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here2bbtstrash · 2 years

Text

party on you (explicit)

genre: SMUT SMUT SMUT with an extremely small side of fluff lol

pairing: hoseok x reader

summary: the only thing stronger than your social anxiety is your big dumb crush on hoseok - and you're certainly not expecting it when he tells you the real reason he threw this album release party.

word count: 9.8k

contains: explicit sexual content aka PORN !!!! idol-verse, literally takes place at the JITB album release party, friends to lovers, erotic hand holding, they're both cute and dumb, a studio hookup 👀 dirty talk, thigh riding, cunnilingus, a single pussy slap lol, taint touching (?), HOBI EATS ASS, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, throat fucking, reader gets a facial, and a lil bit of cum eating, it's cute 😌

A/N: so, hi, i went to hobipalooza lmao. this is actually lowkey a songfic ??? charli xcx was one of the earlier acts on hobi's stage and. my god. seeing her live was a religious experience, and when she performed party 4 u i was like hnnnhghg this should be a fic. and now it is !!!! and i hope u enjoy 🥺🥺 i tried some new stuff in here, both soft and freaky lmao so i'm nervy to share!!! as always your support and feedback means the world to meeeee ok ilysomuch bye~

read on AO3 !

~*~

You collapse back against the cushions of your couch with a soft whine of distress.

The whole thing is really so ridiculous. You told yourself when this started that you could be chill about it. People get crushes every day. It doesn’t have to be a huge fucking deal. You’re a sane, rational adult, perfectly capable of admiring a man quietly from afar while doing your best to be a good friend to him.

And, yes, maybe also obsessing a little too much over what to wear when you hang out, and what to post on Instagram in case he might see it, and dear god, how long his hair is getting. All normal crush things.

But now, as you press your phone to your chest with both hands and sigh forlornly, you wonder if it might actually be possible to yearn yourself to death. To like somebody so much that your heart just fucking explodes. If anyone could be capable of inciting spontaneous combustion, it is absolutely Jung Hoseok.

And he wants you to come to his big fancy party– has specifically sent a day-of reminder text, like you didn’t already receive a formal invitation weeks ago.

You purse your lips, fighting to keep a smile off your face despite being alone in your apartment where no one can perceive you. Hoseok is always so good at keeping in touch, even when he’s in an insanely busy season of his life. You can picture him now, probably bustling around his place in a robe, getting ready while simultaneously sending everyone their own personalized message.

Everyone– when you last chatted about the party, he rattled off enough of the guest list for you to know that easily half the industry will be there tonight. And even Lizzo has gushed about how great of a texter he is. You try to ease yourself off the ledge with the comforting thought that this has to be just one courtesy text of dozens, his pretty painted thumbnails working overtime to send gratuitous emojis out to every idol in the city.

And somehow also to you. Because your big fat crush made you stupid enough to say yes to what is arguably your worst nightmare: A party full of cool famous people, where you will know no one except the guest of honor.

Skipping the party is not an option becomes your internal refrain as the hours tick by. You have to remind yourself of this even more emphatically when you wind up on the floor of your bedroom, having tried on every article of clothing in your closet and having decisively hated it all.

Skipping the party is not an option, you think again, grabbing your phone to check the clock. Your heart sinks when you realize how much time you’ve wasted being an anxious wreck– you had planned to be ready to leave five minutes ago, not laying half-naked on the floor, hair and makeup still undone.

But skipping the party is not an option. A pre-party cry, however, might be on the table.

Pushing yourself up to sit on your heels, you force the tears back while you aimlessly sort through a pile of clothes. You’re barely looking at what’s in front of you, but you pause to do a double-take as your hand passes over a particularly enjoyable texture.

When you manage to extract the item, you realize it’s a dress you’d forgotten about entirely– something a friend made you buy a lifetime ago that you’ve never worn because you’ve always been uncomfortable with how short it is. But it’s smooth baby pink satin, and as different from your usual as it may be, you recall not being mad about the way it stuck to your curves like water.

Fuck it. You’re already late, and if there’s ever a party where you can take a fashion risk, it’s one thrown by Hoseok. You can only imagine what he might have on tonight; it honestly wouldn’t surprise you if he showed up in the same fucking dress.

The thought of seeing him is enough to make your heart leap in your chest, and you do your best to speed through your usual makeup and hair routine despite the way your hands are starting to tremble. By the time you grab your purse and make it out the door, you’re thirty minutes late. That thirty minutes quickly stretches into a full hour before you’re stepping off the elevator onto the 19th floor of HYBE headquarters, feeling like an asshole.

Gorgeous idols and various other famous people stream in around you, dressed in clothes that appear casual but you’re sure cost double your monthly rent payment, looking less than unbothered about showing up late. You do your best to slip in unnoticed and stick to the perimeter of the massive room, feeling like an absolute fraud.

Thankfully it’s only a few steps before you find a table taken up entirely by pre-filled flutes of champagne, and you eagerly grab one, mostly just grateful for something to do with your hands.

It occurs to you how little you know about celebrity culture, because the party doesn’t even seem to have started yet: early 2000s R&B is bumping through the speakers, and it feels like every few minutes the elevator chimes to let another group of people trickle into the space. You find an unoccupied section of wall to lean against as you sip your drink slowly, hoping that if you try hard enough, you might actually manage to become one with the wallpaper.

Tipping your head back for another sip of champagne, you nearly choke at an unexpected voice from over your shoulder.

“You look like you hate parties as much as I do.”

You manage to not inhale your drink, instead giving a polite smile as your eyes drift across the crowded room. You’re too nervous to immediately steal a glance at whoever is speaking to you, though you’re sure it just makes you seem rude. “Hate isn’t exactly it.” You have nothing against parties, or people who enjoy them. “I just… haven’t figured out what I’m supposed to be doing, exactly.”

“I think talking to people is generally expected,” the voice quips. “So, hey, you’re doing great already. Keep it up and they might even think you’re an extrovert.”

You exhale a soft laugh, a slight heat of embarrassment creeping up your neck.

“But Hobi said I didn’t have to meet and greet if I didn't want to. So I’m taking that as full permission to enjoy free alcohol and read webtoons on my phone.”

Your gaze snaps over at the familiar nickname, and your mouth goes dry as you realize you’ve been casually conversing with none other than Kim Seokjin, who is absentmindedly fiddling with the thin green strap of the bag slung over his shoulder.

Fuck. Embarrassing yourself in front of random famous people was exactly what you were trying to avoid when you picked this wall to lean against. You’d figured the other members would all be out mingling in the center of things, not hiding in a corner. Who knew celebrities were just like you?

“I-I’m sorry,” you stammer, immediately dropping your gaze to avoid making eye contact when Jin looks up. He probably assumed you’d sidled up next to him on purpose, like some kind of creepy fan. “I’ll leave you alone, I actually really didn’t mean to–”

You glance up again only to realize Jin is laughing, shoulders shaking slightly.

“Wow, I’m so bad at this. That wasn’t me telling you to fuck off. I was just trying to sympathize.” He gestures lazily towards the stage at the front of the room. “Thankfully it looks like you don’t have to suffer my conversation any longer.”

A Jack in the Box graphic has started to flash, projected onto the screen. After a few seconds, the image stills, and a spotlight clicks on, following Hoseok as he emerges from backstage. You lean forward to set your drink on the closest table so you can join in the applause for him.

Hoseok looks as effortlessly cool as he always does, but even more so tonight, like someone has cranked his charisma up to the max setting. A real fucking popstar, a rockstar, even: baggy clothes, multiple layers of necklaces, chunky black boots, dark hair pushed back with a few strands falling into his eyes. He somehow even manages to make wearing sunglasses indoors look cool– probably because they’re immediately offset by the wide, sweet grin of his mouth as he addresses the crowd. You can hear that he’s nervous by how hard he’s trying to keep his voice even, and it’s enough to make you feel the flutter of butterfly wings in your throat.

As you pick your drink back up for another sip, you can’t help but wonder if Jin can literally see the hearts in your eyes, or a nervous little teardrop floating above your head like an anime character. You do your best to hide your smile behind your glass.

“J-Hope is pretty cool, huh?”

You bite down on your bottom lip, answering Jin’s question with a shy nod.

Hoseok descends the stage as the lights lower, and then the album intro is starting and there’s no more time for conversation. You watch from across the room as he drops down on the large built-in stairs next to Jungkook, who immediately wraps a supportive arm around his waist while Hoseok laughs like he’s embarrassed. You’ve always been in total awe of the way Hoseok can light up and command the energy of a room easily, then squirm away from it at the next second.

Jin gets waved over and gives you a small nod as he departs, and then you’re alone again with the champagne in your hand and the wall against your back and Hoseok’s music thrumming through your nervous system.

The album is nothing like you expected– you didn’t know what to expect, really– and you absolutely love it. You’ve always felt like you have a stupidly limited vocabulary when it comes to talking about music, particularly around Hoseok, but even you can manage to string together the thought that these songs are fucking special.

But then again, so is he.

In what feels like the blink of an eye Hoseok is taking the stage again to giggle through his thanks, bent slightly at the waist in overwhelmed appreciation, and then the pop playlist is switched back on and the lights are dimmed and you suddenly feel your palms start to slick up against your champagne flute.

You can’t help but wonder what the fuck you’re supposed to do now.

The obvious choice would be to finally go talk to Hoseok, but of course, he’s the man of the hour, so every other person in the room seems to have the same idea. You choose to hang back and watch as he weaves through the growing crowd, putting on a bored expression to pose for pictures, laughing excitedly as people shake his hand and speak to him in hushed tones, and flashing thumbs ups and peace signs left, right and center.

It looks exhausting, you think to yourself with a small smile. And this is why you’re not famous.

For the second time tonight someone manages to sneak up on you, and this time it’s accompanied with a gentle call of your name. You nearly drop your drink as you whip around.

When you find yourself face-to-face with Park Jimin, it takes a few seconds for you to remember how to close your mouth. What is going on?

“I thought that was you.”

You double-blink, unable to find any words at all. You have never met this man before in your life. Seen him dozens of times on your TV screen, sure, but certainly never formally introduced.

“I’m Jimin,” he says, and you have to swallow the urge to giggle in his face because, yeah, no shit.

“Hi, Jimin.”

“Hoseok is going to be excited that you’re here.” Jimin scrunches his face up a little, like he knows he shouldn’t be telling you this. “He kept asking me if I thought you would show or not. He really wouldn’t shut up about it.”

You find yourself stammering again, trying to figure out how the hell to respond. Why, out of everyone on the guest list, would Hoseok be concerned about you? And he’s talked to Jimin about you enough for him to know who you are, that he can recognize you on sight alone? Your head starts to spin, despite the fact that you’re only halfway through your glass of champagne.

“Since you don’t like parties,” Jimin says, like it’s common knowledge, as if it’s totally normal for this very busy and famous kpop idol to keep tabs on your socialization preferences.

You nod dumbly. “I, yeah. I’m just not very good at them.”

Jimin nods, pushing up the sleeves of his white Chanel sweater. “You just have to get comfortable with talking to people about boring shit. Did you try the food?”

You shake your head– the very thought is enough to make you feel a little sick. “I get, like, a nervous stomach?” You hate that it comes out like a question when it clearly isn’t.

“Aish, you and Hoseok are so alike,” Jimin rolls his eyes, hands on hips, but you can see he’s smiling a little. “I haven’t been able to get him to eat anything all day. And we ordered so much food, I don’t even know why. Like half the people in this room aren’t on fucking diets.”

“Jimin-ah!”

Both of your heads snap up at the sound of Namjoon’s voice from the other side of the room, distorted slightly by the thudding bass.

“Ahh, they’re doing pictures,” Jimin says with an exaggerated sigh, like it’s just so hard being desirable and photogenic. “Do you want to get a photo?”

You shake your head as emphatically as possible. “No, nope, absolutely not.”

Jimin pauses, squinting at you for a second in a way that makes you think that if you were closer friends, he’d be dragging you across the room regardless of your answer to the question. You watch as he clearly attempts to restrain himself.

“Well, don’t drink too much on an empty stomach, okay? I’ll make you a to-go plate of food before you leave.” He starts to walk backwards away from you, raising his voice a little so you can still hear him. “And please talk to Hoseokie when we’re done! Maybe then he’ll calm the fuck down!”

You can’t hide the smile that blooms across your face, and Jimin wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis before turning around and pressing his way through the crowd to the photo wall.

The members take turns passing Hoseok around, punctuated by the snap of the camera: pinching his cheeks, leaning into him, clinging to his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck. You laugh out loud when Taehyung hikes a leg up high on Hoseok’s hip and tips back, a hand draped across his forehead, eyes shut, so fucking dramatic.

Hoseok stares down the camera like a professional, only to immediately dissolve into giggles between shots, tongue poking out between his teeth like he can’t quite handle all the attention. It’s enough to have you nearly fighting for your life.

The members crowd in for a few group shots, posing cutely until Jimin finally waves everyone back off to the dancefloor. He keeps Hoseok behind with one hand gripping his bicep, and your heart drops into your stomach when Jimin leans in to whisper something in Hoseok’s ear.

Oh, fuck.

You try to calm yourself down, reasoning that he could be talking about any number of important things, but then Jimin pulls Hoseok’s sunglasses off his face, turns him unmistakably in your direction, and gives his shoulders a hard push. It’s clear Hoseok doesn’t quite know where he’s going as he stumbles forward and squints at the party lights, so you throw back the last of your champagne for some assistance, set the empty flute on a table, and force yourself to be brave.

You run your palms nervously over the sides of your dress, trying to focus on the feeling of smooth satin as you cross the room to meet him.

“Hobi.” His eyes find yours and you watch as his face, still in party mode— all perfect straight lines and severe grace and supermodel apathy— softens, brightens.

“Oh thank god, you made it,” Hoseok huffs a disbelieving laugh. “Come here.”

He pulls you in for a hug, not the lazy one-armed greetings you’ve seen celebrities give each other all night but a real, solid embrace, both arms crossed firmly over the small of your back. You press your nose into the crook of his neck, the thin fabric of his tank top brushing against your skin. Heat radiates off of him in waves, and he smells so good, like expensive cologne. It’s dizzying.

“Hi,” you murmur, and it’s punctuated with a soft giggle when you realize you’re speaking directly into his collarbone. You move to extract yourself, but his grip tightens.

“Five more seconds,” Hoseok says with another half-laugh, and you gladly allow yourself to melt back into his arms.

He sounds slightly hoarse, you notice, probably from talking all night. You think for easily the millionth time that you have no idea how he does it, but this moment of softness makes you wonder if being the life of the party is a little more difficult than he lets on.

Hoseok hums a little, and the feeling rumbles through your chest, buzzing all the way down to your fingertips like an electric current. When he finally releases you, it’s with a soft sigh, something that almost sounds like reluctance. Your heart backflips at the thought.

The lights flash waves of rainbow color over his face, each one painting his perfect features with a slightly different energy: pink, blue, orange, green. You momentarily forget how to talk, but Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.

“Are you having fun?”

You nod as decisively as you can. “I’m just awkward, but that’s not your party’s fault.” He giggles, gaze flitting nervously around the room, as you continue. “Seriously, it’s a great party. And I’m not just saying that because you have free booze.”

“Did you want more?” He asks quickly, then seems to think better of it. “Or, well, how much have you had? Do you need water?”

You smile a little despite yourself. “I’m fine, Hobi, thank you. You have better things to do tonight than look after me because I nursed a single glass of champagne. And besides, Jimin already tried to mother hen me earlier.”

A look of serious anguish crosses Hoseok’s face, and he glances back over his shoulder, but Jimin has evaporated into the crowd of beautiful people. “God, I specifically told him to leave you alone.”

You shrug. “It’s not a big deal. He was sweet.”

Hoseok’s gaze lands back on you, and it feels like your chest lights up from the inside out. You almost can’t look directly at him– it’s not unlike staring into the sun. You blink up at him once, twice, more than dazed, and then he laughs again, nose scrunching slightly as if to cringe at himself.

“Agh, I feel awkward. I don’t know what to say.”

You’re smiling, too. “That’s okay,” you say, because it is. You’re perfectly content to just stand here with him, unconcerned with the chaos of the party around you.

“I’m really glad you’re here.”

“Me too.”

“And– well, I guess you’ve never been here before, right? Can I give you a tour? I can take you downstairs and show you my studio.”

Your cheeks start to burn from all the questions, from how fixed his gaze is on you. It’s overwhelming. “Hobi, this is literally your party. You should stay here. I was doing fine holding up the wall over there.”

“Come on, I really want to. Please?” He leans in towards you slightly, glancing around as if to make sure he’s not being overheard. When he speaks into your ear, his voice drops to a lower register for privacy, and you can’t ignore the chills that dot up your spine. “I can’t talk to one more person that isn’t you right now.”

You nod, every nerve ending in your body now hyper-aware of how very close he is to you. “If you’re sure. I’d like that.”

“Thank you,” he says softly, and you breathe a soft giggle at how ridiculous it is that he’s the one thanking you at this moment. Before you even realize what he’s doing, his hand finds your hand, delicate fingers intertwining with yours. The skin of his palm is soft and warm. “Let’s go.” He chases the words with a gentle squeeze.

Hoseok leads you into the elevator and presses the button for a lower floor. You’re a little surprised when he slumps back against the wall with a heavy sigh as the doors close, still holding your hand.

“Oh, I’m tired.” He says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself rather than to you. “It just hit me now. That was a lot.”

You squeeze his hand back, and his eyes flutter open to look at you. You press yourself up against the wall next to him. “You sound like me after any social event. And here I was thinking all night that you made it look so easy.”

Hoseok smiles. “I’m good at faking it. But I always collapse after stuff like this.” His eyes drift away from you and he stares into the empty space in front of him, his expression darkening slightly. “I just really hope they liked it. It’s so hard to tell what people think, or who’s only bullshitting you when they tell you it’s good. I’d rather they be honest with me.”

“Well, if it means anything, I loved it.” You say softly, your eyes searching his face. “And I’m not a bullshitter.”

Hoseok blinks, then nods once, his eyes not meeting yours. “You’re not. I appreciate that.”

The chime of the elevator seems to snap him somewhat out of his headspace, and he tugs on your joined hands to pull you through the doors as they slide open. “It’s just at the end of the hall.”

There’s something about Hoseok that comforts you all the way to your core, laps gently at the edges of your shyness until it recedes a bit. He just makes you feel like you can say anything without fear of judgment. Conversation comes easier with him, like this.

“How do you feel about it?”

“The album?” He asks.

You shrug. “Everything.”

“I’m very nervous,” Hoseok answers immediately with a bright peal of laughter, squeezing your hand again for emphasis. “I’m working really hard but… it all feels like uncharted territory. It’s so different to do it alone.”

His eyes jump from studio door to studio door as he leads you down the hallway. “I don’t know if people are going to like this side of me or the things I have to say. I don’t know if anyone will still care now that it’s just me. And ugh, I’m so unsure about the music festival. I’ve never done a whole show on my own before. I practice so much every day and I still don’t know if I can do it. Or if it will be any good.”

When he stops you outside of the final door at the end of the hallway, he seems to remember himself. “Wow, look at me. You were probably only being polite and I threw so much at you. This is just what goes around in my head. Every day and every night.”

“You sound stressed,” you say softly.

Hoseok purses his lips for a second. “I guess. I just really want to do well. I don’t want to disappoint anyone. I would– what?”

It isn’t until he asks the question, regarding you with a confused expression, that you realize you’re shaking your head. The smile that has crept across your face is a mixture of disbelief and appreciation.

“I’m sorry,” you’re practically laughing. “Please, keep going.”

“No, no, what is that face?”

You chew on the corner of your lip, trying to figure out the best way to word it. “I just… I don’t want to dismiss your concerns, because I absolutely understand all of them. And I would be shitting a brick, no question. But you…” Hoseok’s eyes widen a little as you pause, drinking him in, the way concern tugs down the corners of his mouth. “You just have no idea. No idea what it’s like to watch you from out here. And I wish you could see yourself the way I do.”

He pauses as if to consider your words. “What do you see?”

You don’t even have to think about the answer. It feels as steady and honest as the beat of your heart behind your ribs. “I see a fucking star. I see somebody who was born to do exactly what he’s doing. And, I mean, I think being nervous is a good thing, and I don’t say this to try and invalidate how you’re feeling at all. But I don’t see any possible future where you don’t succeed, Hoseok. It’s just... not an option. You’re going to get up there and kill it, I know you are. Because it’s you.”

Hoseok’s hand slips out of yours, and you can feel the warmth of his palms as he presses them to your waist to pull you close. Anticipation sparks through you. His eyes search yours intently, like he’s looking for something. “You really feel that way?”

“Completely. There’s no doubt in my mind.” Your gaze drops to his mouth, the way his full lips are parted slightly, and it occurs to you that maybe you’re talking about more than one thing now. “It feels predestined, to me… I don’t know. Inevitable.”

Hoseok makes a soft noise as he continues to close the distance between you. “Inevitable?” You tilt your chin up towards him, every cell in your body humming. “Like this?”

The way he kisses you is so gentle and sweet, you swear your heart leaps into your throat. You allow a second, maybe two, to move your mouth against his and get lost in it, and then you force yourself to break away, your mind reeling.

“I’m sorry,” he says automatically. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

“Hoseok,” you murmur, eyes squeezing shut as you attempt to navigate the discomfort of being vulnerable. “I– you should know that I really, really like you.”

“Really?”

The shock in his voice makes your eyes snap open again, and you can’t help but make a face of utter disbelief. “I thought it was obvious.”

“Looks like I’m not the only one who doesn’t realize how other people see me. You’re actually very hard to read.” Hoseok slips one hand off of your waist to push down on the door handle behind you, then gestures for you to step through. He keeps talking as he follows in after you, letting the door shut behind him. “I second-guess myself all the time with you. Jimin is so fucking tired of hearing about it.”

“Wow,” you say dumbly. “I had no idea.”

“You didn’t even text me back about tonight! I had no idea if you were coming.”

You start to laugh as the realization washes over you: you’d been so busy sighing forlornly and stressing about what to wear, you’d forgotten to actually reply to his messages.

“Okay, this time was actually an accident. But…” You sweep your gaze over his studio, trying to think. “I don’t know, I just always feel like I’m bothering you. Your life is so big and important. Even now: you should be upstairs being the star of your own party. Not down here with me.”

Hoseok shakes his head immediately. “I don’t want to talk to anyone up there the way I want to talk to you. I was such a wreck today when you didn’t answer.”

You can’t believe what he’s saying, even as he takes a step in towards you, his mouth invitingly close to yours again. “Why? I am quite literally the least important person on the guestlist.”

“Because,” Hoseok pauses for a second, then sighs. “I like you, and I was scared that you’d decided not to come, when I…” He’s practically grinning, and the tell of his scrunched up nose makes you realize– he’s embarrassed. “I threw this whole party just to have an excuse to see you.”

Your jaw drops open. “You what?”

“Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Hobi.” You both start to laugh as you stare in disbelief, trying to process the most ridiculous statement you’ve ever heard in your life. “You could have just called me.”

“I tend to overthink these things.”

He’s close enough that you barely have to move to slide your hands up his chest and grip the lapels of his white button-down.

“I think I can help with that,” you murmur, and then you tug him back down into a kiss that makes your head spin.

The sweet nervousness of your first kiss has been replaced with urgency now, Hoseok’s mouth moving over yours like he’s hungry for it. You tug gently on your fistfuls of his shirt to move him towards you, stumbling backwards until you find purchase against the door of the studio.

Hoseok moves skillfully, tongue licking into your mouth while one of his strong thighs shifts to tease your legs apart and press between them. The quick succession of the two is enough to make your breath hitch, and it seems to encourage him more. The rough denim of his jeans grinds into your center, and your already-short dress has ridden up enough that the pressure drags hot sparks right over your core.

Your jaw goes slack as your focus slips, and you tip your head back against the door with a soft whine, circling your hips for more friction. “Fuck, Hoseok.”

His lips drop down to the exposed skin of your neck. The warmth of his mouth has your back arching, your nipples rubbed into stiff peaks under the thin fabric you couldn’t wear a bra with.

“You look so fucking good tonight,” Hoseok groans. “Driving me crazy in this little dress.”

There’s the soft brush of a hand on your thigh, and he teases the hem of your dress up higher and higher as your hips keep moving; his tongue darts out to lick a languid stripe over your collarbone. His other hand slides up from your waist to cup your breast over satin, deftly rolling the bud of your nipple between his long fingers, pinching with just enough pressure to coax a moan out of you.

“I like the sounds you make. Don’t want you to be shy with me.” Hoseok murmurs over your skin before he starts to suck deliberately at your neck, right on your pulse point. You couldn’t stifle the sound his mouth pulls from you even if you wanted to.

With all your attention drawn to grinding your clit against his leg and the warmth of his palm cupping your breast, your grip on the fabric of his shirt has loosened. Moving in a haze of pleasure, your hands fumble at his denim jacket, attempting to push it down his shoulders. Hoseok pulls back slightly when he realizes what you’re doing, though his fingers still lazily squeeze at your nipple.

“Let me just– hang on–” Hoseok untangles himself from you entirely with a sheepish grin, and you take the moment to collect yourself, your chest heaving in shallow breaths. You can feel the way your panties are soaked through as you press your thighs together, desperate for continued friction.

He’s moving quickly as he slips out of his oversized jacket and button down beneath it. You can clearly see the wheels in his head turning as he lays the pieces over the back of his desk chair, then immediately scrunches his face up as if to think better of it.

“Agh, sorry, sorry, one second–” Hoseok shakes out the jacket, then the shirt, folding both in quick yet precise succession before stacking the neat rectangles together and gently setting them on the small couch next to his desk.

Even in the dim studio lighting you can see his face is flushed pink with embarrassment as he returns to press you back against the door.

“I just– I don’t want wrinkles,” he says softly, and you’re very grateful that you no longer have to suppress the urge to take his face in your hands and kiss him.

“I like you so much,” you giggle into his mouth, and it’s punctuated with a squeak when his hands slide down to firmly grab your ass. The fabric of your dress is so thin that it hardly feels like it’s there at all.

Hoseok must have the same thought, because he releases his grip only for as long as it takes to push the skirt of your dress up over your ass; now there’s nothing separating his fingers from your skin when he squeezes you again.

“Like you,” he agrees, his voice husky. “Want to taste you.” Your core aches for his touch, clenches around nothing when he releases his grip and cracks a hand over the soft flesh of your asscheek.

“Please, Hobi.”

You find his mouth with yours again for a needy taste of a kiss, tongues sliding together. Your arms wrap around his shoulders in an attempt to pull him impossibly closer.

In one swift move he presses you flush against the door, and his hands slip to hitch your legs over his waist before moving back to your ass, hoisting your hips up to properly straddle him. You whimper at the grind of his erection through his jeans, right over your rubbed-sensitive center, and at the thought that he could fuck you just like this, up against this door.

Hoseok’s mouth doesn’t leave yours as he turns and carries you the short distance across the room, hands sliding to your hips so he can set you down on the desk. His lips are full and kiss-bitten red when he pulls back to look at you, pupils blown dark with lust.

“Sure this is okay?”

You meet his gaze, reaching up to dust strands of hair out of his eyes. His mouth chases the heel of your hand so he can press those soft lips into the center of your palm, chaste and sweet.

“It’s so much more than okay,” you murmur.

He’s smiling as he leans forward for another kiss, only pulling back to press his forehead to yours once you’re both breathless. “I have wanted to do this for so fucking long. You have no idea.”

His hands hook under the backs of your thighs to scoot you gently forward until you’re perched at the very edge of his desk, and then he sinks to his knees. Your legs that were slipped around his waist find new purchase thrown over his shoulders and you tense a little when your high heels scrape over his back.

“I can take these off,” you start, but he’s already shaking his head as his palms encourage your thighs apart.

“I like it.”

You’re nearly gasping for breath with anticipation as his long fingers slip under the band of your panties and you lift your hips up so he can pull them down. You manage to extract one leg to drape back over his shoulders, leaving the lacy fabric to dangle off the other as you open up for him.

Hoseok’s thumbs press to either side of your pussy, gently spreading your lips apart to admire how soaked you already are. Anyone else examining you like this would have you squirming away self-consciously, but there’s just something about Hoseok that’s different. You want him to know every part of you fully, intimately.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” His breath is hot over your skin, makes your cunt tighten needily as if to beckon him closer.

You lean back to brace your forearms on the desk behind you and Hoseok’s gaze jumps up to meet yours. He doesn’t drop eye contact as he leans forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to your slit, both of you groaning at the contact.

His mouth moves just as it did against yours, and you let your eyes flutter closed as pleasure sears through you like a hot knife. Hoseok grunts a little, low in his throat when he adds tongue to his kisses, licking softly but deliberately to part your slick folds.

“Hobi,” you whine, rolling your hips up into him as he starts to apply more pressure with his tongue. “Fuck, ah, feels so good.”

Hoseok pulls off of you with a throaty gasp, like maybe he was so focused on eating you out that he didn’t quite remember to keep breathing. When you look down at him, his lips are wet and glossy, spread in a wide smile. “You taste so fucking good.”

You don’t even have time to ask for more before he’s hooking his biceps around your thighs and tugging your hips towards him, pulling you even closer to bury his face between your legs. This time he licks a stripe straight up to your swollen clit, pulling the bud into his mouth to suck on.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, digging your nails into the desk beneath you as sparks shoot through you and your clit twitches in his mouth.

Hoseok hums steadily around you, as if to once again encourage you to be vocal. He starts to nod his head as he sucks, his nose pressed flush against your pubic bone. Your hips fall in time with his rhythm, grinding back down on him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whimper. “Shit, Hobi.” Your voice catches on a dazed, disbelieving laugh. “You’re gonna make me come if you keep doing that.”

He doesn’t let up, squeezing his grip on your thighs that much tighter when you start to quiver beneath him. Your arousal coils tight and hot in your core as he works more not-so-shy noises out of you, breathy moans, needy whines.

You cling desperately to the edge of his desk, teetering equally on the edge of your own release. The wet slick wash of his tongue is lush, decadent, lapping at your clit between pulses of suction, and it’s all too fucking much.

“Yes, Hoseok, fuck!”

You cry out, your heels digging into the hard plane of Hoseok’s back as he works an intense, shuddering orgasm out of you. Your cunt throbs over and over as you come, a rush of arousal painting the crux of your thighs.

When you catch your breath it’s in uneven, shaky gasps, and the movement of your hips sharpens into jolts as you become hypersensitive to Hoseok’s mouth. He releases you almost reluctantly, still hovering close, continuing to dart his tongue out to gently lick up your folds.

“I don’t want to stop,” he says with a shy, blossoming laugh, the light catching the shine of his lips and chin when he glances up at you.

You’re dazed, beyond blissed out, unable to believe that any of this is real. You like him so much.

“Can I keep going?”

Just that sentence is enough to make you tighten all over again with anticipation. “I–” you laugh a little too despite yourself. “I want that. But I think my clit needs a second.”

Hoseok’s touch is featherlight as he circles a digit lower, over your entrance, as if to ask permission. “What about here?” Your pussy lips twitch even under so gentle a touch, but you ache for more; you like that it’s overwhelming.

“Yeah, yes. There, please, fuck,” you babble. He’s added a second finger to tease now, and you whimper when they finally press together into your sensitive cunt.

Hoseok is watching his fingers intently, and you can hear the way your pussy squelches as he pumps them slowly, can feel the tremors of your orgasm still shuddering through you, causing slick to drip from your center. You can only imagine what his view must be like, how you must look: dripping, needy, trembling for him, fingers gripping the desk and head lolling back.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft, and then he dips his head down to lap below your entrance, tasting the juices that have leaked out of you. He pulls back to smack his other hand over your whole cunt, light enough that you barely feel the tap, but just the visual of it makes you squirm beneath him.

“So cute,” he smiles. His fingers rub circles into your front wall, becoming more insistent, and you breathe in shaky waves as you start to grip tightly around him.

“Hoseok,” you breathe, letting your eyes drop closed. Arousal blossoms through you like a heavy weight, your second climax already building, when you feel his other hand cup the join of your ass and thigh.

A soft whimper spills out of you as Hoseok starts to massage below your entrance, thumb working at a new bundle of nerves, like nothing you’ve ever felt. It’s pleasure that makes you hot all over, makes the muscles in your legs shiver and tense when it’s paired with the crook of his fingers still working your pussy.

“Fuck,” you pant, “Hobi, what are– that feels so–” You’re starting to lose a grip on your words, sentences going incoherent as your head spins. It’s hard to think over all the sensation, the way your body is lit up like a live wire, and the sound of your cunt gushing around him as he fucks into your g-spot.

“Has anyone touched you here before?” He asks softly, thumb tapping at the thin bridge of skin between your pussy and your ass. His head dips down for a chaste kiss there, then a second, adding a languid lap of tongue.

“N-no,” you whimper, toes curling in your shoes as he continues to drag his tongue over this delicate, sensitive place. “Keep going.”

Hoseok pulls back, a string of saliva still connecting him to you, and he lets it loose with a swipe of his hand over his mouth. His fingers slip out of you as he pairs a question with a smile. “Turn over for me?”

Your legs would be shaking even if you weren’t in fancy party heels, and you do your best to be graceful as you unsteadily spin, one arm keeping the fabric of your dress hiked up over your hips.

“Brace yourself on the desk,” Hoseok instructs, and you do, leaning forward until your stomach and forearms are flush with the wood, your bare ass hanging off the desk, presented for him. You spread your legs apart again and can feel the way your pussy drools arousal down your thighs. “That’s it,” he coaxes.

His fingers massage firmly into the flesh of your asscheeks, and your back arches up as you groan at the feeling. He spreads you just a little, enough for cool air to tease at your slick center; your hips wiggle towards him on instinct.

“Pretty back here, too,” he murmurs. “Tell me how it feels, okay? Won’t do it if you don’t like it.”

You clench for him in both places, even your fists grip tight in the fabric of your dress. “I’ll like it. Please, baby.”

“Baby,” Hoseok repeats back with a shy exhale. “I like that. I like you.” He leaves a sweet kiss pressed halfway up your thigh.

“Hobi–” you choke out a whine of his name as his breath ghosts over you, hands still firmly keeping you spread. His tongue returns to your perineum again, licking a hot, slow stripe that keeps moving up, up, until you feel the tease of warmth and wetness over your ass. “Oh, fuck.”

You’re so sensitive here, just the lightest drag of his tongue over your rim makes you moan, feet kicking listlessly as pleasure shudders through you.

“It’s good–” you manage to whimper, voice muffled slightly as your forehead drops against the desk, too, your whole body pinned down by his mouth. “–ngh, really good, Hobi.” Your cunt throbs when he does it again, as he falls into a consistent pace of long, steady laps that set off fireworks behind your eyes.

The ache in your core begs for touch, friction, and you oblige needily, tucking a hand under the weight of your hips pressed into the desk, a sweat-slicked palm for your mouth-wet clit.

Hoseok doesn’t miss a thing. It’s only for a second that he pulls off of you, but you whine at the loss of his tongue, sated slightly by the gentle brush of his lips over the small of your back. “Gonna get yourself off while I eat you out?”

You grind a circle down with your hips, hissing at the white-hot pulse against your hand. “Yes, baby, please.”

He doesn’t need any more encouragement to dive back in, fingers gripping harder to spread you and tongue licking deliberately, tracing patterns that work more arousal out of your pussy. You’re unraveling fast from humping against your palm, hips jolting forward to make your clit twitch and backwards to press towards Hoseok’s mouth.

You’re already wound so tight that you’re too desperate for words, reduced instead to little breathless gasps– “ah, ahh”– as you speed up the rub of your hand, your hips. Hoseok’s tongue never falters, firm pressure laved over and over your sensitive, flexing ass.

With a soft hum of effort, you feel him press a little harder, tongue barely dipping in past your tight ring of muscle, and the sweet stretch of it is the final push you need.

You roll your clit just right over your palm a final time and then you’re shaking and moaning as everything starts to pulse. The all-over clench pushes a fresh wave of fluid from your cunt, rolling down the backs of your thighs, fat droplets of arousal that Hoseok chases with sloppy kisses as the waves of your orgasm shudder through you.

It takes a moment before you can say anything, do anything, limbs too heavy and brain too fucked-out dumb. You do your best to slide gracefully off the desk, but your legs shake with aftershocks that betray you, and you stumble.

Hoseok is quick to wrap his arms around you and guide your hips down to the floor next to him. You collapse in a heap of giggles, him tangled over your waist, the skirt of your dress still pushed up, your bare ass on his studio carpet.

“Are you okay?” Hoseok laughs, and you bury your face in the fabric of his tank top as an answer, not convinced your coherency has returned to you yet.

“Too good,” you murmur, words slurring. “Fucked me too good.”

“You’re so hot.” You can tell he’s blushing just by the tone of his voice, and you start to come to a little, slow-blinking back to reality and rolling over to look up at him. His dark eyes shine as he smiles. You don’t want to come all the way down from this dazed, happy place yet, you realize, and you curl a finger into the loop of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“My turn.” Your hands start to fumble to undo his belt buckle. His jeans are oversized, but not enough to obscure the print of his hard cock pressed against his thigh.

“Let me take you home,” he says softly, running a fingertip along your jaw. “This should be– I want you to be comfortable. I want it to feel good.”

“It all feels good,” you say earnestly, sitting up to tug at the button of his jeans, undeterred. “And you can take me home. But you’ve been so good to me, Hobi.” You manage to work his fly open, and you lift your gaze to meet him. “Let me be good to you.”

You resume your work, wriggling Hoseok’s jeans down his thighs until his hands cover yours and he takes over, stripping himself of his shoes as well. He reaches back between his shoulder blades to pull his tank top over his head, and your eyes sweep over his body, taking in his lithe figure and smooth, hard muscles. You trail the tips of your fingers down the defined lines of his chest.

“Fuck,” Hoseok starts to smile self-consciously, one hand drifting over his dick straining against tight black briefs with a slightly darker spot in the center where he’s left a kiss of precum on the fabric. “I don’t have any condoms here.”

You sit up on your knees in front of him, considering this. “Use my mouth.” The high of your orgasm has subsided enough now that you’re not quite shameless anymore, and heat blooms in your face as you continue. “Like, fuck my throat.”

He tries and fails to suppress a groan, and his delicate hands reach to cup either side of your face, thumbs rubbing circles into the hinge of your jaw. “You–” he laughs softly. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I mean it,” you say simply.

“But you really want to?”

You nod, half play-acting your shyness now, letting your lashes flutter as you blink up at him. “I’ve done it before. I like it.”

“Fuck,” Hoseok breathes. “I want to do everything you like.”

“Please?” You ask sweetly, and Hoseok is already getting to his feet, one hand still cupping your jaw.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “So pretty when you beg to suck my cock.” You’re smiling, your fingers slipping under his waistband to slide his briefs down his legs.

“Take your dress off, baby,” Hoseok instructs as he steps back to finish pulling off his underwear. “Don’t wanna ruin it.”

You do as you’re told, staying on your knees to pull it over your head, your heart squeezing again when he takes it from you and treats it as gently as his own clothes. It’s oddly domestic to watch him fold the smooth fabric with shaking hands, naked except for his jewelry, his hard dick leaking against his stomach.

When he turns back to you, you take the opportunity to properly admire him. His cock is as flushed and gorgeous as the rest of him, thick and dripping wet from his tip. You duck down to press a kiss to the sensitive spot under his head, then slide your lips up to gloss over his slit, slicking your mouth with his precum.

You look up at him, hands gripping the backs of his thighs; Hoseok’s eyelids are heavy with lust as he watches you work, tongue toying at the corner of his mouth. He groans a little as you pop just the head into your mouth and swirl your tongue over it, tasting the salt of him.

His hand slides to the back of your head, tangling in the hair at the nape of your neck, and his adam’s apple jerks in his throat as he swallows.

“Tap my foot if you need to stop.” Hoseok’s voice is quiet but firm, and his socked toes wiggle, brushing against your knee pressed into the carpet. “Okay?”

You hum your acknowledgement and maintain eye contact as he holds you still and slides his cock into your mouth. He starts off at a gentle pace, and you hollow your cheeks around him, pressing your tongue flat so it drags over his shaft as he starts to pump in and out of you.

As much as you want him in control, there’s a part of you that can’t help yourself– you lean forward, eyes fluttering closed, wanting to prove to him how much you can take. The head of his cock starts to stretch down your throat and you focus on breathing steady through your nose, your muscles jumping around him in a half-swallow.

“Fuck,” Hoseok groans, his voice dark and rough-edged. You can feel drool starting to leak out of your mouth, and the mess just makes it better. “You take it so well.”

His hips keep rolling, withdrawing his cock into the heat of your mouth only to push it back down the tight clutch of your throat. It gets easier as he starts to move faster, the weight of him pressing bright on your gag reflex in shorter and shorter bursts. It’s just enough to make tears well up in your eyes. They eventually spill over, staining your cheeks until your face is slick and wet, like the sounds of him hitting the back of your throat, all of it obscene and hot.

The hand in your hair tightens as he pulls you all the way down on his shaft until your nose is flush with his abdomen and your throat bulges, filled with him. He holds you there, eyes roaming hungrily over your face.

“You look so sweet with my cock down your throat, baby.”

The hum of agreement you try makes you gag a little, and he quickly releases, pulling out to let you gasp for air. Your tongue lolls out of your mouth as you smile up at him, dazed, and catch your breath.

“Was that too much?” His brows pinch together slightly with concern. You wipe a hand over your nose and shake your head.

“I want more, Hobi,” you purr, moving your face back towards his dick. You lean forward to lazily drag your tongue up his shaft for emphasis. “Want you to come on my face,” you admit as you fix your gaze on him.

You swear you feel his knees almost buckle when you take him in your mouth again.

“You are so fucking sexy,” Hoseok practically growls, hand returning to the nape of your neck. He pushes himself back down your throat and starts to pick up the pace. You want him all and take it easily now, drool slicking your neck and chest when you swallow around his length.

“Oh my god,” he gasps, and you can feel his cock twitch on your tongue as he fucks roughly into your mouth, chasing his orgasm. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok’s grip on your hair goes slack and he pulls out, hand pumping fast over his drool-glossed cock. He tips his head back, exposing the column of his throat with a heady whine when he starts to come. You’re up on your knees and ready for it, nose bumping his fist, face presented for him to paint. Warm spurts of cum hit your cheeks, tongue, lips, and you giggle a little as you try to hold still, as he makes another throaty grunt of effort and release.

“Shit,” he hisses as the movements of his hand slow, as he works out the last of it, stray drips already trailing down your neck, between the valley of your breasts. “Fuuuck.” His breathing is ragged, and you press a wet kiss to the tip of his dick as he recovers.

He’s clearly already focused on the mess he’s made of you, spinning in a dazed semi-circle before reaching to grab a box of tissues off of the desk. His bare knees thud on the carpet as he sinks down next to you.

You’re surprised when he leans in to kiss you, humming softly against your mouth, tongue even darting out to lick at the cum that drips off your lips. You smile into it, teeth gently grazing over his bottom lip.

“Hi,” he huffs a laugh as he leans back. “Was that okay? Not too much?”

You shake your head. “I liked it,” you say again, though your voice comes out a little hoarse. “Wouldn’t have asked for it if I didn’t. I like you. I–” your breath hitches slightly with nerves, and it’s funny to you, that it’s easy to ask him to fuck your throat, but hard to talk about the bigger feelings underneath. It’s more intimate, somehow, to be earnest. “You always worry so much about everyone else. I just want to take care of you.”

“You can.” Hoseok’s voice is gentle and warm. “We both can.” He pulls a tissue loose from the box, hovering close to you. “Let me clean you up.”

You’re too blissed out to stop yourself from giggling. “You have a whole party to get back to.” You nod dumbly at the verity of your own statement as he uses tissues to wipe cum and drool off your face, tear stains and smudged makeup from your cheeks.

“This,” he swipes a thumb down over your bottom lip, chases it with another quick kiss, “was so much better than a fucking party.” He adds the last of the dampened tissues to the small pile he’s made on the floor, tilting your jaw with his hand to inspect his work, to ensure perfection as he does with everything. “But I probably don’t have much longer before people start looking for me.”

“You should go,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the drop in your stomach.

His hand slips into yours for the second time tonight. “Will you come with me? I know it’s not really your thing.”

You falter momentarily– not because you don’t want to, but you can’t shake your own self-consciousness, this sense that you don’t belong here, rubbing elbows with all these famous people. But it’s hard to feel like any of that matters with the way Hoseok is looking at you, the soft turn of his lips in a barely-there smile.

“Are you sure?”

“Very.” He gives your hand an affirming squeeze. “Do I need to remind you that this entire party is literally for you?”

You shake your head, rolling your eyes at his antics despite the laugh that bubbles up in your throat. “I still can’t believe you. What is this, The Great Gatsby?”

His laugh is high and sweet, hand untangling from yours to wrap both arms around your waist, and he pulls you into his chest, bare skin on bare skin, hearts beating together. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Hobi,” you relent. “I’ll go back with you. Besides, Jimin promised to feed me.”

You can feel Hoseok’s smile as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Come on, then. I promise it’ll be fun. If we get Jungkook drunk enough he’ll probably start dancing on the stage.”

“Now that I have to see.”

#hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #bts smut #bts x reader #hoseok x y/n

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bao3bei4 · 11 months

Text

ON THE TSHIRT METHOD TO WRITING ESSAYS IN YOUR OWN TIME:

i have had a couple people mention to me that they would like to write essays too, but they are a little out of practice. so i thought i should gather some scattered thoughts into one place. this is not a systematic guide. i am young and inexperienced and still working out things for myself, but this is my basic process and some things that have helped me, summarized.

my biggest single piece of advice is to write with your proverbial pussy. you are not writing for a grade so don't act like it. forget rigor, forget academic style, etc. read what you're interested in, and write following up on the threads that you're interested in. don’t sweat the details. just do you.

if you still need more advice..... here’s a long winded post.

step zero: if you have no clue what you want to say yet

read. and read a lot.

but be realistic. be kind to yourself. your attention is a precious resource, and it is getting eaten up by shit out of your control all the time. if you’ve had a busy day, you may still have the brain power left to read. i almost never do. lol. so make sure to carve out time on a day off, if possible. otherwise you might end up completely fried, reading the same sentence over and over, and ending up scrolling on your phone LMAO. <-- painful lesson also to this end, if you haven’t picked up a denser book in a while, start with shorter articles, especially ones written more recently. if your attention wanders, try getting a physical book instead. the most important thing is just starting things you’ll actually read. i’ve seen a lot of people (and been that person) who was like. “oh i’m going to start with THE canonical text in a subject i’m interested in” which makes sense right? but that book is inevitably long and dense and convoluted and boring. you can come back to it later. this shouldn’t feel like a chore!

genuinely this is the most helpful thing you can do is just. read anything. it may be difficult at first (or always), but it is still the easiest way to engage with the foremost experts from around the world and the entirety of written history on any subject you are interested in. there’s not really a substitute to this.

note: you may say that people can and do come up with brilliant ideas independently of their access to written works. this is true! but if you are one of them, you should skip this section/post, because you already know what you want to say. okay that was a little too facetious. let me revise: when i say that, without reading, it will be hard to come up with more complex ideas than what you have now, that isn’t necessarily pejorative. maybe your current ideas and impulses are original and meaningful and complex. if they aren’t, however, you don’t have to resign yourself to it. your experiences in real life are the most valuable thing you can bring to the table, but it can be very difficult to articulate and contextualize them without community—whether that be irl, or the simple textual company of other writers. you can let other people help you and teach you. basically, this is a long winded way of saying something extremely simple: reading is not the only way to gain knowledge, or even the best. but it is an extremely consistent and relatively egalitarian way.** **scihub and libgen and sometimes the public library are your friends. (my local library’s book coverage is spotty) who cares about piracy. LMAO.

you may surprise yourself by how nicely you fall into little spirals. you read one thing. and you are enamored with the way the author approaches their subject. so you end up reading everything else they’ve written, and then you start on the authors they list that inspire them in their interviews. maybe you just read one article that’s a little dry but it cites something else that seems far more interesting. read that next. and so on.

if you are struggling to read that’s okay. you have options. start a book club (or just get a friend who also wants to read more). if that sounds like too much work, pick a friend to keep updated on all your new facts. you just want to get used to reading something, and telling someone your favorite parts again. skim books. skip the boring parts. drop them entirely and find a more interesting one. no one’s going to quiz you. this is for your own enjoyment.

also important here: read books that make you want to write. sometimes this is because the methods and/or prose of the author are so exciting, you want to do something just like that. sometimes it’s because the content is so exciting, you want to say something about that too. sometimes they speak so powerfully to your own life, you want to tell people this is me!! i see this!! there are books i just enjoy reading, sure, and i do read them. but you know how, like, a good movie makes you want to tell stories too? good theory should do that too, in my opinion.

step one: you have some ideas now.

these ideas don’t have to be set in stone. but you should have an idea now of what you might talk about. personally, for me, i have two interconnected types of essay ideas.

interventions. this is like [tumblr voice] Why Is Nobody Talking About This. i see some sort of hole. maybe i know how to fill it, maybe i don’t.

free associations. basically i read one thing, or some analysis of one thing. and then it reminded me of another thing. and i’m like. i want to tease apart their connections, their similarities, and their differences.

there are more types of ideas, i’m sure. but these are the ones i consistently have. with me, the second kind is more common. very rarely do i find that my thoughts are that original. rather, i’ve found that one of my strengths as a writer is being able to make connections that other people haven’t made, or haven’t made in depth before. IN MY OPINION.

so i find it quite flexible. maybe i watch a movie, and it reminds me of my own life, because i think two women in the movie could be sad queer freaks. and i’m a sad queer freak. or it could be that i think scum villain could be analyzed through the framework of freudian psychoanalysis. you get the idea.

at this stage of the process, i don’t have a thesis, necessarily. but i have a couple phrases i’m drawn to. i have a bullet point or two. i have vibes.

to use an example from this blog, one of my friends hui once mentioned that that one fan image was going around again. we were going ughhh it’s victorian not chinese! together and they said “you should write a meta on it.” i wasn’t sure quite yet what i had to say. but i knew a couple things.

this is, incidentally, because i had done some research into chinoiserie before, because i had cited the zuroski book for a paper i had to write for an english class some years before on pride and prejudice and its use of descriptions of material culture, an essay that in turn was inspired by my random yet deeply felt conviction that jane austen hated me personally and wanted to kill me. this is why i encourage reading a lot. i think.

to work on this stage, make lists. lots of them. i have a .txt file where i keep every essay idea i have. a lot of them are a sentence. or they're lists of books or theorists i think i could make something out of. or they're theses that feel true, but i’m not sure why yet.

it took me a while to get to this point. just like with writing fic, there was a period when i first started where i was like. i only have one idea. i’m going to write it, and then i’m never going to write again. and then i had just one more idea. after a while. eventually you will find you have so many ideas and the world is full of possibilities. it’s a muscle you have to flex. like reading. and telling people about what you’re reading.

actually, i feel like there was a step 0.5 here that i completely skipped.

step zero point five that i skipped: how to generate ideas

my very truly complete “first time writing something semi-academic that was original” (with a loose definition of the word original) was literally just me reading literary criticism of one book, and saying “i think this author’s thoughts can be applied to this other book” and found some textual evidence that supported that the process could be replicated.

this is like, writing with training wheels on. eventually i got better at it (see aforementioned chinoiserie essay. i hope you agree.). but that was a good place to start for me. it made the proverbial blank page less intimidating, knowing i had a scaffolding.

i suggest trying this. see how it goes for you. read around until you find some piece of criticism, or just some theory about how something works, that you like. and using your newfound hammer, go look for some nails.

note: i know this expression is meant to like. be a negative thing. but you do have to start somewhere. it’s okay if it sucks. it’s just for your practice and your enjoyment.

be cautious of stances. weak writing (in my OPINIONNNN) tries to unilaterally defend or condemn a behavior. what you need to do is treat your writing as a bit. and then you need to run with it. you need to take it farther than what is reasonable. if this bit is truly actually deeply true, then what does it mean about yourself? it’s like using a new set of pronouns as a joke or something. you know what i mean? (that was an example of what i’m trying to communicate here)

what else is key to look out for... look for oppositional pairs or tensions. look for perverse incentives and vicious circles. look for embarrassing ideas. that is, what would be extremely embarrassing if it was true? (or to admit that it was true) you may go—tshirt, here you’re just describing things that are sexy. yes, exactly, that’s the point. you want things that thrill.

just keep reading and making notes until everything echoes with something else. now you’re ready for step two.

step two: refine your ideas further.

let me do this by demonstration. once more extending my earlier example of my chinoiserie essay, i knew that i really wanted to take zuroski’s points and basically... steal them. this is called “citation,” i guess. but i thought the following insights were useful to me:

british women were invested in chinese material objects

they incorporated them into their own subjectivity

past a certain point, they no longer “consumed” these signifiers, but these signifers became theirs

critique of one was able to stand in for critique of the other

and from being on fandom twitter, i already had the following insights:

people deliberately blurred the lines between china and england when it came to fans and tea

people also liked talking about victorian modesty when it came to china

so it seemed like victorian england and china had a privileged relationship, in a lot of people’s minds in fandom.

so it didn’t really seem a stretch to say... how can we look at one history, and apply it to our present?

it was a bit of the combo of the two: i saw something i didn’t see people were talking about, and it reminded me of something else i’d read before.

something that helps me a lot is tweeting about my essay ideas. if you have me on my private account, you already know this. it forces me to explain myself to someone who doesn’t know what i’m talking about in a very succinct way. oftentimes, i tweet something out while i’m brainstorming, and then i steal the phrasing back into my essay. see? tweets can be writing too.

this is microdosing on step zero’s “read something and practice telling a friend about it.” now you’re writing something and telling a friend about it.

step three: okay now you can like. open a google doc

make an outline. i know i know i know. i’m sorry. you can start just barfing thoughts if you want, but eventually everything that was on the top of your head will be out. and now you can start thinking about structure. the reason the outline is important is because it makes clear the logical progression from one idea to the next.

i know i usually bounce around in my writing (a tendency which has been magnified here because this is so casual LMAO), but i always want to make sure that my points are substantiated. if we want to talk about how a causes b, we should prove a, we should prove the causal link, and only then can we infer b, for instance. it doesn’t really matter what order that happens in (or even that we set about it that way), but the more complicated your idea is, the longer checklist you need. it’s just a checklist. that’s all.

as you start writing, you’ll probably need to read some more. you’re going to want to say something you think is true, but you’re going to realize that you haven’t proved it (or you can’t). go look to see if someone else has proved it.

maybe you’re right. add that evidence in. maybe you’re wrong. now your essay has a new direction. there is a living thing beneath you. actually, on that idea—

i tend to structure my outlines (if i’m not sure yet what my point is) by pasting a bunch of quotes in a document, and reorganizing them until they make sense, they seem to flow. and then i start explaining why, until i realized i have begun to walk off in a new direction. always embrace that new direction. eventually you will find that you have not been taking twists and turns, but actually you were dizzily walking along a straight path. (unless you have been unfocused and you are trying to say too many things at once. ask a friend to read your essay if you’re not sure which is the case.)

quotes are the smallest unit of your analysis. work with evidence. or, at least, i do. it makes writing an essay like solving a mystery. the idea of just spontaneously generating something new fills me with terror. rather, i want to autopsy something, trace its steps, and then discover how it came to be dead. this may not be true for you. but it’s true for meeeee and this is my post.

tl;dr

0. read something and tell someone about it/post it out

0.5. come up with a bit and run with it

1. think "why is no one talking about this" or start free associating

2. come up with weird connections and tell someone about it/post it out

3. collect all of your posts and ideas into a gdoc and organize them.

anyway i like reading posts like this because i’m incredibly nosy. so i tried to write out the sort of thing i like to read from other people. i don’t suggest you actually try to replicate it (if anyone would even want to.) practically basically i just encourage you to try any single part of this that you think was interesting or relatable or helpful. personally, i suggest reading a book and posting your favorite lines from it. if you do this a couple times, i think you will find the seeds of an essay waiting for you in your own posts.

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ghosts-bandwagon · 1 year

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How about 414 + Rudy, Alejandro with a masculine female S/O? Or even a female S/O with a deep voice!

I feel like masculine girls don’t get enough love! 😭💔

She just like me fr (for a long time I was so nervous about going to the gym and getting “too muscular” but now I dare a mf to say anything lmao) (also I only did the 141, I hope that’s ok!!)

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley:

I feel like looks aren’t a huge priority for him

He doesn’t mind if you have a deeper voice, in fact he finds it rather attractive and quite soothing- if he’s having trouble falling asleep, he might ask you to talk to him about your day, he’ll close his eyes and even his breathing to the rhythm of your stories

Even if you have nothing really new to say, he doesn’t care if you repeat yourself, he just wants to hear your voice

Loves hearing your voice over the phone

If you’ve got a more muscular build and it’s something you maintain, then he goes to the gym with you and you two are a power couple 100%

Sometimes you part ways at the gym to work on different muscle groups, and sometimes you coordinate to work on the same thing together

When you’re working out together he’s spotting you and helping correct your form and you’re doing the same for him, no time for heart eyes, we’re here to work, people!

That’s a fat ass lie, he’s making heart eyes the entire time he’s spotting you and when he’s correcting your form- he’s making sure you’re lifting with your legs and not your back and he’s got both eyes on your ass

When you’re lifting weights, he’s watching your arms and loving the ripples of your muscles move as you do your bicep curls and making sure you’re keeping your elbows in place

All in all, he’s swooning

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish:

He loves you so much

I feel like he can be a rough and tumble kind of guy, although he can turn on the gentleness when needed, and I feel like he’d have a lot of fun with his masculine gf

Definitely a gym couple 100%

He’s a bit of a peacock and will definitely ego press, but he’s strong enough to actually see it through and he’s not so dumb that he’d lift weights he definitely can’t

He’s doing it all for you though, he’ll peek from the corner of his eye to see if you’re watching and if you are, he’s beaming the entire time

You on the other hand, he can’t keep his eyes off of you for a second, he loves watching you work out, you’re so in the zone and he admires that so much

He also admires your ass

If you’ve got a deeper voice, he loves that, I feel like everyone on this list would find it really soothing

He might tease you and say that you should do an audiobook just for him to listen to when he’s deployed so he can sleep better

Imagine the look on his face when you actually do it

John Price:

He has no preference honestly

If you’re a more masculine woman, he couldn’t give two shits, as long as you’ve got good character, strong morals, and have a kind heart, that’s all that matters to him

But it definitely doesn’t hurt when your naturally low voice is on the other end of the receiver when he’s on his way home, when he’s at a stoplight he’ll close his eyes for a moment and take in the sound of your voice

And he definitely doesn’t mind your more muscular physique, in fact he kind of can’t keep his eyes off you

He’s obsessed with your thighs and goes a little feral when he sees you in shorts, short shorts or not- he loves the definition in your legs

He’s not concerned if you’re not traditionally feminine, as long as you’re true to yourself and happy that’s all he can ask for

Kyle ‘Gaz’ Gerrick:

Literally so smitten

He loves his strong gf bonus points if you can lift him and carry him

Your deeper voice isn’t a concern to him, just like the others he feels like it’s really soothing, loves hearing you on the phone

He’ll purposely let your calls go to voicemail so you’ll leave a message, anytime he does that you wind up starting the message with a breathless laugh

He loves listening to it over and over, especially when he’s deployed

He definitely comes to you for his gym routine, he follows your instructions and will always check in with you

His goal is to be able to deadlift you and when he does he’s so excited he almost drops you

He loves you so much and he’s so proud to be with you

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legendofmorons · 8 months

Note

I just noticed that I am on your annon list and that makes me so happy. I thought I needed to apply to that, lmao.

After getting thoroughly chewed out by my partner for this, I have to wonder how the chain might react to someone who doesn’t feel hunger unless they have a constant schedule.

Please remember to take care of yourself, because I keep forgetting and it’s getting embarrassing.

-VS

I mean as long as what you've signed off with isn't already claimed I have no issue with it. I figure the emojis are more likely to be doubled up on then letters or words haha.

I'll try to! You take care of yourself, too!

Chain reacting to a reader who accidently skips meals

First of all- this adventure absorbed messed up any food schedule or routine you had going on before.

They don't notice at first. The boys make dinner every night and breakfast most mornings. They don't make lunch, instead letting themselves graze-

It's the lunch and grazing that has you skipping meals

But after a week or two of you skipping meals- they are worried.

Some more than others.

Time, Warriors, and Sky are the most worried of the boys.

Because by the time they realize you've been skipping meals you've possibly started skipping dinner to get more sleep (I would)

And just breakfast is NOT great for you. You won't die, but it definitely isn't good for you.

The boys have a meeting just them amd decide to have Sky and Four talk to you about it.

Sky and Four talk to you one morning a few weeks into your stay with them. They ask if you're trying to skip meals

You explain that you forgot to eat if you aren't following a schedule or routine

That changes things

Wild and Time absolutely tell you that you should make sure to eat three meals when possible

If there are foods you can't or won't eat they work around that

Legend starts making sure to remind you about lunch, occasionally passing you snacks if you look like you need it.

He's huffy about it but he really does care.

Wild starts making your lunches with his own, passing it to you when Legend reminds you.

Hyrule and Wind help you stay up long enough for dinner!

If you do skip a meal they make sure you have enormous to eat for the next one

If you skip two meals in a row they'll chide you a little but out of affection mostly.

Mostly, they try to help you make a new food schedule.

Twilight asks you about what you like to eat to make meals more appealing and gets it or whatever is as close to it as he can manage

Overall, once they realize the problem is that you forget, they adjust things to help you remember.

Each of them carry extra snacks for when you occasionally remember you forgot a meal and need to eat bit don't have time for a meal.

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu sky #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu wild #lu wind

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snazzilystoopid · 9 months

Text

Hello there, fellow Ninjago fan....

I wonder, are you looking for Ninjago fics to read..?

WELL GOOD NEWS I'M HERE WITH A LIST OF AMAZING FICS FROM QUOTEV JUST FOR YOU!! <33

List is below heheh

Also just real quick: Some of these fics are not updated often/not updated anymore! These are all fem readers/ocs, but if they are gn or male I'll lyk. These are also catered to Cole lovers (ofc) but there are some other pretty good ones too!!

Dandelions~ Lloyd x Reader

https://www.quotev.com/story/15255742/dandelions-LloydG-x-reader

This is a reader insert, and I think is a gn reader if I recall. I haven't read it in a while, but I do remember really enjoying it! It's rarely updated, and has under 100 pages currently, but it's worth the read. Promise!

Element of Wishes~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/15032547/ELEMENT-OF-WISHES-LEGO-Ninjago

I LOVE THIS FIC SMM!! This is an OC fic, following the story of an elemental master of wishes, who also just so happens to be half-djinn! It currently has over 200 pages as well. You read through the events of Ninjago as normal, but also get to read interesting parts about the mc's own personal quest to find answers! SKYLOR ALSO PLAYS A BIG ROLE IN IT AND I LOVE THAT SM (Most of s1 has been skipped though). Cole is the current love interest, the author can sometimes leave updating for like 4 months lmao, but they have started updating regularly again! One of my all-time favourite fics! I'M CURRENTLY READING IT RN AND I LOVE ITTT

The Master of Wind~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/7985682/The-Master-of-Wind

I another one I haven't read for a bit, but let me tell you: I LOVED THIS BOOK WITH A BURNING PASSION OMG. Its also pretty long, with like 900 pages lol. I generally love the concept of a master of wind, more so because I love Morro, but anyways, this book is spectacular. The love interest is Lloyd, and its a bit of a slow burn, but its worth it. Sadly it hasn't been updated for 3 months now, but I am hopeful that the author will update it soon!

Just An Illusion~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14405232/Just-an-Illusion

Another short-ish book with under 100 pages, but I really loved this one!! The fic begins at the Tournament of Elements, and I don't think there is a current love interest. But seriously the way I read and reread this book is acc insane 😭 The fic unfortunately has been left for 8 months as I think the author is taking a break, but I'm pretty confident that Just an Illusion will continue!

Stoneheart~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/14081498/Stoneheart-Ninjago-Masters-of-Spinjitzu

THIS BOOK WAS AMAZING. I LOVE LOVE LOVE IT. The fic follows the story of an OC, who isn't from Ninjago, and who ends up joining the Ninja. Another MASSIVE book with over 800 pages and chock-full with a bunch of amazing original characters, and you're in for a good ride, trust me! I don't think there is a definite love interest, but it does seem to be leaning towards a certain character hehe (and no its not Cole unfortunately). Its being updated regularly-ish and I promise you will NOT regret reading it!

The Infinite Series~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14276031/Infinite-Serenity-INFINITE-SERIES-BOOK-1

Another fic I enjoyed, this tells the story of the reader who died and had been reincarnated into a show from their childhood, LEGO Ninjago (obviously lol). There are two books in the series, the first one is linked above and you should be able to find the second one from there. I don't remember if there was a love interest or not but I do remember that the mc's personal story is really cool and so so creative! Book 1 had around 400 words and book 2 has like 300, however it hasn't been updated in 7 months 💔 still worth the read!

The Last~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/10806407/The-Last-LEGO-Ninjago-Masters-of-Spinjitzu-X-Reader

THE LAST. I LOVED THE LAST SO MUCH OMG. IM JUST SO SAD IT HASN'T BEEN UPDATED SINCE 2021 😭💔. This book is a Reader insert, where the mc is the last of their species, and joins the Ninja team, though I don't remember if there was a love interest or not, you'll have to read to find out because I really don't remember haha. Though the book has just over 100 pages, there aren't many chapters, and I don't think it's past s1 yet. Its still a good read, however, and I think a lot of you guys would like it!

The Colour of Hope & The Race Against Time~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/15708101/Ninjago-The-Color-of-Hope

THIS FIC IS EPIC. ITS AMAZING. It follows the story of a girl who becomes a target for a mysterious gang, and ends up in the care and protection of none other than the Ninja! (The Colour of Hope takes place between Day of the Departed and s7). The love interest is Cole, and the writing as absolutely phenomenal! This is a series, and the first book is linked above. The next book has only recently been made, so I have the upmost confidence that it'll be regularly updated, since the first one was too! Book 1 had around 250 pages I think. I PROMISE. You will wanna read it.

The Indigo and Black Series~ OC(s)

https://www.quotev.com/story/11634295/Indigo-and-Black-Pilots-Rise-of-the-Snakes-and-Destiny-of-the-Green-Ninja

I ENJOYED THIS BOOK SO MUCH! This follows the tale of not 1, but 2 mcs who are both OCs! One is the master of Time, the other, the master of Forces + Shadows. A Three-part series with 3 books, and the love interests are Cole and Kai! (Sorry Kailor fans 😭) The last book was updated around 6 months ago, but I did some digging and turns out the authors are still working on the next book, so I hope it comes out soon!

Kiss Me Baby~ Reader Insert

https://www.quotev.com/story/14954138/Kiss-Me-Baby-Ninjago

Suprisingly, this is actually a fic based on the universe of the Ninjago Movie, and I really enjoyed it! The reader is a confident teen who joins Ninjago High, but is secretly the mystery person who managed to get Lord Garmadon into prison, putting a stop to all his attacks on Ninjago City. A short book with under 100 pages, but it is also going through a rewrite if I recall. No definite love interest, but there is an implied one (once again, *sigh* it isn't Cole). Also, just throwing it out there, I was awake at like 4am reading this 😭

The Truth~ OC

https://www.quotev.com/story/9767787/The-Truth

THIS BOOK WAS LEGENDARY. I REREAD IT ALL THE TIME OML I LOVED IT. This book is all about a girl who somehow knows every member of the Ninja, though they don't actually remember her themselves. It begins at the Tournament of Elements, and runs right up to March of the Oni, where it has stopped being updated for quite a few months now 💔. The love interest is Cole, and honestly can I just say, this book was written SO WELL. Like I wish I could write like that 😭😭

Aaaaand that is all! If I DID have to pick my top 3, it would be as follows:

1ST~The Truth

2ND~Element of Wishes

3RD~ The Colour of Hope & The Race Against Time

I personally think these ones were/are the most engaging and exciting! I'm not saying the others were bad though. You'll wanna read them all. Trust me.

I hope yall enjoy these fics! <33

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possibilistfanfiction · 4 months

Note

do you have any funny or cute details about Bea(or avatrice) in your butch Bea universe that you haven't share yet?

(I'm definitely re-reading some of it to fight against this bad day I'm having)

hello i’m sry this is late! work has been busy 😵‍💫 i hope ur day improved or at least there’s been some better days since 🫶

hmm well bea is good at like… every outdoors activity she tries — she’s coordinated & strong & focused, so once she gets the body mechanics down she’s like. above average to Excellent fairly quickly. surfing, trail running, backcountry hiking, bouldering, trad climbing, skiing, etc. i am lazy & put them in socal since i am in socal lmao but for the majority of the year california really is just outdoor enthusiast paradise.

she started trying stuff bc ava was gone & she was so sad & when her cool friends from surfing were planning a trip to climb in joshua tree or some ppl she met on the pct were driving up to mammoth for an end of the season ski, it was all better to be moving outside in grief than it was to sit at home in an empty house.

i think that maybe she worries, when she’s alone surfing or on a long run along the cliffs, even just bouldering at the gym with her airpods in instead of hanging out w friends who are there — maybe she worries that ava would be disappointed in her, that this isn’t what ava meant by ‘live your life’ — quiet streams & long car rides into the piney forest in a practical small suv, listening to a podcast about architecture. it seems small, to be in the wild — the ocean, the woods, the mountains, the desert — & not grand; at least, she feels small. she worries ava wanted her to feel big.

but then ava comes back & bea has been keeping a list of all the places to show ava, all the things to do with her, the movement & the air that kept her just on this edge of sane. & of course ava is delighted by it all — the kid who cried on the beach when she saw stars? absolutely in love with the waves & the wind in the trees & the sunset on a big hammock on a hot night in the desert in the summer. it makes sense to ava & it is what she meant — settling into the texture of a life.

it’s good to feel small sometimes, yknow? she tells bea, when they’re eating sandwiches a few miles into a hike on the lost coast — ava refuses to camp, so they’re meeting friends later on. it’s good to feel small in a world that’s so big.

they make s’mores that night with their friends & it’s dark & beautiful; the sand & the sea & the sky are all wine-dark & quiet-loud; there are so many stars. it’s rainy & cold in the bay the next day & they sleep in & eat ramen & don’t leave their hotel room all day (ava’s request; if he had to hike ten miles he earned it tenfold). bea worried that a slow day might seem small too, but ava sinks into it just like everything else: rest & softness.

eventually bea gets more used to it, & better at letting it happen. in recovery from top surgery, the worst part is not being able to get outside for a while — but ava drives them both to the mountains & they sit on the balcony together while it snows. when ava can’t move as well, they sit in the warm sand by the beach & bea puts her hand on the small of her back when they walk in the cool surf. eventually bea’s shown ava every place she ached & then there’s the rest of the world left to explore.

#butch bea 🥺🫡#if i could abscond to the mountains tomorrow forever i simply would #lol

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spurious · 5 months

Note

Your McShep fics are giving me life. I'm CRAVING McShep content recently - its so hard to discover a love for old fandoms that are now less active! Please send me all the great other McShep fics you stumble across, I've burned my way through your whole library

Oh my goodness!!!! This ask plus the one from a few weeks ago are really telling me I need to get back to doing fic rec posts regularly!!!!!

First of all thank you so much for your kind words about my fic 💖💖💖💖 honestly for me SGA fandom feels soooo active, even though I know it was an actual juggernaut back in the day lmao. BUT that means that there’s a MASSIVE backlog of stuff to read!!!! Just insane amounts of staggeringly good fics!!!!

And second of all you can check all my previous rec posts here: the tag is sometimes ficlets I’ve reblogged but also lots of links and lists in there!!

ANYWAY. Let me see if I can rustle up some new recs for you my friend! I have a couple of unposted recs in my notes so we’ll pop those in first:

Five People Who Know by hestia_lacey | ~4k, rated E

Five people who know exactly how John Sheppard feels about Rodney McKay.

Only read this if you’re prepared to have your heart stomped on, but ahhhhhhhh. The first part, with Jeannie, is definitely my favorite.

Wishes on a Wheel by waterfalliam | ~3.2k, rated T

The sun is gentle, faintly wrong against his skin. The wind whispers against his arms and neck that he’s alive and that counts for something, he’s never wholly alone, he still has himself—but it’s nothing like the sea breeze that feels like home.

Absolutely beautifully sad introspective Epiphany!John piece, dealing with his depression and feelings of abandonment, with a sweet ending 💖

Solitary by @esteefee | ~5k, rated M

Four days in solitary gives a guy time to think. Unless he's an idiot.

Aggggh the John voice in this is immaculate (as is to be expected from esteefee ofc). Sardonically funny with a soft and chewy emotional core that just...takes a little time and a little chipping away at to get to. But, you know, worth it.

Followed by two faves from this year’s sga secret santa, both of them variations on the theme of John and Rodney making up:

In the Dark of the Night by @hero-in-waiting | ~5.8k, rated M

The problem with arguments is that they never happen at a good time. Which is a to be expected given their nature. And the problem with trying to make up is, at least in the Pegasus galaxy, they come at an even worst time. Especially when John and Rodney get stuck off world, running from some locals who took a dislike to them immediately and five days after an argument that, in John's opinion, had started over nothing.

But at least they were together?

Love the concept of this one, love them being forced into life or death situations before being able to talk about their feelings, looooove the misunderstanding on Rodney’s part 🥰🥹

When I Think of All the Worries That People Seem to Find by @audioletter | ~2.3k, rated G

After ten years of being together, John acts like John and Rodney acts like Rodney.

Absolutely cried reading this I love it so much. The depth of knowledge that they have for each other after so long is so apparent in the best, most beautiful way.

Aaaand let’s round it out with a nice long one:

Inukshuk by murron | ~80k, rated M

A mission-gone-south isolates Rodney and John from the rest of the team. Forced to search for an Ancient outpost, they struggle to keep each other alive until the time their kidnappers prepare to sacrifice the one and purify the other.

This is absolutely a mcshep fic but I almost found that taking a backseat for me in my enjoyment of the way that the plot unfolds, the way that it’s written? Absolutely spellbinding work, I struggled to put it down.

#fic rec #mcshep

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a-boca-do-inferno · 3 months

Text

Prague getaway (jack ryan x female oc)

summary: “Oh, loosen up already.” Randy leans back and shoots him a teasing look. “We’re gonna be here a long time, might as well hold hands and start singing Kumbaya.”

warnings: angst, blood, violence, swearing.lots of it, light smut, fluff

words: 10.7k (:O)

notes: jack ryan girlies rise!! i put my whole pussy in this. also its my first time ever writing with an oc so bear with me lmao.

CENTRAL EUROPE

Birds chirped outside and the loud chatter coming from the street was a bit distracting from the sound of TV, but Randy managed. Her plate faced her on the coffee table, now empty, along with a half filled cup of apple juice. It must have been past noon while she had the time of her life laying on that dirty and ancient couch, watching some Czech program about the Internet. And by the time of her life, she secretly meant being bored as hell. Tagging along with Jack Ryan wasn’t even on the list of the worst things that could’ve happened to her given the circumstances, by the way, she’s well aware of that—seeing as her life was now on the line and he was only there to protect her—but goddamnit, was that cable shit. The things she did to put Jim at ease.

Although the girl didn’t really agree with his tactics to go about it; Johnson just knew better than to argue with Greer. After she started getting on his nerves with her insistence on using the intel she acquired and he actually took her seriously, it had been noticeable he came to think of himself like a father figure to her, since she was a rookie in the mission department. And Randy simply let him feel that way. Being away from his family ever took its toll on the guy and contrary to popular belief, she wasn’t the clueless, selfish bitch everyone made her to be.

Always, anyway.

Jack glances at her spread out on the sofa, trying to keep his annoyance in check and failing miserably. “What are you watching?” His voice suggests he’s very affected that Randy herself doesn’t appear fazed by their current situation. At all.

They had been stuck in that shithole for six hours now, completely in the dark as to where the mission stood after the shady organisation of the moment—as Johnson liked to put it—crushed into their hotel rooms and chased them out of town. And despite not exactly considering the capital of the Czech Republic under a terrorist threat for his idea of a nice vacation, it certainly beat having to now share some dirty kitchenette in the outskirts of Prague with the most insufferable woman he’s ever met. Jack caught wind of the discrepancies in the way they did their job from the start, and to say he wasn’t pleased with hers was an understatement. Her so-called intel had led them to that place, and her negligence above it all bothered him to no end. That and the ever present snark. He wondered how in the world did that character make it to the agency. She should’ve been in publicity, instead.

“A nice TV show about ordinary people wanting to become influencers”, Johnson responds in that tone of hers, with an almost sweet smile. Ryan’s mouth moves as though he’ll say something, but decides not to. He has better things to do with his time than to argue with a brat. Jack simply stares at her green eyes and sighs, going back to his computer screen, and Randy snorts, “well, Jim did mention you don’t like having people around.” Her feet move back and forth as she watches him type. “I’m like you in that way, you know?” Closing the distance between them, she brushes some stuff off his eyelid carefully, and it’s clear the man wasn’t expecting that. He tenses up. “So, my bad. I don’t wanna be here any more than you do, but you know Greer.”

“Is that so?” Jack blinks, scanning her face up and down wryly. “In that case, you’re free to leave anytime you want.”

Johnson laughs heartily, contrasting his impassive demeanour. “You do have a sense of humour, Jackie! I’ll give you that.” She shrugs and grins, with a declare to her voice, “and to answer your question: maybe I’d try to, but I’m not skilled enough to outsmart a Marine, I’m afraid.”

Jack looks away, still typing on the keyboard mechanically. “You sound like a fan.”

“You wish.” Her orbs gleam with mischief, and she sits a bit straighter to make a striking pose. “I wouldn’t mind learning some moves, though. I’d love to kick some ass. I bet I could take you, big man.”

Ryan chuckles under his breath, against his best judgement. It feels surreal to him, this girl. “You certainly have a unique way about yourself.” He states bluntly, raising his brows as he closes up the laptop and puts it on the small table to their side. “Don’t really look like someone in Logistics.”

Randy nods, crossing her legs with a smug expression. “I didn’t get the memo before taking the job, I guess.”

“Right.”

“Oh, loosen up already.” She sits up and leans back on the couch, her attention going to the program running in the background for a second. “We’re gonna be here a long time, by the looks of it. Might as well hold hands and start singing Kumbaya.”

Jack shakes his head slightly, his tone growing more serious. “You need to focus on the mission, Johnson. This isn’t a game.”

“Sure thing, dad”, she snickers, running a hand through her short hair idly. “You talk like it’s your head those fuckers want on a plate.”

“It is too, actually.” Ryan frowns. That’s the attitude he doesn’t like. “I suggest you get your head out of your ass as soon as possible. Enough people have died because of you.”

Although his words sting, Randy keeps a lighthearted mood. “So is that why you’re behaving like an asshole ever since we landed, you’re worried about yourself?”, she wiggles her brows, fixing a few blonde strands softly and clicking her tongue. “And here I thought you just didn’t like me.”

“I don’t have time for this”, Jack mutters to himself and leaves, closing the door to his room quietly.

Johnson only hummed along, watching as the winner of the episode celebrated on the screen. She knew Ryan was doing nothing but his duty protecting her, of course, yet it felt strangely disappointing that he, of all people, seemed to judge her so much for her actions up until that point. Randy went behind her superiors’ backs to scavenge the information that now threatened her own safety, sure, but how many times had he done the same thing again? Either way, arguing with the guy about it was just showing she cared for his opinion—which she didn’t, for the record. That cable just sucked and she was bored as hell. With a heavy sigh, the girl stood up to turn off the TV when a sound made her ears prick up. She frowned, inspecting the empty space. Something fell on the floor with a loud thud in the other room and Randy took a step back.

“Jack?”, she calls, getting no reply.

Her feet moved toward his door and it crashed right before her eyes, causing her to step away in reflex as two bloody men were thrown on the ground with it. With no time to process what was happening, Ryan took her by the arm and dragged her out of the apartment with no delicacy whatsoever. They ran down the stairs while he cocked his gun and whispered something unintelligible. She grabbed his forearm when another two hooded figures started closing in on them. Jack quickly got rid of the attackers and gave Randy a look before pulling her out of the building and into a car.

“Drive.” He commands, keeping his eyes behind at anyone following their vehicle.

She obeys without a second thought, stepping on the accelerator with all her might. Johnson grips the wheel tightly as she mouths, in a shaky breath, “what the fuck is going on, Jack? Talk to me.”

Ryan braces himself as they take a harsh turn, blood dripping from his eyebrow. “They found us again.”

“Am I supposed to know what that means?” Randy gasps when a pickup appears out of nowhere, shooting at them. She makes a u-turn and steps on the pedal, watching from the rear mirror. “How the hell did that happen?”

“I don’t know, just drive!” Jack rolls down his window and fires all his rounds at the vehicle still on their tail. He goes back to his seat and reloads his pistol, looking straight ahead. “We gotta get to the Embassy.”

“Got it.”

♡♡♡

“I see.” Jim sighs through the phone call. “I still have some business here in Moscow, but I’ll be in Prague as soon as I can.”

Jack doesn’t like the sound of it at all. He keeps track of Randy moving around in the background. “Copy.”

The ride to the Embassy was messy, but they made it in one piece. Well, Ryan did. After settling in the nice hotel the Ambassador offered them in another city nearby Prague—as to not draw any more attention to them, in his own words—, now with heavy security outside, Johnson winced when trying to change. She lifted her shirt and only then saw the ugly bruise on her abdomen, her skin sliced open and gushing blood. It was a bullet graze and albeit it wasn’t serious, the thing still hurt like a bitch. As the girl hissed and took a seat on the bed, Jack stopped in his tracks and crouched down before her. He gauged her injury with a trained eye, his lips curling in thought.

“Remorse?” Randy laughs deeply, tilting her head. “Don’t worry, I don’t hold grudges.” She sighs and looks at him seriously, like she hadn’t been until now. “How the hell did they find us this time, Jack? This stinks. No one knew about that hideout except you, me and Greer.”

His voice drops to a lower register as he takes her arm and brings it around his shoulders to lay her down, “I’m working on it. Right now we need to focus on getting you patched up.” Jack pulls her body close to his and fluffs the pillows, making her comfortable. He tries to ignore the way her hair tickles his chin.

Johnson chews the inside of her cheek, but accepts the help. “I’m okay, it’s just a graze.” She gulps and scratches her eyelids, taking a deep breath and glancing up at the ceiling. “That pickup didn’t look cheap. These people have some serious connections here. We have to get to the bottom of this.”

“We will”, Ryan says with resolve, nodding once. He scans the room in search of a med-kit and Randy points to the bathroom.

While Jack leaves for a moment, Johnson moves a little and pouts when the pain comes back. He catches her in the act and she chuckles, a little embarrassed, “so much for spy training, huh?”

Rummaging through the kit, he hums, “if it was easy, everyone would do it.” In the midst of pulling out the antiseptic and the gauze roll, he steals a quick peek at her.

Randy only grunts in response, her lips pursed. “Greer’s gonna get our asses for this. He doesn’t even know we left Prague in the first place.”

Jack doesn’t reply immediately. He’s finally found the right size gauze roll and puts it aside. His orbs roam her up and down, studying her exposed skin. He whispers, almost talking to himself, “he’ll get over it.”

“You know, I’m sorry about earlier”, her gaze has an amused gleam, but seems sincere. “I have been a little more annoying than normal, I’m aware. I’m sure by now you noticed why I’m not so popular among my peers in the agency, especially not after this… mess.” She looks down.

“You make it difficult for them because you can afford it”, he considers, cleaning her wound delicately. Taking note of her surprised reaction, he adds with a smirk, “I read your file. You’re not the only one who did the homework.”

After a moment of silence, she speaks up again, solemnly, “when we’re done with this, I’d like to make it up to you.” Randy sits up against the headboard with his help, now grinning, “how does pizza sound?”

His chest feels funny as Jack catches the look on her face. The offer sounds genuine and he smiles. “I’d love that. Your call on toppings.” When her bandage is finished, he puts the med-kit away in the bathroom cabinets.

“That’s right, I make all the decisions”, Johnson pushes his shoulder lightly as he sits back down, making him raise his brows but laugh along. “You learn fast. I can see why they talk so much about the analyst down the hallways, now.”

“I make them talk, huh?” Ryan tries to play it off with a soft chuckle, yet the blush on his cheeks is obvious. He leans in closer to take the phone on the bed, and with their faces only inches apart, his body can’t help but linger in that position. Suddenly the atmosphere tingles with tension and his breath hitches ever so slightly. Her eyes are breathtaking.

“Your humble act doesn’t work on me”, her voice is but a whisper, the corner of her lip lifting up ghostly. “Jim gave me the rundown on you before I came here, you know? He told me not to inflate your massive ego.”

He beams, his look dropping to her mouth, “that sounds like jealousy.”

Randy laughs and now can’t hide her own bashfulness. She reaches for the bedside table and puts on her round sunglasses, looking away from him in a not so subtle attempt at denying his advances. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jack.” The girl sighs heavily, unable to stare back at him for now.

Her words were clear enough. It was a bad idea, indeed. And in spite of being visibly disappointed, his facial expression stayed blank as his phone started ringing again. It was probably Jim. He thanked the heavens in silence for that call to get him out of that situation. His thumb hovered over the screen for a moment and Ryan moved away from her, pressing the answer button as he got up and left for the other room. He grabbed his jacket over the chair as he went, glancing back at Johnson before she was completely out of vision. There was a flicker of curiosity in her emerald orbs whilst Jack closed the door.

Randy went to sleep right away, in hopes to wash off the incident with Jack by rebooting her systems. Besides, she was very exhausted; so much so her bones felt like jelly under her skin. Turning on her side with all the care in the world, she shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep. Soon her body began to spasm and shake, sweat dripping from her forehead as she turned on the bed and hissed when her wound stung. She sat back up with a quiet gasp. The war nightmares were a normal thing to occur, but had been more frequent from the moment she landed in Prague.

On the other side of the wall, Jack leaned back in a chair as he flipped through a small manila folder. His attention was glued to the paper, but his mind wondered. The sound of Randy tossing and turning on the mattress reached him and he tensed up, closing his eyes briefly as if to block out the sounds. He stayed like this for several moments before finally forcing himself to face reality. They had been running from terrorists when they should be the ones trying to catch them, and that didn’t sit right with him. Hiding wasn’t helping them in any way, out of maybe buying some time to rethink their strategy. And with Johnson hurt, Jack saw no other option but to push things forward on his own. He called Mike November the next minute, urging him to come to the Czech Republic tomorrow. They were gonna need all the help they could get.

The hours dragged on and his thoughts kept him awake. There was no way he could sleep while Randy was alone in the other room, wounded. She wasn’t a field operative, and that meant her training would only help her so much away from him. The girl barely survived the last encounter with their attackers, all because she had been lucky enough not to be in the room they invaded first. He tried to shake off the feeling of guilt over her injury to no avail. It wasn’t serious, however it could’ve been, and the mission would’ve been compromised then. Ryan gave up on the file and sat it aside.

Regardless of not being able to figure out Randy entirely just yet, John realised he had been cultivating a fondness for her over the past events. For someone who never used a gun in her life, except maybe for her training days, Johnson kept calm and helped with what she could, no questions asked. Not everyone has that kind of self control in the face of danger and he admired her for it. She even reminded Jack of himself, somewhat, back when he was a rookie—even though he wasn’t as annoying, surely. Either way, the blonde had a grace about her. Perhaps it was that nearly youthful spirit, the playfulness even in the blink of imminent disaster. He still found it hard to believe she had made her way into the CIA without losing most of her spark by now.

His look automatically dropped to Randy’s file, right under the mission’s. He scanned through some of the notes and reports he had been doing up until now. Johnson had been with the agency for just over four years, still her work ethic was impressive, at the very least. The only negative points were personal complaints from her previous office colleagues, most of them depicting her as a “stubborn, impulsive and rebellious, but effective agent”. He chuckled under his breath. That sounds about right.

Jack flipped through more pages, going over her skills: communication, adaptability and problem solving were top on the list. His eyes glossed over the next sheet: relationships, but he quickly stopped himself and closed the envelope. He’s already overstepped as it is. Ryan put down the file and let out a frustrated sigh. Thinking back on the days before the mission, he remembered Jim’s words.

“She’s a tough cookie, but you’ll get used to it.” Greer swirls his glass of Merlot casually. “I know how it looks and trust me, I’m one of the people who doubted her from the beginning, until it turned out her intel was solid. I don’t care how she got it or why, just as long as we catch that son of a bitch Jones.”

Jack could see the concerned look on Jim’s face as he delivered his briefing. He didn’t appear so confident in the girl’s abilities as he tried to come across. And while it didn’t bother Ryan perse, he had this unshakeable gut feeling that there was a lot more to Randy than what you can see at first glance. Perhaps even more so than she let Jim himself know.

“Copy.” That’s what he said back then, nodding and staring at the table.

“And don’t even think about it”, were his boss’ last remarks as he gulped down his wine in one go. “Randy’s not Cathy, Jack. You’re there to protect her and the information she holds before Jones can get to her.” His voice sounds tight, but not really threatening. Greer’s always been a little too overprotective of the rookies. “No fooling around.”

“Jack”, Randy calls huskily. “I’m bleeding.” She complains, yawning softly. Johnson stares at the dark room and sighs, doing her best to wake up fully. “Jack.”

His eyes fixated on Randy’s picture when he heard her voice coming from her bedroom. He stood up and opened the door, flicking on the light and making his way to her bed. Her wound oozed blood under her shirt, soaking the fabric in red as it dripped down onto the mattress and he shook his head, looking at all the work he had put on the bandages now gone.

“What the hell did you do, Johnson?”, he grumbles, running for the bathroom to take the med-kit.

“I moved”, she shrugs and tries out a playful smile, but grimaces when a sharp sting hits her like a brick. “Just… hand me the gauze and I’ll clean it up myself.” She concludes, noticing he isn’t pleased.

Jack comes back with the kit and narrows his eyes, his features remaining stoic, “sit down and put pressure on it.” He grabs her wrist to help her up, moving her back to the headboard. His lips purse as he inspects the red liquid streaming from her side. “It looks even worse than before, Jesus.”

“Sorry”, she frowns and looks away, feeling guilty for making him do this again. “I really can do it, you know? I’m not a baby.”

“Really? You’re not doing such a great job at convincing me otherwise”, he states softly, his initial anger dissipating to give room for worry as he treats her injury. She doesn’t respond, adjusting herself on the pillows. “Stay still.”

Randy sighs. “I wanna talk to Greer.”

“What for? He says he’s coming.” Jack wraps the gauze around her abdomen, holding the roll package between his teeth. “There’s nothing we can do for now. Jones is onto us. We have to be extra careful.”

“Yeah, that’s not really my style”, she huffs, visibly bothered by his decision making without consulting her. “I’m calling my contact in Roztoky. He can help us move around the city without worrying so much.”

“Your contact”, Ryan sounds unimpressed, finishing off the new bandage. He looks down at his lap for a split second, then turns his gaze back to Randy. “Don’t you think it’s time you caught me up on all of this?”

“I told you everything.”

“Did you, now?” Randy glares and he stares right on, scowling himself. “All you have done so far is get on my nerves and not cooperate with the mission at hand.”

“I don’t cooperate with you bossing me around, that’s very different”, Johnson blurts out in a single breath, looking upset. “I might not be the big shot you are in the agency, but I have a right to know where we stand because it concerns my safety too. I don’t care if I’m fucking Logistics.”

Jack still glowers at the girl, but eventually softens his features. She’s got a point. “Fine. I called a friend just now. He’ll help.”

“Okay.” It’s all she says, and anticipating the end of the conversation, Jack moves to leave. Her hand touches his arm faintly before he does, “thanks.”

Nodding, he steps away and closes the door.

♡♡♡

When Jim told Randy to get on the next plane to Prague only days ago, something inside of her shifted. So far she had been carrying this intuitive sensation that no matter what she did, the guys higher up would never take her warnings into consideration. And then, just as Johnson gave up and decided to do things on her own, Jones bombed a US Embassy in Europe, and announced he would keep on doing it until he was either killed or caught. Overnight, all the letters the girl sent the director of the CIA were answered and in less than a week, they stationed her and Jack in Prague.

“Wait for further instructions. As of now, Dr. Jack Ryan will be assisting you”, was the last email Greer typed. And with that, Johnson flew with the so-called doctor to Europe. She knew all about Jack’s successful streak with Suleiman, then Venezuela and Moscow, of course. The tales of “the analyst” often made her chuckle whilst spooning her salad, since people were unable to hide their admiration—and sometimes, even envy—for Ryan as they shared his stories on lunch break. Nothing much happened on Logistics, so that had been their entertainment for a long time. Until things became erratic with the Prague bombings, that is.

Looking back now, everything happened so quickly. Randy didn’t have a chance to take it all in. The rush was similar to her days in the army, when she had to get moving around with no time to think or feel. There was the goal and the path she’d be taking towards it, nothing else. She saw the same mindset in Ryan right away, even if their approach was fundamentally different. The blonde reckoned the Marine Corps could be stricter and, as a result, more demanding than military service. That is also why, although not hitting it off well from the beginning, she tried her best to remain friendly with him—which could include being annoying every now and then, sure, but that’s beside the point. They both possessed life experiences not too far apart that deeply shaped them into who they were today, for better or for worse, and that meant something. Jack was her.

Only grumpier and square.

Staring back at the table, Randy resumed eating her meal. Pancakes were her favourite dish, no matter where she was. And again, she felt lucky enough that Jack’s remorse made him go out of his way to try and fetch her some from the downstairs cafeteria. His friend Mike was funny, funnier than Ryan—not that it was hard—and she had a great time while they chatted over a nice American breakfast in Central Bohemian, Czech Republic. It almost felt as though they weren’t being chased down by assassins, and she hadn’t nearly been hospitalised for an infection in her bullet graze only the night before.

“So?” Randy smiles brightly at Mike, urging him to speak after she briefed him on the situation. Jack had been quiet until now, because he was boring, so she took it upon herself to catch Mike up on the whole deal. If his laughter at her stupid jokes was anything to go by, she’d take a hunch and say they built a strong bond already. If only things could work like that with Ryan. “You think you can help us, Mikey?”

Michael can’t help but snort, oscillating his eyes between Johnson and Jack, who’s still eyeing his empty plate in thought, “where did you find her again?”

“Don’t ask”, Ryan finally sighs and Randy shrugs, eating her pancakes happily. He looks at November seriously. “I’m gonna need you to call your guy. We have to be in the same place as Jones, hit him when he doesn’t expect it. We’re running out of time.”

“I’m on it”, Mike nods, then glances at the girl with a grin. “How about you, sweetheart? Ready for some grown up action?”

Jack rolls his eyes at this, but Randy laughs out loud. She’s yet to get used to being treated like a damsel in distress. “Hey, I can throw a punch! Don’t let Jack poison your mind. He’s just butthurt that I got intel working in Logistics that he couldn’t as a field agent.”

“Ouch. That hurt even me.” He snickers and Ryan stands up, putting his gun inside his pants. Mike follows suit. “Just right down to business, huh?”

“I told you, we don’t have time”, Jack takes a look at Randy, who’s watching them with her chin on her hand, smiling. He clears his throat and touches her shoulder lightly, “we’ll be back before dark. Try not to hurt yourself while I’m away.”

They hadn’t mentioned the little incident last night, but when his touch found her skin, Johnson’s mind made its way back to his closeness hours prior. How he ogled her lips with no shame whatsoever, and how eager he seemed for breaking the rules for her, so to speak. It was a nice change in pace for the Jack she had come to see around that period. It also took her an enormous amount of self-control not to jump on him right then and there, however there were more important things at play. If only she wasn’t such a professional.

Randy renders a hand salute, mockingly. “Aye, aye, sir.”

Mike smiles at Ryan. “I like her.”

As they left, Johnson sighed and stood up, going for the burner Mike brought with him so they could communicate. She called her boss in Maryland and gave him a summary of the mission, explaining Jack’s plan thoroughly. They found a way into Jones’ charity event tomorrow, courtesy of Mike’s contact. If everything went well today, she would be face to face with her target in just a few hours. Her orders were loud and clear: shoot to kill. Placing the device down, the blonde took a deep breath, looking out the window at the clean, welcoming landscape of Horoměřice.

She was never a fan of big cities, despite being born in Los Angeles. The nice and quiet suited her better, so leaving Prague, notwithstanding she wished for better circumstances, was actually a relief. Away from the hustle of the capital, she could think more clearly. And the thought of coming back here after the operation made her happy. The people were nice and very comprehending of her ignorance of their culture—albeit she did speak a little Czech, but had to pretend not to, for the sake of her cover. Ryan still had to think she was the sweet and rebellious rookie; at least until she got the job done.

A few blocks away, contemplating the clear, blue sky also, Jack caught himself appreciating the view for longer than he intended. The small things were ever the anchor he needed to keep moving forward, especially in this line of work. Whenever he was on a mission, time went by in a rush, and the only way to alleviate that feeling was to focus on the here and now. Nature could calm him down like nothing else, but as he watched the trees moving along with the wind, the green of the leaves slowly merged into emerald eyes he now came to know too well. Putting his hands in his front pockets, he took a peek back at the old building behind him and Mike walked out of it.

“Please, tell me you got us in.” Jack practically begs, watching him come down the stairs. He had been talking to his guy for over fifteen minutes while Ryan waited outside.

“Did I ever let you down?” He grins, showing his phone with a party invitation on the screen.

“Don’t make me say it”, Jack beams and nods, checking the time before heading to the car with November right behind. As they get in, he turns on the engine. “Jim’s getting here soon, but I might not catch him. You stay here and brief him on the plan. I can hold my own with Johnson.”

“Just like the old days, eh?” Mike puts on his belt. “The band’s back together.”

“With a new formation, but yeah”, he mutters, driving back to the hotel.

“Oh, tell me about it”, Jack wants to roll his eyes at the teasing on Michael’s voice again, but doesn’t. “Actually, you don’t even have to. It’s clear you guys are already at it.”

“Stop talking”, Ryan takes a turn, stepping on the pedal. “She’s too much. You might have noticed.”

“Sounds like your type”, Mike snickers, gaining a wry look from Jack. He shrugs, measuring up the hotel as they arrive. “But I’m sure Jim wouldn’t approve. He never does.”

“I don’t care”, Jack says somewhat defensively, getting out of the vehicle with November. They make their way to the elevator and he presses his floor. “I’m not thinking about that.”

“All these years and you still think you can lie to me, Jack”, Mike positions his hands in front of his body with a smirk, the doors closing as they’re going up. “She’s into you, though. I could feel the tension.”

Jack scoffs in disbelief at his words, his face heating up. “Please, stop talking.”

“You know, it’s none of my business…”

Jack nods impatiently, not looking at him. “It isn’t.”

“But you should go for it. Friendly advice”, Mike gives him a look before they head towards the room. They stop in front of the wooden door as he finishes, “you can thank me later.”

Ryan displayed another eye roll at Michael and got inside, finding nothing but an empty and unmade bed. He stopped in his tracks and pushed Mike down when someone stepped out of the bathroom with a machine gun. They grabbed their guns simultaneously, taking cover behind a small couch next to the door. Before either of them had a chance to shoot, the gunfire suddenly ceased and the sound of a body hitting the floor could be heard in its place. Jack frowned and stood back up swiftly with November, pointing the pistol now at Randy, who stared at them with a desolate look. Her clothes were bloody and her green orbs filled with tears.

He runs in her direction and takes the girl in his arms, whispering, “what happened?”

Johnson sobs and hides herself into his chest, clinging to him for dear life. “He said he was room service… I just opened the door and…” She gulps, crying copiously.

Jack looks at Mike approaching them, still holding her firmly. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.”

The security guards supposed to protect them were nowhere to be seen, and Ryan made the connection quickly; they must have been paid off, just like the ones in Prague. He swore quietly, rocking Randy’s body to try and calm her down. She was shaking like a leaf, but appeared not to be hurt. The crushing weight of guilt hit him once more as he shut his eyes tightly. He shouldn’t have left her alone again. Brushing her cheeks, he cupped her face and wiped off her tears, causing her to smile. She squeezed his hands, as if to confirm she was really okay, and his heart skipped a beat. But as soon as their foreheads touched, the moment was interrupted by November.

“I thought you were a rookie.” Mike hums in confusion, staring at the dead body in front of them while checking his vitals. The guy had a broken neck and arm. He adds, his brows furrowed in her direction, “where did a rookie learn how to kill a guy with one move like that?”

Randy freezes in Jack’s arms and he feels it instantly. He studies the cadaver for a second before turning to stare back at her. He looks lost at first, but the mere prospect of all his suspicions being true causes him to take a step back. He inquires, demanding an explanation, “Johnson?”

She stands there paralyzed, and eventually raises her hands slowly, as a sign of surrender. Ryan points his gun at her again in the blink of an eye and her breath hitches. “Jack, please…”

“Who are you?” Mike chimes in, as his friend’s too shaken up to say anything. His gaze is hard and menacing, nothing like the lighthearted gleam of this morning.

Johnson closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Jack…”

“Who the fuck are you?!” Jack snaps, pressing the barrel of the pistol to her forehead, his hazel orbs now glistening with tears.

Johnson’s desperate face turned into a cold one all of a sudden and she disarmed him easily, pointing Ryan’s glock right back at him. He looked at the girl shocked and hurt, but lifted his arms up in reflex. They stayed in that position until Randy sighed when Mike aimed his own weapon at her. She dropped the firearm and unloaded it masterfully, throwing the rounds on the ground whilst glaring at Jack.

“I’m not your enemy.” She spits, her voice strained with anger. With that, Johnson storms off.

November still tries to go after her and Ryan steps in front of him, holding his shoulders. “Let her go. We got a job to do.”

Mike watches as she gets into the elevator down the hallway and snorts, “well, you did say she was too much.”

♡♡♡

Jack walked into the event with grace, making the bar his first stop. Mike kept humming a song in his earpiece, but it didn’t bother him as it should, since his mind was elsewhere; lost in blonde locks and lying green eyes. He had no idea where Randy had gone to, and aside from not wanting to think about it now, his bitter side also wouldn’t allow him to care as he did before. She wasn’t some helpless chick doing a brave thing for her principles, after all, like he initially thought. Johnson had her own interests and her own set of skills—which he obviously didn’t know anything about—to achieve them. She’d be fine without him.

“Here he comes”, Ryan mumbles as Jones appears in the VIP section upstairs, surrounded by security and other people he assumed were his associates. He drinks his glass of whisky in one go and keeps his eyes on his target from afar, inspecting the perimeter stealthily. “Please, tell me Jim’s there. We’ll be needing the cavalry soon.”

Instead of Mike’s reply, a familiar voice he hadn’t heard in a few days reaches his ear and Jack tenses up. “Where’s Johnson?” It’s Greer’s first question. No greeting, no nothing. He sighs, trying to think of an excuse not to talk about this now, but his boss is insistent. “You might wanna tell me if you want your cavalry right away.”

“She’s gone”, Ryan growls, not sounding as casual as he would’ve liked to. He strolls towards a group of women and smiles charmingly at them, blending in. They quickly make a gesture for him to come closer and he obliges, muttering on his way, “she left yesterday.”

There is a pause, then Greer mouths, “what happened?”

“She’s NSA”, he says amidst another deep sigh, forcing a grin when one of the girls pulls him to dance.

Jim didn’t respond and Jack went along with the brunette, always maintaining Jones in his rearview. He wasn’t aware if Greer was too surprised to say something or just didn’t care—seeing as he had been the first one to tell him Randy was only as important as the information she held, anyway. As long as she kept feeding them her intel, whatever happened to her afterwards was irrelevant to the agency. As far as anyone knew, an employee from Logistics should’ve never been on the field with them in the first place. And even in the face of Johnson secretly working for another organ entirely, which was the case, whilst representing a conflict of interests, Ryan reckoned she had been useful enough. At the end of the day, that’s all that mattered. Maybe she’d try to stop him from getting Jones just to put the credit on the National Security Agency’s office, but they would still get Jones. She’d serve her purpose, either way.

As soon as Randy left the hotel, Jack dialled up a nerdy kid in Langley, Josh, who happened to be a self-proclaimed fan of his and asked for a small favour. All the facts he had about Johnson was the Californian accent—unless she was that good at her job, going as far as creating such a round persona for her cover—and a nearly faded tattoo she had on her lower abdomen: 345-27-720. Ryan saw it for the first time when treating her wound, but thought nothing of it. Everything about her appeared so innocent, it went unnoticed. Now, remembering the way she aimed his own weapon at him without hesitation, he felt a bit proud of his photographic memory.

It was a long shot, still he tried. And the results of the background check didn’t disappoint as they came just minutes before he had to leave for the party. According to California’s military records, the social security number belonged to a Miranda J. Brooks; white, American born, 26 years old, Second Lieutenant with a bachelor’s degree in Strategic Intelligence. The only catch was: Brooks was officially dead for over six years now. The death certificate only mentioned she was killed in combat somewhere in Afghanistan. She had no close family except her grandmother, Mary Brooks, who lived alone in Arizona. And the only thing he could register listening to Josh vomit all of that on the phone was how well she pretended to be such a clueless, defenceless girl while having this background. It only made his admiration for her stronger. And Jack hated it.

He somehow learned about that NSA program a few years back, but didn’t dig deeper on the matter. It wasn’t in their policy to have field agents capacitated in combat—which had been the reason why people in there butt heads with CIA operatives in the past, many a time. So, they allegedly started recruiting deserters and otherwise discharged soldiers to power their own task force, an effort not to be so dependent on the FBI or the State Department anymore. And while Ryan wasn’t sure if it was even a legal practice, he wasn’t a lawyer, therefore that part didn’t concern him. What he couldn’t figure out was why Brooks would fake her own death for this, or have her death faked by the agency itself. Besides, there was no record of a discharge anywhere. It didn’t add up and as soon as Jones was out of the picture, Jack would go looking for answers.

“Wanna go upstairs?” The woman dancing with him grins drunkenly, grabbing back his attention.

Ryan wrinkles his nose involuntarily when the smell of alcohol hits his face and pulls away politely, faking an apologetic expression. “I’m taken, sorry.”

The woman huffed and pushed him, stumbling back to her friends. Jack watched in silence and frowned as his eyes caught a glimpse of Jones disappearing through a hallway with his men. He warned Mike of his position and followed them suit, the adrenaline already pumping into his veins when he came up the set of stairs and stepped into a quieter area. Ryan took out his gun and pointed it to the ground, sneaking after the terrorist from a safe distance. Hiding behind a wall, he checked his rounds and looked ahead, running back the strategy in his mind.

“Nice suit”, a smooth tone startles him and he holds the pistol at the direction of the sound, gulping faintly when his gaze meets Randy’s—or rather, Miranda’s.

“What are you doing here?” He lowers his weapon, dragging her behind the wall with him. She’s wearing her usual clothes, and he almost wants to scold her for not even trying to act the part now. When she only smirks in response, Jack tightens his grip around her arm. “Stop playing games, Brooks. I already know everything.”

“You’re so predictable”, she chuckles and harshly shrugs him off, albeit her beam stays. Randy looks up, pretending to be in thought, “although, I didn’t think you would let me go so easily. I thought you’d fight for us, Jackie.” She says dramatically, then laughs.

Ryan’s scowl grows deeper, and he snarls, “Look, I don’t know what your angle is, but if you fuck this up, I’m coming after you next. I don’t care who you work for.” He holds her wrist forcefully and she can’t contain her own glower, trying to shake him off again, this time unsuccessfully. “I’ve had enough of your bullshit.”

“Have you, now?” Johnson hisses and lifts her chin defiantly, his hot breath reaching her cheeks as his nostrils expand in pure rage. “If you were being honest, you’d have reported me to your superiors last night. You didn’t.”

“I have more important things to do”, he grits his teeth when she raises a brow, clearly not believing a word he says. “Now tell me what you’re doing here. I’m not gonna ask again.”

“I told you, I’m not your enemy”, Randy takes a deep breath, her features finally softening. Jack’s grip is looser now, but he keeps glaring. She sighs and tilts her head, cooing, “I know you’re mad at me for lying to you, Jack, but this is my job. You of all people should understand.”

The worst part was he did. Jack saw her and felt like staring into a goddamn mirror every time. He truly, genuinely saw her—no matter who the fuck she even was at that moment—and his body acted on its own as he pulled her by the collar of her shirt and devoured her mouth mercilessly. Ryan hadn’t a clue who he was kissing right now, the rebellious rookie or the dead soldier; all he knew was those were the smoothest lips he ever tasted, and he wasn��t letting go just yet. His tongue made its way between her teeth and he heard a gasp before Johnson pushed him against the wall and pressed herself on him, unashamed of who could see them.

“Jack, focus.”

Jack ignored Mike as his back hit the cold concrete with a quiet thud. His deep groan seemed to only fuel Randy’s desire and she licked his bottom lip, now guiding the kiss. He panted when her skilful hands dropped to his pants and in a sudden glimpse of clarity, Ryan grabbed her wrists to stop her, but with no brute force this time. She pulled away from the kiss to give him a playful look, her chin completely red with lipstick as she tried to catch her breath, and he wiped his own face unconsciously. They both stared at each other for two seconds before bursting out laughing. He placed his free palm on her hip, bringing her body flush to his again.

“Jack?”

November’s voice sounds like white noise as Johnson hums smugly, “okay, big man.” Jack’s flustered features cause her to giggle and she opens her mouth to speak again, then shuts it at once when a few men carrying rifles appear in her vision, observing them from afar.

Ryan’s eyes follow hers and he tucks Randy behind him instinctively, turning off the safety on his glock. “If you have a gun on you, now’s the time to use it.”

“You don’t really think we can take them? We’re outnumbered, greatly”, she scoffs, doing her best to hide his weapon from the bodyguards’ view with her body. She presses herself against Jack and he offers her a puzzled look when her hands carefully put his pistol back into his pants. Johnson brushes her lips on his and he gladly accepts the caress, shivering from head to toe. She whispers, biting his bottom lip, “act drunk.”

“Pfft”, Jack wants to protest that poor excuse of a plan, but it’s too late as the men are now only a few feet away, watching not so subtly. He sighs and palms her butt without warning, getting into character, and fakes a loose smile. “How’s that?”

“Perfect”, she bends towards his touch, kissing him sloppily. Jack squeezes her ass cheek softly in reflex and a moan escapes her. “Jesus…”

“Jack, what the fuck are you doing?!”

Mike screaming in his piece brings him back to reality and he stares at the ceiling before eyeing her. “I don’t wanna spoil the mood”, Ryan gulps, still rubbing her waist slowly as he tries to get a hold of himself. He clears his throat, “but what’s the endgame here? Take out the voyeurs?”

Randy chuckles and holds his hand, taking him towards the empty hallway again, away from the party. Before they leave, she senses the men are following them. While they stumble side by side surrounded by red painted walls, she mumbles, “there’s a door to your right over there. This is where Jones makes his deals and he’s trying to close one right now with the Russians.”

“I thought you said he gave up on it”, Ryan trails off, maintaining her close to him by wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Because that’s what I heard, he changed his mind today”, she slows the pace, pushing him to the wall once again with a grin. “I bugged his office while you were away with Mike yesterday, forgot to tell ya.”

“How in the world…”

“And they almost caught me, that was the mess you found”, Randy continues and Jack’s mouth remains agape. She shrugs, pecking him casually, “you play a good drunk, by the way.”

“Were you gonna tell me any of this if we hadn’t figured it out on our own?”, his tone sounds defeated, almost like he’s still hurt. But should he be, really? She said it earlier; Ryan of all people couldn’t judge her for lying. “Would you trust me?”

“Well, I’m telling you now”, loosening up his tie, she puts it around her neck clumsily. “What do you think?”

He smiles. “I think I hate your games, but sometimes they’re fun”, he grabs her by the hair and brings her into another quick kiss.

A loud sound, similar to an explosion, came out of the main room and Randy gasped in surprise, dragging Jack away from all the rubble and the dust. She coughed while running through the wreckage with him, and Jack took it upon himself to protect her face, covering it with his hand. He tried calling for Mike, but he couldn’t hear the answer amidst all the screaming and chaos going on around them. Soon the first shots were fired and not knowing whether it was the police or the terrorists, he took the lead and pulled out his gun as he knocked down the door to Jones’ office, supposedly. They entered the room and were met with the man glowering, his bodyguards ready to open fire.

Ryan stays alert, aiming his pistol at him and muttering, “Mike, where the hell’s the cavalry?”

Michael snorts, seeming out of breath. “I think your NSA friend can answer that better than me.”

Jack frowns, shooting a look at Johnson. She appears calm, calmer than she should be in a situation like this. However, just as he’s going to question her about Mike’s affirmation, Randy takes out her gun at last, but doesn’t aim it at anyone. He furrows his brows, “care to fill me in here?”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Dr. Ryan”, Jones chimes in with a heavy accent, eyeing Randy for a moment, solemnly. “And nice to see you again, miss Johnson.”

“You know each other?” Jack blinks, holding his weapon tightly, his knuckles becoming white. He turns off his safety, now raising his voice, “someone better tell me what’s going on here or I’ll shoot, I swear to God.”

Jones made mention of speaking up again and a door behind him opened to reveal a tall blonde with two other men surrounding him. Randy knew that was her chance and took the shot without so much as a second thought, hitting the stranger on the forehead. Everyone stood shocked, except Jones. The terrorist’s guys yelled at Johnson to toss her firearm and with one hand gesture coming from him, they went silent. She eventually lowered her pistol and sighed, studying the pool of blood around Viktor’s bald head before she took a look at Jack, who seemed as confused as he had been the day prior.

Johnson approaches Jones and nods, her expression serious. “Thank you. You’re free to go now.”

Jack widens his eyes and quickly steps between them, still pointing his weapon at him. “What the hell are you doing, Randy?!”

“I’m sorry, Jack. That was the deal.” The girl hugs her own body and the Czech police finally appear, screaming at everyone to lower their guns. “I’m sorry”, Randy glances at him one last time with a hurt look before she leaves and Jones and his men are cuffed and taken away.

“Jack, are you okay?”

Staring at the dead body still on the ground, Ryan places his hands on his hips, in a pathetic attempt to process what just happened. He stands there for a few seconds, then turns around to step out of the building. “Please tell me she wasn’t in on it, Mike.” He begs in a murmur, measuring up the destruction caused by the explosion earlier. “And where’s Greer, too.”

“I’m right here, Jack.” Jim sighs on the other end. “Don’t worry, Johnson’s not compromised. She was just following her orders.”

“Which were?” He kicks off some dust, finding his tie under a broken block of concrete in the hallway. It must have fallen off Randy as they ran.

“Catching Viktor Vasiliev.” Jack walks among the damage with a sour face, closing his eyes when he finds the woman he danced with earlier that night. She’s dead. Greer adds, “he deals in chemical weapons and was the one behind the Prague bombings all along. Jones was her informant.”

“Catching?” Ryan deadpans. “She killed him, Greer.”

“Those were her orders…”

“You knew about all this.” Ryan reckons, with a more consternated tone as he cleans up the dust off his tie and gets out of the main room—or what’s left of it—, trying not to think of the medics tending to the dead bodies as he passes. “You knew it and you didn’t tell me.”

Jim grunts, “I only found out when I arrived here and the NSA director gave me a call explaining everything. You already had your plan, Jack, and I know you well enough to say with confidence that you would have gone with it anyway. No matter what I said.”

He scoffs, shaking his head at Greer’s words even though he can’t be seen. Reaching the sidewalk, Jack sees Randy is talking to a police officer from a distance. She’s laughing at something he’s saying while Ryan purses his lips, unable to take his eyes off her figure. “Now what?”

“Now we’re going back to Langley. Our job here’s done, we helped as we could with manpower, but the intel was solely NSA’s. It’s their case now.”

“It has always been.” There’s bitterness in his words, and his scowl is inevitable when he remembers everything. All the lies. “What about Jones?”

“He’s coming with us. He made a deal.”

Jack sighs, looking down at his shoes. “And Johnson?”

Jim pauses. Ryan watches as Randy disappears in a police car without looking back, and he can’t ignore the lump in his throat when the answer comes in his ear, “Johnson who?”

♡♡♡

Randy’s always been in love with Arizona. There was just something about the quietness of the desert, and the way the roads stretched endlessly when driving back home. She hadn’t seen her grandmother in such a long time. A real nice scolding would be the first thing waiting for her as soon as Johnson opened the door to her granny’s trailer, she just knew it; yet it only added to her anxiousness to finally seeing the iconic “welcome to Phoenix” sign on the side of the road.

Singing a tune along with the radio, she thought back to what she left behind in Europe a week ago. Deciding to quit had been a big step for her, but she was never happier to make a decision. She’s always hated jetlag, anyway. And whenever Johnson saw Jack again, if ever, she would just have to thank him for indirectly leading her to discover this. Turns out the adrenaline wasn’t doing it for her anymore. And albeit it was all she had known until that point in her life, maybe it’s time for a change. Prague taught her as much. Even through the moments of tension, somehow connecting to some ex-Marine’s need for the hustle of going after the bad guys made her notice that deep inside, she was tired of it herself. That didn’t mean switching to “normal”—hell no.

Quieter, mayhaps.

A deep sigh escaped her lips and she shook her head at no one in particular, rolling down her windows and smiling as the wind hit her face. Reciting the lyrics to the song a bit louder now, she turned the volume all the way up and stepped on the pedal, patting her door from the outside to follow the beat. Love’s never worked out for her even as Miranda Brooks back in the day. So there was no surprise on her part when the brief romantic getaway with Jack Ryan had a tragic ending—and by tragic, she meant not being physically able to say goodbye to him, face to face. “I hope you’ll understand someday”, was the email Randy sent, and off she went to the States, in a flight separate from his.

With Jones now in custody—his deal was merely to reduce his sentence, since he did actively help plan other bombings before deciding to do the right thing after Prague—, everything should be fine. Except nothing felt like it, not to Randy. Being jobless and alone was a new thing, so she reckoned it was just a matter of adjusting. Taking a peek at herself in the rearview mirror, the girl thought of changing her hair. The last time she’d been a brunette was prior to enlisting. Another deep sigh left her throat as she rolled the window back up and turned off the radio.

Who was she kidding?

No amount of pretending not to care would save her from feeling like the worst person in the world. The whole thing with Ryan was just too fucking much, funnily enough, even for Johnson. Which was beyond her in itself, because lying to people came easy for her, it had to, since it was what she did for a living. But reminiscing about the disappointment in his eyes when she killed Viktor in front of him made her stomach turn every time. How did she come to consider his opinion of her that much? Randy had no clue. Still, she stubbornly persisted in the idea that everything happened as it should have. She accomplished her mission and Jack accomplished his, too. She was well and breathing, after all. He did his job. And without being deceitful, unlike her.

“You bitch!” Granny exclaims as soon as she spots her granddaughter’s car on the road. She’s in front of her house, wiping her hands with a kitchen cloth as she comes down the little steps before Randy even pulls up.

Laughing out loud, Johnson gets out and runs toward her, squeezing the old woman in her arms. “Granny! Oh, God. How I missed you. You look so beautiful.”

“Liar!” She chuckles, but her eyes are filled with tears. Staring at the rusty pick-up truck behind them, Mary shakes her head in disapproval. “I can’t believe you’re still driving that piece of shit, Miranda. That’s why you never visit your grandmother anymore! You’re probably afraid it’s gonna explode on the way.”

“Shut up, she’s family”, Johnson giggles and kisses her white hair, still holding her close. The scent of home made her heart flutter in her chest. She teases, “c’mon, I’m hungry. You better have made me pancakes!”

“Oh, he did!” Mary hums happily, opening a grin from ear to ear, and Randy raises a brow in inquiry. She shrugs, walking to the trailer along Brooks. “Your friend. He said you were gonna meet him here.”

“My friend?” The girl frowns and touches the gun under her jacket automatically, but as soon as she takes it out, her alert eyes spot the so-called friend sitting on the little couch, sipping a coffee, and stops in her tracks. “Jack?” Johnson breathes out, astonished.

With a shaven face and a sweet smile, Ryan blinked slowly at her. Her knees suddenly went weak and she took a step back, trying to take in his presence. It hadn’t been so long since she last saw him, yet it felt like an eternity. He wore a baby blue shirt and some jeans, and her mind took note of how casual he looked out of his work persona. Her mouth stayed agape as she searched for the words to speak. They all ran out on her.

“You don’t look happy to see me”, Jack finally murmurs in amusement, causing Mary to exchange a knowing look with him as he stands up, putting his hands in his front pockets. “How are you, Randy?”

“I’m…” She trails off, even more baffled by his soft and amicable tone now. She really thought he hated her guts. “Jack, I…”

“She’s better now, dear, that’s for sure”, granny chimes in before she can finish, doing a thumbs up.

Randy’s cheeks go red and she widens her eyes. “Granny!”

“What? I’m old, but I notice these things, Miranda. You like the boy.” Mary smiles and now Jack’s the one blushing and laughing awkwardly. “And he likes you too, for that matter.” After giving Johnson another one of her teasing looks, she points outside and pats Ryan’s shoulder softly. “I’m gonna leave you two alone now. You go talk and make up, otherwise there’s no pancakes for nobody.”

Randy can’t hold back another laughter as her granny steps out of the trailer with the tray full of their breakfast. She’s really not kidding. Glancing at Jack again, he’s still slightly flustered, crossing his arms while raising a brow. Johnson squints, “what?”

“An email? Really?” He asks, his expression wry as he sits back down, resting his elbows on his knees. It’s almost comical how big he looks in that position, especially seated on her grandmother’s small couch. “A text would’ve been warmer.”

“I didn’t wanna hurt you again, Jackie”, even though she tries to make light of it, there’s a sincerity to her words that’s hard not to notice. Taking a seat beside him, Johnson leans back and sighs. “You know, I quit the agency.”

He figured as much, especially because Greer seemed a little sad when questioned about Randy while they had dinner last night. Ryan smirks, not wanting to miss the opportunity, “which one?”

Johnson snickers and nods, comprehensive of his sassiness. “Both, actually. I’m a civilian now.” Looking down at her boots, she bites her lips in thought.

His orbs fall to her lap, his voice going lower, “why?”

“I miss my granny”, Randy smiles and shrugs, tilting her head. He hums along and she comes a little closer, resting her chin on his shoulder. Jack sniggers, his hand flying to her knee in response. “How about you, why did you come here?”

Jack paused and his breath hitched. He should’ve seen the question coming, but somehow didn’t prepare for it. Why did he come, really? It was lost on him, if he was being honest. There were a lot of points left unexplained about her that still bugged him; like the illegal task force run by NSA, or even why Johnson was pronounced dead and given another identity when she hadn’t even been discharged. What did she do while working undercover for two national organs at the same time, exactly? What were her real motives, her ideals, her drives? Ryan knew this was his chance, perhaps the only one, to clear things up with Randy. However, with green orbs watching him expectantly, his common sense turned into goo.

“To say goodbye, properly.” Jack’s aware he sounds a lot huskier than necessary, closing his eyes when her face comes nearer. He stammers, gazing at her intensely, “you think I’m allowed that much?”

She clicks her tongue in jest, giving a head shake. “Jim’s not gonna like it.”

“Greer gave me the rundown on Randy Johnson.” The corner of his lip curls up as Jack goes in for a tender kiss. He whispers, pulling her into his arms, “he never said anything about Miranda Brooks.”

Randy’s grin got bigger as she let herself be held by him. Much was unsaid between them, but in her experience, there wasn’t a thing in this world that couldn’t get sorted out through a nice chat and some pancakes in sunny Arizona. Besides, who was to say the change she needed in her life wouldn’t be brought by Jack Ryan in his shining armour?

#jack ryan x reader #tom clancy's jack ryan #tom clancy's jack ryan x reader #john krasinski x reader #john krasinski #jack ryan x female oc #tom clancy's jack ryan x female oc #jack ryan

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itsaspectrumcomic · 5 months

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this is kind of a vent and a bit of a silly rambled story (ooo story time! but feel free to ignore it if you want it wont bother me)

so i have been researching autism and adhd for roughly a year and a half now and its kinda become a special interest of mine (wild i know lmao) and its actually how i got my adhd diangosis! funnily enough the therapist who diagnosed me for adhd and evaluated me for asd was biased and had no knowledge about adhd or autism... :-] pained smile

(im afab and my sibling is amab and the comparisons between our assesments is insane. they got assesed easily but for me, the therapist was reluctant and judgemental. a great start i know /sarc)

anyway the therapist told me that i couldnt be autistic because even though i scored high, the test my PARENTS filled out for my childhood was very low. i wasnt even asked about my childhood experiences when it came back with a low score. i was just brushed off and told that it was only my adhd and that if i WAS autistic (which im not, according to her) that i would be "high functioning" and that "high functioning" people arent actually autistic. not word for word because i was half listening in shock but the general idea is still there. i have no clue how i even went to this woman tbh.

i have since made a list and included evidence for all the traits ive had since infancy but my parents 100% took the therapists word and are now completely convinced that there is zero chance that i can be on the autism spectrum. fun fact i think theyre both on the spectrum as well and ive talked to my sibling about it too. its wild lol

the thing is i keep going back and forth between denial and acceptance thinking i may be on the spectrum and ive had plenty of friends both professionally and self diagnosed tell me that i am on the spectrum but i cant help but accidentally find ways to invalidate myself and my experiences. i dont know if its worth it to get a professional diagnosis or to just exist as self diagnosed because they both have strong pros and cons. its all very confusing but i can wait 2 years until im a legal adult so i can at least try to get an assesment from a therapist who actually understands autism

i apologize for being so long winded and for any gramatical/spelling errors but i just wanted to thank you for making this blog in general. it feels very validating despite what other people and my negative thoughts try to say about my brain :-] i hope youre doing well !!

'"high functioning" people arent actually autistic'

UGH I hate that so much. I'm not really a fan of the the terms 'high functioning' and 'low functioning' anyway because it doesn't cover how autistic people can be really good at some things and struggle a lot with other things (also known as having a 'spiky profile') and just 'high' or 'low' doesn't properly take that into account, and then there's the whole questionable use of 'functioning' but that's a whole other discussion....

I'm sorry your parents aren't listening. Since autism can be genetic, it's fairly likely they are also on the spectrum and never noticed the traits when you were growing up because it all seemed normal to them.

It's a very personal decision whether or not to try for an official diagnosis, but whatever you decide is valid! The important thing is gaining self-acceptance and learning what works for you. Good luck and I'm so glad you're enjoying this blog :)

#ask #anon ask #long post #its a spectrum #autism diagnosis

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legendary-cookies · 1 year

Text

Happy New Year everybody!

January 1st is also funnily enough this blog's anniversary!

Legendary-Cookies is now 3 years old which means of course your obligatory cheesy post lmao

I'm putting it under a cut because the post ended up longer than I meant

Sorry gzjrhrzjziyt

I feel like I've only been posting less and less lately, but I really appreciate every one of you for following this blog anyway!

Thank you all so much!

I still very much like Cookie Run but I've been much more busy with less motivation, so I haven't been posting nearly as much as I want to

I can't promise anything unfortunately, but this year I hope to be able to get through my art ideas list for this blog and work on some other projects I have planned

For one, I do plan on adding Black Pearl to the profile picture and banner

I haven't forgotten

I just haven't gotten around to it lmfao

I also want to work more with animation this year, so things like animation memes or test animations or stuff like that might happen in the future

I'll still post in-game content about the Legends as well of course

I've made two other anniversary posts but I feel like I've never talked about how this blog started

Honestly though, I'm not sure how I started this blog lmao

I remember I wanted to make an ask blog with Cookie Run characters, but I couldn't tell you why I chose the Legends specifically

It could've been that I liked their concept because I've always been a sucker for elemental characters

I feel like it also could've been that of all the groups in Cookie Run, the Legends appealed to me the most

For those who didn't know by the way, this blog used to be just the Elemental Four

I added the rest of the Legends later, but Sea Fairy, Moonlight, Fire Spirit, and Wind Archer were the very first

Funnily enough, the first Cookie Run character I ever remember seeing was Sea Fairy

It all came full circle lmfao

I love all of the Legendary Cookies, but those four specifically will always be close to my heart

It's about to get extra cheesy, but ever since I started this blog, those four specifically have become so special to me and are definitely comfort characters

Maybe one day if I'm brave enough, I'll go through my old posts and redraw some stuff

But I digress

To finish this long post off (sorry about that hgszhdjihfz), I want to thank you all again so much for following me and my content!

I guess we'll see what 2023 has in store for us

And hopefully it's better

- Mod Velvet

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branches-of-time · 2 years

Text

It Ain't The Whiskey

"You climb the rest of the way up, and settle down behind him, wrapping your protective arms around his small frame.

He takes note of your trembling hands, and gently wraps them in his.

He takes a deep breath in, thinking for a moment, and breaks the silence.

'You smell like chocolate… and coffee.'

You huff a little, more of a laugh than a noise of offense, and nuzzle your face down into the soft black hair at the nape of his neck.

'Mhm..' you hum, and pull back, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. '…and you smell like wine.'”

Pairing: Venti x Reader - Established Relationship, GN!Reader

Word Count: 6,831

Synopsis: One too many people give their two cents on Venti- both his appearance and his music, leading you to learn something about the God-turned-bard that you'd already suspected for a long time.

Contains: Angst, Excessive Drinking, Fear, Graphic (?) Descriptions of Violent Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Past Trauma, Implied/Suggested Past Sexual Threats, Reverse Comfort, Slightly Possessive Thoughts, Unwanted Suggestive Commentary

(I don't think the fic is as dark as the CWs make it seem I just want to be thorough!)

A/Ns: This is fic 2 of 16 that I'm doing based on combining prompts from this list! (maybe I'll have them all up by the end of the year lmao)

Day 2 (Wisp) & Day 17 (Drunk)

Title is from the song that inspired this fic- 'It Ain't The Whiskey' by Gary Allan.

Lastly, some context- Reader is part Riftwolf, can manipulate all seven elements but has an affinity for Geo.

Believe it or not, Venti isn't everyone's favorite bard in Mondstadt.

He's popular, sure, but even he can't possibly please everyone's taste in music. Having lived for as long as he has, he isn't usually bothered by the occasional negative comment made about his performances. But you've watched some people be downright mean to him about it and he still won't retaliate. He always responds in the same friendly tone, no matter how harsh some people's words are. Like maybe if he's nice enough, it'll rub off on them too.. or something. You're not really sure what his reasons are for the way he behaves sometimes.

You love him regardless of his tendency to be a bit of a pushover. Besides, you can and have been aggressive enough to balance out his gentle nature on many occasions. Not to him, mind you. You're not sure if you could be aggressive towards him if you had to. Towards everyone else though.. your tolerance for bullshit is low. You've finally found some peace, and you're going to protect it.

It's almost funny, how different the two of you are. He's too nice, you're too mean. He's passive, you're aggressive. He's light, you're heavy. He's bright, you're dark. He's warm, you're cold. He's loud, you're quiet. He plays with the wind, you command the earth. He fights from a distance, you run straight into the fray. He takes his hits and you put up a shield.

He was kicked out of heaven... and you crawled out of hell.

He's taught you many things since the two of you met. One of those lessons being- some things don't get easier to handle with the passage of time. If you don't treat them, if you don't nurse the wound... some things actually just get worse.

You're working the bar alongside Charles at Angel's Share tonight.

You didn't expect your appearance there during Bartender's Academy Week to turn into such a popular event, but even after all this time, wherever you go in Teyvat, a crowd seems to follow. So, after it was over, and when Diluc realized that he wasn't going to be able to escape the never-ending questions from patrons about when you were going to return, he offered you a part-time position. Well, really, it was more of a- "I know you're busy but could you please stop by the tavern and work a shift whenever you're in the area so they'll stop pestering me about it" -type of offer, if you were to quote Master Diluc verbatim.

So, your appearances slowly became more and more frequent as you began to fall in love with the job. You weren't really in dire need of the mora, you just genuinely loved being there. After many, many years of traversing worlds, fighting Gods and monsters alike, settling down for a while and spending time in Mondstadt was a very welcome change of pace. Mixing and serving drinks, chatting with your favorite people, and- of course- watching Venti in his element.

Standing in your spot behind the bar, your left hip is propped against it, leaning back with your shoulders against the wall in the far right corner of the room. You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in deep and listening to the sound of your partner's voice filling the tavern. Looking down, you stir and sip on a hot, fresh Moonlit Alley that you’ve just made for yourself, cradled in your always-cold hands. Your third of the evening, actually. Another perk of working here, besides admiring Venti in your free time, is making your own drinks. Honestly, with the fact that both you and Venti drink here for free, and that Diluc’s paying you, you’re not sure how he isn’t losing out on mora here. You’ll file that question away for another day, you suppose.

Charles has stepped out the back door for a break, leaving you to man the bar for a little while. Fine by you, considering that business has slowed down considerably for the day anyways. The evening has slipped into night, and the usual rush of customers has settled down to just the regulars that tend to stick around until closing.

Venti, in his usual high spirits, has haphazardly kicked his shoes off and perched himself atop a table in the center of the room. Sitting with his legs crossed and lyre in his arms, he’s currently performing one of the songs he plays most often. You know it by heart at this point, with how much you hear him strumming the tune, but you could never get tired of hearing him sing.

The same thing cannot, apparently, be said by one particularly inebriated individual sitting at the far end of the bar you’re leaning against. He’s been unpleasant all evening, grumbling to himself about one thing or other underneath his breath. You been trying to be nice and not bother him, hoping he’ll drink his fill and stumble on home sooner than later, but things never go as smoothly as you hope when alcohol is involved.

Without warning, he slams his fist down on the bar, the impact and the noise causing you to flinch. The sudden movement sloshes your drink all down the front of your shirt, and you quietly curse. The music coming from the other side of the tavern immediately ceases, causing you to look up and momentarily lock eyes with Venti. You see something alert and intense flash in his eyes and the next second it’s gone- replaced with his usual half-lidded, relaxed, ten-glasses-and-seven-shots-in expression. He saw the way the man made you flinch.

Before you can register what could have possibly set the man off, or question Venti’s momentary break in character, the man is stomping his way over to the group of people gathered around the bard.

Well, stomping may be putting it generously. While he is of a pretty large stature, and his loud, drunken movements are a bit intimidating, he’s more-so stumbling than he is stomping. Which is intimidating in it's own right considering he looks like he could and would crush any unfortunate soul he happened to land on if he fell. He gets a little too close to Venti for your liking and you don’t understand why your body won’t move. You want to go over there. You want to put yourself between Venti and this threat. You want to knock him on his ass and drag him out the door after the way he’s been acting all night.

Instead of doing any of those things, your feet stay glued to the floor and your back stays pressed against the wall behind the bar. You can’t believe yourself. You’ve fought literal Gods and you can’t make yourself face one angry, drunk man. Maybe you really have gotten soft, spending so much time in a place as safe and calm as the City of Freedom.

You suddenly remember how Barbatos said he'd help you learn about peace and composure. How to cope with your innate urge to fight. You're starting to think that maybe you've learned too much, because now your body can't decide what to do with itself.

With Venti’s intimate connection to the wind, he can easily hear how rapid your breathing has become, even from the other side of the tavern. He can tell that you’re fighting with yourself over what to do here. Wanting to defend him, and wanting to hide. Not knowing which side of yourself to obey.

Venti knows you. He knows what you'd do to the man if you got your hands on him. When you look up again to watch the scene unfolding, he catches your eyes and whispers something that somehow, only you can hear.

“Stay where you are, love.

You know I can handle this.

It’s okay. I swear.”

Of course, leave it to Venti to speak so poetically while you’re having an internal crisis.

His words do distract you enough to calm you down a bit, though. You try to focus on your breathing as Venti shifts his attention to the man who has braced himself against a table, thankfully not trying to get any closer to Venti. Apparently he just wants someone to yell at, given what comes out of his mouth next.

“Do you even KNOW any other songs?!”

Venti cocks his head to the side a little bit, doing a great job of looking genuinely confused at the man’s words. He keeps any hint of offense out of his voice when he responds, friendly and upbeat as ever.

“Uhm.. pardon me, Sir? I know many songs! If there’s something else you’d like to hear, I’d be happy to play it!”

How he can be so kind in the face of cruelty will never cease to astonish you.

Images of him on the ground in front of the cathedral flash in your mind. The way he refused to fight back against Signora. You remember ice, and hands forcing you down to the concrete. You remember being weak. You remember burning rage. You wanted to claw your way inside her chest and tear her heart out for having the audacity to lay hands upon your God.

You wish he’d quit letting people take their anger out on him, but... maybe he knows something you don’t. Maybe he feels responsible to take these people's rage. Maybe.. maybe he’s just too goddamn passive. You quickly dismiss the upsetting images and thoughts, shaking your head so hard it makes you dizzy for a moment. You do not have time to be caught up in the past right now.

You tune back in to the man’s slurring words.

“Oh, don’t give me that act, bard. Sitting here all pretty in that little outfit... trying to.. tryna’ be all cute and polite 'n ssshit.”

You bristle upon hearing the man call Venti pretty like that.

You know what he's implying and it makes you want to wrap your hands around his throat. Dig your razor sharp nails in deep. You'd watch as his skin beneath your hands begins to dissolve in response to your Corrosion. Watch his blood seep out between your fingers. You want to make him beg for your mercy. Make him repent for uttering such words in the face of a God.

You want to.

You need to move.

Why won't your fucking feet move.

As you silently fight yourself, the man keeps speaking.

“You’re no better than the rest of us drunkards here and you know it. Comin’ in here every night and slammin’ drinks back, pulling out that fuckin' harp 'n playin’ the same. damn. songs. every night."

His fist slams down on the table over and over as he speaks, emphasizing his words.

You flinch every time.

Why can't you breathe?

He sweeps his arm out across the table as he stands up, knocking a bottle and two mugs off in the process. You hear the glass bottle shatter, and watch the spilled alcohol spread out across the floorboards as if in slow motion.

"I’m sick of hearin’ it!”

The room quickly erupts into a cacophony of drunken arguing. The well-meaning patrons jumping to Venti’s defense would have been heartwarming if it weren’t for the chaos being created, the burning hot coffee soaking your shirt, and the indecipherable look on Venti’s face. He’s still sitting there, an almost hurt look in his eyes, gripping his lyre tight as he watches everyone argue around him. He doesn’t look scared as much as he looks... disappointed. Concerned. Solemn.

Sober.

Your eyes break away from Venti when Charles comes into your field of view, and you barely register him asking if you’re okay. You nod on instinct, dismissing the mess on your shirt and the counter, far too focused on the ever-rising voices arguing in the background. He turns his attention to the man that is continuing to cause a scene, and quickly makes his way over to diffuse the situation.

“Excuse me.. Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave..”

As Charles uses his years of experience dealing with drunk, upset people to bring the arguing to a close and ushers the men out of the tavern, you just can’t stop watching Venti. He’s acting so.. different. The way he instantly went from loud, drunk, almost tripping over himself climbing up onto the table earlier, to now, looking as sober and solemn as ever.. it’s odd.

He takes a deep breath and dismisses his lyre back into the void. Your eyes follow him as he gingerly slides down off the table, quickly slips his shoes on without any trouble or sign of losing his balance, and quietly makes his way up the stairs to the second floor of the tavern.

Like he was never even drunk in the first place.

Like he was acting.

As the last of the customers leave their apologies and payments at the bar and make their way out of the tavern, you finally pull yourself out of your thoughts and back into the present. Your breathing is still shallow and fast, but your feet will move again, your body finally obeying the commands you’re giving it. You curse yourself over and over for freezing up the way you did.

Grabbing a towel, you start wiping up the mess on the counter. Your racing thoughts wander to places you don’t want them to go.

If that man had wanted to.. he could have…

He was close enough to Venti to…

Would he even have defended himself if that man had…

You weren’t there to protect him.

Charles comes back in as you’re attempting to soak up the worst of the drink you spilled out of your shirt.

“I’m sorry. Should’ve known the moment I went out on break somebody was gonna cause a scene.”

He watches as you aggressively scrub at the mess, honestly just making it worse.

He cocks his head at you.

“You sure you’re okay?”

You realize your efforts to remove the stain are pointless. You breathe a heavy sigh and turn your attention to Charles.

“Yeah… yeah man, I’m alright. I’ve faced far, far more intimidating things than some big drunk guy yelling a bunch of nonsense. You know me. I’m good... he just caught me off guard.”

Why do you feel like you’re lying?

You’re fine.. right?

You wished your voice sounded more sure of your words, but you can’t really help it at this point. You just want to go find Venti, but you continue trying to explain yourself. Charles is already more aware of your.. issues than you realize but he listens nonetheless.

“The atmosphere here is usually so calm at night, and I was just watching Venti like usual and.. I don’t know. That guy’s rage just came out of nowhere and made me jump. I’m fine. Honestly.”

There’s something knowing and empathetic in Charles’ eyes.

“Alright, well.. if you say you’re okay, I believe you. But still, Venti seems to have vanished, you've clearly had a long day, and I’m sure you want to go home and change clothes. Why don’t you let me clean up here and you can go ahead and head out?”

Wasting no time, he's already started picking up the pieces of the broken bottle on the floor.

As tempting as the offer sounds, you feel bad just walking out of here like this. The mess isn’t that bad but still…

“I- I can’t make you do that, it’s not even your mess and it won’t take that long to clean up.. I mean-"

You stop speaking when he turns around and gives you a pointed look, a kind smile on his face.

“I’ve cleaned up this tavern by myself more times than I can count. If I really didn’t like it, I wouldn’t work here. Seriously, don’t worry about it. I’m happy to wrap things up here.”

You sigh, making a mental note to pay him back for this favor, and you gratefully accept his offer.

“Okay.. okay, yeah.. thank you, Charles. I really appreciate it.”

You quickly make your way over to the stairs, following the fading trail of Anemo feathers that only you can see.

“Hey, don’t mention it. Just go find that boyfriend of yours before he disappears into thin air again.”

Charles laughs a little, a lighthearted sound, as he says that. You process what he said about halfway up the stairs and you whip your head around to look at him. You almost speak up to ask how he knew you were following Venti's trail but he’s already made his way into the back room to gather cleaning supplies. You shake your head, deciding to let it go because right now… with the way he worded that… you are too tired to try and figure out exactly how much he really does know about Venti.

Besides, bartenders are good at keeping secrets.

Venti isn’t on the second floor. Your elemental sight tells you that he didn’t sneak his way up to the storage room on the third floor either. Following the little Anemo feathers that Venti leaves in his wake, you instead are lead out to the balcony. Stepping outside, you immediately take in a breath of fresh, cool night air. As much as you love spending time inside the tavern, the first deep breath you take after exiting the establishment is always a welcome relief.

It would be even more relieving if Venti were out here, but of course, he’s never been that easy to find.

The trail of Anemo feathers has ended in a sizable group of them scattered across the edge of the balcony. Almost like he summoned the winds to take him up higher…

Oh.

Of course.

He’s on the roof.

As you make your way up to the top of Angel’s Share, you hear a familiar sound. It’s not a sound you’d ever heard before coming to Teyvat. After all, nowhere else you’ve been has had creatures such as these.

Peeking your head up over the edge of the roof, you see exactly what you thought you would. He's sat down, straddling one of the higher ridges atop the tavern. Several little wind wisps are hovering around him, chirping and speaking to Venti in a language you’ve yet to understand. They’re flocking to him like he’s their mother or something.

Hm.

You quickly file that question away for another day, too.

You haul yourself up onto the roof, as gracefully as you can after the night you’ve just had, trying not to disturb any of them.

Venti’s head tilts, looking down at you. He looks so tired… and there’s a quiet sadness in his eyes. It’s times like this that he looks a lot less like Venti, and a lot more like Barbatos to you. To the unfamiliar eye there probably isn’t much of a difference, but you know him better than that.

It’s something in his face. Something in his eyes. In the way he carries himself, and the way he speaks. It’s subtle, but it’s there. A knowing look that can only come from centuries of experience. A sort of… quiet acceptance.

He is fascinating to you, but you didn’t come up here just to stare at him from afar.

Nodding towards the wisps flitting about all around him, you softly speak.

“Do you think they’ll flee if I get any closer to you?”

He smiles a little bit at your question, his eyes soften, and he shakes his head slowly.

“They’re not afraid of you. I’ve told them who you are. You're welcome to come closer if you’d like.”

He says that like he doesn’t already know how badly you want to wrap him up in a hug and apologize for everything that happened this evening. You know it’s not completely your fault but you still feel so guilty, like you could have done more. Like you should have done more. Like you failed him when your body betrayed you and chose to freeze instead of fight.

You climb the rest of the way up, and settle down behind him, wrapping your protective arms around his small frame.

He takes note of your trembling hands, and gently wraps them in his.

He takes a deep breath in, thinking for a moment, and breaks the silence.

“You smell like chocolate… and coffee.”

You huff a little, more of a laugh than a noise of offense, and nuzzle your face down into the soft black hair at the nape of his neck.

“Mhm..” you hum, and pull back, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head. “…and you smell like wine.”

You look down and watch as his hat, discarded on the roof beside him, begins to float a little bit. Before you can even be properly confused, one of the wisps slips out from underneath it, and chirps in success as it ascends to float around with the others.

“Did you trap that thing underneath your hat?”

That gets a proper laugh out of him, albeit a small one, and he shakes his head again.

“No, of course not. I'll have you know that it crawled under there of its own volition.”

He gently reaches out and slowly picks his hat up, revealing two more wisps cuddled up together like they were camping and his hat was the tent. They chirp loudly in protest of having their cover blown. Venti smiles.

“They like to hide in there sometimes, what can I say?”

You watch as he gently places the hat back down over them, and reaches back to his lap to take your hands in his again.

They’re shaking a bit less now.

You think for a moment, and speak again.

“They’re really cute, you know. How they’re so playful with you. They really trust you, don’t they?”

He nods, slowly reaching one hand out and holding it open in the air. One wisp flies over and gently lowers itself into his palm, curling up into a ball and resting there.

“We’re like family, you know. They know that I’ll protect them.”

Watching him like this, perfectly still, calm, steady and gentle, it’s really hard to believe that less than an hour ago he was just drunk off his ass, throwing back shots and climbing on furniture to sing whatever song was requested of him next.

Like, really hard to believe.

You figure now is as good of a time as ever to ask the question that you've been sitting on for quite a long time now.

“You’re completely sober, aren’t you, Venti?”

To his credit, he doesn't even seem caught off guard by the sudden question. He knows that you've suspected this for a while, and was almost waiting to see how long it would take you to figure him out.

He nods, looking straight ahead, out over the empty streets of the city. From your position behind him, you lean to the left, around his side to try and see his expression better as he answers you.

“I always have been, love.”

You breathe a sigh of relief that you didn't even notice you had been holding, and it doesn't go unnoticed by him.

"You watch me so closely... and you're around me so often, I'm almost surprised it took you this long to ask me that, Windblume."

He doesn't sound disappointed, or upset that you've figured out his secret. He almost sounds relieved.

"Well, I think I've known it for quite a while, actually, I just.. wasn't sure, and didn't want to ask until I was. I always thought that with you being.." you lower your voice even further before you speak your next words, "an Archon..."

As you pause to choose your words carefully, you slide your right hand up his arm, from his wrist to his elbow and over his bicep, stopping to rest on his right shoulder. Absentmindedly, you start to massage your thumb into the tense muscles there. He's always holding more tension than he seems to be.

"...I thought that you might just have a really high tolerance, and that it wore off really quickly afterwards, too. But then sometimes, while I watch you perform, or just joke around with people in the tavern, you seem to almost.. break character sometimes."

He hums and nods a little in response to your words, not interrupting but wanting you to know that he's listening.

"Like.. like you were acting, for lack of a better way to put it. You could snap out of it and right back in so quickly that I started to wonder if you were ever actually drunk in the first place. Just like tonight, when you suddenly broke character to tell me that everything was okay. Then, the way you watched the scene unfold and quickly slipped out of the room... it just didn't add up how you could switch so quickly if you were truly intoxicated."

Venti leans back into you and lets your words hang in the air for a moment, processing them.

"You're too damn observant, you know that?"

You're relieved when you can clearly hear the smile in his voice.

"You're right though, about all of it. Unfortunately, there isn’t enough wine in the world to get me drunk. Archons aren't capable of getting drunk on something as weak as alcohol. No matter how strong the brew, it just doesn't affect us like that. It's like trying to get drunk off of apple juice. It tastes really nice, sure, and too much of it can make you feel sick from the sugar, but it won't intoxicate you."

You hum in thought, and another question pops into your mind, though you believe you may already know the answer.

"Then, if you don't mind me asking, why do you drink so much? Or... why do you drink it at all?"

Due to the way he's leaning back into you, the laughter that bubbles up out of him in reaction to your question jostles you both.

"How do I explain it... Well, you know how you love the taste, and the experience of making and drinking coffee?"

"Yeah..?"

"Still, you don't like what the caffeine does to you, so you drink decaf instead."

Of course, he's found another parallel between the two of you.

"It's like that! I truly do love the taste of wine, and all sorts of spirits for that matter. I also love the atmosphere of the tavern. I get to be among my people, sing and drink to my hearts content, and.. yes, I do get to act like... like someone I'm not, I suppose."

He sighs a little bit, almost feeling guilty about the admission.

"I get to forget that I'm this powerful celestial being and for a while... I can just be Venti. He's a fun character to play, I guess. Not that the things I do and say when I'm 'drunk' aren't genuine, mind you."

He reaches up and does little air quotes around the word drunk, and you smile.

"I'm always me. There's just.. two different sides of me. They mix quite often, and I'm usually somewhere in between Barbatos and Venti at any given time. I'm sure you've gathered that by now."

You nod, and now it's time for you to do some explaining of your own.

"I have, love. I've definitely gathered that. Also, for the record, I love both of you, equally. I fell in love with all of you, not just one side, or one part."

You reach up and carefully tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear.

"I don't mind it when you're 'drunk', honestly. I obviously wouldn't be with you if I were constantly upset by part of who you are. Honestly, though... you've always kind of been an enigma to me. I never pictured myself with someone like you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, of course not. We're just so.. different. It's something that's always baffled me.. given.. my past."

Venti reaches up and removes your hand from where it's toying with his hair, pulling it forward and you let him take it. You watch as he turns his head to the left in order to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand.

It's still hard to revisit your past, and explain why you are the way you are. You're grateful for his silent reassurance that you don't have to go over it again. He already knows. The two of you have spent many sleepless nights with you clinging to his cape as you stain his bright white shirt with your black tears.

You already know you're gonna revisit tonight's effect on you at some point in the future. Venti knows that he'll ask you to tell him more about the first man that taught you to be so afraid. Not tonight, though. Tonight he will listen, and nothing more.

"I guess now I know why it never bothered me. Maybe deep down, I've always been able to tell that you're not really intoxicated. Now, are you high on life? Maybe, yeah.."

You both laugh at the expression, but he doesn't deny it.

"I mean, you do have quite the lively spirit when you're doing what you love. But I've never felt unsafe around you. I think my body knew that you weren't going to hurt me, even in the beginning, when my mind wasn't sure."

Venti feels a tightness in his throat upon hearing that you feel safe with him. He pushes the feeling down and speaks through it.

"I'm glad you know that you're safe with me, love. That's all I've ever wanted you to be, and equally importantly- to feel. Safe and sound."

From his own words, the need to protect you suddenly hits him again, and he sits up a little straighter.

He told himself he wouldn't pry tonight, but he has to ask one thing.

He needs to know you're gonna be okay.

"Speaking of, how are you doing? After everything that happened in there, I mean. I could tell that that man wasn't actually going to harm me, you know he couldn't even if he tried, but I know it still scared you. I'm truly sorry for that."

After everything, he's still putting your needs above his own.

You won't stand for that. You're not gonna make this about you.

Not tonight.

"Sorry? No, no- Venti- I should be the one saying that. He was posing a threat to you and I just... I just fucking froze. I should have stepped in to protect you."

There's frustration in your voice that you fail to hide, and you pray that he knows that you're upset with yourself, not him.

Venti leans away from you at that, and for a moment you think you've offended him. Your damaged mind is always thinking you've done something wrong. You watch as he carefully turns himself around to face you, disturbing the many wisps that had settled down to rest on his idle form in the process.

He looks you square in the eyes and counters your protest with a question.

"You do know that I'm with you because I love you, and not just to use you as my personal guard dog, right?"

You nod your head, and smile at his phrasing. Somebody once mentioned, upon seeing the two of you out in public together, that that's kind-of what you look like. Presumably due to the way you tend to watch over him so closely, ready to stand between him and the world, if need be. You're protective of him, and you make no effort to hide it.

"You didn't owe me anything back there, love. I knew you wanted to jump in. I also didn't want to further aggravate the situation. That's why I told you to stay behind the bar. I knew that everything would be fine."

You shake your head.

"Is it though? Are you fine? I mean.. the things he said... you know that's not true, right? None of it was. People love you, and your music, and it's his loss if he can't appreciate the stories you tell in your songs."

His eyes soften, and he sighs a little bit before he responds to you.

“Listen to me, dear. It is not your fault that he apparently had a bad day and decided to take it out on me. Everyone has their own taste, and it doesn't make him wrong for disliking my music. Was it out of line for him to berate me like that, in front of God and everybody?"

You can't help but laugh at him using the phrase that he picked up from you after hearing you say it so often. Of course, he's still trying to keep the mood light. He wants to see you smile, and you do, as he continues.

"Yeah... probably. It's okay, though. I can take it. I won't shatter just because someone got a little too drunk and decided to tell me their honest opinion.”

You can't help but notice that he's only mentioning what the man said about his music, and nothing about what he called him. Nothing about what he implied. You're torn between not pressing the issue and doubling down. If he's taught you anything, though, it's the importance of delicacy.

Gentleness.

You reach out and take his hands in yours once again. Your hands are steady now, allowing you to notice the slight tremble of his own as you thread your fingers together.

"I know.. I know you're strong. I know you can take it. But- but just because you can take it doesn't mean you should have to! You are so, so passive and... it's admirable but.. I don't know, Venti. I guess I just don't know how you do it. I'm afraid that you're secretly carrying all of these negative feelings and that one day they're gonna be too much for you to bear. I just.."

Your grip on his hands tightens.

"I don't want you to break on me, love."

Venti looks a little surprised at your words.

He bows his head and looks down for a long moment, taking a few slow, deep breaths. Both of you sit in the silence for a little while.

The wisps gather around the two of you again as you both remain still, and they get closer and closer to Venti, landing all over his form. It's almost like they're trying to hug him, you muse to yourself.

You eventually feel something wet land on your hand, and your first thought is that it's starting to rain.

Great, now you're both gonna be sad and wet.

You look up, but feel nothing hit your face. You feel another drop on your hand and you look down to where they're held in Venti's grip. Thanks to the fact that it's dark out, you're able to see that the liquid landing on your hands isn't clear rainwater. It's turquoise, and it's glowing.

He's crying.

For a brief moment you're too stunned to speak. You're not used to seeing him cry, but you find your voice in spite of your shock and speak to him softly.

"Venti? I-I didn't mean to make you cry, love.. I just.."

Your words trail off as the metaphorical dam breaks and his shoulders begin to shake from the force of his silent sobs.

"Oh, honey... sweetheart, come here."

You pull him further towards you, guiding him to wrap his arms around your waist and letting his head rest on your shoulder. He's so quiet when he cries, you'd never know it from just listening to him. His shaking body and glowing tears are a bit of a giveaway, though.

You rub circles over his back and he slowly but surely calms back down. He makes no move to pull away and neither do you, opting to stay together just as you are as he speaks again.

"I- I don't know what got into me.. I'm sorry."

"Venti, you do not ever need to apologize for crying, or for being upset."

"I just... I'm still not used to anyone caring so much about my wellbeing. It caught me off guard. I mean.. yeah, I get my feelings hurt sometimes. I'm not immune to the things people have said to me just because they think I'm some small, weak bard that can't fight back. Not to mention the things that have been said to me because they know I'm some small, weak God that won't fight back."

He pulls in a shaky breath and you pull him a little closer as you continue listening to him.

"I'm used to it.. I guess. I'd rather just let people speak their peace and carry on, thinking they got the upper hand, than cause a scene by fighting back. I'm tired of fighting, and over time I've learned it's often not even worth it. It's no fun having to act like things don't bother me, but over time I got pretty good at it."

Your heart breaks at the way he's learned to handle things.

You gently pull back from the embrace, wanting to see him properly. His cheeks are flushed from crying, and his eyes look so tired.

"Those words can still hurt you, Venti. Over time, they build up and if you don't process them somehow, they'll eat you alive."

He looks down as one of the wisps bumps into his arm. It looks up at him and, having gotten his attention, makes a series of noises that you can't decipher. From his response, it seems the wisp was echoing your sentiment.

"I know."

He looks away from the wisp and back up to you.

"I do. I guess my coping mechanisms aren't as fool-proof as they once were. I usually keep a good handle on it. I guess it's just gotten harder to do over time. Sometimes, I do wonder if I'm not getting weaker, instead of stronger, as time goes on."

He tilts his head back, looking up at the stars that decorate the night sky. The midnight breeze feels nice on his warm, flushed face.

"Sometimes I just don't know."

You reach forward and slip your finger underneath the bow that holds his cape together. The weight of the cape tends to pull the bow back, and it ends up pulling on the base of his neck. It looks uncomfortable, so you gently ease it forward, and reach out to pull the cape further forward across his shoulders, trying to alleviate the pressure.

You speak to him as you fiddle with his clothes.

"Sometimes, I think that all a person needs is to speak, openly and honestly, about the things that are weighing them down. Like we're doing here, right now. There's power in language. I know you know that. I believe that part of that power is in the relief we feel when we share our burdens with someone who cares about us."

Shifting his attention away from the heavens and back down to you, he feels warmth bloom in his chest at the sight of your soft, kind expression. He watches the way your lips move as you speak.

"I care about you, Venti. An awful lot... and I am always, always willing to listen to you. No matter what it is, good or bad, a song or a story, I want to hear it."

The way his focus flickers back and forth between your eyes and your lips is not lost on you. You lean a bit closer to him, and reach out to cup his cheek, still warm from crying.

You lower your voice to a whisper.

"Please, promise me you won't keep carrying all of these feelings by yourself. Someone as light as you should never be weighed down by the negativity of others, nor by the hate in the world."

He breathes in deep, and nods once.

"I'll try... to let you help more. To let you in. I promise you."

Your hands stop toying with the soft ends of his braids, and one moves to gently cradle the back of his neck. He leans into you on instinct.

His eyes fall closed as you pull him towards you, closing the remaining gap between the two of you.

You lean up and place a soft kiss on his forehead.

"I won't let your burdens drag you under, Barbatos."

You move down and place another, feather light, on the tip of his nose. He smiles.

"I will not let them."

Your lips finally meet his, and you feel him fully relax in your hold.

When you break the kiss, neither of you pull back, instead leaning your foreheads against one another and breathing softly.

Chocolate and wine pair quite well together, you think.

#venti #venti x reader #genshin #genshin impact #ventober #lunasmr #venti x you #venti genshin impact #venti genshin x reader #genshin venti #genshin fic #venti fanfic #venti angst #venti comfort #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x reader #genshin x you #*banging pots and pans whilst shouting into the void* COME GET YOUR VENTI ANGST COME GET YOUR VENTI ANGST #i'm so sorry i swear i'll write something more lighthearted one of these days. but i'm full of the rage bloodlust hatred wrath #i put so much effort into this silly little fic i sure hope someone likes it and i didn't make it so niche it's unenjoyable. that's my fear #Venti & Reader's dynamic in my fics is like the concept of Scary Dog Privilege. or like the Person On Leash ship dynamic. u know the one.#hoo boy. apologies for the upsetting argument (fight?) scene in the tavern (and all the angst in general) I just...#I was listening to Track You Down by Matthew Mayfield on loop while writing it. and somethin' just came over me. that song makes me Feral.#'fear wraps it's claws around his neck and squeezes tight' and all that.. anyways go listen to it it's a good song #don't ask me why reader works at Angel's Share if they're scared of drunk people i can't explain it. i'm self-inserting don't look at me #every bartender in Mond. hates alcohol. even Charles isn't interested in it he's like idk man i just work here. now what can i get you #reader is just doing their part to keep the tradition alive and well

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