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fairsexynasty · 1 year

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∞ ₒ 🏆˚ ° 🏈 WHO’S FREER THAN ME?

+*:🐅:* joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: talk, talk, talk. it’s like men were conditioned to do only that. will they ever listen to you? questions plague your mind during a night out with joe. except, you’re not physically with him, quite unfortunately so.

warnings: SMUT. oral (fem receiving), squirting, fingering (fem receiving), daddy kink, dom/sub, subspace, mentions of spanking, dacryphilia mention, jealous!joe, asshat men

a/n: and she’s finally here! and she’s looking gorg <3

You figured that it was natural to get yourself caught up in tricky situations. The night before, you were adamant on the fact that parties were insipid and required an amount of fucks you personally couldn’t give. But damn it, Joe. It wasn’t on purpose, but his eyes practically begged you to accompany him to the stupid thing, and the last thing you wanted was Joe standing against a wall, drink in hand, disappointed you hadn’t tagged along. So after a period of begging (and kissing,) you reluctantly agreed to go to the party.

And it was terrible.

Never once in your life did you have to interact with such vapid, arrogant adults who had pools of beer and other mystery alcohols spilling down their shirts. It smelled like a gym and a bar at the same exact time, and the smell was so unrelenting, you excused yourself and headed upstairs.

Passing by multiple guys who had always been assholes to you out of attraction, made it to a secluded hallway, dim with dying overhead floral lights. At some point, Joe was pulled away by guys who animatedly conversed with him in what was probably their first-ever conversation with your boyfriend.

Footsteps padded along the stairs and you prayed it would be your boyfriend, for he at least had some decency to not stomp on some rando’s carpet. Unfortunately, you were met with— well, you didn’t know his name.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you here!” He greeted you. The look you gave made him say his name, but frustratingly enough, you hadn’t heard him. You stared up at him through the rim of your cup, a white line appearing in your vision and cutting off his torso.

“I, uh, I don’t find myself at parties a lot. Out of my own volition.” Perhaps, if you were sardonic enough, he would leave you the fuck alone and you’d be able to hide out in the bathroom for the rest of the night. Nothing like sitting atop a polished granite slab, feeling the surface vibrate in pulses beneath you.

‘What’s-his-face’ gives a stupid chortle. He’s finding you amusing, which is literally the opposite of what you want from him. “Oh, so you’re a cool girl, aren’t you?”

No. No, no, no, not this gimmick.

Rule one of interacting with men you don’t like, is never to make them think you’re a cool girl, which is another word for “My own personal manic pixie dream girl.” Once they think that, you’re free game, no matter how hard you try to rope yourself back in. And now, ‘What’s-his-face’ has pulled the buoy cord out of the water, leaving you stranded with him for god knows how long.

He asks you about your favorite SNL sketches, how many Blur songs you can name, and whether or not you caught the Sunday football game. Your stomach shifts inside your body, his douchebag aura making you feel queasy, and now you’re yearning for your boyfriend who is most likely surrounded by other douchebags like the one in front of you. You should have handcuffed yourself to Joe. Should have tackled him down the stairs and knocked him out before he stepped foot outside your house. Maybe, you should have driven all the way to get ice cream instead and fuck him after.

But you didn’t, and now you have to pay the price.

“It’s really nice that you’re listening, typically girls start talking about other stuff when I’m talking, it’s really kind of you.” Ugh. No fucking way. Then, he placed a fucking hand on your arm. “Wanna get out of here?”

Before you can slap him in the face, Joe turns him around by his shoulder. “No, but I think you should, right buddy? I mean, look at her. She’s obviously not interested, and would rather shoot herself than talk to you.” You let out a laugh because there’s no one who understands you more than Joe does. “Don’t you?”

It strikes you as strange, it even incenses you. What the hell do you mean by that, Joe? You grab his hand and start pulling him with you, not bothering to bid goodbye to the other guy.

“I want to leave,” you start as the two of you trudge down the stairs. “Got it?”

Joe rolls his eyes but acquiesces to your request. He grabs his keys from his pocket and the two of you are out the door.

The car ride back to your apartment is silent. Dead silent. Once you arrive home, you make a dash for the door, choosing not to wait for Joe.

“Babe,” he calls out. He catches up and closes the door behind him. His hand runs over his face. “The hell was that?”

“You know I don’t like parties, I told you I didn’t want to go.”

“Yeah, initially, but then you eventually agreed, right?”

You groan in frustration. “I lied, Joe.”

“So why are you mad at me because you lied? If you wanted to leave, you could have told me, but you let that douche chat you up instead.” He walks toward you and holds your chin with his pointer and thumb.

“You know I didn’t like him,” you say in earnest and avoiding eye contact.

“Really? Because I can’t read your mind, baby. Tell me what you need.” The air grows thick with tension. Suddenly you feel hot, overcome with a warmth fueled by Joe radiating jealousy. You also feel a bit of pompousness in the mix, knowing Joe is feeding off of the fact you’re caught in a now precarious situation. His eyes seem as if they’re smirking at your own, his lids curving at the ends, irises as blue as sapphire. He’s teasing you, making you wait for him to quit the unrelenting gaze that was so stimulating.

You decide to take his thumb into your mouth, wrapping your pouted lips around the digit. Your throat began to meet with his thumb almost immediately and you moaned, wondering how his fingers would feel in you.

Head moving back and letting Joe’s thumb fall from your mouth, a string of saliva trailed to your lips, you immediately go dumb for him. “Need you to fuck me, daddy.” Glossy eyes bat three times at him. “Please?”

It’s almost shameful to you that you put yourself in this position every single time. It’s almost shameful how you go dumb as soon as your arousal gets sexual, as if all you’ve built yourself up to be washes away in the waves of fuck me now. But it does fill you with pride in the end, because you hold the key to Joe’s satisfaction, and you’re the only person who does him as well as you do.

“That’s my girl,” a low coo of pleasantry. He scoops you up in his arms and you let out a squeal of surprise. Joe walks to your bedroom, slipping your shoes off and dropping them on the floor along the way. He gently lays you on top of the sheets, holding your head as he leans in to kiss you.

Moaning into the kiss, your hands take the rein in his hair, fingers already carding through the blond. Joe tugs at your bottom lip, making you drop your jaw just a bit so he can explore inside your mouth.

You find it astonishing. To be concise, Joe’s pretty selfish— but it’s how he takes things for himself that renders you wanton. The way he bites on your skin and soothes it after. How his hands direct your body in any way of his choosing. When he holds your head up as you cum to make sure he can see the stars in your eyes.

Your legs spread immediately as Joe enters the space between them. He takes his time trailing hot kisses down your neck, then down your torso after removing your top and bra. His fingers dance upon your jean-clad thighs, tap-tap-tapping upwards to your button and zipper, then work in a quick fashion to rid you of your bottoms. You’re left in just your panties and they’re soaked with your wetness, turning a shade darker than the original where it covers your core.

Joe’s eyes glimmer with an unsatiable want to ruin you. His fingers trail over your core, and you let out a breathy whimper. God, you’re pathetic. “You got really worked up didn’t you, pretty girl? How long were you waiting for me to come to save you?”

You let out a playful scoff and roll your eyes. “I don’t need to be saved, Joey. I just know you missed me so much.” Pulling him closer by his belt loops, you bite his bottom lip and pull ever-so-slightly. “Don’t tease me, daddy. Makes me upset.”

The soft sound of your purrs full of pure raunch flips a switch in Joe. Instead of wanting to fuck you dumb, slap your ass until the skin was hot to the touch, kiss the tears that never stopped running down your cheeks, the man decided he wanted you to scream for more. More, more, more. God, he could just hear it in his mind. Blessed cries of pleasure, letting his baby take whatever she wanted from him like the princess she was, that’s all he needed now.

He pounced at your neck in an attempt to distract you from what he was about to do— rip your panties apart in one swift motion, with little to no effort at all. He lowly chuckles against your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine. As he kisses and marks his territory, his hands travel to your core and start truly exploring the wetness that coats you. His two fingers slip inside as easily as ever, and he’s grateful to realize it’s because you’ve decided he’s all you ever wanted.

“That’s my girl. So ready for daddy, aren’t you?” You nod softly and pull him into a deep kiss.

The tightness is a comfort and Joe curves his fingers to pull a moan out of you that bounces off the walls of your room. With every flick of the wrist, he feels your cunt pulse around his fingers, sucking him back in deeper each time.

His mouth leaves your neck and goes straight for your pussy, instantly latching onto your clit and sucking, hard. You let out a scream, as your mind tries to wrap around how it’s possible he makes you feel even better each time. “Fuck, s’good daddy, so good…”

Joe’s tongue parts your folds and joins his fingers in motion. The heat travels all along your body as you drip onto him. He eats you out like a man starved, licking and thrusting his tongue all over, catching every last drop of what you give to him.

The coil in your abdomen tightens and your thighs clench and shake around Joe’s head. Your hands snake down his hair and pull hard, taking rein in the blond. Your back arches over and over as you grind into his mouth, chasing your release.

After you start practically fucking yourself onto his fingers, Joe comes up and takes one good look at you. Your eyes have rolled into the back of your head, your skin sheen with sweat, and your body just looks outright divine.

“Gonna cum for daddy, honey?”

“‘M so close, gonna cum, daddy-“ You cut yourself off with a moan. He knows you’re so incredibly close that you’ve lost the ability to hold onto necessary cognition, so he gives you a couple of slaps to your clit, and soon enough you’re gushing all over his fingers. “Oh, fuck!”

“There you go, good fucking girl,” he groans, failing to cease rubbing at your clit. He wants all of the mess that you so happily give to him. Once you’ve finished cumming and the aftershock contractions start, he finally controls himself. He dips his head back down to clean you up with his tongue, and you choke out tiny squeals.

Then, he’s done being selfish for the time being. He meets you face to face again. Your eyes lull back and forth from clear vision to a blur of Joe above you. “Come back to me, baby,” he whispers as you slowly regain consciousness. He caresses your cheek, pressing small kisses from your forehead into your hairline.

He smiles when he feels your arms wrap around him, your hold as present as your mind. “Thank you, Joey,” you whisper back. Your hands feel fabric clinging to his back, and you suddenly realize he never even got undressed. “What’s with the clothes?”

Joe smiles down at you. “A very wise woman told me that men need to listen to women in conversation. This is my special way of conversing with you, I guess.”

“Did you make a mess in your pants, Joe?”

“Not answering that.”

#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow smut #fairsexynasty

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thanotaphobia · 6 months

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ménage à quatre

or, missa runs into tina on the way to see phil. and pac. and mariana. and-

CROSSPOSTED TO AO3

⋆

Missa thinks he’s decent at being sneaky.

He at least doesn’t knock things over. Their new and improved underground base is well-lit despite the dark stone that makes up its walls, and Missa skirts the farms and chairs and chests with ease. Getting out isn’t so simple, but he’s nearly there. It’s nighttime, and while most people don’t always sleep through the night in this place, it’s easier to hide under the cover of darkness. Easier to get away with things, to see people. Missa also knows if he runs into anyone who isn’t his team or Phil that he’s absolutely dying, so going out at night is a necessary risk. Risk, because mobs, but once he reaches the meeting spot in the woods he and Phil had talked about, then he’ll be okay.

He misses Phil. With every aching beat of his heart, he misses him.

Missa hadn’t known how strong his feelings had run until they’d been separated like this. It was physically painful, like love had wrapped tendrils around his heart and gut, squeezing every time Phil pops into his head.

And so the occasional midnight rendezvous must happen. It has to happen, because otherwise Missa thinks he would die if he didn’t get to see his husband in a relatively safe, stress-free space.

Careful not to catch the attention of any of his teammates, Missa creeps through the base and watches every step. He doesn’t think they’d crucify him for it, but he doesn’t think they’d like it either. People have become different, and fast. Personalities have shifted and everyone, Missa thinks, has gotten a little more ruthless. Even Missa himself thinks it’s affecting him– although he tends to isolate instead of lash out. He’s frozen to death on beaches more than once, staring out at the ocean lost in thought until his eyes had clouded over and he’d woken up in their base with fingers stiff from cold. Others, though. BBH has a look in his eye every time Missa sees him, a look that makes him skirt around the man like he’s got the plague.

It’s unsettling. He hates feeling uncomfortable in what’s supposed to be a safe place. He hates sneaking around like this when he should just be able to see his husband whenever he wants– he hates it.

But it’s fine. He’s nearly out, anyway. He enters the darkest part of his exit, a long corridor, and hurries forward. Just another couple steps and–

“Oh!”

All the air is forced out of his lungs, half from terror and half from the collision. He bounces backwards into the cold stone wall and shrieks, then shoves a hand over his own mouth to stifle the sound. Across from him, there’s a thud and someone gasps. Missa blinks into the dark.

“Missa?” Tina says after a second of silence. He takes into stock what just happened– a warm body bumping into his, shorter but strong, and the strong scent of tea leaves and cool soil in the air. Tina. Just Tina.

“Sorry,” Missa says out loud after a second, lowering his hand from his mouth. Tina laughs, and Missa can’t see her very well in the dark as he pushes himself up off the wall. “I didn’t mean to–”

“No, it’s okay!” Tina says. They’re both whispering, but even then each word sounds like a gunshot in the tunnel. It reverbs, echoing around them and twisting in the air like smoke. “I didn’t expect you– oh, man, I fell down and dropped my bag, can you–”

“Yeah, one second,” Missa says, getting her intent instantly and dropping to his knees to feel around for the knapsack. “You okay?”

“Fine, thanks!” Tina giggles, high and breathy. Missa’s hand knocks against fabric and he grasps it triumphantly.

“Got it!” he says, raising his clenched fist into the air– only for it to come into contact with skin and bone, the crack echoing around them louder than their words had been.

Missa is almost impressed by how Pac doesn’t swear. He hears a thump as someone sits down, a soft hiss of breath, and then a long exhale.

“Oh my god,” Missa breathes, before he knows it’s Pac, “I’m so so sorry–”

“All good,” Pac grits out, and Tina gasps.

“Hey!” she says. “It’s like a party in here!”

“Are you bleeding?” Missa asks, and Pac mumbles an affirmative. The next thirty seconds is spent looking for a piece of cloth to hold to his nose, and they end up having to improvise with one of Tina’s shirt sleeves. “I’m so sorry,” Missa apologizes again. “Bro, bro, I swear I didn’t know you were there, I didn’t mean to, I was just getting Tina’s bag. I’m so sorry, man.”

“It’s dark,” Pac says, his voice slightly muffled and sounding as though he’s got a bad cold. “All good! All good, my friend.”

“What were you even doing down here?” Tina asks. She’s kneeling by Pac on the other side, and Missa has finally gotten used to the dark. They’re all mostly on the floor, staring around at one another– Missa can see the whites of their eyes, and that’s about it. It’s the strangest situation he’s been in for a while, honestly.

“Well, I was trying to leave,” Pac says, sniffling once and grunting in pain. “But, ah– you were here first.”

“Wait,” Missa says, blinking as he realizes something. “Tina, why were you here–”

And then someone lights a torch, the spark and resulting flame causing all three of them to cover their eyes or cry out. Missa blinks back tears from the sudden brightness and glances back– standing a few feet away is Mariana, torch held up as he stares at the three of them with an indignant expression.

“The fuck are you bitches doing?” he asks loudly, and despite their various states of distress, Missa, Tina, and Pac shush him quickly. Mariana goes quiet, pressing his lips together before stalking forward and crouching beside them. In the torchlight, Missa can see the blood on Pac’s nose now, and winces. “Why did none of you have a torch?” Mariana asks.

Tina hums. “That probably would’ve been a good idea.”

“Why are you here?” Pac asks. “Did you hear us?”

“No,” Mariana scoffs. “But I should’ve. I was going to see Slime–” He clearly didn’t mean to say it– his eyes widen a fraction and he snaps his mouth shut quickly, staring at the three of them before clearing his throat. “I meant, I was going to kill Slime.”

“We all know what you did in the fountain,” Pac says, his voice nasally but dry. “You know?”

Tina breaks out into big, bubbly laughter, heaving for air between gasps of breaths. She giggles, high-pitched and frantic, and Missa can’t help but snort either, covering his face with one hand. He can see Mariana between the bars of his fingers, and the way his face goes a bright, brilliant red.

“Yeah, well–” Mariana only stutters for a moment, composing himself and snapping. “What are you three doing anyway?”

“I was going to see Bagi,” Tina practically wails. She’s on her back on the floor, hair spread like a halo around her, and Missa thinks it’s a miracle she hasn’t passed out from laughing yet. Pac is laughing too, still pinching his nose but grinning and cackling. Missa bites his lip, then drags his hands down his face and comes out with the truth.

“Phil,” he says, cursing his husband’s name into his palms. “Phil and I–”

“I won’t say who I was going to see,” Pac says proudly, and Tina stops laughing at that. She sits up and points a finger at him.

“We all know about Fit, Pac! We know! Nothing is a secret!” Between her words she hiccups giggles. “This is so dumb, we’re all so dumb!”

Missa leans back against the stone wall of the tunnel and slumps, his knees slowly giving out until he’s sitting fully on the cold floor and staring at the rest of them slowly losing it. Tina and Pac are holding onto each other, giggling and rocking back and forth slightly, while Mariana is trying his hardest to look disgusted with them and notably failing to hide a smile. Missa lets out a breath and knocks his head back, covering his eyes with his elbow and snickering.

“Well, I’m going,” Mariana finally says, stepping over Missa’s outstretched legs and past Pac and Tina. He’s still got the torch in hand– the shadows against the wall stretch and warp with his movement, making the whole tunnel feel unsteady. He turns back. “I have a date to keep.”

“Oh gosh, so do I,” Tina gasps, finally getting a hold of herself and scrambling for her bag. Missa nudges it closer to her with one foot and she grins at him. “Thanks! Don’t want Bagi to be waiting up for me.”

“Have fun on your date,” Missa says, mouth a little dry. “Dates.”

“You too,” Tina chirps, standing up and slinging her bag over her back.

“Wait, I need to get up too,” Pac says, and he and Missa stand together, gripping each other’s shoulders and arms as they do. His nose has, for the most part, stopped bleeding.

“Sorry again,” Missa says apologetically.

Pac grins and shakes his head. “No biggie.”

“Are you coming?” Mariana calls. The shadows have gotten longer and the light dimmer as he’d started walking away, but he waits now near the end of the tunnel, looking back at the three of them with mild irritation. “Or can I ditch you all yet?”

“Oh be quiet Mariana,” Tina says, catching up with him easily. They both wait for Missa and Pac, which makes something warm blossom in his chest where the cold has sat so easily the past few days. “We can go together now, as long as we stay away from Bad!”

“That would be not good,” Pac mutters, glancing back. Missa winces.

“We’ve gotten this far,” he says.

“This far without waking the guard dog,” Tina says, and they all make their way the last little bit out into the faint light of the stars. Around them the air is cold and crisp, and it takes Missa’s breath away. For a minute they all stand there, taking in the sight of the moon glistening across the oil-slick sea, light refracting off the ice and snow and making the whole world a soft, delicate shade of blue. Even the light from Mariana’s torch doesn’t last, barely casting out onto the pockmarked and scarred beach ahead of them.

“Well,” Missa says, equipping some gloves. He doesn’t want to stand here for too long. He wants to see Phil. The ache is back, something about the sight in front of him and the people beside him making his heart ultra aware of Phil’s absence. He thinks of Phil, worrying about him being late; he thinks of Phil laughing when he hears what delayed him. “See you in the morning, guys.”

“Hey, Missa?” He glances over at Mariana, who sticks his torch down into the sand and shoves his hands into his pockets, nonchalant. “Do you want to go together? Might be easier. Mobs and stuff.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea! Pac, let’s go together!” Tina chirps, and Pac nods with a smile. She grabs his hand and he lets her.

“Sure,” Missa says, a little startled. “That’s– yeah, yeah. Okay.”

“Okay,” Mariana says. “Bye, guys.”

Pac and Tina wave as they deploy their separate boats, hopping in beside one another and parting into the cold, choppy sea. Mariana drives, Missa sitting passenger, and he stares out over the ocean as they leave their team base behind them in the cold. When he looks over at Mariana, the other man is staring out across the horizon in front of them, hands gripping the wheel of the boat and a strange look on his face. When he notices Missa looking, he glances over and catches his eye.

“What’s the matter?” Missa asks.

“Bad Boy Halo totally was watching us leave,” Mariana says, dead serious, and that is finally what sends Missa into hysterical laughter.

#qsmp #q!missa #q!tina #q!pactw #q!mariana #pissa #bagina #fitpac #slimariana #team soulfire #qsmp blue team #they're in a comedy #actually #my writing

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA: For wanting to take my bike to work when my sister has been borrowing it while i didn't need it?

I (24F) and my sister A (18F) usually see eye to eye on most things and she's one of my best friends. I'm in my last year of medical school and currently have my final exams - theory started on 16th January, practicals get over on the 16th of Feb, so that's a solid month of me dying - so I decided to study with a couple of close friends since group study is pretty much the only way through this exam.

While i've been studying with my friends for a while i moved into their house kind of exclusively on the 1st of Jan and at that point decided that since I was not really driving around on my bike, (we were using my friends bike for when we needed it), i told my mom (59F) that I'll leave my bike home for my sister A. She's been using it since and it's been about a month.

Last night I came home, by cab, to pick up some stuff and this morning I had to leave again to study at my friend's house. I however had a bunch of errands to run ( have to drop off some things at another friend's house, which is slightly out of the way, meet my boyfriend at the hospital where he's working to pick up some more things and then go to the friend's house to study).

So I told my mum "hey I'll need the bike", and she said yeah ok - and today she had to leave early in the morning while I was still asleep so she left.

When I'm all packed ready to go - my sister asks me "Are you taking your bike" and i say "yeah" and she storms off and slams the door and calls me a bitch and I'm at this point a little thrown and as a person I'm very very quick to anger (and I'm WORKING on that) - but I try not to yell back and i ask - "obviously I'm taking my bike it's my bike?" And she says "mom told you to take the OTHER bike" (-the other bike is an ancient little thing that i absolutely hate driving and I don't see any reason to) so I told her that 1. I told mom I needed my bike and 2. it makes no sense that I'll take the shit bike when I have to drive twice as much as A does.

She continues yelling at me from the other room about "oh so if you're a better driver you should take the shit bike" and i didn't fucking get how that had anything to do with this and I told her so (before this month that she's been using my bike, she would use the shit bike no problem - especially since she drives much lesser than i do)

(STILL haven't yelled back at this point btw this has been a whole 5 minutes and that's an improvement bec usually - when you yell at me I yell back)

And when she keeps at it i ALSO snap and yell back that she needs to fix her mood and stop yelling at me bec I can also yell at her + mom told me I can take the bike + even if mom said take the other bike, why would I when (^ above mentioned reasons AKA: 1.it's my bike, 2.i have to drive further you just have to drive to college and back PLUS you're going for a college fest I'm going to STUDY for my final exams AND 3. I have chronic back pain)

The minute I yell back, sorry sue me, she starts off on how I started the fight and i am about to scream bec I didn't start ANYTHING - and when i tell her that I didn't start fucking shit - she screams about "yes you did and you're gaslighting me just go take your fucking bike" and now, i know I could have just taken it but I hated feeling like she's acting magnanimous as if it isn't MY bike that she's returning, which i specially left for her for so long so she could have it a little easier - and I'm super mad at her for throwing around words she doesn't understand fully ((p.s. Instagram reels are a plague - who let 16-18 year olds have access to terms like this when they don't understand them)) and I'm yelling at her that she needs to stop using psychologic terms when she doesn't understand them and she's yelling that just because I'm studying these terms doesn't mean she doesn't know what they mean - and I'm getting so angry because clearly she DOESN'T???

And then to make it a million times worse my aunt (70F) (who is currently being treated for cancer and supposed to go get a blood transfusion in 1 hour), is getting involved and telling us to stop fighting and neither of us is shutting up bec we're so riled up.

My aunt gives me cash to take an uber and I'm a person chronically CRIPPLED with guilt about spending ANY money but i can't even Think about driving the shit bike bec I'm just so tired from exams and associated exhaustion, so I take her up on the offer - and my little fucking sister from the other room goes sarcastically "Aww poor R leaving her bike and spending a billion bucks" and my aunty now (finally) calls her out saying "that's not nice A she's leaving the bike and you will not comment on the money." And A yells at her too and then storms out and takes the shit bike out of anger or rebellion or something - and at this point I've booked the uber and the driver is here at the door so I jsut fucking leave and I'm typing this is the car fucking seething but also questioning if I'm the asshole???

[A point about "my" bike is that I did not buy it, I'm a broke student, my mom bought it when I got into med school and I've used it for almost 5-6 years now, it's mine like that - my sister only started driving like 5-6 months ago.] My bike is in great shape and she will use it as hers once I leave the house to work when my degree (the one I'm CURRENTLY giving my final exams to pass) is done, so in about 3-4 months. We've been strapped for cash since my father passed away 9 years ago, but we'll be a little better off when I start my internship and start earning soon.

Anyway sorry don't yell at me

☀️☀️☀️ to find easily later

She's not usually an asshole i keep telling myself she's just going through being 18 years old and that is just a shitty time but these blowups happening in the middle of my exam week is just SO unfair I'm just. I don't know anymore

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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morganas-pendragons · 4 months

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Rage, Rage (Against the Dying of the Light) | 10th

a n g s t.

The first time you ask him, he doesn’t answer. He sweeps you away with his charms and promises about galaxies and universes untold that so little humans get to experience for themselves.

You let it slide. Just this once. You’re intrigued enough by his eyes, those eyes that cause you to ask one singular question that will plague you the rest of time you travel with him:

What happened to you?

The second time you ask him, he gets angry. Rage is built into the very foundation of who The Doctor is as a person. It doesn’t matter that he’s Timelord. He still experiences the same kind of anger that humans do.

His, however, stems from his own choices. His own actions that caused the genocide of a people that this universe will never experience again.

Given what little he’s told you, you’re fine with that. You’re better off without the Timelords. Without the Timelords and the trauma they’ve obviously caused this man.

“What happened to you?”

You ask it in hushed tones, careful not to provoke a reaction. You do anyway. You don’t even flinch when he yells. When he asks why it’s any of your business to begin with. It’s quite rare to see him unravel.

You wonder what would happen if you unraveled him entirely.

“Why does it matter!?”

And oh, how sad your gaze must look. “Because you matter, Doctor. You’ve always mattered. Especially to me. I think you get so stuck inside your own head that you often forget that.”

You leave him to the solitude of his console room after that. It takes him a week before he’s confident enough to approach you again.

The shattering of broken things still echoes even then.

***

The third time you ask it, he answers. It is only in the wake of the TARDIS forcing you into the empty hallways that you trudge forward and right into the doorway of his bedroom.

You had just slipped into sleep yourself. After a long week of contemplation and thorough detail - which mostly consisted of you writing and writing and writing as much as possible - of your adventures with him, you were seriously considering leaving.

You can’t help people who don’t want to be helped.

“Little love?” You call out weakly to the TARDIS, who warbles at your response as you stand idly in the doorway of the Doctor’s dimly lit bedroom. “Why did you bring me here?”

Your question is answered by the ragged sound of the Doctor's breathing. You can barely see him in the light of the bedroom - his bedroom - but it would be dificult to miss that gasping, wet sound of his breathing he's trying to get back under control.

The question whispers itself again in your ear as you approach: What happened to you?

He flinches as if he has been burned the moment your hand makes contact with the nape of his neck. It takes The Doctor a moment to realize who has entered his bedroom, and his entire being melts at the realization it is simply you sitting beside him. It's the first time he's seen you in a week. He deserves your scorn. Your wrath.

Instead you ask again, in hushed tones, "What happened to you, Doctor?"

And this time, he tells you. He allows himself to succumb to the weakness of desiring another persons touch and leans into your arms as you hold him until the tears abate.

"There was a war. The last great Time War.."

The Doctor does not need to know that you had intended on leaving. He does not need to know the way your heart harbors such fear of him, but such sorrow for him, and he surely does not need to know how you see right through him.

All he needs to know for now is that you are there.

And it will be enough.

***

The fourth time it is asked, it is him who asks you. You have your bag packed and slung over your shoulder where you stand in the doorway of the TARDIS. Enough had been enough. You would not be second choice, and you certainly would not allow him to use you as his emotional crutch.

Even if he didn't intend to.

The Doctor swallows the knot in his throat and opens his mouth to ask, "What happened to you?"

The look you give him sends chills down his spine. That is not a look any of his companions have given him. You love him, sure, but you will not allow that to be the reason you suffer through this any more. The look you are giving him is one of pure ice.

And it is that ice that further moves to encroach itself upon his heart. As is always the way when he travels alone. He may burn at the center of the universe and humanity may always see him as a God, but even Gods are cruel.

The Doctor may be the cruelest you've ever known.

With one final glance at him, you reply, "You did." before walking out of the TARDIS for the final time. The dying light outside casts shadows on the walkway of the TARDIS as he watches your departure, and he is once again alone.

#this would not leave me alone so here you go!#have some ten pain! :)#also some personal thingies since i've been working as a therapist :D #tenth doctor x reader #doctor who x reader #doctor who oneshots #doctor who imagines

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championofsanghelios · 11 months

Text

...need...

(SPOILERS FOR TOTK - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

Link lays on his bedroll, looking at the flames from the fire he'd lit to keep himself warm. It was already in the processes of dying, but he wasn't about to get up and try poke some life back into it.

The last few days had been rough, waking up in a strange floating island, finding out that Zelda was gone again and that something horrible had emerged from under Hyrule Castle again. His life felt one giant cycle. How many more times would he have to wake up, find the Princess and go through some unfathomable blur of traumatic events along the way? What purpose was the goddess fulfilling here? What was the point of this madness!? At least he still had his memories this time around, and there a fair number of people out there in the vast expanse of Hyrule that were willing to help him and see him through this... Every person he had met, from Purah to Tulin had told him that he shouldn't lose hope, that his spirit of courage would light the way for himself and countless others to follow... ...Link wasn't feeling very courageous right now. He hadn't been since he left Zorana. That's where he had met her. He had nothing against Lady Yona personally, she was a delightfully sweet and considerate creature, someone who had welcomed him with open arms and supported him at every opportunity. He had nothing against her. And yet...he resented everything about the whole situation back there. The fact that she was there, the fact that everything he had experienced with the Zora, all the love and affection he had come to feel and show for them, and one individual in particular, had been in vein. He had been invited to the wedding...of course he had. Sidon had made it clear from the moment the troubles plaguing Hyrule had ceased, they would celebrate together, not just the end of another dark chapter, but the union between himself and his queen. Link had taken the invitation, but hadn't really accepted it. Partly because the thought of watching them be married was too much for him, and partly because it would make him feel even more isolated and lonely than he already did. Zelda was gone, Sidon was taken by another. What else did he have but himself, in this moment? --- At some point he must have fallen asleep, because when he next awakens the fire was well and truly dead, and the sun was starting to rise on the horizon.

Turning his head he let out a small groan, the feeling of something warm on his face, a soft, gentle feeling that was so familiar to him that he didn't even question it. Occasionally Epona would come over and nuzzle him a little, and Link was certain that she was somehow aware of his feelings and was checking up on him. But this wasn't that feeling. This was a hand, a large, protective hand that made him want to- -he gasps quietly as the realisation hits him. He opens one eye suddenly, only to see a pair of familiar ones staring back at him. He looks down at his right hand, the sage ring that Sidon had given him was active, and the King's Avatar was sitting by him. He didn't remember calling it out, but that was the least of his concerns right now. The thing he couldn't get over were it's eyes, instead of glowing white, they were almost real. Certainly identical to the avatars real life counterpart. "...wha-..." Link breathes as he stares up at the avatar, his mouth parting, eyes full of surprise and confusion. He wasn't complaining about what had happened, nothing would ever compare to that touch, but he couldn't understand how this was happening. Was it a dream? "...s-...Sidon?" Suddenly the avatar disappears, like Rauru's spirit had right in-front of him some days before. He feels a pang of fear rise in his gut and he reaches out. "No- Wait!" Hearing nothing but the wind rustling through his hair, and feeling the warmth of the oh-so-real touch fading from his face, his head drops suddenly and for the first time in a very long time...he cries. ELSEWHERE "...Sidon?" Yona speaks as she enters the empty chamber, approaching the King who is standing by the large throne his father was inhabiting just the day before. "...there you are. I was wondering where you'd gone. Why are you up so early?" "..." Sidon looks at his right hand, the gem-stone on the back of his fabric gaunlet still shimmering. "...oh I had a lot on my mind...sorry if I disturbed you getting up." Yona tilts her head at him, her eyes narrowing a fraction. "...what were you doing with that?" He sighs deeply through his gills, of course she would know what it was. She knew practically everything about him... ...including some things that, despite his best efforts, were plainly obvious to both of them. Like how he still felt greatly for a certain someone...Like how he still needed a certain someone... "I was..." he looks down briefly, tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "...I was just-..."

. . .

#stories #sidlink #link x sidon #tears of the kingdom #loz link #king sidon #lady yona

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angelst4re · 8 months

Note

hi sweetie! i have been dying for a teacher x student type of story trope with jamie ;) with some smut if your comfortable <3

i dont think i've ever written for teacher!jamie before so i could not just let this request sit in my inbox for another 4 months... i also combined it with a jealous jamie smut request but i'm thinking of making a part 2 to this which has more jealous jamie... which i may even be writing right now!!! <3

Sugar- Teacher!Jamie x Reader

♡ warnings: NSFW!!! contains smut!!! please don't read if you're not comfortable love! NEITHER AGES ARE SPECIFIED BUT READER IS 18+ <3 it’s only ever mentioned that theres a 15 year age gap

♡ notes: i attempted to keep this as gender neutral as possible but reader is afab! also i kinda rushed this because i just needed to post something!! but there's going to be a part 2 I PROMISE!!!

“...Oh, and don’t forget, y/l/n, we have a one to one scheduled for 3:30 to discuss your exam results. I’ll be in my office.” Mr Bower, who insisted you call him Jamie, reminded you with a smile as you left the classroom.

“I haven’t forgotten, sir.” You say as you turn back around to smile at him, and give him a little wave before you leave the room.

You had two hours to spare before your meeting with the music teacher, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend the majority of the time in the bathroom making sure you looked perfect. You had been waiting for a moment like this, a moment alone with the teacher that has plagued your mind since the beginning of the school year. You and your friends, and most likely the entire class, had been captivated by not only his looks but his personality. Having learnt that he had recently become single after a three year long relationship, you felt like you stood a chance, but then you were quickly reminded of the 15 year age gap.

However, his behaviour around you didn’t go unnoticed. You’d catch him eyeing you up when you would come in wearing a new outfit that evidently boosted your confidence, or you would catch him looking over at you whilst you were in the middle of a written exam, and he would quickly divert his eyes when they met yours.

Despite the clear indication he may be into you the way you’re into him, you both had a very positive, friendly relationship. He would give you the best tips and advice, and be more than willing to help you progress in the ways you wished to, as he would with anybody in the class, but there was one particular encounter that you couldn’t stop thinking about.

You and your boyfriend, Andy, had a fight the night before and you had missed your class in the morning. Jamie got in contact with you to ask about the absence, and you felt comfortable enough to explain the situation to him. He told you that even if you didn’t attend your classes that day, to at least come in to talk about how you’re feeling. He assured you that although he didn’t qualify as a therapist, it would be good to talk to someone. And so you did.

You came in with unbrushed hair, wearing yesterday's clothes and threw yourself onto the chair in his office as you broke down in tears. You don’t remember much of that day, besides the pet names he would casually drop into his sentences.

Sweetheart, love, darling.

He definitely knew how to charm.

You also had a memory of staining his white shirt with tears as he let you cry into his chest, telling him how your boyfriend was a dick. How he was caught in bed with a random girl (to which there was proof) but he tried to convince you it never happened.

You remember Jamie telling you something along the lines of, “every failed relationship should be thought of as a blessing. It might be upsetting to see it come to an end, but it means you’re still yet to find the one out there who’s for you, and it's giving the chance to find them. The one that will treat you right, even on their bad days. You’ll never know where this person may be, but they’re definitely out there.”

It was apparent through a quick google search that Jamie was definitely experienced when it came to relationships, so you knew to trust him on this one.

You kept checking the time on your phone, waiting and waiting and waiting for it to hit 3:25 so you could begin walking towards Jamie’s office, but the time seemed to pass so slow.

It was only 3pm.

You sighed, placing your phone back down on the table you were sat at in the library. All your friends had gone home as you finish early on a Wednesday, yet you agreed to meet Jamie today as it was the only afternoon he had free this week.

Only seconds after placing your phone down on the table, the screen lights up as it begins to ring, the noise causing everyone to turn around, some even sending dirty looks your way as you pick up your bag and leave, answering the phone as you begin to walk towards the building where Jamie’s office was.

“What do you want, Andy?” You sighed, holding the phone up to your ear.

“I miss you,” he said, a feeble attempt to guilt trip you, “I was just looking at some old pictures and-”

“It was your idea for us to take a break in the first place. I’m not just going to drop everything and come running back to you because you ‘miss me’.”

“I’m sorry, okay. I realised what I did was wrong and…”

You stopped listening to what Andy was saying as Jamie passed you in the hallway, sensing your distressed state he stopped quickly to mouth an ‘is everything okay?’, to which you nodded your head.

“I don’t care, okay. Whatever you have to say I’m sure I’ve heard it all before. When I’m ready to talk to you I will, until then just please give me some space.” You say before ending the call, and you jump as you realise Jamie was waiting by your side.

You were blocking the door to his office.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologise, stepping to the side.

“Don’t apologise!” Jamie gasped, as if you had offended him, before opening the door for you, “we can start early if that’s okay with you, I have nothing else planned this afternoon.”

Nodding your head, you entered his office.

“So he’s still giving you grief- Andy?”

“How did you guess?” You scoff as you sit down on the chair opposite his desk.

“I don’t know how a someone like you can stay with someone like him-”

“We’re on a break, actually.” You interrupted. “Although he seems to care about me more now than he did in the 8 months we were together.”

“You need to leave him for good, sweetheart.” He told you, as he rummaged through the cabinet beside his desk, pulling out your exam papers and setting them in front of you. “So, let’s begin!”

Only twenty minutes into the session, your phone began to ring again, and you apologised to Jamie, getting ready to leave the room to take the call before realising it was Andy again. Jamie didn't look best impressed as you ran a hand through your hair stressfully.

“Give me your phone.” Jamie sighed.

“No, it’s okay, really. I’ll just switch it off-”

“Y/n. Phone.”

The sternness in his voice sent chills through your body, yet a warmth grew in your lower stomach.

By the time you handed your phone over to him, Andy had stopped calling. Hopefully, he had given up, but you knew he would keep going until he got his way, like always.

“You know, sweetheart, the look on your face when you saw it was him calling you told me everything.” Jamie said, leaning back in his chair.

“What do you mean?” You scoffed.

“You know what I mean, darling. Please stop trying to convince yourself he’s a good guy, not when he treats you like shit and expects you to drop everything for him. You deserve better.”

“And how do you know that? Sure, me and Andy might have our moments, but when he can be nice… he’s somebody completely different. Deep down, he’s a really good guy, Jamie.” You explain, feeling tears of frustration begin to gloss your eyes.

“I’m not buying it, love.” He said, shaking his head in disbelief.

And that was all it took to push you over the edge, shoving your phone into your bag as you pushed your exam papers towards him and stood up.

“That’s it, I’m not taking this anymore.” You frown, turning around to leave.

“There we go, that’s what you should say next time Andy’s on the phone-”

“Oh, Jamie, won’t you just shut up!” You shout, throwing your arms in the air. “What is your fucking problem today?”

“Well, technically your ‘boyfriend’ isn’t my problem, so…”

“Why do you care so much?” You finally say after a moment's silence, your hands placed on the back of the chair you were previously sitting on.

“You’re my student. It’s my job to care.” He answers, simply.

“But there’s more to it than that. Isn’t there?” You swallow, bracing yourself for his reply, “c’mon Jamie, I’m not stupid.”

“What are you trying to imply, darling?” He chuckles, standing up from his chair and making his way towards you, “are you talking about the way I catch you staring at me in class when everyone else is working, or how about when I hear you gossiping with your friends about my love life, or about how you could tell I had used a different aftershave one day…”

The smirk on his face was devilish, but you had no time to process that with your recent revelation.

“You’re jealous.” You stated, turning to look up at him. “You’re jealous of Andy.”

“Darling, I have no need to be jealous of him. Not when I know you’re leaving him.”

“You don’t know whether I’m-”

You never got to finish that sentence as you were met with his lips on yours. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear which had fallen in your moment of frustration. As he pulled back from the kiss, he pressed his forehead against yours before whispering,

“What if I prove you- show to you why you should leave him, hm?” He asked, although it wasn’t much of a question as he could tell by the way you were looking at him what the answer was going to be. “I need words, baby.”

“Yes.” You managed to say, after catching your breath.

A smile spread across Jamie’s lips briefly before you pulled him back in, missing the feeling of his soft lips against yours. With one hand on your waist, holding you against him, the other was placed on your cheek again, whilst your arms wrapped around his neck. You had dreamt and fantasised about this moment for months, but you never expected it to ever happen. It was always more of a scenario to help you fall asleep rather than something that would actually come true.

“Does he fuck you good, hm? The way you want?” He asks, breathlessly, as he lifts you up onto his desk, shoving everything out of the way.

You shake your head, using the slight space between you to reach for his belt, but he seemed to have other plans.

“Has he ever gone down on you?” He asked bluntly, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts, easing them down your legs along with your underwear.

You once again shake your head, you have only received head once, and that was during a drunk fling at your friends birthday party- and even then you didn’t get to finish.

Jamie simply chuckled, as if to say he wasn’t surprised.

“Poor thing,” he frowns, lowering himself to his knees in front of you as he holds your legs open for him, placing kisses on your inner thighs, trailing down to your knees before going back up again, stopping where you needed him the most. “You ever cum when he fucks you?”

And as if on command, you shook your head again.

“Only when I’m alone.” You confess.

“Oh yeah, and who do you think about whilst you touch yourself?” He teases, his thumb gently stroking your clit as you fight the urge to close your legs. He looks up at you, stopping all movement as he waits on your answer.

“You, I think about you, Jamie.” You whine.

“Oh, honey, I know.” He says before you feel his lips on your skin, his tongue circling your clit as his fingers move a little lower, finding your opening and teasing circles around it before gently pushing one in.

His fingers were a favourite in your fantasies, thinking about what they could do, and he certainly did not disappoint.

A second finger followed the first and they began curling inside you, searching for a spot Jamie was sure your ex would never have been able to find, and when you let out a choked moan he smirked against you, knowing he’d found it.

Hif fingers rubbed against this spot inside you as his tongue licked, sucked and nibbled on the sensitive nub, and you were frighteningly close to the edge. You had never reached your high so quickly before, but as his hot breath fanned over your clit you tumbled off the edge, your orgasm washing over you. Your release began to drip down his hand as he continued at the pace he started, and your legs shook as you panted, your fingers pulling at his hair.

“Jesus,” you whispered breathlessly.

“Just me, darling.” He smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before coming back up to place a kiss on your forehead.

You couldn’t believe the timing as there was a knock at the door to Jamie’s office. The two of you both froze for a moment, before Jamie handed you your clothes and rushed to the door.

“Mr Bower, I know you usually go home early today but Margaret told me you were here so I was just wondering if I could-”

“I’m in a meeting right now, Sasha, can you wait just two minutes?” He put on his best grin as he his behind the slightly open door to disguise his hard on.

“Oh, of course! Sorry to interrupt!” The girl apologised before Jamie shut the door.

“Sorry, sweetheart, we have to cut it short today. But you’re sure to be back in here later this week, or should I say let's reschedule?” He tried to hide his smirk when your legs wobbled as you got off his desk.

“I’m available all week, unless I decide to see Andy-”

“Honey, if I have to hear about him once more-”

“You’ll get all heated and fuck me senseless over your desk?” You grinned, feeling slightly giddy after the mind blowing orgasm he had given you, “why on earth would I want that?”

#jamie campbell bower x reader #jamie campbell bower smut #jamie bower x reader #jamie bower smut #jcb

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jeonqkooks · 2 years

Text

our beloved summer | jjk (03)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, obs3 is kinda oc centric 🤔, a mention of death but like a hypothetical death??, mentions of being *emotionally* haunted, taehyung almost dies 😭, someone so hot and cocky and petty that you might die, oh and tswift references because obviously

rating: PG-13

word count: 7.8k

note: asdfghjkl it’s been a hot minute guys. this was supposed to be longer but i decided last minute that some bits would probably work better in obs4, so no jimin and hobi today 🤥

vote for the revenge 🍆 😈 here before obs4!

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

But I knew you'd linger like a tattoo kiss I knew you'd haunt all of my what-ifs The smell of smoke would hang around this long 'Cause I knew everything when I was young

Cardigan - Taylor Swift

Sometimes, you cry in your sleep.

When you were a kid, aged four or five, you often had nightmares about going to kindergarten. It was all very dramatic. You would wake up with tears and snot running down your face, wailing like someone was taking your candy, calling for your mother until you made sure that you were in fact at home, instead of locked away in the absolute hell that was preschool.

As you got older, you started having nightmares about a wider variety of things, but it was usually about someone passing away – your mother, to be specific – and your body would always shake itself awake as the imaginary devastation wreaked its havoc, taunted you, toying with the idea of losing a person you loved. You used to think your brain was a special kind of fucked up.

Regardless, you noticed a pattern in how your subconscious worked. Instead of monsters and demons and every horrifying urban legend mentioned on Creepypasta, it would plague you with your greatest fears and your own worst memories. You tend to burst at the seams just like that, tortured by your own damn mind.

When you opened your eyes this morning, a tear immediately rolled down your cheek onto the pillow, and a hollow, stricken feeling greeted you good morning as it settled in your ribcage, making a home next to your heart. You felt it seep into every vein and every pore before you were even fully awake.

Though this time, it wasn’t a dream about someone dying. Quite the opposite, actually. In fact, it was a nice moment that your brain chose to replay in your head as you slept, though the memory seems to have slipped your mind now that you’re trying to escape the sudden anguish in your chest.

You can’t recall what it was, but you remember the feeling. You remember that it was nice. A nice and happy memory, with Jungkook.

You don’t know why your subconscious has to agonize you like this. Every time it forces you to remember Jungkook and who he was, it adds another invisible scar that only you can see. Fantasy keeps making you relive him, and reality keeps ripping him away from you.

You aren’t an emotional person, or you didn’t use to be anyway. You think – no, scratch that, you know – that it must be the result of your mother’s emotional unavailability throughout your whole childhood. Whenever you tripped and fell, or accidentally burned your tongue on a hot drink, or got teased by the neighbor kids, your first resort is to cry because that’s what children do. They get hurt, and they cry. But then your crying would cease after a few minutes, because your mother would scold you into stopping. She conditioned vulnerability out of you since you were a kid.

Even as you’ve grown up and learned to distance yourself from her, to separate her wants from yours, to be your own person instead of someone that your mother was trying to revive her long lost dreams through, you still hear her words sometimes. You can’t be anyone if you’re weak.

You can’t say that it’s entirely her fault. That’s the generational difference between the two of you, and the hypocritical standards to which the world operated in her time are really to blame. In a way, she was just a victim, a byproduct of that hypocrisy. But she tried to pass that onto you, and for some reason, you can’t let go of the fact that she did manage to instill in you some of her aversion for vulnerability.

By the time that you met Jungkook, you had already been away from your mother for a while. You weren’t estranged, but you weren’t on the best terms that a mother and her daughter should be on. You started to be independent from her halfway through high school and gradually, because she stopped being the person who gave you the clothes off your back and put food on your table, you took away the right she thought she had to rule over every aspect of your life.

And despite that disdain for vulnerability that you at a young age had no choice but to internalize, you became the one to decide what to feel, and how to feel it. You decided that maybe being emotional wasn’t the worst thing after all. It’s normal to cry when you’re sad, or in pain, or when you’re neither but you just simply need to let out a good cry.

You reckon that’s where it came from – your need to be in charge, to be in control of everything. If you’re the one in the driver’s seat, then other people have less power to hurt you.

But not Jungkook. Never Jungkook.

It applies to everyone else, but you don’t suppose Jungkook has ever played by your rules.

Being with him was easy. You were surprised how little effort it took to let him in because you were once convinced that there was no chance you would ever be able to stand him. Loving him made breathing seem hard.

In your relationship with Jungkook, there was nothing to decide. You didn’t have to choose to be happy; he just made you happy. As long as you were with him, every house was a home. Until he pulled the rug and you reverted to being that little kid again, on the ground with bloodied knees. He was the calm, and he was the storm.

You had no say in him leaving you, and you had no say in how his swift exit from your life would affect you. For the longest time, there was just a lot of heartache that demanded to be felt.

In the first few months after it happened, you were practically debilitated by the sadness. Taehyung still remembers it all too well. You spent your weekend evenings drowning your sorrows by knocking back drink after drink until you couldn’t remember who you were trying to forget. You could barely even function, and it was fucking pathetic. It was the most helpless you had ever felt.

It wasn’t until Taehyung and Jimin took away your most effective distraction that you started choosing again. If your mother made you choose to feel, then Jungkook made you do the opposite. He taught you that maybe your mother wasn’t so wrong after all. Maybe she’d been hurt before. Maybe she was only keeping you from having to experience it. Maybe this was how she loved you.

You took it one day at a time. Baby steps. Because the only way to condition your heart to not love Jungkook, was to convince yourself that you hated him. You forced yourself to internalize it until you believed it.

You hated him.

And it worked, because he wasn’t there to tell your heart otherwise. Choosing not to love Jungkook is choosing to love yourself.

But in your dreams, in your sleep, however, it’s another story. The difference between feeling when you’re awake, sober, and feeling when you’re asleep, is the control. When your lines of defense are down, all hell breaks loose.

Your subconscious is a strange place. If the hurt was a house, then you’d be its most treasured occupant. But this house is haunted. You walk through the halls every day, and down the stairs, and into rooms that are filled with memories of you and him. The walls echo I love you, the curtains rustle with whispers of I miss you, but every night, when you settle into a bed that is only warm on one side, you feel the distinct absence of an I’m sorry.

Jungkook didn’t even say sorry to you, not when it mattered the most.

Funny enough, right across the street is the healing, but you’ve never really been able to get close to it. With every step you take, the distance seems to stretch longer and longer, until you’re just running in place trying to get to the other side. Eventually, you get tired of trying, and even though the hurt is a hellscape purely designed to make you suffer, you think you would rather go back to that house than be stuck in the hollow limbo in the middle of nowhere, looking at a better future just within reach but never really getting there. It’s cold in the void, and it’s warmer in the hurt because there, at least it’s familiar.

Sometimes, you’d stand in the bedroom, wrapped in a blanket of your own insecurities and regrets, and look out the window. The floorboards beneath your unsteady feet creak with the voices of everybody who has left you, everybody who was taken from you, everybody who deemed you unworthy of their love and time.

You’d stand there and see a glimpse of yourself in a better world, where you’re a little less lonely, a little less hollow, a little less of a shadow of your former self. You could see yourself be happy, even.

You know that it’s there. It’s all about making the active decision to move forward. But the brighter future that awaits you just ahead is one without Jungkook, and… you’ve never been sure if you really want that.

It takes some more effort than usual to breathe, and to sit up, and to get out of bed, and to start your day like everything is fine and like you aren’t knee deep in one of your unwanted sad girl hours. It’s unwanted because you didn’t choose this. You’ve been actively choosing to not be sad about Jungkook for so long that you almost forgot there was a time where you had no choice but to be sad about him.

He only came back into your life recently, and he hasn’t done anything – not really – and yet, he’s already threatening to undo what you’ve taught yourself and all the progress you’ve made.

You don’t know if he kept his promise of leaving first thing in the morning since you aren’t exactly an early riser, but he did leave before you woke up. And when you paddle out into the kitchen, for some reason you feel like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.

You’re surprised to see Taehyung there, looking at you awkwardly and holding a bag of pastries in his hands. On the kitchen counter next to him is a plate of toasts and scrambled eggs with a side of kimchi. An odd combo but it’s your odd combo. There’s some steam that’s still rising from the food.

Taehyung nods toward the counter and sets his croissants on the dining table. He addresses an elephant in the room but not the elephant in the room.

“I got your favorites, but it looks like you already have your breakfast.”

“Oh, uh…” You purse your lips and swallow, recognizing that Taehyung didn’t buy food to bring over and then made you some more food. You’re hungry, but you don’t feel like you can stomach anything right now. “You can have that… I’ll take what you got me.”

He nods and doesn’t say anything else. He maneuvers around the familiar space of your kitchen to get some orange juice from the fridge. Taehyung offers to make you a cup of tea even though it’s your apartment, but you decline and choose to munch on the croissants dryly.

The atmosphere is off at your dining table.

Yours and Taehyung’s love language is food. It’s sad how you can’t even share this nice thing with him today.

Taehyung takes a hesitant bite of the eggs, as if he’s scared that you’ll jump over the table to take back your plate. It’s just breakfast.

Neither of you says anything about who spent the night on your couch just out in the living room, nor about who made the food that Taehyung is eating.

To anyone else, there probably isn’t even something to talk about. You provided someone shelter and they made you some food as a gesture of appreciation. And maybe that really is the case with this. You gave Jungkook a place to stay so he wouldn’t risk his life in the heavy rain and in return, he scrambled some eggs and toasted some bread for you.

You’re overthinking it. There’s no deeper layer of meaning here.

You’re half present and half somewhere far away. Words slip from your mouth as you converse with Taehyung but you don’t know what the conversation is even about. One of those times where you’re talking but not really saying anything.

“So…” Taehyung trails off unsuredly. You chuckle, knowing what he’s trying to do. It’s warmer in your chest, where your heart soars with affection for Kim Taehyung. You love him so much, you love him wholeheartedly. You cannot even begin to fathom what life would be like without him.

You’re grateful that your friend doesn’t press for information; he must sense from the way you’re idly picking at the flakes of your croissant that you would talk about it in your own time. You take the reins that he’s handing you, letting you steer the conversation in whichever way you want to.

“You went off about private jets last night. What was that all about?”

“Celebrities these days, man,” he grumbles, sounding exaggeratingly aggravated. “Did you know that Kylie Jenner takes flights on her jet for less than 20 minutes? Twenty whole minutes? I mean, what the fuck is up with that? Complete disregard for the environment.”

With a scoff, you pretend to be annoyed. “I knew you weren’t listening to me. I told you about her 3-minute flight last month, you ass.”

He leans back, still chewing, and thinks, though after approximately fifteen seconds, he announces with no remorse, “Yeah, I don’t really listen when you tell me celebrity gossip.”

You gasp and chuck a croissant flake in his direction. It doesn’t make it very far, and lands on the eggs instead.

“Then why are you suddenly so invested? How do you even know who Kylie Jenner is now, and how she uses her jets?”

“Hey! I know who Kylie Jenner is!” He seems offended, but then adds in a smaller voice, “Sort of.” Classic Taehyung, always living under a rock. “The point is, my sister kept sending me articles about it and I thought, “Huh. Private jets. The environment. Billionaires. Celebrities.” We– well, you, aren’t that far removed from that. You’re working with one of them right now.”

You give him a look.

“What?” Taehyung shrugs. “Jin must have his own jet too, right?”

You don’t know. It isn’t a topic that would casually come up in conversation, nor does he go around bragging about it. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he does own a jet, though. The amount of zeroes decorating his very Googleable net worth makes you woozy if you think about it too much.

You shrug. “I don’t know, maybe?”

“I bet he does,” Taehyung says, leaning forward on his elbows as if he’s got some insider scoop you aren’t privy to. “And I bet you won’t remember this conversation when Jin offers to fly you to award shows on his jet.”

Maybe there’s some truth about speaking things into existence and the universe conspiring to make it happen. Manifesting and all that. The law of attraction and whatnot. Speak positive things into existence and you shall receive positive outcomes. Think negative thoughts and you will attract the shittiest things the cosmos has ever birthed.

You aren’t really a believer in this, but you’d rather not take your chances. Not if everyone and their mother are screaming about the universe and its infinite possibilities all the time.

You suppose that’s why you haven’t really talked to Taehyung lately when it comes to your Jungkook predicament, not since he reentered your life oh so gracefully. Talking about it makes it seem like a bigger deal than you want it to be. Talking about your feelings makes it harder to ignore that they’re there.

Jungkook certainly isn’t making things easier for you. You thought that he was getting too buddy-buddy before, but if last Saturday proved anything, he definitely has room to crank it up a few notches. It’s fair, because he did spend the night, and if this was a romcom, the two of you would have successfully sailed past the ice breaking point. This would be the part of the movie where the characters grow closer, and where the romance blooms.

But this is not a movie and Jungkook doesn’t seem to fucking remember that he’s the person that broke your heart.

Not once has he addressed the elephant in the room, which you suppose isn’t something you can complain about. You don’t want him to bring it up either, the fact that you once knew him better than anyone in the world, and he knew you. You all know how that story ended.

Actually, you don’t. You just know that it ended.

“Good morning,” a voice greets from beside you. You register who it is even before you turn around, and you register that as of right now, you’re the only ones standing here, waiting for the elevator.

“Morning,” you say, though your voice is considerably less enthusiastic. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind though. He smiles, and the curl of his lips looks almost as inviting as the coffee you’re holding in your hand. The beverage is full and warm against your fingers. You’ve yet to take a sip, and you tell yourself that the weariness fogging up your brain is the reason why you think his expression is just a little bit endearing, and why your heart rate picks up just a couple beats because of it.

The elevator dings. When Jungkook steps in, you hesitate.

“You coming?” he asks, slightly confused.

You wait for a beat, your grip tightening on the paper cup, like you’d be able to summon someone else to waltz in there right this second just so you wouldn’t be alone with him. On a Monday morning at that. Life is truly testing you.

And because life is testing you, no one shows up to rescue you. If you concentrate hard enough, maybe Taehyung will magically materialize out of thin air…

You suck it up and step in though, because you don’t want to look like a weirdo in front of your ex, and whoever might be watching the security cameras.

The doors close, trapping you in this metal death box and its commercial background jingle.

“How was the rest of your weekend?” Jungkook asks. Small talk – it’s one of the things you dislike the most. And coming from him of all people?

“It was fine,” you say curtly, but you know he’ll keep prodding.

And he does. “What did you do on Sunday?”

“Y’know, just catching up on sleep, catching up on some TV shows…”

Jungkook frowns, and he’s glad that you aren’t looking at him to see it. That night, you were kind to him. You managed to have a good conversation or two. You made him dinner and you let him sleep over. Granted, you might have only done it out of politeness and not genuine hospitality. You could’ve let him go when he was packing up to leave, but you didn’t. You were kinder to him than he ever expected you to be when this project forced you two together again, and he knows that he’s in no position to hope for anything else.

But here he is anyway, asking for more.

In the time that he takes to think of what else to say to you, to goad you into actually speaking to him, the elevator has already reached your floor. You step out without a word, and Jungkook sinks just a little bit.

But he carries on. He follows you to where the studio is, though he deliberately keeps himself a few paces behind you to not crowd the space you’re silently asking from him. It’s barely 9:30 in the morning; he can see that you’re tired, and you haven’t had your coffee, and the last thing you need is probably Jungkook trying to push it when he has the option not to.

He watches you open the door and promptly stop. Seokjin and Namjoon are already there, animatedly conversing with someone whose back faces you. Seokjin’s manager and an unfamiliar older woman stand in the back of the room, engaged in their own chat, though theirs seems much calmer and formal than the three men in the center.

Jungkook watches your brows slightly furrow in confusion. The gears in your head turn until everything clicks. Your eyes light up immediately.

“Oh my God…” You almost drop the latte in your hand once you realize who it is, and why Namjoon is fawning over him like a teenager. The mysterious man is the second most famous person in the room just after Seokjin. You rush forward, your entire body buzzing with so much excitement that it makes all traces of fatigue evaporate. “Yoongi!”

Everybody in the room turns to the sound of your shrill voice as you squeal loudly, grinning from ear to ear to see your friend again after so long. It’s been, what, almost half a year now?

“Hey, kiddo,” Yoongi greets you, his voice even and cool though he’s sporting the same bright smile as you are. His hair is longer than the last time you saw him. He looks even more handsome than you remember. “Long time no see. How’s my favorite poet doing?”

Jungkook quietly makes his way past the two of you to drop his stuff on the table in the back before he shuffles to the circle of conversation, opting to stand next to Yoongi. He gives Seokjin and Namjoon a small smile and a nod in greeting, and watches on as the scene before them unfolds. You seemed too tired to even give him two sentences in the elevator, but you definitely don’t look anything like it now.

“When did you get back? Why didn’t you tell me?” You punch Yoongi playfully in the arm, and he pretends to clutch the point of contact as if he’s been severely wounded, just like how you used to joke around together in the studio. You roll your eyes, and he shoots you a wink in return.

“Relax, I just got back a few days ago. I wanted it to be a surprise for you. You should’ve seen the look on your face. It was so worth it,” Yoongi admits, still smiling. He takes the coffee cup from your hand and unceremoniously knocks it against the chest of the person on his left – Jungkook. A firm Hold this, like he was merely passing it to a personal assistant. “Are you at least gonna give me a hug, little one?”

Yoongi opens his arms, awaiting your embrace which you give him after half a minute of pretending to consider it. Your arms go around his middle while his own wrap around your shoulders. He’s warm, and his scent is comforting. You’ve missed your connection with Yoongi, and the friendship he’s given you. You’ve missed him.

The thing that makes your relationship with Yoongi different from your relationship with Taehyung, or Jimin, or anyone else, is the context through which your friendship bloomed.

You met him when you were starting to come into your own as a writer, when you were developing your voice and style. Working with him gave you your big break, and you’d be lying if you said he didn’t play an important role in helping you find your identity in this sphere of life. Yoongi understands you in ways that Taehyung and Jimin never could because they don’t know what it’s like to do what you do, no more than you could understand what it’s like to be a museum curator or a dancer. And Yoongi understands you in ways that Jungkook would have if he had been there.

When you pull away from the hug, Jungkook is quick to thrust the coffee back into your hand. You mutter a small Thanks without even meeting his eyes. Yoongi ruffles your hair affectionately, and it makes you shuffle away in faux annoyance, even though you’re laughing.

“Before you so rudely interrupted us, I was introducing myself,” Yoongi chides, shaking his head in your direction like a disappointed teacher. He turns to his left then, a smug grin on his face as he looks Jungkook over. “If he’s Namjoon, then you must be the famous Jungkook? What a pleasure to finally put a face to the name.”

The confusion flashing in Jungkook’s eyes has you stiffening slightly as you watch their interaction. You were so delighted by Yoongi’s surprise appearance that you forgot he’s one of the three people in the room who knows about your history with Jungkook.

The younger man straightens his posture and extends a hand in Yoongi’s direction, his expression blank and his voice flat as he says, “Yeah, that’s me. I’m very much looking forward to working with you, Yoongi.”

“Oh please,” the rapper laughs, taking the offered hand and shaking it vigorously. It’s too much, almost comical. He knows exactly what he’s doing and you want to dig a hole to crawl into because this is not what you expected at all. “Call me Mr. Min.”

Seokjin and Namjoon break into chuckles alongside Yoongi, but you only purse your lips. Jungkook doesn’t seem to find anything humorous either, because his hand stops as he stares at Yoongi, and you don’t have to stand between them to feel trapped in the middle.

“Oh come on, it’s a joke. Lighten up, buddy,” Yoongi finally says. That grin is still on his face, and his tone is almost patronizing. “Jeez, this guy must be fun at parties.”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker to you for a second, his tongue poking into his cheek. You can tell that he’s annoyed. You’re not sure if Seokjin and Namjoon notice it, but even if they do, you doubt that they would think much of it.

Someone that you recognize as Yoongi’s manager says to Jungkook in a calm voice, “You’ll have to excuse him. Yoongi takes some getting used to.”

In the end, Jungkook forces out a laugh to ease the tension, so you all can move on.

Before you can slither away to your own corner of the room to put down your bag and coffee, Yoongi pulls you back to his side with an arm resting comfortably around your shoulders. You give him a warning glare that you know he understands, but he just shrugs against your body. Underneath that smug and phlegmatic exterior, Yoongi seems almost protective, and it’s almost unsettling.

“So fellas,” he says confidently to the room, “what’s the first order of business?”

“What business?” You frown. “You have one feature, and we’re not finished writing yet.”

Seokjin steps in to address whatever it is that’s making Yoongi look like he could be the king of the world. “Actually,” he starts, “that’s what I wanted to talk to you guys about today.”

The second surprise of the day is Min Yoongi calling himself the Jack Antonoff to Kim Seokjin’s Taylor Swift. The second surprise is Agust D being a much more prominent part of the album than just a simple feature. The second surprise is Yoongi practically begging Seokjin for a job much below his pay grade just because he heard your name and Jungkook’s in the same sentence. The man actually dove right into this after his tour ended, without even a moment to catch his breath, just because he’s petty. And it’s weird because your situation doesn’t even concern him.

That’s another thing that you and Yoongi have in common: You’re both petty.

When Seokjin first announced the news, you were practically vibrating. Yoongi as a producer? Get the fuck out. The other artistic pea in your creative pod? You were already overjoyed when you thought you would only be getting him for a feature, but for him to actually hop on board as producer and you get the chance to make another album with him? You’re elated, because the man is brilliant.

But then the excitement died down when the realization set in…

“Yoongi.”

“Y/N.”

“Yoongi!”

“Y/N!”

You huff out a breath and groan internally. He has never been shy to show that he enjoys teasing you. Every time he gets a reaction out of you, he would coo like you were a baby and call you adorable.

Yoongi leans back as he watches you pinch the bridge of your nose in frustration. The two of you are sitting in the booth that he always requests, in the back of his favorite restaurant. You managed to pry him away from the studio earlier, telling the guys that you’d love to grab lunch with him to catch up.

It wasn’t a lie; you do want to sit down with your friend and listen to everything that has transpired in his life since the last time you saw each other. But he’s been here for a few hours and he has already made your job so much more difficult by being a passive aggressive dickhead to Jungkook. You can’t focus on making a good album for Seokjin if you have to run interference on Yoongi and Jungkook all day.

“What was that this morning?” You cross your arms as you stare at him.

“What was what?” Yoongi tilts his head innocently.

“You know what, Min. All the nicknames, the cocky attitude. Treating Jungkook like he’s your secretary. You made him get coffee for you!”

He scoffs and reaches forward for his glass of water. “Come on, that was funny. I thought you’d enjoy that.”

“Well, I didn’t. It’s exhausting enough to be around him all the time. I don’t want to have to babysit you too.”

You see where he’s coming from, you really do. If your friend had an ex who flipped their entire world upside down, you certainly wouldn’t be the friendliest gal toward that person either. You appreciate Yoongi looking out for you, but he has to understand that this is your place of work, and while you and him are friends, you still live in different worlds. You aren’t a world-renowned, jetsetting heartthrob like him and Seokjin; you can’t afford to screw up opportunities because you know they don’t grow on trees.

Yoongi softens when he sees the look on your face, but he stands by his actions. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” he murmurs across the table, “but can’t Jungkook handle a few jabs here and there? The guy deserves it. If you could listen to yourself when you told me everything that went down between the two of you–”

“I was drunk,” you interject, as if that counterpoint would ever hold up. Drunk words are sober thoughts, or whatever it is that people say.

“Being drunk was the only reason why you were honest with me,” Yoongi says with a low chuckle.

“It’s…” you sigh, “it’s not even about whether he deserves it or not. I just don’t want everyone at work to know my business.”

A waitress comes over to your table with your orders then. Your eyes follow her movements as she sets the plates down, while Yoongi’s eyes follow you. When she’s finished, you thank her with a smile, and Yoongi compromises.

He rubs his palms and clasps them together. “Okay, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll put him through the wringer, but I’ll keep your name out of it. No one will know about your history. Let Jungkook think I’m just an asshole, I don’t care.”

It’s not ideal, because you would rather have Yoongi act like he doesn’t know anything at all. Like he’s just as clueless as Seokjin and Namjoon and like to him, you and Jungkook have never been more than a pair of coworkers. But this is the most that Yoongi would settle for because he’s annoying like that sometimes.

“Fine,” you agree with great reluctance. You pick up a fork and point it in his direction. “Since you’re an asshole, you’re paying for lunch.”

He swats your fork away, laughing. “It’s cute that you thought I wouldn’t.”

“Oh, yeah, I heard you and Jungkook went to college together, right? Were you close?”

Were you close?

This is a normal thing to ask. Anyone would ask this if they knew two people who had a prior history with each other. When you found out that Yoongi ran in the same circles as Seokjin, you asked him if they were close too.

But when the question came from Seokjin much later that afternoon, while the four of you were just sitting around, enjoying a much needed break after three nonstop hours of testing Seokjin’s acoustics and an instrumental demo that Jungkook worked on last week.

You don’t even know how Seokjin got to that question from you mindlessly recalling the strenuous process of learning music theory in college, but nevertheless, here you are, put on the spot.

It’s a simple yes-no question, though saying no would prompt even more queries, and saying yes would… well, what would saying yes mean?

Seokjin and Namjoon are looking at you. Jungkook is looking at you. You’re glad that Yoongi left after he dropped you off. If he were here, he would be awaiting your answer too.

There’s a lot you wish you could let out. You swallow thickly, but the words just won’t go down.

You want to say… Yes, we were close. We were close in the same way that the name of someone’s first love can be inscribed on their heart and never fade away. If you could hold my beating heart in your hands, and if you had a key to open it, I think you would find his initials there. The letters might be messily scribbled, might be crossed out by harsh lines of ink and rewritten again in a different font, but they’re still there, and they will always be there.

Yes, we were close. He knew me inside and out, better than the back of his own hand. He knew me like we came from the same star, destined to find one another before we were even us.

Yes, we were close. He was the person I loved the most, my favorite person in the whole entire world. I think, and I hope, that I was someone he loved too…

Despite the words lodged in your throat, you aren’t in a position to voice any of it. So you push them down — a conscious and routine decision — and shove them into your box of memories again.

You scratch the back of your neck as you look at Jungkook and he looks at you, eyes conveying something you’re not willing to understand. In the end, you settle for a response that doesn’t really answer Seokjin’s question. But even if your words don’t clear anything up, your hesitation ought to have given something away.

It’s the opposite of what you told Jungkook when he showed up at your door for the first time in five years.

“We were… friends.”

When Taehyung comes home from work the next day, he almost fucking dies.

It’s a regular evening. On the drive home, he thought about the leftover pasta waiting for him in the fridge because he was absolutely starving. He thought about which documentary he was going to watch while he ate his dinner. He thought about telling you that his sister got an acceptance letter from her dream college. You’ve always loved her, and he knows you would be over the moon to share her joy as if she was your own family.

Yeah, just a regular Tuesday evening.

Until he opens the door to his apartment and screams loud enough to alarm the entire building.

“What the fuck!” His keys clatter to the floor as the man clutches his chest in an attempt to calm his heart. Laughter bounces off Taehyung’s walls, in total contrast to his heavy breaths from almost going into cardiac arrest.

“Hi, bud,” you manage to say through tears from your place on the couch in his living room, where you’ve been waiting for the past hour and a half in complete silence and darkness. Your ears hurt from him almost taking out your hearing and your eyes have to adjust to the sudden brightness in the room when Taehyung switched on the lights, but it was so worth the laugh. You wish you could’ve captured his face on camera.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Your friend grumbles as he hangs up his jacket and picks up his keys to throw in the ceramic bowl by the small entryway.

“I texted you to come over but you never replied.”

Taehyung fishes his phone from the pocket of his slacks and throws it in your direction, which you clumsily catch. “My phone died.”

“Where’s the powerbank I got you for your birthday?”

He walks over to plop down next to you on the couch. The cushions dip under his weight, and you scootch over to make more room for him.

“I left it at home.”

You slap a hand over his pec, your face unimpressed. “There’s no point in getting you anything.”

“Don’t do that,” he bemoans, rubbing the spot on his chest that you just hit. “My heart is still racing. You scared the fucking shit out of me.”

You reach over to pat his soft hair as an apology before you tip your head back in another fit of giggles. “Sorry! But in my defense, you know I do shit like this. This is not the first time you’ve gone through this.”

“Whatever,” Taehyung mutters. “Why did you need me to come over? I was looking forward to a relaxing night all by myself.”

You shuffle closer until your head can rest on his shoulder. “I have gossip.”

“Celebrity gossip?”

“My gossip.”

“Gossip?” He raises an eyebrow as he glances down at you. “Or gossip?”

You take some seconds to decipher which category the Yoongi news would fit into, and which category the revelation that Namjoon dropped in your lap earlier today would fit into. “Both,” you conclude.

“Namjoon told you that Jungkook lied?”

“He didn’t know that Jungkook lied. I pieced it together.”

“Hmm.”

Your fingers curl around the steaming mug of tea that Taehyung made for each of you. You bring the ceramic close to your face to breathe in the soothing scent of jasmine rising from the beverage.

Taehyung takes a sip of his drink before he asks, “And how do you feel about that?”

You don’t answer right away, though you knew this question was inevitable. How do you feel about it? The fact that Namjoon didn’t actually have a family emergency when he dropped Jungkook at your apartment when the three of you were supposed to brainstorm together. The fact that when they pulled up in front of your building, Jungkook told Namjoon that he could go home if he wanted to, that Jungkook didn’t want to make him work on a day off. The fact that despite Namjoon saying it was completely fine, Jungkook practically insisted that he go home.

When Namjoon told you about it a few hours ago, your first thought was to tell Taehyung. It wasn’t Namjoon’s intention, of course. He didn’t know. He was asking you about some of the edits to the lyrics made in his absence, and it just came out.

You deliberately waited until you could sit down and talk to your best friend to sort through your thoughts because if you did it alone, you would surely spiral. Because this isn’t Taehyung’s first Jungkook-related rodeo with you; he knows how to handle you in times like these.

“I think this is fucking me up again,” you say honestly. Taehyung is the only person that you’ve admitted any of this to; the only person that you can admit any of this to. “I just want to do my job. Jungkook shouldn’t be allowed to maintain any kind of relationship with me outside of work! But all of a sudden he’s spending the night and asking me about my love life. It’s been years. Why is he still affecting me? Why am I still here?”

Here. Between the past and the future. The limbo parallel to the present.

Sure, maybe it’s for the better that Jungkook doesn’t bring it up. You would rather that this stay between the two of you (and, cue a heavy sigh, Yoongi). You know Seokjin and Namjoon are decent people, and their opinion of you wouldn’t change if they knew about this, but you would rather your place of work be drama-free.

So yes, maybe it is better this way. But it would be best if Jungkook treats you like a mere coworker. If he acts like you simply don’t exist outside of the studio. If he could stop making your already messed up heart even more confused. All of that would be better than whatever the fuck he’s doing now.

Asking about your love life. Being attentive. Smiling around you. Bringing you the drink you once loved. Lying so he would get you alone!

It doesn’t even matter if he wants a blank slate, because he can’t undo the damage he caused just by batting his eyelashes at you and pretending like everything is fine and dandy.

Maybe Jungkook hasn’t said anything because he himself would rather forget all about it too. You could understand this to a certain extent, because no one wants to be reminded that they’ve hurt others. But he did cause you pain. He did hurt you. The scars that your soul bears are proof of that.

To not say anything at all and have the nerve to act like he cares about you. It’s… cowardly. He’s still continuing to hurt you by doing this. You always thought you deserve better than this.

“Because you keep saying that you hate Jungkook, but you don’t,” Taehyung says. He’s right, you know he’s right. This lie might have been your lifeline before, might have worked once upon a time but Jungkook is here to call your bluff now. “Because you didn’t get any closure.”

Sometimes you forget that Taehyung can be quite the relationship guru despite never having gone through a serious relationship himself. There’s something wistful about him whenever you two have a serious talk like this that makes you wonder if his heart has ever experienced the same kind of sorrow that yours did, and if he just never told you about it.

You pout, despite the gravity of his words and the tension that weighs heavy on you. “I should hate him.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees with a chuckle and a sip of tea, “you probably should.”

“I can’t just throw myself into work this time,” you think out loud. It isn’t lost on you that the thing you’ve been using to cope, to distract yourself, is the same thing that has led you back to square one.

The scented candle that you lit and put on the coffee table is burning out. You watch the small flame flicker wildly around the charred wick, like it’s holding onto its final moments of life before time inevitably runs out. You feel oddly sad just looking at it struggling to keep its light, until it finally dies in a tiny whirl of smoke.

“Maybe I should start dating again.” You mean this as a joke, because god knows the last time you tried getting out there again, you were left with a memory so mortifying that sometimes when you reminisce on the experience, you still shudder with embarrassment.

It was the first time that you had gone out clubbing in a while, with a few girls from your internship, and with the intention of capping the night off with a handsome stranger who would make you feel things you hadn’t for some time. Courtesy of lame dating advice you found online.

A few shots in, and through the haze of smoke and booze and busy bodies illuminated by an array of colorful lights, you did manage to find the someone that you were hoping for — tall, handsome, oozing so much charisma that it should’ve been a huge red flag. But you weren’t looking for a big sparkly diamond on your ring finger or a tropical honeymoon somewhere with crystal clear waters. You were just looking for someone.

It went surprisingly well, until it didn’t. Until you started sobbing on the dancefloor of a crowded club, in front of a man who looked at you like you were crazy and like he couldn’t wait to make you someone else’s problem then. Until you had to call Taehyung to come pick you up at 3 in the morning when the entire world was dead asleep. All because the stranger had asked Your place or mine? and a sobering thought washed over you, a sharp reminder that home was not somewhere you could return to anymore.

You knew it then, and you know it now, that even though your world once revolved around Jungkook, it doesn’t always have to be. There is life after him. There is still a you after him.

“You would really consider that?” Taehyung asks.

“I mean, I kinda have to at some point. I don’t want to die alone.”

“You’re not going to die alone. You have me.”

You chuckle tiredly. “No, you’ll find someone who is as big of an art geek as you are, and you’ll have lots of babies and grow old together. And I’ll be the kooky lady with 13 dogs who comes around every once in a while to give your children candy.”

Taehyung sets down his empty mug before settling into a comfortable position on the couch, his back against the cushions and his feet propped on the glass surface of the table in front of you. He reaches across the couch to hold your hand. He skirts around the part about the future love of his life.

“13? That’s a specific number,” he comments.

“I like Taylor Swift.”

You both laugh lightly at the reference. Days of badgering him about one of the greatest songwriters of our generation have finally paid off.

Silence envelopes the room for a moment as you both wander off in your own bubble of thought. Until Taehyung knocks his knee against yours and you both fall back into reality again.

“Did Jimin text you about the grand opening on Friday?”

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xuqijie · 1 year

Text

miyawaki sakura x f!reader

# genre ; angst, slight fluff

# tags ; idols!exes to lovers(?), oblivious sakura, reader is suffering because they both have communication issues, mentions of iz*one disbandment, reader and sakura are same age

you never knew why sakura broke up with you before your second comeback. only when the two of you meet at a music show, then you find out the full story of your relationship.

note: stream cupid by fifty fifty like actually soty.

is love real? how could someone ever find their true love in a crowd of 7 billion people? was it even possible to find your soulmate and then somehow evade all obstacles of distance? you thought love could overcome anything.

miyawaki sakura was the love of your life, still is. a disheartening program like produce 48 had somehow given you the best years of your life; a family and a lover both wrapped in a big bow called ‘iz*one.’ when sakura had said, “we’ll stay together forever, as thirteen,” on the last week of pre-disbandment, you should have known she was lying.

when sakura said those three words to you on a night of hardship, you should have known. when she uttered her love and adoration, you should have known.

you should have known she wasn’t telling the truth. because if she truly loved you so, why did she leave? a question that had plaguing your thoughts more and more recently.

immediately after iz*one had disbanded, your then company, the black label, signed you to another contract, one that gave you more freedom in the studio, but restricted personal content. you thought nothing of it at that time, because how could they have ever known you were in a 3 year relationship with one of your ex-members?

the higher-ups knew that iz*one fans were still mourning and wishing for interactions between the members, so they took advantage and instantly you had to put out a song with choi yena, 2 months after iz*one had disbanded. all while sakura was still silent. you didn’t get many updates from her either.

and when your debut did amazingly well, you knew that your management would start to milk you as a member of iz*one.

“sakura didn’t reply to my texts, or calls,” you mentioned offhandedly to yuri and yena one day. the two looked shocked but yuri eased your worries by saying, “she’s probably preparing for her graduation in japan. she did text the group chat about it.”

yena nodded in agreement, but after seeing your body tense up, she quickly changed the subject.

“is the album coming along well?” your second comeback, only a few months after your debut. the hype was slowly dying down and your management was quick to act. this time, instead of having an iz*one member be featured, the title track would be co-written by eunbi and you.

“manager’s been forcing me to do some stuff, attend some parties,” you sighed, “but i don’t wanna spend my friday night shaking hands with men double my age.” yena looked as if she was about to respond, but then your phone lit up.

y/n🐼 [2.19pm]:

kkura i miss you

what are you doing now?

wifey 🐱💛 [5.54pm]:

hi i was recording ♪( ´▽｀)

i miss you too i wna go back to korea :(

you squealed excitedly, showing yena and yuri the text messages. yuri sent you a ‘i told you so’ look while yena faked a gag.

“you two are so disgusting,” she said, while yuri smacked her arm. “you’re just salty because you don’t have a girlfriend.”

“oh yeah? who’s fault is that?”

“what.”

after that day, you had thought your relationship skipped the strain and everything would be okay. it was only until sakura returned back to korea, you received a cryptic message from your then girlfriend.

wifey 🐱💛 [3.28am]:

let’s break up.

and all you could do was stare at the bright screen that greeted you in the wake of dawn until tears fell. of course, you had tried calling her and surprisingly, she picked up, but the phone call just made you more confused.

“why are we breaking up?”

will we stay together forever?

“i don’t love you anymore.”

you’re my favourite person in the world.

“tell me, why?”

are you sure? what if you find someone better than me? or you don’t like me anymore?

“i’m sorry, i don’t have an explanation.”

i would never do that. i swear.

“i hate you, sakura.”

i love you.

“i’m sorry.”

i love you too, y/n.

a beep sounding the loss of sakura in your life. your manager had found you in your room, under the blankets in tears. only a shake of his head and a sigh before he had to escort you to the van. because of course, even after suffering the worst heartbreak of your life, being an idol came first.

your members and especially the elder ones were reasonably upset. nako had threatened to beat sakura up if she had known that your relationship would end because of a phone call at the airport. you brushed them off, trying to display your hurt of your relationship ending as anger that sakura broke up on text with you.

“i’m fine, seriously,” you choked out, tears welling up but still maintaining a smile. the other iz*one members, mainly eunbi, hyewon, yena, yuri and minju, just stared at you blankly.

“i’m actually going to fight her,” hyewon nodded her head in agreement to eunbi’s statement. “i trusted her, to take care of you. instead of talking it out, she decides to break up with you?”

“eunbi unnie, i don’t want to talk about her anymore, okay? can we play mario kart or something else instead?” you pleaded, the mere mention of sakura piercing your heart tenfold.

the members looked skeptic but your insistence made them all resign to a night of mario kart.

at first glance now, anyone would think that you had moved onto bigger and better things. a year had passed and you had just put out your third album, cupid. most of the songs were written by you at 3am, and heavily centred on one japanese. you knew that once word had gotten out about your muse, the iz*one group chat, excluding sakura, would blow up and your messages would be filled with worrisome questions.

not only that, you were currently at a music show, where lesserafim were also at, without a doubt. their debut was a smash hit in korea, fearless charting number 1 countless amounts of times and you couldn’t help but feel proud at chaewon’s improvement as a leader, yet bittersweet over seeing your ex-girlfriend.

you sighed as the makeup artist brushed your cheeks with blush.

“i hope you don’t get too choked up when you win,” she winked at you. you shook your head, chuckling, “i mean, lesserafim’s here, fearless might win.”

“i still think cupid’s better.”

“of course you do, i’m your favourite idol!” your makeup artist finished up and you were good to go. you felt your heart speed up at the thought of seeing sakura in the flesh and silently hoped that you wouldn’t have to stand too close to her.

you got back on stage and met eyes with wonyoung and yujin, both who had returned with love dive as ive and they sent you a reassuring smile.

“i think she’s here,” you said.

“oh,” yujin shrugged, “unnie, you should stand with us then, iz*one reunion? maybe even invite chaewon unnie to stand with us.”

“that’s so mean, yujinnie,” wonyoung sighed, exasperated. “well, she shouldn’t have gave such a dumb excuse to break up with our unnie—”

the mcs appeared on stage and began the show, you caught chaewon’s wave and hesitantly waved back, not before accidentally colliding with the person behind you. embarrassed, you turn around and instantly lit up.

“yuqi!” you whispered excitedly. the g-idle member grinned, “hi! look, i think you’re winning.” you turned to the big screen, truly, if the current votes add up, you would be leading. but between lesserafim and ive, anything could happen.

“and the winner is…” you held your breath, “y/n with ‘cupid’!” the ive members turned to you and you heard yuqi giggle behind you.

“good job, unnie!”

as your song played, groups started leaving the stage but g-idle remained behind since as a soloist, it was incredibly lonely standing up on stage when in iz*one, you had 12 other girls singing and dancing with you.

while minnie and shuhua started their own rendition of your song, you laughed cheerfully, but you couldn’t help but notice the lingering shadow by the stage.

miwayaki sakura, the one woman you had been avoiding the entire night, staring right at you.

it was like time froze. you remembered telling her that those kdramas were all so cliché with the love interests meeting. the same songs playing in the back as the background blurred.

but it felt true now.

‘good job,’ she mouthed. you were about to respond when yuqi pulled you back for the chorus and the grip on your wrist was noticed by sakura, who frowned and glared at your same aged friend.

after a stage of giggles and funny dance moves, you headed back to your waiting room, ready to take your makeup artist out for barbecue since she had guessed correctly on the winner. your stomach rumbled and you took out the coins you had stashed in your jacket’s pocket.

heading to the vending machine, you gasped seeing the prices. “ten thousand won for a bag of chips? that’s crazy,” you exclaimed but your hunger came first and it wasn’t as if you were broke.

as you bent down to reach for the bag, a voice startled you. “y/n.”

you whipped your head back, gaping.

“uh, hi.”

sakura’s face was blank and expressionless but through her eyes, you could tell that she was feeling extremely awkward.

“congrats, uhm, for the win.”

you nodded. “thanks. anything else? i need to go soon.”

the japanese clenched her fists and her voice came out pained, “are you dating anyone?”

you paled.

“what?”

sakura repeated, more grit in her voice, “are you dating song yuqi?”

suddenly, all anger rushed to your head. all the sleepless nights she made you experience, all the tears you let out in the shower, all the pain you had to endure. it made you frustrated.

“sakura, what’s the point of asking that?” you snapped, gripping the bag of chips tightly which was a rather comical sight.

your ex scrunched up her nose and you had to pretend it wasn’t cute. “does that mean you’re dating her?”

“no. but why does it matter?”

“because… you,” sakura groaned, “you can’t…”

eyes filled with fury, you retorted, “can’t what? can’t date other people after we broke up? am i not allowed to find other people when you were the one who broke up with me? over text?”

“y/n, i regret it,” sakura mumbled, “i regret all of it. please.”

“please what? what am i meant to do? you broke my heart, you asshole. what is this conversation meant to be about? what are you trying to do?”

your ex looked down, ashamed, but your heart broke even further at the tears spilling out of her eyes.

“i’m sorry. i thought, when we disbanded, that we would just break up because of the long distance and… i thought i was saving us from each other. i was wrong, i love you, please let me try again,” sakura explained, her voice hoarse.

you debated. was it worth it? all the heartbreak? for sakura? you had loved her for years, but were you ready to trust her again?

“i trusted you. i don’t anymore,” you started slowly, sakura’s eyes dimming at every word, “let’s start out as friends again, i think the members miss you at our reunion dinners.”

#miyawaki sakura x reader #sakura x reader #lesserafim x reader

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opertabry · 1 year

Text

| notes; prologue

[ synopsis; there’s a cute girl that always sleeps in your intro pysch class. she just so happens to be ginger AND your dorm neighbor ]

PROLOGUE;

I watched as she plopped herself on the chair again. Everyday for the past two semesters this girl, without fail, would sit right next to the window, two seats down from where I sat. She always looked tired, dark bags under her eyes, she would always walk into the lecture hall and sit down on that window seat and rest her head on her arms and sleep. I mean, come on, who pays this much for tuition and just walks into class to what? Rest your eyes? It's literally 2 in the afternoon.

No one took notice to her or seemed to care, honestly I don't think anyone cared about the class either (to be fair, it was intro psychology). I did though, even with the dark bags, the baggy hoodie, she was cute. As cute as a college student, who wanted nothing but to die, can be I guess. She never took notes in class, I figured she would be fine failing the class, so who cares right? Now, tell me why in the world am I feeling slightly bad for her as I write my notes down?

I watched as (I'm not creepy, trust me) her hood rode up slightly, exposing her newly dyed ginger hair to me. Ginger? Really? All the colors in the world, all the dyes that you could have chosen and this cute girl that I don't even know the name of, chose ginger? Like, come on cute girl, I liked you more when you were dirty blonde.

"Alright, guys, I can tell you're all very tired. You did a good job, let's pack it up."

A few relieved groans and a rushed stuffing my stuff in my bag later, I was out of the lecture hall and breathing in the fresh air as I walked towards my dorm. I froze as I saw cute girl punching in her code to her dorm. Okay pause, first off, how in the world did this girl get to her dorm faster than me? I was quite literally the first person to get out of that godforsaken lecture hall. And two, cute girl is my dorm neighbor? What in the literal fuck?

I put in my dorm code, swung the door wide open and slammed it shut with my eyes looking like saucers. My dorm mate, Hanni, was laying on the couch with TV remote in hand, while looking at me amused.

"Hanni FUCKING PHAM."

"WHAT? DID I DO SOMETHING WRONG?"

"Cute girl. Cute girl from intro psych. Next door. Ginger. WHAT THE FUCK."

"y/n calm your ASS down and tell me, with sentences, minimum 5th grade level. Can you do that for me, sweetie?" Hanni mockingly said, while sitting up.

"Okay I hate you, but remember cute girl I told you about? Always sleeps, hood on? From my intro psych class?"

"Mhm."

"She dyed her hair ginger AND she lives in dorm next to us? It's been literally TWO semesters, how have I not seen her?" I said, shock evident in my voice.

"Wait, wait. Does she look or act like the epitome of happiness, sunshine and rainbows?"

"What the fuck, no? She sleeps in class."

"Oh my god. Cute girl is Kang Haerin?"

"..Who?"

Hanni was about to open her mouth when we heard a knock on the door. We rolled our eyes as we assumed it was those frat boys who were playing ding dong ditch like little kids. We ignored it as I told Hanni to continue, and we heard another knock. I groaned as I pushed myself away from the couch and went to open the door.

"Hi! You must be my dorm neighbor, sorry, my name is Danielle!" She greeted with a weirdly happy, too happy look on her face for a broke college student that is most likely in debt.

"Oh Danielle! Hi, what brings you over here?" Hanni smiled as she walked up behind me.

"Nothing much, I just heard some yelling over here and wanted to check in on you guys. You're both alright, right?" She asked a worried expression plaguing her face.

"Yep, we were just really excited." I breathed out with a (not so) genuine smile.

"Alright, well. y/n right? Hanni told me and Haerin about you, it's nice to finally meet you! I'll get going now, Haerin wanted me to grab some things from the convenience store for her." Danielle waved as she left, not forgetting to smile (so hard I thought her face was about to combust. How does someone smile so much in college? Respect to her though).

I closed the door as I turned to Hanni with the fakest smile I could muster.

"You weren't kidding, huh?"

"Yep, sunshine and rainbows and fucking everything in between."

I mean at least I can put a name to a face now. Haerin. Kang Haerin. Cute name for a cute girl.

I guess.

[ previous | masterlist | next ]

#haerin x reader #smau #newjeans x reader #newjeans #lesserafim x reader #idol au #kang haerin #kang haerin x reader #newjeans haerin #lesserafim #ive

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atheliasnotebook · 1 year

Note

I’ve been trying to think of the angstiest req I could for you haha. What if Zhongli had a true love from back when he was Morax, who was cursed by someone he defeated (maybe osial? maybe celestia? i’ll leave that up to you) to reincarnate over and over for as long as zhongli lives but she (or they if you prefer GN) are also cursed to meet him in every life and then die once she falls in love with him or remembers he is morax and their past lives together, so he tries to avoid this but can’t because it’s his true love after all :’(

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i hope i did well :(

ah, yes, a curse.

osial said to zhongli:

“you deserve the pain not that mortals experience, but a pain only you would understand.”

what does that mean? casting aside your own feelings, no matter how strong, in the midst of war? being resilient in times where a man treats you so coldly? you wonder — does it matter if you are truly alone?

after all, those are the questions zhongli asked himself. and of course it’s different — for him, everything’s different. even the faces of his lovers… or rather, lover — because it’s like you look completely different whenever you’re reborn, but the only thing he understands is how you’re exactly the same in every life you live. he would damn osial for cursing him this way. all because he didn’t understand truly what everything would mean to this multitude.

oh, and because his archenemy was so cryptically vague… he didn’t understand what he was supposed to feel. yet, when he watched the last remaining followers of Guizhong turn into salt, his heart stung seeing you, frozen in a sort of grainily-eternal glory. the remnants of his friend littered his eternal nostalgia over his own heart — the one numbed to the horror of war, but more importantly, more to the horror of you, and how your tableau’d figure would pang him so.

zhongli believes the greatest pain of life is watching those that you love pass on before you get the chance to say goodbye. dying with the “i love you’s” and other confessions unsaid to the specific person in your mind eats away like a plague. and eventually, you question:

“does it matter? you’re gone — what is my life supposed to be now?”

that’s the first time zhongli watched you die. no, he didn’t cry — for it was the war, he killed all sentiments that bubbled in his soul.

then, it was the early beginnings of Liyue that he saw you pass again in the form of a bird practitioner. he watched the way you held out your hands and fingers to the fluttering animals that floated on the area reminded him bitterly of your unmoving salt-figure withering away in a domain.

but keeping distance is important. after all, in the words of some, love is only love if the other person loves you. love cannot be forced, but more importantly, love is called love because one learns to embrace life’s imperfections in the rawest form possible.

the eagerness to talk to you for even just a second resurfaced his thoughts. he would simply just say “hello,” yes, he was content with this.

but this “hello” eventually turned into “want to go get lunch sometime?” and all of… that… eventually turned into “would you be interested in being my partner in sickness and death?”

he always said yes. and for you, he’d say yes over and over again if he could count on the fact that you would be comfortable for every one of those lives.

shortly after he started dating you — you fell deathly ill. to the point where baizhu failed to help you recover.

alone, with zhongli, you passed away with a smile on your face… while the only thing he could do is sit beside you. holding your hand with a smile on his while a couple of tears broke through his brave façade.

“is… this the curse that you have cryptically uttered?” zhongli would mutter, not directed to anyone in particular. “this must be the immortal pain that you spoke of years ago…”

so through tears: he made another promise. that he wouldn’t ever even try to get close to you. because the moment that he falls in love with you, his already broken heart will break again. he already had to deal with seeing you pass, but now in the modern ages under Director Hu’s guidance, he has to leave that responsibility up to her.

hundreds of years, where he’ll cry from time-to-time, wishing that he could have the chance to hold your hand for longer than the border crossing from life to death. it feels like thousands of years, where he dies and wishes he could be reborn with you. you remember nothing, and oh archons — he could never be mad at you.

he’s mad at himself.

every time he finds you, he smiles. and then he bites his lips with a depressed sigh and louder, faster steps that beg and beseech him to forget you. all the pain. smiles? the humor. you’re practically an entire part of history that didn’t matter to any part of the world BUT him.

in the bitter end, his world will always end AND begin with you.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin angst #genshin rambles #genshin impact angst #reincarnation au #zhongli x you #zhongli angst

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slocumjoe · 1 year

Text

⚠️Request rules⚠️

1; Be specific and unique

For example, the prompt "Sole dies". All characters would be sad, or angry. But the prompt, "Companions travel through a haunted forest and lose each other" has a lot of ways it can go. Vague prompts can be difficult for me to write, as there's often not much to write. Or if there is, it ends up feeling samey, or too short. There's only so much I can write about Sole dying.

Some prompts are answered in canon, and don't need to be answered. For example, Companions react to Sole speaking like the Silver Shroud. You can easily go on a wiki or find a compilation video on YouTube.

Also, I prefer to write about the companions, not Sole. So, requests about the Sole Survivor are likely to sit in the inbox for a while.

2; Be mindful of dark subject matter

Guys. You know miscarriage is a real thing, right? A horrible, traumatic thing that fucks up entire families? And same with rape, or abuse, or anything like that. Use your best judgement asking about heavier topics. These things aren't scenarios to generate angst. They're traumatic events. That real people go through.

I'll never forget following a react blog who was asked to write about miscarriage, only for them to apologize and refuse, as they had suffered multiple miscarriages themselves.

Rule 3; No fetishes or second-hand embarrassment prompts

So, I said be specific and weird...not with your own fetishs, please.

For non fetish stuff, I really do not care for toilet humor. Or anything meant to evoke second-hand embarrassment. This is another 'use best judgement'. I'm very easily grossed out by body fluids/excrement and there's no prompt that I'm willing to do with it.

Rule 4; I don't do Fallout 3 or New Vegas content

Masterlist

Newest first

Reacts V

Freaky Friday Episode

Sole vanishes, oh nooooo

Beach Episode

Companion at the zoo

The Oberland Alien

Sole gets their name tattooed

Sole finds a baby and wants it

Companions play Minecraft

Gage only; Come to the Galactic Zone if you want an asskicking

Companions and a magpie of a person

Sole with bad motor skills

Companions react to a synth of themselves

Companions as Roommates

Modern!Companions and Halloween

Sole just kisses them already

Sole sick but refusing to rest

Sole who cries when yelled at

Sole gets hurt saving their life

Touchy Sole

Overhearing Sole realize they love them

Sole breaks down crying in their arms

Companions work at a grocery store

Companions react to the Scorched Plague

Companions on Social Media

Headcanon posts V

Religion and stuff

Grab bag 4

Drinking habits

Coming out

Who they'd end up with

Losing their virginity

Modern au

Sexuality and ideal partners

Dreams and nightmares part 1

Companions' tells that they love someone

Companions' fursonas

What they'd eat in general

NSFW grab bag 3

Companions and stress

Companions spend time at a settlement

Gage fluffy-shippy-sad headcanons

Interior design

Companion Headcanon Grab‐bag

Gage Catchup Lightning Round

Favorite songs on the radio

NSFW Gage Headcanons

NSFW; Libido/sex drive

NSFW; Intensity in bed

Variety NSFW headcanons 2

Variety NSFW headcanons

Comfort food

How often they bathe

What they do/wear on days off

Danse headcanons

Laughing headcanons

X6-88 Headcanons

Physique headcanons

2 headcanons per companion

1 headcanon per companion

Meta stuff V

Synths as trans allegory for pride month

Polyamory and infidelity in games

Curie's quest is pretty dumb

A bunch of mini-essays on all the companions

Danse and autism

Oc appearance meme

Isadora ramblings and lore drops

Cait breakdown and critique

Minutemen Questline Rehaul

Florence, Isadora, and Gage

Wasteland creatures i want

Gage Name Meaning

The Gage Essay I wrote while baked on leftover lasagna

Thoughts on Piper, Strong, and Codsworth

Strong Character Bingo/Rant

My thoughts on Porter Gage before playing Nuka World

Peer-Reviewing "The Synthetic Truth"

Piper rant 2

I swear I am normal about Piper

Things I love about the companions

Biggest complaints about each companion's writing

Meme stuff V

Getting Hulk smashed by a baby (game clip)

How id compliment them

Sole gets a pet-claw

...hi (game clip)

Bad timing, dude (game clip)

Who smokes weed

Cat X6-88

Shaun gets a pet-claw

Cannibal perk

Companions as video games

War-shta-sure

Four frenchspeakers screamingn in a room

Danse's favorite shirt

Egg

muppets

dickless nickolas

mall cop

Memes 2

Memes 1

What the companions get canceled for

AITA For trying to blow up my crush's blimp?

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pidges-lost-robot · 1 year

Text

I like to think that Keith is very face blind, he has a real issue with like imagining and thinking about what people's faces look like, so often times he gets people mixed up or forgets they've already met

I am a sucker for the whole keith thinking Lance was called Taylor and not realising they were the same person so here's my version of it:

At this point, Keith and Lance are friends but it's still a little vulnerable right now. And they're having a little bicker where Lance reveals that the reason he was so irritated with Keith in the garrison was because they met before the garrison when they were kids and he'd really thought he and Keith had hit it off as friends maybe so when Lance recognised him and not only had been kept off of the pilot course by Iverson and citing Keith, but Keith had been completely cold and rude like he didn't even remember Lance at all.

Now Keith not really having recognised Lance as Lance at the time doesn't know what he's talking about and states he doesn't remember meeting Lance before the Garrison and Lance is like omg and you complained about the bonding moment for so long.

So later Lance and Keith are at the dinner table talking about it again cause Keith is really wracking his brain about this.

Apparently Lance had been heading to meet Hunk so they could go to the shops for some ice cream. Some older kids in the neighbourhood had kicked Lance's ass and stolen his money till Keith arrived. Keith had scared the older kids off and while silent and awkward, had gotten Lance to the shop to make sure he didn't get beat up again, but also stolen him an ice cream from the shop.

Hunk hearing this confirms to Keith this didbhappen cause "Lance couldn't stop raving about this really cool brooding boy who'd protected him and-" and Lamce is like OKAY WE DONT NEED TO GET THAT INTO IT

But when Hunk confirms it and tells him what shop they went to Keith's eyes widen and he looks ghost white. Hunk is continuing as Shiro arrives before Keith is like "No shush! Shut-up! Not another word!"

And while Lance is like " Oh so now you remember!" Shiro asks what's up and to spite Keith for telling hunk to shut up cause "no one disrespects Hunk" *high fives him* Pidge relays everything they've learned about this to Shiro.

And Shiro is silent for a second before looking between Lance and Keith and dying with laughter as Keith just turns bright red.

Lance, Hunk, Allura and Pidge feel like there's something they're missing and Keith stalks off to avoid "What Pidge has wrought" on him.

Shiro is just slapping the table yelling to Keith as he follows after him that he'll never live this down.

And so follow a week of Keith avoiding Lance like the plague and Shiro not being able to be in a room with either of them without breaking down again.

But soon Lance who has no idea what's so funny is starting to worry that maybe it was because he did something embarrassing that Keith told him. He tries to ask Keith cause the reason Shiro seems to find it so funny is Lance not knowing so maybe if he knows this will stop but Keith clams up and refuses. He asks Shiro but he's like sorry Lance I can't, bro code but Lance begins to wonder outloud to him about howbthis is beginning to get to him.

Shiro tries to assure him its not that Lance did anything embarrassing but Keith doing something embarrassing but he can tell Lance doesn't quite believe him.

Lance begins avoiding everyone now and Keith seeing that it's beginning to bother Lance decides to tell him.

He takes Lance aside and gets him to promise he won't tease him for what he's about to tell him because he'd never do this to Lance so Keith is trusting him to not tease him about this OR tell hunk and pidge about it. After Lance promises Keith explains about being face blind and how he does remember meeting Lance.

But he didn't think he was called Lance. He thought he was called Taylor, and how he may or may not have told Shiro about this incident.... repeatedly.... and may or may not have confided in him that he had a little crush on Taylor. Problem was is obviously when they met at the Garrison again, Keith didn't really recognise his face and met him as Lance, so didn't realise they knew each other.

Which shiro further finds funny because Keith's coldness towards Lamce in the Garrison was basically because he didn't recognise him which Lance didn't know which shiro found immensely funny.

Lance says this makes sense and Keith tries to be like oh yeah it's not a surprise someone would have a crush on you right, that's where this joke is leading? And Lance is like God no, I mean the way you and shiro were reacting, its a total surprise you ever had a crush on me at that age. Keith's confused so Lance explains that they met cause Keith had to save him from bullies and stole an ice cream for him to cheer him up, even t hough he risked getting in trouble and Lance cried his eyes out and got his ass kicked.

This ends up being one of the moments that leads to Lance and Keith's crush reignited and them getting together

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eccentric-nucleus · 1 month

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covid stuff

the last several years have really done a number on my emotional wellbeing. like i would have already said on the whole i tend to be a fairly unhappy person but it's definitely gotten substantially worse with covid. basically every time i go out there are these waves of sadness and anger that just kinda wash over me continually. it's not great.

i don't really like being around people. when i was a kid i got yelled at a lot for, like, not wanting to go to the babysitter's, not wanting to spend time around other people, not really wanting to be in any kind of position where i could be observed by other people. there was a lot of, you know, "listen everybody has to deal with other people sometimes, and part of existing in society is not making things an enormous hassle for other people". yeah yeah plenty of stuff makes you miserable but it is genuinely not the responsibility of other people to restructure their whole lives around whatever upsets you; sometimes you have to just suck it up and deal for the overall good of, like, society. sure. it feels like i am constantly tolerating a lot of things for the good of society

and then covid hits, and it becomes clear that nobody really meant that, not really. i learned the lesson wrong and thought the point was 'for the good of society' and not 'people should never be expected to restructure their lives'. oh, right, it was always about normality all along. if keeping things normal requires hassling some introverted kid, then we gotta hassle that kid. if keeping things normal requires millions dying and who-know how many getting serious, still-unknown long-term medical issues from a plague, well, that's just a cost we'll have to pay. i'm kind of furious every single time i go into a building and i see nobody wearing masks. it's the smallest fucking thing but this vast confluence of habit and pressure means that oh i guess even that was too much to ask.

like a little personal information, i guess: literally every single time i have gone outside in the past four years i have been wearing a mask. it's been annoying! i got pressure bruises on my nose several times! i'm really lucky i don't actually have some job that requires me to interact with people for 8 hours of the day, b/c then i'd have to have figured out something that doesn't wear away at the flesh of my nose longterm. wearing a mask kinda sucks, actually. it's still such a small fucking thing to do and it has such a well-documented impact on transmission rates

it's not like covid went away! covid is going to be around for the rest of human history! waves will come and waves will go, and it's still mutating furiously, & all we can really hope for at this point is that at some point, uh, probably in the next hundred years, it spreads to a form that doesn't give people organ damage. another huge scientific breakthrough that manages to kill off the common cold would be okay too, i guess.

just... seeing all of society go laser-focused on pretending things are fine and nobody needs to go out of their way to mitigate risk or accomodate other people just seems deeply and utterly grotesque. a profound and utter abandonment of any sense of morals or ethics, just to keep things Normal.

so yeah covid on the whole has made me a much more unhappy person. i go through this whole train of thought basically every single time i step outside, which is probably unhealthy. but that's how it is

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the-jnadf-man · 4 months

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VIOLENCE THOUGHTS (Nobody asked but here goes anyway :))

7-1!

"Aw man can't wait to OH SHIT FLASHBANG"

"Where the fuck am I going" *spends like 3 minutes running in circles*

"FAST FUCKING DOLLS! MURDER"

"Yo holy shit BIG MAN JUMPSCARE! FOLLOW THAT BITCH IMMEDIATELY I WANT TO FIGHT IT"

"Oh hey Maurice"

*Spends another 3 minutes running in circles*

"Why is it so dark"

"Oh ye gods it's" *Points dramatically* "MINOS' WILD RIDE 2!"

"Oh I get to fight people on the rollercoaster? REAL SHIT? AW YEAH I LOVE IT WHEN THE GOONS ARRIVE ON CARTS" *Proceeds to fall off cart due to hands shaking from excitement*

"I GET TO FIGHT BIG MAN ON DA CART?! YES YES YES YES YEW"

"Boy that is a MICROSCOPIC hitbox"

"Oh sweet another goon"

*Wins on round 2* "That was a fun fight"

*House of Leaves reference comes back for round 3* OH SHIT OF FUCK NONONO

"That bitch has a Panopticon hammer?? That's really cool!"

*Wins* Aw naur Big Man fucking dieded :("

*Reads lore entry* "So this is illiteracy. I don't care for it.

*Reads more* *Starts crying inside* "MINOS WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST GET YOUR DOG"

7-2!

"YO ITS A DA GUTS MAN"

*Performs victory dance* "Oh they EXPLODE when you Goomba stomp their corpse okay cool I guess.

"Is that the fucking Big Ben"

"Why are the Mannequins in here. Are they made of the British??"

*Fails to notice the train. Tram. The thing you put the bomb on.* *Runs into the Guttertank instead* "Oh what is THAT" *Dies*

*Wins round 2* "Shit's crazy" *Almost dies to landmine* "Shit's crazy!"

*FAILS to notice red skull place location* "Okay better follow these tracks"

"Oh there's a hole in this building" *Lose shit and get very scared of the Under Construction sign*

"Okay where get bigger boom though" *Spends like 7 minutes accomplishing nothing whatsoever*

*Friend in VC tells me to put the nuke on the train* "What fucking train???"

*Backtracks after another 4 minutes of confusion* "Wow."

*Finishes level with some difficulties* "That took almost half an hour. Man. That's kinda sad."

*Reads Guttertank lore (And name)* "GUTSMAN TANK CANON"

*Laughs at Faust Panzer for like five minutes with friends*

7-3!

"Oh okay these are some funky-ass trees"

"Mmmm yes the Mannequins LIKE the dark spooky forest where they kill people. Definitely made of The British."

"Yoooo I get to feed the tree"

"What's up with these funky blood men???"

"Oh okay guess this is happening now"

"They upgraded the blood men????"

"Oh that is. EVERY all of the bad guys???" *Does not notice dual wield*

*Finishes level, somehow gets an S* "That sure was a thing I just did."

7-4!

"Oh no this passage is made for short people. Guess I'll have to go back inside."

"BIG FUCKING DUDE"

"Holy shit it's the it the its its IT'S THE FUCKING MARIO GALAXY BOSS"

*Opens blood waterfalls* "Oh no it's the plague! We've released the plague rats!"

"IT'S THE FUCKING- THE HALBERD'S DEFENSE SYSTEMS ARE DOWN WHERE'D THE BIG FUCKING LOBTER GO"

*Gets stuck in rising blood, mashing jump button, getting bullied by friends for dying* "The game just did not bloody let me jump :("

"Oh sweet it's Mother Brain with Star Dream's lasers" *Dies x3*

"I GOTTA GET OUTTA HERE"

*Proceeds to die to environment during escape sequence, more friendly(???) (I cannot tell at the best of times, but I assume yes) bullying from friends (Mostly the one person)* ":("

"YOOO BIGGER MAN EXPLODEAD"

*Finishes level* 10/10! *Internet fucking. Dies??* "Yeah seems like a good spot to end on"

*Reads Earthmover's lore* Mmmm, robot giraffe bad, gotcha.*

*The next day* *Reading TVTropes* "THUS THEY HAVE BEEN CHRISTENED!

BENJAMIN!"

#ultrakill

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superman86to99 · 7 months

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Superman: The Man of Steel #34 (June 1994)

"THE BATTLE FOR METROPOLIS," Part 2! Lex-Men vs. Dubbilex-Men! I know it's not true, but part of me feels like they introduced Lex Luthor's armored security force a few years ago and Project Cadmus' Dubbilex back in the '70s just so they could make that pun in this cover. I don't think anyone has ever referred to Cadmus' security force as "Dubbilex-Men" before this issue, but you have to admit that's a snappier name than "Cadmus' security force."

Anyway, last issue ended with all hell breaking loose in the middle of Metropolis, and in this one... it continues to break loose. Team Luthor fights Cadmus while the Special Crimes Unit tries to stop the Underworld clones and the Underworld clones try to kill everyone, with Superman quite literally stuck in the middle.

The Underworlders, as we've recapped a million times by now, are furiously attacking the surface world because they blame Cadmus for the plague that's killing them. At one point, the Underworlders seem to run away from the fight -- but that's only because they've been leading the humans to a bomb they planted, causing a huge explosion in the middle of the city.

Lex Luthor Jr., who secretly supplied the bomb, is watching the action through hidden cameras and doesn't seem terribly concerned about the fact that his bomb killed a bunch of his employees, too. What's even more disturbing is that the Clone Plague is rapidly turning into the Cryptkeeper (to think he looked like red-haired Fabio a few weeks ago...).

Meanwhile, Lois Lane gets a message from her mysterious source inside LexCorp offering her new evidence of Lex's crimes (which is good, because Lois lost the old evidence when her apartment blew up). Lois sneaks into LexCorp following her source's instructions, and finds a secret office where she retrieves two important items: a VHS tape showing Lex strangling his personal trainer, and a big map of Metropolis showing that Lex has a lot more bombs hidden all over the city. Uh-oh.

Back in the battle zone, some Cadmus troopers led by Guardian, a.k.a. Cadmus' very own Captain America, find themselves surrounded by an army of pissed-off Underworlders (who are apparently much better at strategy than the humans). Dubbilex, freshly arrived from Hawaii, flies in to the rescue with some Cadmus paratroopers, but some Lex-Men get in their way and try to kill them. Dubbilex and Guardian are the only clones who aren't dying, which the Underworlders see as confirmation that Cadmus intentionally caused the plague. (The fact that the Newsboy Legion kids are dying doesn't prove much, since they're pretty annoying and I could see Director Westfield deeming them acceptable losses.)

Dubbilex is actually feeling pretty conflicted about having to fight other ugly clones like himself, until he sees that Clawster (the big, rocky, supposedly invulnerable Underworlder players of the Death and Return of Superman video game mistook for Doomsday's kid brother) is about to kill Guardian. Dubbilex launches a psychic blast that takes away Clawster's invulnerability, allowing the paratroopers to blast the hell out of him. It looks like Clawster is down for the count, but in his final moments he rages at Guardian and breaks his shield (another thing that was supposed to be unbreakable) as he makes some pretty good points about Cadmus' Director Westfield.

Superman remembers this comic is about him and arrives just in time to see Clawster dying and Guardian being left badly injured. The other Underworlders scatter, and just as Superman is saying there must be some way to stop the senseless killing, Lex remotely detonates another bomb right in his face. TO BE CONTINUED!

Character-Watch:

That's it for Clawster, who had the misfortune of being introduced in Man of Steel #17 and ending up being seen as a lamer and (barely) more articulate version of Doomsday. I'll admit I was still kinda fond of this knucklehead, and I think he could have ended up being a more memorable villain if he'd had better timing. Sadly, there will be no Clawster/Prey miniseries where he comes back. His only other appearances after this were 2011's Retroactive issue, which is set before this one, and an unexplained cameo in a montage of Steel fighting various villains in 2010's Superman #697, though you only see his back. Maybe it WAS Doomsday's kid brother that time.

(Unrelated: Is that Professor Hamilton's building in the background?)

Plotline-Watch:

Dubbilex arrives in Metropolis halfway through the issue along with his young ward, Superboy, who is in pretty poor shape, not just due to the Clone Plague but also the events of Superboy #5 (which we haven't covered yet). Superboy tries to go help Superman anyway, but he instantly collapses in the middle of the infirmary. THAT'S how brave Superboy is. Or maybe he didn't want to be stuck with the Newsboy Legion in the infirmary.

Despite not currently working for the Daily Planet, Lois still calls Perry White to tell him about the first explosion and tip him off about where the Underworlders are headed next, so that Perry can send Jimmy Olsen and Ron Troupe there. THAT'S how professional Lois is. Or maybe she's just trying to get Jimmy killed, which I understand (sorry, Ron).

Speaking of Jimmy and Ron, as we saw last issue, Bibbo is helping them follow the action in his bike, until they find out some Underworlders are trashing the Ace O'Clubs. Big mistake: Bibbo produces a big shotgun from somewhere (does he have Bloodsport technology?) and goes in to deal with the looters. The scene ends there, because this is an all-ages comic.

Professor Hamilton feels responsible for triggering this war because he's the one who told the Underworlders that the Clone Plague was probably caused by the time Westfield flooded Metropolis' tunnels. In the middle of all the fighting, Clawster drops by to tell Hambone that they'll spare him and reassure him that he didn't cause the war: the truth caused the war. The truth that he told them. Yeah, that'll make him feel better.

There's a short scene with Myra the Orphanage Lady saving Keith the Unlucky Orphan from being eaten by Kathana, the same hypnotic lizard lady Keith once mistook for his mom (it was dark). Kathana actually tried to turn Keith into a stew in the aforementioned Man of Steel #17, and apparently she's been biding her time waiting for another opportunity since then. Keith is very lucky to have Myra in his life.... for now, anyway.

In this issue we meet Lois' exceptionally dedicated mailman, Fred Bentson, who tracks her down in the middle of an active war zone to give her the mail she hasn't gotten since her apartment blew up (including that note from her LexCorp source). Then, Fred says something about how he'd rather "stay in Dakota" but he keeps waking up in Metropolis. This is a little teaser for a crossover that will happen within this storyline and right before another, bigger crossover, just in case you'd forgotten this is a '90s comic.

Apparently, Lex is a huge fan of the film Metropolis -- so much so that he hides tapes with incriminating evidence under a statue of the lady robot from that movie.

Patreon-Watch:

Last month in the Superman '86 to '99 Patreon, we covered an Elseworlds annual in which Superman snaps a villain's neck, skins him, and wears his fur like a suit. Fun stuff! Join our patrons Aaron, Chris “Ace” Hendrix, britneyspearsatemyshorts, Patrick D. Ryall, Bheki Latha, Mark Syp, Ryan Bush, Raphael Fischer, Kit, Sam, Bol, and Gaetano Barreca at https://www.patreon.com/superman86to99

And now, join the great Don Sparrow for more commentary, after the jump!

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We start with the cover, and it’s a pretty dramatic one. Superman and the Guardian in a pieta-like pose. Bogdanove skirts the comics code authority by making all that blood black, which to me is somehow more upsetting than if it were red. Kudos for the letter design on the battling Lex-Men and Dubbilex-Men.

Inside we start with a pretty arresting image of a group of five underworlders grappling with Superman, followed by a double page spread of Superman hurling them off in different directions.

The rumpled texture on the bulletproof vests of the Special Crimes Unit is particularly well rendered. The combination of colours and metallic helmet made me think for a moment that DC’s Peacemaker was fighting alongside Maggie Sawyer in that last panel on page 3. As always, Dennis Janke’s inks are masterful at differentiating texture, and that’s never clearer than on Clawster’s bark-like skin.

Later on we get our first look at Lex, and there’s a little dissonance between how he looked last issue, which took place only a few minutes before this one, and how he looks in this one. [Max: I wonder exactly what type of drugs Dr. Kelley is giving him...] His deteriorated body and unblinking eyes are pretty intense.

A page later we get a look at a character who will become important in a future story, Fred Bentson, mail carrier of two worlds. In these pages he looks like Austin Pendelton by way of The Real Ghostbusters’ Egon Spengler.

The issue’s frenetic pace continues, as Superboy arrives by marine helicopter (both the chopper and Cadmus’ tank are great vehicle design). Superboy is kind of tossed into the middle of the story without so much as an asterisk informing us where we can learn what has left him so injured. [Max: Yeah, the lack of a plug for the Superboy series is very uncharacteristic. Not even in the lettercol!]

Fairly suddenly, Jimmy Olsen, like both Superman and Clark Kent, has long hair. [Max: I distinctly remember Jimmy having long hair since the issue when Clark moves in with him because the panel of him saying "Let's crank some Van Halen to celebrate!" is burned into my brain, but it's less consistent than Superman's.] The same page also has a great drawing of Bibbo racking a shotgun, and the pose and the expression are both great cartooning. There’s plenty of fight choreography throughout the book, but my favourite look is Lois Lane’s Rockette-like takedown of the LexCorp security guard.

Later on, Myra from the orphanage does battle with maybe the most terrifying mutant of the book, Kathana, who looking like a combination of a baphomet statue and a Jim Henson creation, will haunt my dreams for all time. The character of “Fancy Feet” is just such a Bogdanove looking creation (and I gotta love those kicks he wears!). [Max: They DO look quite fancy!]

The issue’s most dramatic moment is when Clawster splits Guardian’s up-until-now unbreakable shield. I know Max and I don’t always see eye to eye on the Underworlders, so I imagine as a reader I’m supposed to be a lot more choked up about Clawster’s death than I am. My feeling from this scene was more that Clawster was an unworthy shatterer of Guardian’s shield—having the shield be depicted as indestructible for so long, its destruction should have felt like a big moment. While it’s well-drawn, it feels more like a throwaway. Indeed, this whole issue feels like a “middle” that we’re dropped into. The battle has begun at the start, and it doesn’t resolve, or change direction by the time the story ends. If it feels like Superman doesn’t greatly impact the story, you’re completely right—he only appears in 6 out of the 22 pages in this comic bearing his name. [Max: I think the issue does have two important developments: 1) the Underworlders are now leaderless, and 2) what's left of Guardian's trust in Westfield has been shattered, much like the shield. Oh, and 3) Fancy Feet's feet are fancy.]

STRAY OBSERVATIONS:

Were X-Men still the top seller by 1994? If so having a cover battle with forces that both rhyme with X-Men might have been a calculated idea.

It’s pretty crazy to see Maggie Sawyer just blowing mutants away. Also, I know that it’s so we can identify her as readers, but she really ought to be wearing a helmet! Between Maggie and her squad, Bibbo, and even Hamilton, this is a pretty gun-heavy issue!

As with the Hulking Superman story, I’m a little fuzzy on the details—is Professor Hamilton correct that the clone sickness is from exposure to the flood? [Max: I think so, though I kinda prefer Lex's made up explanation that he got sick from the toxins in Engine City. They could have said Lex was patient zero and the virus spread to the rest of Metropolis because he doesn't cover his mouth when he coughs.]

As Lois learns the locations of the bombs, they’re both nods to comics creators of the past. “Boring and 57th” refers to 40’s and 50’s Superman artist, Wayne Boring; “Burnley and 43rd” refers to Jack Burnley, the second artist to regularly draw Superman, after Joe Shuster himself.

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