and only time despite your own feelings and your own desire to not have things end in that way. And you had assumed Jimin felt differently—at least, until he knocked on your apartment door at three in the morning, three days after the initial hook up, and nailed you on the couch.

That had been three months ago, and still not a singular soul knows about the relationship shared between the two of you. And as long as Jimin is okay with that, you would be okay with that too.

.

The party is, naturally, in full swing by the time you approach the property line of Kim Seokjin and Kim Namjoon’s house and if the walk hadn’t officially woken you then the overwhelming smell of alcohol definitely does. The cold autumn air nips at you as you approach the walkway, taking in the people passed out on the front lawn or finding a safe haven away from the madness within the walls.

Everyone is dressed up in costumes, as you sudden flashback to one of the statement’s presented forth by Jimin. Today is Halloween, and you had spent the evening pounding in as many essays as your fingers and mind could physically produce in a way that had left you completely oblivious to the current setting. Halloween is a big deal in a sense that it gives people an even bigger excuse to go out, get drunk, become another identity for the night, which probably explains the party in the first place and why everyone’s spirits seem to be much brighter and alive with cheer and excitement.

You walk in through the already opened door, the conversations loud and mismatched and all over the place, ringing through the atmosphere as you duck in an attempt to avoid getting in the way of big groups and discussions that have nothing to do with you. You move about the familiar space, having been in this apartment on several different occasions—party or no party, you shared a philosophy class with Namjoon and seem to have been invited into his life and all the crazy aspects that come along with it since then—so it doesn’t take you too long to make your way into the living room.

You aren’t expecting to find anyone you know right off the bat, at least not without a phone call or a text message with the inquiry, so you are surprised to enter the new space and have your presence immediately recognized.

“You made it!” Jung Hoseok exclaims, approaching you from his position on the couch. “Nice costume—what are you supposed to be?”

“Oh,” You start, about to brush off his comment and maybe explain the severity of your situation until Hoseok furrows his eyebrows together and meets your gaze.

“Are you dressed up as Park Jimin?” Hoseok inquires. He brings the red solo cup of questionable substance to his lips. “You’re wearing his soccer jersey.”

“Huh.” You look down at the shirt you had slipped on from the floor of your bedroom and truth be told, you are wearing his jersey. You don’t need to see the PARK printed along the back of the shirt to know that this is indeed Jimin’s jersey that he had left behind and you had slid it off following one of his recent practice sessions. You know that you and Jimin have a bit of problem cleaning up before, during, and after your escapees, but you definitely hadn’t expected any of that to come bite you back in the ass like this. This whole situation wouldn’t really be a problem if the world wasn’t supposed to know you and Jimin had the kind of relationship that involved leaving clothes behind at the other persons apartment.

If you told Hoseok that you hadn’t been intending to arrive to the party dressed in Jimin’s shirt, then it definitely wouldn’t take long for the boy to put the pieces together. Hoseok isn’t stupid, far from it actually—so you know that it wouldn’t be rocket science mentality to figure out that the only reason you could have possibly dawned Jimin’s jersey unintentionally is if he had left it behind at your place… also unintentionally. Naturally, no one in their right mind would leave important articles of clothing behind unless they had every intention of returning back for it. And no one would have been removed of aforementioned important article of clothing in the first place unless they had taken the shirt off themselves and yeah, you get the idea.

“Yes,” You find yourself admitting, perhaps a little forcefully and mildly unconvincing, but you straighten out the jersey. “Yes, I am. Jimin, uh, agreed to the idea. I didn’t really know what else to do.”

Hoseok makes a (thankfully) convinced noise from the back of his throat, both of his eyebrows raising, nodding slowly as if this reasoning somehow makes sense. In a way, it almost does. Make sense. Because it’s Halloween—and you’ve never been too good about costumes because the placement of the holiday isn’t too good to fit in between your school schedule. So it’s in your nature to come up with these terrible costume ideas that involve very little executional effort. Like that time you dressed in all black, your natural wardrobe, and bought a witch hat at Party City. Or that time you put on red overalls, a black shirt, and a pair of very at-your-disposal Disneyland ears so you could be Mickey Mouse. It’s like those other times, only it’s this time and you’re dressing up as Park Jimin.

“Hm, that makes sense.” Hoseok turns his head just as the man himself waltzes into the living room. “Park Jimin!” He exclaims, making you and your heart jump as you turn your attention towards him. His gaze finds you first, and the small smirk he sends at you seems to set fire to your nerves. “Jimin, did you know?” He points at you with his pinky figure. “Y/N dressed up as you for Halloween.”

Jimin looks momentarily confused at the observation before he looks over and seems to realize the jersey that you have on. His eyes widen, seeming to remember just as you did that he had left that at your apartment a few days ago.

You give him a look.

He reads you surprisingly well, surprisingly quickly. “Yeah,” He manages smoothly, laughing just enough to send out that disarming half-crescent crease of his eyes. “Yeah, she asked me about it the other day.”

“You do know what this means though, right?” Hoseok inquires, looking back at you.

“No, what does it mean?”

“You gotta impersonate him!” Hoseok exclaims as if this answer should be obvious, and it probably should be. Halloween is about dressing up as something else and by extension, taking on the role of that person as well.

You laugh a little at that, seeing the reason as you tip your head back just enough to momentarily prepare yourself before you angle back down to look at Hoseok and Jimin. “Hi guys,” You greet, raising both your hands in a small little wave. “I’m Jimin, nice to meet you.” You then proceed to comb your hands through your hair in a very extravagant Jimin manner that Hoseok simply bursts out into laughter at the gesture.

“That’s pretty good,” He compliments, clapping Jimin on the back before turning back to you. “C’mon, I’ll make you a drink.”

Still slightly in awe that your little improvisation to trick Hoseok had worked entirely in your favor, you follow him, allowing yourself to give Jimin a look of impressiveness at your own self-amazement. Jimin merely laughs quietly at that, winking at you, letting you brush past him as Hoseok leads you to the kitchen. Hoseok is a naturally social person, and that natural charm drags more and more people towards him and therefore puts more attention on you and your Park Jimin jersey. Jimin is pretty well known around the university, mainly because of his placement and positive reputation on the soccer team, so it’s obvious that peers would take one look at the number and PARK on the back of your shirt and put two-and-two together that you were Park Jimin for Halloween.

And everyone takes it in good strides. They smile, they laugh, they congratulate you for coming up with the funny idea of dressing up as the popular jock, then they ask for the impersonations.

You deliver forth with them. Of course you do. You haven’t been sleeping with Park Jimin—and you haven’t been in love with Park Jimin—for three months not to walk away with the smallest fraction of his personality, his quirks, and the tone of his voice. You blame your feelings and your stupid, stupid crush for being so observant on everything he does and everything he ever did in his life. Like the way he whines about no food being around in the kitchen, or runs his hands through his hair, or throws his body into a fitful of giggles while he’s trying to tell a joke. You do the impressions, people laugh, and compliment you later for doing a good job. “A byproduct, isn’t it?” Kim Namjoon inquires, smirk on his face, right before he downs another shot of whiskey. “Of being friends with Jimin. And, I mean, you’re already a pretty naturally observant person. It works out.”

It definitely works out. If only they all knew.

“Hey you,” Jimin greets, cornering you in the kitchen as you’re attempting to mix together your own little brand of rum and coke. “You’re quite the talk of the evening.”

“You think so?” You inquire, whirling around towards him and showering him with a grin. The alcohol already in your bloodstream makes things a little more fluid, not enough to distort your thinking but enough to make your tongue run a little looser as compared to normal and more sober days. “I try my best.”

“I’m actually pretty impressed,” He continues, leaning against you so you feel the warmth of his body and you feel giddy with desire and just having his attention on you. Three months of exclusive fucking and just a glance from him is still enough to quench your hunger for him. “You’re pretty spot on. It seems like you’ve been keeping your eye on me.”

“I’m just observant,” You retort. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. But still, the attention to detail…”

“So?”

“You sure you’re not in love with me or something?”

The question comes quickly but your reflexes are quick too and it’s why you feel the sudden weight of fear and anxiety dig itself right into your chest -- concealed with a casual, wide-eyed look in his direction. “What makes you say that?” You ask.

Jimin shrugs, pressing the palm of his hand into the counter, partially trapping you. “Because I know what you’re like when you’re just observant,” He murmurs, voice low but still keeping enough distance between the two of you so it looks like you’re having a normal conversation—more than enough to remain lowkey about the depth of your intimacy and your relationship. “You’re observant with Hoseok and Namjoon and Jungkook and Karly—but you aren’t that thorough with them.”

“Well, I’ve never had to pretend to be them for Halloween,” You brush off, attempting to level your gaze with Jimin but it’s hard because you’ve never been too successful of a liar around him and he knows it. You try to take a step back, but his fingers curling around your wrist stop you.

“You haven’t fucked any of them before either,” He presses, matching your step back with his own step forward.

You level him with your own attempt of a glare, but it’s casual and not meant to be taken too seriously. Even though your heart is beating just a little quicker at how quickly the conversation has taken a complete, unexpected 180. Your mind is reeling under the turn of events. You hadn’t prepared things to take this direction, so you say the first thing that comes to your mind: “You sure seem insistent on finding out just how in love with you I am.”

How in love with you I am.

How… in love… with Jimin…

You’re in love with Jimin.

And you’ve just said it outloud.

Oh. Fucking. Shit.

You clasp your mouth shut, but it’s too late. The words are out, and even though you haven’t said anything directly, you’ve stated it in such an obvious way that you might as well have just admitted to being in love with Jimin from the beginning. You hadn’t expected yourself to speak, or speak in this way. Your wide eyes and slamming heartbeat are more than enough to go by this.

Judging from Jimin’s own wide eyes, he is equally as taken aback by your confession.

“What did you say?” Jimin suddenly asks, although it’s a stupid question.

You swallow. “N-Nothing…”

“You’re in love with me?”

You try to speak, but like a fish out of water, you can only open and close your mouth a few times to show how truly unprepared you are for this. “Uh… I mean, I just…” You stammer, trying for a shrug but it only comes out one-shouldered and horrible and you feel like you might be sick.

“Come with me,” Jimin interrupts, not giving you much of an option as he guides you out of the kitchen and into the hallway and into the bathroom. You both might have just drawn a crowd towards you, but that is currently the last thing on your mind as you let yourself get dragged into the empty bathroom.

Jimin locks the door, turns back around to face you.

You flicker your gaze between the door and his figure. “Did you lock the door just to reject me or…?”

He interrupts you by covering the small space of distance and pressing you into a hard kiss. He cradles one hand behind your head, the other at your waist, and you can feel so many words attempting to be crammed into the singular gesture.

“A… a rejection kiss goodbye?” You try to guess again when Jimin hasn’t exactly made his feelings clear.

Jimin breath is fanning against your lips. “God no,” He protests. “I’m not rejecting you, you fucking idiot.”

“Oh,” You breathe out, and Jimin decides right then and there that you are done talking because he kisses you again.

He turns you around, slams you against the door of the bathroom, kissing the air right out of your lungs, kissing you in a way that you have never felt before as his hands are everywhere, all over your body until one settles at the small of your back and the other tugging at the waistband of your jeans.

“I never did tell you how hot it is to see you in my clothes,” He breathes out, unbuttoning your jeans as you fumble with his belt. You know exactly where this is going, not needing the context of a love confession to know the familiar signs. “But it’s really hot.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” You return, unbuckling the belt and the jeans and slipping your hand past his boxers, producing his already hot and heavy cock in your hands.

He groans against your lips, tugging down your jeans and underwear until they bunch at your ankles.

“Hurry up, hurry up,” You whimper as you only manage to get one of your legs out of the leg hole of your jeans and underwear before Jimin is grabbing the leg in order to wrap it around his waist. He kisses you hard once, twice, before sliding home. The lack of usual preparation makes the process burn with white hot pleasure. You throw your head back and Jimin easily finds the spot on your neck that makes your head spin.

He nails you hard and heavy, making the door rattle behind you and if someone saw you enter the space they definitely know what’s going on. But you don’t care, if your breathless wailing that definitely pierces through the thin wooden door is anything to go by.

“You’re so good, you’re so good,” Jimin encourages in your ear, pressing sweet nothings into your skin with the occasional nibble along the curve of your neck to make your legs twitch under his hold.

“Shit, I…” You start. “I’m not gonna last… Jimin please…”

A wet thumb against your clit drives you home, makes the stars in the universe and across the galaxy explode behind your eyes like nothing and everything you’ve experienced before. The high of your high keeps you unaware of your surroundings as Jimin finishes himself and rides out both of your orgasms with slightly gentler thrusts.

Your shared panting is the only noise you can hear, the vague laughter of conversation behind you suddenly a small whisper like a ghost in your ear.

Your heart settles, and Jimin nosing your temple help keep you grounded.

His next words make you smile, send you off on another high that has nothing to do with sex. “I love you too, and I’m sorry for not telling you sooner.”

He kisses you once, twice, and if he hadn’t taken your heart and soul before—then he definitely does now as he tucks himself back into his pants and helps you pull on and button your jeans at your waist. It seems as if now, he cannot stop himself from kissing you and cannot help himself from placing his hand on the small of your back in order to lift the shirt and graze the bare skin just because he can. He kisses you once more, wrapping an arm around your waist, moving slightly to unlock and open the door to the bathroom.

Both of you stop short when Jung Hoseok and Kim Namjoon are resting on the opposite wall, joking about something and laughing all the same until they realize who has emerged from the bathroom.

Hoseok gapes. Namjoon drops the cup from his hands, spilling beer all over the floor. “You guys were having sex in there?” Hoseok demands.

You really hadn’t expected a confession and a reveal all in the same day, so you stammer. “Uh,” You start, waving your hand slightly in an attempt to wave off the conversation from its original axis. “N-No, I wasn’t feeling well so, uh, Jimin was holding my hair back…”

“We heard the noises,” Namjoon interjects dryly, raising an eyebrow in judgment to your poor lying skills.

“Then, in case, yeah we were having sex,” Jimin cuts in breezily.

“Jimin!” You cut in, appalled that he would reveal the information so easily without any sort of fight. This is surprising considering how adamant he had been about keeping the aforementioned sex lowkey.

“What?” He inquires, pulling you closer to his body. “I thought we loved each other — shouldn’t we share with the world that we are two amazing people having amazing sex?”

“You guys are in love?” Hoseok inquires, raising his eyebrows, looking surprised at the turn off events. “We didn’t even know you were sleeping together and turns out you were in love this whole time? Jimin, what the fuck I thought we were friends?”

“We just found out today that we’re in love,” Jimin brushes off, turning his attention to you and brushing the hair out of your face. “Well, you know, since we’re in love and all that jazz, that means I don’t have to think twice about doing this.” He leans forward, kissing you in a way that’s more a light graze but like every other kiss before, it sets fire to your nerves and makes everything from the tip of your fingers to the tip of your toes feel alive.

“Aw, c’mon, we don’t need to see that!” Hoseok crows.

“I told you we should have just kept walking when you heard the door banging!” Namjoon protests.

Hoseok’s glare could cut glass. “You were the one who wanted to stay!”

Namjoon ponders this for a second. “Oh yeah, you’re right.”

“We probably should have been lowkey about this for a little while longer,” Jimin grumbles against your lips, the bickering between Namjoon and Hoseok escalating quickly.

You laugh. “It’s endearing.”

#jimin scenario #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #jimin smut #jimin x you #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts smut #bts x reader #traci writes #peek-a-boo series

[dracusfyre]

Venom prompts you say??? If you’re up for it, there seems to be a serious lack of angsty fics. Maybe some Eddie with depression and Venom not quite getting it, or maybe Venom totally gets it and Eddie feels well taken care of and loved.

BOTH!

The aggravating thing about having a symbiote is that on baddays, Eddie thought dully, you can’t just fake it until you’re alone again.

That is stupid, Venomannounced.  Why would humans evolve somethingso stupid? That had been Venom’s response when  Eddie had explained the reason why he didn’twant to get out of bed, why he didn’t feel like eating, and now, why he didn’twant to get off the couch.

Okay, Eddie reflected, maybe it wasn’t the most aggravating thing.   “I don’t know, Vee,” he sighed.  “It just…happens sometimes.  Your brain just goes ‘fthbbt’ and makes youfeel bad.”

Stupid, Venom repeated, and Eddie had to agree.  I’m bored.

“Why don’t you watch TV or something?”  Eddie reached for the remote and turned on anature documentary; Venom liked learning about the wildlife in his newlyadopted planet.  He felt a mutter in hishead that was Venom’s reluctant agreement, and then he was free to bury hisface in the couch cushions and disassociate while Venom formed opinions aboutsharks versus dolphins.

                                    —————

You’re not sad, Venom ventured later, in a way that was bothquestion and statement.

“No, I’m not sad,” Eddie agreed.  He was staring into the refrigerator butthere was nothing to eat that didn’t require cooking; he’d gotten ambitious atthe grocery store last time, determined to show Venom the wide variety of foodand flavors that were available, but now he wished he’d stuck to frozen pizzaand tater tots.  “I’m just…down.  Tired. Gray, if that makes sense.”

Venom pondered that, curling idly around Eddie’s torso. I canfix-?

“No!” Eddie said hurriedly. The last time Venom had tried to “fix” Eddie using his own biochemistryhad resulted in a three day hangover. “I’ll be fine. I just need…”  God,what did he need?  He used to think hewas lonely, angry at the direction his life had taken, stressed out from beingbroke, but now he was none of those things but here it was again, that funkthat made everything seem not worth the effort.

We need food, Venom said after a while, rearing a little headto examine the fridge too.  Iwill get it.

Usually Eddie didn’t like Venom to drive their body, notwhen they were doing normal everyday stuff, but the idea of sitting back andletting someone else do everything had undeniable appeal. “Ok,” Eddiesaid.  “Regular human food. I mean, foodhumans eat, not – not humans as food.”

As Venom took over, he rolled Eddie’s eyes since his owneyes didn’t have orbs or sockets as such. “I know,” he said in his gravelly voice, and then they wereoff.  For the most part, Eddie keptquiet, letting Venom do the work; he had to remind him to pay, direct him onwhich card to use, and then asked him to at least find some privacy before hewolfed down the food like a starving animal while wearing Eddie’s face, but overallVenom did well pretending to be a real boy.

“Thanks, Vee,” Eddie said when they were back in theirapartment.  It was nice to be full, evenif he hadn’t really been hungry in the first place.  

Are you happy, now?

Eddie blew out a breath as he lay down on the couch. “I’mafraid it doesn’t really work like that, bud,” he said, rubbing his eyes.  “But you did good. I appreciate it.”  A small head came up to butt against Eddie’scheek, making him smile.  He turned on“Wildest Animal Chases” for Venom and dozed. That night, he even managed toshower, though halfway through he got tired of standing and ended up laying inthe tub while the water rained down on him. But it was progress.

“Dammit, I need to clean this place up,” Eddie mumbled lateras he fell face down into bed, wrinkling his nose at the smell of the sheets.“And do something about that food in the fridge before it goes bad.”  He sighed and scrubbed a hand over hisface.  “Maybe I’ll feel like doing ittomorrow.”

Venom didn’t respond to that.  It never really understood the significanceof “clean,” though it was important to Eddie, and it couldn’t tell thedifference when Eddie said food had “gone bad” though he did know it meant thatthe food was going to be thrown away instead of eaten.   But it could tell that the thoughts were makingEddie upset so despite Eddie’s words from earlier, Venom gently nudged him intosleep, massaging the pineal gland to secrete more melatonin.  When his brain waves had slowed to an averageof two hertz, Venom took over their body, cradling his brain gently so themovement didn’t wake him up.

First step: clean.  ToEddie, clean meant all trash was in the trash can, and trash was empty food andbeverage containers.   Dishes were to bewashed, so Venom did the best it could based on a dim memory of seeing Eddie doit.  It brushed crumbs from the counteronto the floor, but then when it stepped on the crumbs in Eddie’s bare feet itrealized that was an unpleasant sensation so it carefully brushed the crumbsinto a pile and put them in the trash.  Cleaning the clothes, Venom knew, meant going somewhere and doing somearcane ritual with a machine, but trying to read Eddie’s memories for how to dothat risked waking him up so Venom dismissed the idea.

So, second step: food. Venom examined the food from the refrigerator that had made Eddie soupset earlier, taking out something green and leafy and nibbling it.  It made a face at the taste.  No wonder Eddie didn’t like it.  Venom knew from experience that humans neededto denature many meat proteins before they could digest them, so perhaps theseplants needed their molecules similarly broken down before eating.  Venom cast Eddie’s eyes around the kitchenand remembered the oven, a contained heat generator used to process food.   There were no instructions on the machine,so it turned the dial to halfway and started piling the food from therefrigerator into the oven.   While itwas in the fridge it found leftovers from when they had dinner with Anne andDan, with only a little bit of green fuzz on one part.  After a moment of hesitation, Venom pickedoff the green part and threw it away, feeling virtuous (“mold is bad, Venom, it means the food has gonebad,” Eddie had said, without explaining why this fungus was bad but the fungusthey ate in bread and cheese all the time was ok), and ate the rest while thefood cooked.

When the food was visibly affected by the heat from the oven– bits were turning brown, which meant that they were probably cooked enoughfor Eddie’s digestive system, Venom took them out and turned the oven off,forgetting at first to protect Eddie’s hands from the hot food.   The unexpected sharp stab of pain madeEddie’s brain waves speed up, so Venom quickly and guiltily healed the burnsbefore grabbing a towel to retrieve the food.

Then it surveyed the apartment with satisfaction.  It was clean and food was cooked.  In the morning maybe Eddie would stop feelingthat evolutionarily stupid emotion he called “depressed.”  Climbing back into bed, Venom let its ownbrain waves slow to match Eddies and went to sleep as well.

                                      —————

The next morning, after stumbling to the bathroom to pissand wash his face, Eddie wandered into the kitchen for something to rinse thetaste of “forgot to brush my teeth last night” out of his mouth and came to asudden halt.

“What’s all this?” He asked, blinking at his kitchen.  The trash was full to the point of almostoverflowing, the dishes were stacked messily next to the sink, still drippingwet, and there was a pile of half-cooked fruit and vegetables on top of theoven.

I cooked and cleaned, Venom said proudly, but Eddie could feela thin thread of uncertainty under the words.  He blinked a few more times, then felt apressure in his chest, his throat got tight, and he squeezed his eyes againstthe sudden threat of tears.  He swayedagainst the counter and pressed a hand to his sternum.  

Sad?! Why are you sad?! Venom said with alarm.

“I’m not, I’m not sad,” Eddie said quickly, wiping tears offonto his sleeve.  “I’m happy, these arehappy tears.”

Venom made a head to study Eddie, somehow conveying dubiousnesswithout eyebrows or lips or anything but giant eyes and teeth.  “Happy tears?” it repeated.

“Yeah, Vee.” Eddie cupped his hands around Venom’s head,fingers gently rubbing its slick, slightly sticky – skin? Surface?  “I’m happy because we’re a team.  Not just to stop bad guys, but all the time.”

“Always a team, of course,” Venom said as if Eddie was dumb forjust realizing it now.

“So thank you for cooking and cleaning.  I really appreciate it.”

Good. Venom retreatedinto Eddie’s skin.  Now you can eat and get dressedand go outside.

“Sure, eat, yeah…” Eddie said, eyeing the unappetizing pileof food that Venom had tried to cook during the night.  “You know what, let’s eat combine eating andoutside and have crepes.”

#venom #venom movie #symbrock #eddie brock #flash fic

[femmewebby]

Movie Night

this is.... also super late for @lenadespell ‘s birthday...... (yells in Spanish)

a short weblena fic about the ending of a sleepover

The clock ticked dangerously close to what most would consider morning, though the sky remained dark enough to pass as night. Like the sky, Webby's energy levels didn’t betray the actual lateness. She and Lena were having a slumber party, and for a few solid hours, had been watching movies. There didn’t really seem to be a theme to the movies, but they all made Webby equally excited.

To be entirely honest, Lena didn't think Webby got bored or tired. But she loved that about her.

As their latest movie ended, Webby stretched and yawned, but gave no other sign that she might be tired. “It’s probably getting late, do you wanna do one more movie, or go to sleep?”

The question stirred Lena out of her half sleeping state, her head slipping out of her hand before she jolted upright. “Huh? Oh, whatever you want, Pink. I'm cool either way.”

Webby frowned. “Are you sure? You seem pretty tired.” She gingerly extended a hand to brush the ruffled feathers of Lena’s cheek where her hand had been, seeming to use that as proof.

“No way, I'm totally fine. Besides, I know how much you probably wanna see a movie about-" Lena squinted as she grabbed the movie case, unsure if it was just the dim lighting or if her tired eyes were betraying her- “alien… candy… vampires…?”

Eyes wide and nodding furiously, Webby took the movie's case. She'd done this with just about every movie they’d watched that night, posing questions about the plot and putting hypotheses forward. Truth be told, Lena currently didn’t understand most of what Webby was saying, her brain feeling like tired fuzz. But she loved to see Webby’s eternal excitement, and she'd get a crash course in the morning.

Besides, she had a reputation to uphold. She could survive another movie, because that was what cool rebel girlfriends did.

Seeming to forget her qualms and her own sleepiness, Webby put on the movie and sat in her seat next to Lena. Lena felt Webby's surprisingly strong hand grab hers as Webby bounced slightly waiting for the movie. A smile gently slipped onto Lena’s beak, and she intertwined their fingers, carefully as if a gesture that small could actually break Webby. It was a comfortable reminder that they were really together again. Safe (or as safe as someone could be in the Duck-McDuck-McQuack-Beakley-Vanderquack home could be).

Despite the attention she gave to the soft gesture, Lena couldn't understand Webby's words at this point. Lena’s blinking became slower, and the bright pinks and blues contrasted by black on screen seemed to blur together. She mused about how fortunate it was that Webby already (and excitedly) had them brush their teeth.

Webby continued through her theory on why the alpaca-like (not llama-like, though they hadn't said, she could tell) alien vampires needed so much sugar to survive, unaware of Lena's falling asleep.

Until, of course, she felt a soft thud against her head.

She froze for a few seconds. Lena's breathing told Webby that her girlfriend was, indeed, asleep. Not wanting to wake her angel, Webby opted to simply readjust the two of them to be closer, and so that they were laying down. She supposed she'd try to get through the movie, as this move had unthinkingly put the remote too far off for her to reach. Life tip number one, never leave your grappling gun – even for a movie.

It was alright, though. Laying like that with Lena was comfortable. Comfortable and warm. Her thoughts strayed from the movie to Lena. She looked at her from the corner of her eye, pondering for a bit. Gently, carefully, and cautiously, Webby gave Lena a light kiss on the cheek. As sleep began to claim her, Webby could swear she saw a ghost of a smile on Lena’s face. Falling asleep in Lena’s arms didn’t seem so bad. They'd watch the movie a more reasonable time. For now, it was the two of them, and their combined dreams.

#can you call it a sleepover if I think Lena just lives there nwo #*now #sorry Vinci I was gonna add a drawing but mlknjhiasfh I can't rn and since I already posted the art.... #might as well post this ??? #sorry Again for being late lmkngahfs #and also like #sorry bc this is my first attempt at a dt fic.... #and my first fic in a long time...

[gotarcher94]

rules: answer 21 questions then tag 21 people u want to get to know better

tagged by: @soulfireinc Thank you! And hello! Talked a bit in A03 comments and now Tumblr too. 

nickname: I don’t really have one tbh. My name is Jack so there’s not a lot of scope for nicknames

zodiac: Leo

height: 5′7 or 8 ish. (I think) It’s been a while since I have so I could be mis-remembering

last movie i saw: In the cinema it was Instant Family with Mark Wahlberg and Rose Byrne. Went with a friend because she wanted to see it, turns out I really quite liked it. And on Netflix it was probably rewatching Hot Fuzz for like the 50th time (Love that movie)

last thing i googled: Job sites. The daily grind of the unemployed haha

favorite musician: I’ve given a couple of different answers on this before, but the more I think about it the more I’ve realised that I don’t actually have one. My music preferences changes on my mood so every day could get a different answer

song stuck in my head: A couple of the game soundtracks for the new God of War. Just good to have in the background while I’m doing other stuff. Makes everything I’m doing sound like 90% more epic

other blogs: Nope. Just this one

do i get asks: Not so much anymore. (whispers Box is still open everyone. So go for it if you want to)

following: 87. (Wow I thought it would be more than that)

followers: 268 (Thank you to every single one of you)

amount of sleep: About 5 or 6 usually. Not enough as I’m still tired most of the time haha

lucky number: 10

what i’m wearing: jeans, t shirt, hoodie 

dream job: Something either video game, or writing related, as those are two of my biggest hobbies

dream trip: Normally I would say America, as I’ve always wanted to go, but I probably won’t while the orange faced buffoon is president. So I’m gonna say Australia

favorite food: Can’t go wrong with steak

play any instruments?:  I don’t

languages:  Just English basically. I learnt French at school but that has all long since vanished from my brain

favorite songs: Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. A lot of the Beatles songs have a special place for me as my dad would always play them in the car when me and my brother were kids.

random fact: Apparently I’m very distantly related to Catherine Howard, the fifth wife of Henry VIII, through one side of her family. (That’s all I can think of. I’m pretty boring and normal otherwise haha)

describe urself as aesthetic things: Just the concept of tiredness lol. (Joking aside I have no idea. I’m terrible at that kind of thing)

I have no idea who to tag, as I think over doing a few of these by this point I’ve tagged pretty much everyone. So if you see it and wanna have a go and keep it going, then go for it

#tag game #get to know me

[rambleverse]

Wandering mind

Ouron Nethermoon drifts in and out of a hazy half-sleep at his desk in the Ivory Spire. For one usually estranged with sleep, the sudden need for rest vexes him with aches previously ignored. He rubs his temples, pointer and index finger edging against the confusing fuzz of his hairline. That too is strange.

He cinches his robe tighter about himself, giving a tired glare to the window. On its edges the foggy chill of ice grows up toward the center panes. The book before him is cold to the touch. He idly flips a page, reads it in a manner of seconds, and with a flip of the marker-cord sets it aside.

Standing comes easier than it once did, but the sudden change in climate grinds the bits in his knees terribly. He takes his arc-lantern in one hand, cane in the other, and leaves his "study" for the hallway. Tonight he owns the rare pride of outlasting the Spire's researchers--fatigue and cold sending most of the martial scholars home for the night.

Though he no longer holds his meager spark the Spire, and the land surrounding it, feel noticably different. The dire passing of news from the front, the flight of the Hawks, and other matters phase him less and less. What good is one old elf?

The sentiment poisons him despite his new vitality. The toxic depressive finality of it sinks from his skull to his heart, building pound-over-pound until it stops him still. In the dark hallway, he considers his options. Too old for a sword, no spark for spell craft, and a brain creeping and folding from unsettled synapses. He walks without realizing it, finally finding himself at the repository for new acquisitions.

Like a bored tourist he walks between the displays, lifting his lantern here and there to cast lifeless pale light over the trinkets, treasures and tomes alike. Until at last his unguided impromptu wandering brings him to a surprise close.

There behind glass and encircled with notes floats the keystone fragments of the keeper Valgannar. A failed venture, Ouron knew, the task crept just out of reach for months. A lead here, a discovery there, all to be cut at the neck by something as irritating as an invasion. Would that he had solved this puzzle, perhaps this war would have ended before it ever began. In truth, the thought of snuffing that pompous leywalker amuses him greatly--until the reality of his new life crushes it.

The way the runes move irritates him. What good could he do for Oakvale and its balance, or the Kingdom, or anything? At best a glorified librarian--he would not be missed.

There's a thought.

Valgannar and Kasroth, surely the imbalance with the ley would not go without their notice. Oakvale was some time away, and with the Kingdom pressed for attention at all ends, an return to the site would be irresponsible for any significant force.

But maybe one old elf could make the journey without making too much fuss.

((off-hand mentions of characters of/material sourced from @felthier and @azriah))

#ouron nethermoon #the sunguard #phoenix wars #will add a read-more tomorrow