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toournextadventure · 6 months

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our little secret iii

Summary: All four of you lost the bet, and now it's time to pay up. Thankfully, Maxine and Bobby-Lynn know just how to make sure Lorraine has to pay up too.

Word Count: 8.9k Warnings: swearing, smut 18+, religious talk (typical of southern states), religious trauma, period-typical homophobia Pairing: Lorraine Day x Fem!Reader (our little secret i) (our little secret ii) (our little secret iii) (our little secret iv)

“This ain’t sittin’ right with me,” you whispered to Beau as you tried, once again, to get comfortable in the back of RJ’s van.

Despite your best attempts, you, Beau, and Huck were currently sitting with Lorraine’s crew on the way to a location. It had been agreed by everyone - except you, obviously - that you had all lost the bet, so you should all have to own up. Although you still found it profoundly unfair that Lorraine somehow got out unscathed from the entire thing that she had agreed to.

And now you were stuck in the back of a hot, sweaty van with a bunch of hot, sweaty people that were one camera away from having relations for pay.

“We all lost, we all pay up,” Beau whispered back even as he smiled at Maxine. You rolled your eyes; he was such a suck up.

“Lorraine ain’t gotta pay up,” you grumbled, but settled back in your spot anyway.

Admittedly, you were being rather rude. You had barely said hello to any of them, and you hadn’t talked to them since the trip had started. It wasn’t their fault though, it was entirely on you. You just… didn’t know what to say to them. This wasn’t your world, and it was completely overwhelming. You didn’t care what any of them did for a living, but you hadn’t expected to be a part of it.

And if Jackson didn’t quit staring at you, you were going to lose your mind.

“You look awful familiar,” Jackson said with the slightest tilt of his head. He never stopped rubbing Bobby-Lynn’s thighs.

“Ever been a few hours south of Houston?” You asked, shifting in your spot to bring your knees up to your chest.

“Don’t believe I have,” he said with a shrug.

“Must just be a resemblance, then,” you answered.

“Leave her be,” Bobby-Lynn said as she playfully smacked Jackson’s chest. “Can’t you see you’re making her uncomfortable?”

“Do we make you uncomfortable, sweetheart?” Jackson asked.

Oh. Oh, yeah, that was very uncomfortable.

“You were in ‘Nam, right?” Beau asked, thankfully pulling the attention away from you. You supposed he was good for something.

“Yes sir,” Jackson said with a smile, pulling his dog tags out from under his shirt. “Two tours.”

“North or South?” Beau continued. Okay, maybe you didn’t want to hear so much about this anymore.

“South.”

“Y/N’s brother was in South Vietnam,” Huck chimed in. “Maybe that’s where you recognise her.”

Oh, you wanted them both to shut up. You wanted them both to hush right that instant. You looked up and instantly met Lorraine’s eyes from across the van. She was still sitting beside RJ, going over the script and whatever else she usually did. But there was the smallest tug at the corner of her mouth when she looked at you.

I hate you, you mouthed, to which her smile grew before she went back to the script.

“What’s your brother’s name, sweetheart?” Jackson asked, pulling you back into the conversation that you desperately wished would end.

Although you liked the adorable little frown Lorraine sent Jackson’s way at the use of the little nickname. Maybe you were okay with talking with Jackson. If it could get Lorraine’s feathers ruffled, then it was worth it. It was about time the tables were turned.

“Roy,” you said. “Roy Y/L/N.”

“No shit,” Jackson said. “I served with that son of a bitch.”

“Seriously?” You pulled your knees up to your chest and leaned forward. “Which tour?”

“My first,” he said with a smile.

You smiled back. “So you knew him before he…” your voice trailed off into nothing as your eyes slowly lowered to the floor of the van and your smile fell.

Before he went crazy. But you couldn’t say that out loud, could you? Your daddy had done his best to make sure you all knew not to mention Roy’s “affliction.” A test from God, he had called it. He used it as nothing more than a piss poor excuse to remind everyone that that’s what happens when you fall from faith. What would he say about you?

You just kept your mouth shut and rested your chin on your knees.

“He caught the combat trauma,” Huck said in a far softer tone than Beau ever could have managed.

“Now that’s a shame,” Jackson said with a shake of his head.

“Heard it happens more than you think,” Maxine called out from the front seat. It was probably the first thing you had heard from her since… Well, it was the first thing you had heard. “They all come home different.”

Oh, you weren’t so sure you liked this.

“You can’t come back different,” Bobby-Lynn said with a humourless chuckle. “Besides, it ain’t even real, is it?”

“They said it is,” Maxine continued, finally turning around to face everyone. “Put it in their little book last year, called it PTSD or somethin’ like that.”

You didn’t like this topic at all. The hair on the back of your neck stood up and your grip around your knees tightened. They didn’t get to talk about this like it was nothing of impact to you. Hadn’t they just heard Huck say Roy had this… this combat trauma? And they were going to act like nothing was wrong?

Everyone around you continued to talk about this new PTSD thing that was starting to make its rounds. It felt like someone was watching you. Without lifting your head, you looked up and were instantly met with Lorraine staring at you with that look that she had never grown out of. A look that she gave you every time you would be forced to talk about Beau as if he were the love of your life. A look of pity.

And you hated pity.

“Hey,” Jackson said, a little softer than everyone else’s ongoing conversation. He nudged your foot with his to get you to look over. “If you want me to talk to him, man to man, just let me know.”

His smile was more genuine than you had seen from a stranger in a long time. But there was no comfort in it because his offer was empty. You had no doubt he was being genuine, but how were you going to invite him over and have him talk to Roy without Daddy figuring out? The times were changing, but Jackson was a… certain type of man that you knew Daddy would never happily allow in his home. You and Roy were already scourges upon his land - though he still didn’t know your secret - so how could you possibly invite Jackson over with a clear conscience?

“Thank you,” you said instead, your smile far more convincing than your own thoughts.

The rest of the trip was, by all accounts, uneventful. That blasphemous talk of trauma and war had changed when Lorraine decided it was time to talk about the script. And even as she and RJ went over everything with their stars, and you were faced with the reality that you were truly, painfully alone, you still felt some sort of peace.

You would almost go so far as to say you felt comfortable.

Until you got to the shooting location.

“Are you serious?” You whisper-yelled at Lorraine when you both got out of the van. “You should have told me.”

“Would you have come?” She shot back, quickly shooting a fake smile to Beau and Huck when they passed. “Besides, we’re usin’ the building beside it.”

“You’re full of shit,” you mumbled as you looked up at the steeple of the small chapel.

By all accounts, it was a splendid little church. With a single steeple at the front of the roof and an elevated cross in the back, it almost reminded you of the one at home. Double doors that doubtlessly opened into a small worship room that held eight pews at most before ascending into the podium. A setup not unlike your own church back home, except this one didn’t house the guilt you couldn’t shed.

Beside the church was the parsonage, looking just as you knew them to look. Small, a little run down, painted a white that felt forced upon the environment. The paint was chipped and the window shutters were slightly askew, but it seemed to fit the rather bleak landscape behind it. Not ugly, but not exactly pretty either.

“Whatcha think?” Wayne asked. You jumped, but quickly regained composure. “Ain’t she pretty?”

“It looks cozy,” you said with a shrug. “You’re filmin’ in the parsonage, right? Not the church?”

Wayne laughed. A big hearty laugh that reminded you of all the sweet older men out at the rodeos. The ones that told you you were being ridiculous, but they were going to do their best not to openly tell you. It was a joyous laugh that was both humiliating and comforting simultaneously.

“I nearly forgot Church Mouse said you were a preacher,” he said once his laughter had subsided enough for him to talk.

“Church Mouse?” You asked.

“We’re usin’ the parsonage,” he continued, practically ignoring your question. “We’re not intendin’ to disrespect you.”

He clapped you on the shoulder and cocked his hip. You could see why Lorraine liked him. Overconfident, cocky as hell, but his smile always seemed genuine. Somehow, some way, he had seemed to be in a good mood the entire trip and even now. Optimism at its finest. You wished you could match it.

“Although I do have a favour to ask you,” Wayne said, his voice carrying a lilt that had your stomach churning.

“Yes?” You asked even though you weren’t entirely sure you wanted to know.

“Think you can pray over this little set of ours?” He asked. “Help us break this bad streak we got goin’ on?”

“Oh,” you said with a huff, followed by a nervous chuckle. “Oh, I can do that then.”

Wayne smiled with his teeth and tipped his hat. “Thank ya kindly.”

You kept your eyes trained on the doors of the chapel while Wayne walked away, presumably to help set up whatever it was he was needing to set up. You could pray over the set. It was a little blasphemous to use prayer for something so… risque, but you weren’t a prude. After all, Daddy had always said everyone could use a little prayer.

The handle on the door was a beautiful polished silver; spare no expense for a house of God, of course. Hypocrites, the lot of them. But it was nice to open the doors without even the slightest resistance. Nothing was more terrifying than a run down church with creaky doors. It was like walking into a horror movie.

Your boots echoed off the empty wooden walls of the chapel as you walked down the center aisle, taking in everything about the building. It was a rather beautiful church, you wouldn’t try to deny it. A single, small stained glass window hung above the podium. It would cast a beautiful coloured light where the preacher would be standing on Sunday mornings.

There were three steps up to the podium before you stood behind the lectern and looked out onto the ghostly congregation. Not a single soul was inside the building, but from your spot above the room, you could feel the eyes on you. Momma, Roy, Jimmy. Granma and Granpa were in the back, followed by friends, family, everyone in the congregation that knew you excruciatingly well.

Then there was Daddy, sitting in the aisle of the front pew, watching you with that judgmental look. The one that he gave when he was condemning someone to hell for their sins. And he was looking at you, like he could see through your physical form, all the way to the filthy soul you hid underneath it all.

“You can’t wash away sin,” Daddy said.

You couldn’t breathe.

“I don’t-”

“-There you are.”

The entire congregation disappeared as soon as you saw Lorraine standing in the doorway. Light from the setting sun illuminated her outline, almost a perfect copy of the angel painted above the doorway. And she was. She was an angel, one that you would worship even as you were cast into the pits of hell.

“Thought we lost you,” Lorraine said as she walked down the aisle with far more confidence than she had at home.

Your breath caught in your throat when she finally stepped out of the light in a startling white dress. It looked far too close to a wedding dress. It didn’t make sense, but you couldn’t quit staring. She looked so beautiful. Her smile was illuminating; it left your palms sweaty and your chest hurt-

-you gasped and pulled your hand away from the wooden lectern. The smallest splinter was stuck in your right index finger. It was easy enough to pull out, leaving behind a scarlet drop of blood that grew until dripping down your finger.

“Are you alright?”

You opened your mouth to answer, but when you looked back up Lorraine was in normal clothes. The very same ones she had worn on the trip over. The one she had never changed out of. Right. Maybe you really were crazy.

“I’m fine,” you said with a simple nod. “Just-” you sighed “-doin’ what Wayne asked.”

“Didn’t think he was a praying man,” she said with a frown. “Want some company?”

“Yeah,” you said with a soft smile. “Yeah, I do.”

As you walked down to the bottom of the three steps to meet Lorraine, the blood from your finger smeared across the finely polished wood. You left a stain on that church, same as your own. A stain that, as your Daddy constantly preached, you could never wash away.

—---

“You’re lookin’ a little green, sweetheart,” Huck whispered as he walked up to where you were standing in the back of the room.

“I’m not green,” you whispered back even as you continued to watch the scene unfold before you. “I just- I didn’t know the body could do that.”

“You’re such a preacher’s kid,” he said with a teasing lilt. Thankfully that was all he said before he crossed his arms over his chest and looked forward.

It wasn’t your first time seeing people having sex. You weren’t a complete fool, you had seen it before. Kind of. Okay, maybe it was the most tame sex in the world, but you had seen it! And you weren’t some sort of virgin either, so you weren’t totally in the dark. But you certainly hadn’t seen this before and it was… fascinating.

And a little concerning. Your head tilted. How did it even fit? Did Bobby-Lynn even genuinely find it enjoyable? Well, okay, after that noise you could believe that maybe she did. But all that other stuff, there was no way. No way at all- wait, that actually looked interesting. You wondered if Lorraine would like that.

"You're starin'," Huck whispered.

"I can't help it," you shot back. "It's like when you pass a car wreck. You can't look away."

"I think they would die if they heard you compare watchin' smut to a car wreck," he laughed. It was a little loud, you hoped the boom mic wouldn't pick it up.

"Where's your little boy toy?" You asked, hoping to take the awkward attention away from yourself. Even though you still couldn't look away from the scene. God, you hoped it was over soon.

"Your boyfriend," he said pointedly, "is downstairs talkin' with Maxine."

Oh Maxine. You had only known her for a few days, but you were starting to think she enjoyed stirring up trouble. Within moments of getting set up in the parsonage, she had made friendly with Huck and Beau. A little too friendly. You would have laughed about the whole situation if you hadn’t been attempting to act jealous to keep up the facade.

“Reckon I should go act the part of the jealous girlfriend, huh?” You asked.

“Yeah you should,” he whispered. “Though I doubt anyone will believe it with the way you’re watching your dear Rainey over there.”

You hated him for even bringing it up. So what if you had stopped watching Bobby-Lynn and instead watched Lorraine? The way she gently blew a few strands of hair out of her face while she held the boom mic as steady as you had ever seen. She wasn’t muscular by any means, but you could still see the tone in her shoulders. Or the… the little crinkle between her brows when she focused…

Okay, Huck was right, you needed to leave.

“Told you,” he said as you backed out of the room with a hellish heat in your cheeks.

As soon as the door closed behind you and the pornographic sounds muted, you could finally breathe again. Your mind was clear and you could walk down the stairs without a thought in your head. Well… maybe you had one or two thoughts, but it was okay. You could repent later at the chapel.

Maxine’s laughter was… almost adorable, if she wasn’t trying so hard to seduce Beau. Her nails lazily scratched up and down his bicep, and her face was embarrassingly close to his ear. If you had loved him the way you were supposed to, you would’ve been furious. Should have been furious.

You pictured Lorraine in Beau’s position. Sitting there with Maxine all over her, laughing at the unfunny jokes, leaning a little too close. It made your stomach turn. Your skin was hot and clammy and something pounded inside your head, screaming to be let out. There would have been no shame in your body for grabbing her and dragging her away.

Okay, there you go. Now you had the right feelings.

Your mind had already forgotten Lorraine wasn’t there when you sat in Beau’s lap. Like a good girlfriend should do, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, inhaling his scent. Sawdust. Something you supposed other women liked, which made him a downright tease.

“How’s your first smut viewin’ goin’?” Maxine asked, which instinctively had your nose scrunch before you regained composure. “That good, huh?”

“It ain’t bad,” you said. “Don’t think I really understand the appeal, though.”

“What part is… unappealing to you?” She asked, her voice far softer than necessary.

The way she leaned in closer, trailing her eyes over every inch of you… and maybe you could see the appeal. It was something about her hand that had moved from Beau’s arm to yours. Soft. Almost too soft, but you didn’t want it to stop. And she held eye contact like it was an art-

-oh, Maxine was dangerous.

“Oh,” Maxine said with a small smile, “so that’s what it is.”

What was that supposed to mean? You opened your mouth to ask, but the stairs started creaking from the heavy footsteps. The skin underneath Maxine’s fingers felt terribly cold when she pulled back. Unfortunately for her, she didn’t pull back before Lorraine appeared, her brows furrowed and eyes glued to her coworker.

Maxine just smiled.

“Am I interrupting somethin’?” Lorraine asked. Anyone that didn’t know her well would have missed the slight elevation in her tone. A dangerous tone.

“Just learnin’ a bit about each other,” Maxine said. Her hand rested on your arm again and you felt a heat in your cheeks. “Since we’re stuck here together and all.”

Like the dutiful girlfriend, you hid your head in Beau’s neck and tried to ignore his slight shake of silent laughter.

That tension didn’t end even as the sun set and stars came out to play. Everyone relaxed and had their fun and it reminded you of nights with just the four of you. Laughing, teasing, seeing Huck and Beau get closer than when they were at your house. Not too close, but it was still enough. Hell, it was almost enough to ease the usual anger from Lorraine being with R.J.

Until a few days later when it was time for everyone to start paying up on their lost bets.

The days had already started off miserably. Since you were “officially” Beau’s girlfriend, you were set to share a bed with him. But when Huck snuck in and you all tried to fit three people on a twin size mattress? Well, that was just borderline impossible. Clearly it wasn’t fully impossible, seeing as how you all made it work, but that didn’t mean you actually slept at all through the night.

Tack onto that Lorraine and R.J. coming down at the same time each morning, and you realised that you were horribly, terribly alone? You would have killed someone to get even just a single blanket and a big empty spot on the floor. Let you lie like a dog while everyone else became stars.

The first to suffer was, of course, you. Now, you would admit, you had offered to pay up first. In your convoluted train of thought, the sooner you watched Lorraine’s scene, the sooner you could forget it. At least that was what you believed would happen. You hoped that’s what would happen.

But in the moment, as you watched Lorraine getting ready, you knew it wouldn’t be quite that simple. You had to watch her move, see the look on her face, listen to her moans. She certainly never sounded like that when you were with her. Was this something that she genuinely enjoyed? Were you nothing more than a pleasant distraction when she was practically forced to go back home?

“I can’t do this,” you whispered to yourself.

The hair on the back of your neck stood up as everyone watched you back out of the room, practically tripping over your own feet in your haste. Each step felt like the ground was rushing up to meet you, even as you stayed perfectly upright. You wished you would just trip down the stairs, maybe then it would ease the spiraling of your thoughts.

Downstairs wasn’t much better when you were still aware of exactly what was going on upstairs. Did you mean anything to her? Really, truly? Surely you did, Lorraine was hardheaded, she wouldn’t entertain your presence if she didn’t want you there. On the other hand, she kept RJ around for nothing, so maybe you were on the same level.

You picked up one of the books you had found the other day; some book called The Dead Sea Scriptures. It wasn’t all that fantastic, your daddy actually had a copy in his office at the church. But at least it was a distraction. Just like you. Okay, that certainly wasn’t helpful. Maybe you needed a stiff drink too.

The Hollywood grade acting you did was enough to convince everyone you were just peachy. No one batted an eye when RJ, Wayne, and Jackson left the parsonage after finishing Lorraine’s scene. To get some more groceries, they had said. You didn’t care, it really didn’t matter one way or another where they went.

“So,” Maxine said as she sat down beside you on the couch. Well, she practically sat on you. “You’ve got some explainin’ to do.”

“I’m not explainin’ the book of Job,” you said without looking up from your book. “Jackson already believes there’s a dragon in it and I can’t have that argument again.”

“Not about that, silly,” she said; her hand was hot on your knee. “About you bein’ a third wheel.”

Oh you were not getting into that kind of conversation with Maxine. The past few days had been wonderful, and truthfully you had enjoyed it. They were all a bit… extravagant, but they were kind. As odd as it sounded to you, they felt more like family than most of your own family. You could see why Lorraine spent so much time with them even when she didn’t have to.

But you enjoying their company did not mean you wanted to get into the whole relationship conversation with Maxine.

“Your boys are some of those queers, huh?” She asked. “That’s why they’re up there filmin’ some fake scene while you’re down here.” Her hand squeezed right above your knee. “Readin’ some nerdy little book.”

“It was a bet,” you said. “We’ve always paid up, ever since we were little.” She smirked. “And my book ain’t nerdy.”

“It bother you that you gotta share your man?” She asked, as if you hadn’t even said anything in the first place.

“I-”

“-did you really start without me?” Bobby-Lynn asked when she appeared in the downstairs living room.

You did your best to conceal your displeasure when Bobby-Lynn practically ran over to sit on the other side of you. Her legs were bare, her denim shorts barely covering any part of her. She swung them over your own legs quickly, leaving you officially trapped underneath the both of them. You would’ve been lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip.

“How far did ya get?” Bobby-Lynn asked. She was practically bouncing in excitement.

“We just started,” Maxine answered with a smile that would have made you squirm if you weren’t so focused on trying to figure out what was going on.

“Don’t y’all have scenes to shoot?” You asked in a desperate attempt to get them to leave you alone before they really got started.

“Don’t you have someone you should be thinkin’ about?” Maxine asked.

You opened your mouth instinctively, ready to argue, especially when Bobby-Lynn continued to lean closer. They both had some nerve to believe they could catch you off guard with their interrogation that was only just beginning. They had known you for, what, all of a few days? And still they thought they could get something like this out of you? They were pornstars, not detectives.

“Of course I’m thinkin’ about her-”

-maybe they were detectives.

You threw your head back against the couch, a groan leaving your lips. On either side of you, both women practically cheered, giving each other a high-five. It was disgusting, were you nothing more than a pawn in whatever game they were playing? Your daddy was right; couldn’t trust sinners.

You actively ignored the fact that you were one of them.

“Why the long face, sweetheart?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“It’s not like we couldn’t tell,” Maxine said.

What was that supposed to mean? How did they even notice? As far as you could remember, you hadn’t even spent hardly any time in the same room as Lorraine. How could they get some sort of scandal out of that? Let alone the fact you thought you had said maybe three words to her after she had helped you pray over set on that first day. No, none of that made sense.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said as you finally pulled yourself back upright, ignoring that Maxine’s and Bobby-Lynn’s faces were so close to yours they could kiss your cheeks if they wanted.

“You think every girl is fine with their boyfriend hookin’ up with another guy?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

You knew that would be the issue. You knew it, and you had told all three of them that it was shady at best. There was no logical reason for it, even if it was from some stupid bet. It may have been the 80s, but not everyone was as easy going as the four of you were. Not everyone was as understanding, and though that wasn’t the current issue, it still played its part.

“Not to mention all the lookin’ you’ve been doin’,” Bobby-Lynn chimed in. “You certainly ain’t lookin’ at Beau that way.”

“I-” you closed your mouth just as quickly as you had opened it. What were you going to say to argue? What could you say?

“Honey, we ain’t judgin’,” Maxine said. Her hand felt warm on your neck. She was far too close for comfort. “But this whole thing is pretty sad.”

“It ain’t that sad,” you pitifully attempted to argue.

“Darlin’, it’s downright painful,” Bobby-Lynn said. Her going back and forth with Maxine was giving you whiplash. “Ain’t never seen anyone pine like that.”

“It’s a bit pathetic,” Maxine said.

“Hey,” you said, your eyebrows instantly furrowing. “Hold your horses, that’s unnecessary.”

“Don’t be gettin’ so defensive,” Bobby-Lynn said with a smile that was to die for. “We’re here to help.”

“By throwin’ my self-esteem out the window?” You asked.

“Oh no,” Maxine said with a slowly growing smile, “it’s much better than that.”

This time, when your stomach twisted into knots again, you didn’t feel quite so dreadful about the upcoming plans.

—---

After Bobby-Lynn and Maxine had told you about their sneaky little plan, the parsonage had felt a little less like a prison. When all the guys got back and everyone finished upstairs, you almost felt at peace. There was still the lingering tension when both Lorraine and RJ were in the room, but you could work with it. And for once, you didn’t feel quite so bad when you met Lorraine’s eyes.

“How many scenes we got left?” Wayne asked when everyone settled downstairs for supper.

In a very selfless move, you had offered to cook. It certainly wasn’t because you didn’t want to have to look at anyone while Bobby-Lynn and Maxine got to work on their plan. That would have been selfish, and you were nothing if not a good, selfless, Christian girl.

“Only two or three, we can finish them tomorrow,” RJ said from his spot beside Lorraine on the couch.

“Me and Maxine have an addition to make,” Bobby-Lynn said.

“An addition?” Wayne asked. “What kind?”

“Well,” Maxine said, drawing out the word for longer than necessary, “we were thinkin’ our little Preacher would look awful pretty on her knees.”

“Excuse me?” Lorraine asked.

Suddenly, the food you were cooking required the utmost attention. It would be quite the shame if you burned something. After all, everyone back there was working rather hard on their scenes, they deserved a good meal, didn’t they? And if it gave you an excuse to not see the look on Lorraine’s face then, well, that’s just an added bonus.

“Fitting, ain’t it?” Bobby-Lynn asked.

“And we’d take good care of her,” Maxine drawled. Oh, they were really testing the waters.

It seemed to be working.

“She’s not part of this,” Lorraine said.

“Wouldn’t be such a bad idea,” RJ said. “Might draw more attention to the film.”

“It’s smut, RJ,” she continued, “it draws enough attention on its own.”

“Well hold on now, let’s talk this out,” Wayne said.

Everyone started talking - except, you noticed, for Maxine - and you almost wanted to laugh. If you had known this was all it would take to get Lorraine on edge, you would’ve said something like this ages ago. It sounded like she didn’t even care that RJ was in the room. It was… a nice feeling.

“Did you plan this?” Beau asked, suddenly appearing beside you.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” you said softly with a shrug. “Everyone here has a mind of their own.”

“Well keep it up,” he said as he rested his hand on the small of your back, “because I think it’s workin’.”

“The answer’s no,” Lorraine said.

“Well why don’t we ask her?” Bobby-Lynn said.

Silence fell over the room quickly; it was suffocating. If you could have, you would have slunk away to the room you shared with the boys. Even before turning around you could feel everyone’s eyes on you. Maybe, if you were really lucky, you could get away without actually answering the question.

That possibility was struck down the moment you turned your head to look out into the room.

Lorraine was looking at you expectantly, most likely believing she knew what you were going to say. In any other situation, she would have been right. You wanted no one but her, and everyone was more than aware of it. Well, everyone but Wayne, RJ, and potentially Jackson. Though judging by the way Jackson was looking at you, he knew too.

“Might be fun,” you said with a shrug and turned back around. “I can always repent next door.”

“Are you serious?” Lorraine asked.

At that you turned back around and leaned your hip against the counter. Was she really going to question you? After what she did for a living? Not once had you ever judged her for it, you had even helped her make light of it when she felt guilt creeping in. She had the nerve to question you?

“Like a heart attack, honey,” you said with far more confidence than you felt.

The look Lorraine gave you was deadly.

“Seems we got our answer,” Maxine said.

Lorraine missed the look she gave Bobby-Lynn.

—---

You hadn’t been asleep for long when the door of your room creaked open. Part of you wished it would have stayed closed; it was the first night you weren’t sleeping on the floor while Huck and Beau took the bed. Maxine was becoming a godsend; she’s the one who had convinced the boys to sleep in the van outside.

“Are you asleep?” Lorraine asked quietly after the door had clicked shut.

“Yes,” you said even as you sat up and looked at her.

She was in the nightgown you remembered getting her for her birthday. Her other one had been so old, there was no way it had even been comfy anymore. Not to mention she had made sure to let you know at every opportunity how badly she needed a new one. Clearly RJ hadn’t listened, so you had gotten it yourself. It was mighty cute, if you did say so yourself.

Lorraine tip-toed her way to the bed, whispering a quick “scoot over” before crawling underneath the covers with you. Even though the temperature outside was mild, her feet were freezing. Which she made sure to make you aware of when she stuck them against your legs, her smile taking over when you yelped and shivered.

“Were you serious about doin’ a scene with Bobby-Lynn and Max?” She asked as she reached out to force her folded hands between yours. She was freezing all over.

“Depends,” you said even as you started trying to warm up her hands. “Were you bein’ serious about tellin’ me no?”

“Of course I was,” she said indignantly.

“Then so was I,” you said.

Lorraine groaned. “You can’t be serious.”

“As a heart attack,” you said just as quickly.

Even though you weren’t serious at all. That was never the actual plan. The plan was simply to get Lorraine jealous enough to come into the room and, what would you know, that’s exactly what she had done. Even if absolutely nothing else happened, you would be happy. At least you got to spend a night with her without having to keep it a total secret.

“Why would you want to do this?” She asked. “It’s not like you don’t know how it works.”

“Maybe I want to learn a few things,” you said with as much of a shrug as you could do lying on your side.

“What could you possibly learn from smut?” Lorraine asked. “It’s all fake.”

“Were all those noises you made fake?” You asked. “Cause you never do that with me.”

The look on her face was almost offensive. Her eyes lit up like she was in on some little secret. Was she really going to laugh at you? She never laughed at you, not even when she rightfully should. Her hand now cupping your jaw was not enough to distract from the fact she was laughing.

“Is that what you’re worried about?” She asked. “You think I don’t like havin’ sex with you?”

“Not that you don’t like it,” you said quickly. “Just that,” you sighed, “you don’t like it as much.”

Her thumb brushed against your bottom lip. “You make me feel things none of those guys could even dream of.”

“Well you have to say that now,” you said as you leaned further into her hand. “Otherwise I wouldn’t let you put your cold feet on me.”

Her smile slipped to something a little different, a bit more seductive. You didn’t put up any resistance as she used her elbow to push your shoulder until you were laying on the bed. With the same ease as you had seen numerous times, she followed, her legs on either side of you and her weight resting comfortable on top of you. A position you very much loved, even without the arousal that came with it.

“Is there any way I can convince you not to film tomorrow?” Lorraine asked, lowering her tone in such a way that had you squirming underneath her. “What can I do?”

God you were pathetic, she hadn’t even touched you yet.

It was supposed to be a simple question, but you took it to heart. Of course she could convince you, you weren’t planning on filming anyway, but what could you get out of this arrangement? There had to be something you truly wanted, especially now that you had some sort of leverage.

Ah. That was it.

“Somethin’ we haven’t done before,” you said. “Somethin’ you like.”

Her smile slowly grew as she thought of what she wanted. The weight on top of you shifted until her hands pressed your shoulders further into the mattress. You felt her breath on your lips before you felt her kiss, quick and soft and eager. It was enough to get your heart racing even when she pulled away. She was off you in a moment, practically running out of the room.

You sat up on your elbows and watched the open door. What was she doing? Surely she wasn’t going to just leave, right? No, she wouldn’t do that. Right? That had been one of her more mischievous smiles, and she was absolutely one for payback. But you also knew Lorraine was nothing if not eternally aroused, so surely she wouldn’t just leave.

At least she better not, because if she teased you like that only to go and get back in bed with RJ, you were going to lose your mind. You weren’t usually one to make a scene, but you could always make an exception. The wrath of God, and all that good preacher nonsense.

You’re in a house of sin.

Yes you were, and you were going to partake in it for the night. Repentance was only 50 feet and a few hours away. If Lorraine could remove her cross necklace during scenes, surely you could remove the guilt from your chest for a few hours. God may have been in the walls, watching your every move, but He could look away for the time. You were far past the point of caring.

By the time Lorraine came back into the room, you were already jittery. Her hands were behind her back as she closed the door quietly, the click almost inaudible. that mischievous smile was back, but you noticed the way she tapped her foot against the floor, still in the same spot.

“You promise you wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, her voice uncertain, carrying over the thick air.

“I’m sure,” you said, “just get over here.”

Her steps were slow, methodical on the straight path to the bed. The whole way her hands stayed behind her back. You wondered what she had, but you couldn’t think too hard. Hell, the sway of her hips could have made you forget your own name.

That familiar weight settled on you again as Lorraine straddled you, placing whatever was in her hands off to the side, just out of your sight. When you tried to twist and look at it, she pressed down against your shoulders again, her lips instantly finding yours.

Her nightgown rested high on her thighs, and you were never one to keep your hands to yourself. She sighed when you slid your hands under her nightgown, resting on her hips. Her breath tickled on your cheek. You couldn’t hold back your quiet chuckle, which Lorraine returned, smiling into the kiss.

“Don’t tickle,” she mumbled against your lips.

“What,” you said just as softly, “that ain't romantic?”

She laughed again, eliciting the same sound out of you as your hands continued up. Your knuckles brushed against the underside of her breasts, transforming her laugh into something a little more breathy but no less joyful. A sound that, you decided, was much better than anything you had heard during her scene.

“Take it off, Raine,” you said.

“What's the magic word?” She said before sitting up straight.

“Please,” you said breathlessly.

She barely waited for the word to leave your mouth before she pulled the nightgown over her head. Every time you saw her undress was like the first time. Your heart raced as she uncovered every inch of skin, from her thighs to her hips to her breasts. Not a single space had been neglected by you in your times together, and you weren't going to start that night.

You sat up, keeping a hand on Lorraine's back to keep her in your lap. She didn't hesitate to grab your face and pull you into a kiss. It immediately shot a wave of arousal down your spine, pooling in your lower abdomen. And for once, that usual spark of guilt was absent.

“Yours too,” she barely managed to say between kisses.

You couldn't speak, simply nodded as you fumbled around like a teenager. Or course the hem of your shirt would hide from you on the one night you not only had Lorraine, but a bed. She laughed again and pulled away. You tried to chase her - you would always try to chase her - but she pulled back again and placed a finger to your lips.

“Let me help,” she said.

Her fingers were so light against your skin that it tickled. She found the hem of your shirt quickly but took her sweet time pulling it up. Those delectable nails of hers scratched against your skin the entire time. Over your sides, the sides of your breasts, the underside of your arms as you held them up for her to finish pulling the shirt off.

“Is this Beau’s?” She asked.

“It’s comfy,” you said meekly.

She tossed the shirt to the side. “You should wear one of mine sometime.”

“I thought you liked me better shirtless,” you teased.

“Maxine has a word for people like you,” Lorraine said when she pulled you back in for a kiss. “She'd call you a minx.”

“I like it,” you said, kissing her back and running your knuckles over her nipples. Her shiver was delightful. “Sounds downright sinful.”

“Stop talking,” she said.

And oh god you did. How could you even consider doing anything else when you were enveloped by her? Her scent, her taste, the feel of her skin, warm against yours. If kissing her was the final nail in your coffin, you would accept death gracefully and with no regrets.

She nipped your lip when you lightly pinched her nipples. Never hard enough to hurt, no, but just enough to draw the most perfect little yelp from her lips. In return, her hands fell to your ribs, pushing against you until you were laying on the bed again.

You shifted, pulling your knee up until you pressed against her. She let out a breathy sigh, but otherwise kept kissing you. There was just something mesmerizing about the way she tasted. An ambrosia not for the gods, but for you alone. A sustenance for your very mind, body, and soul.

“Take these off,” Lorraine said, pulling lightly against the pants that you had also stolen from Beau.

In your defense, he was your fake boyfriend.

“Will you take yours off?” You asked even though you had already started trying to take your pants off.

She nodded hastily. “I want to feel you for a moment.”

You would've happily let her feel you for as long as she wished. All she had to do was give you the smile she was giving you in that moment. The one she had before the accident, the one she saved exclusively for the times she was alone with you. If she looked at you like that for the rest of eternity, you would be in heaven.

Her skin was hot against yours as she laid completely on top of you. On instinct, you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and back as she tucked her head into your neck. Her breath tickled your collar bone, but you couldn't have been happier.

How could such peace be a sin? Such pure love, something that would not only be applauded but praised if you had but been born a man? What difference could there truly be, aside from the shape of your body. The guilt sparked in your chest once again, but this time, you quickly stomped it out.

You would not be shamed for loving Lorraine. Not that night.

The position you were both in was comfortable and, quite frankly, innocent. But that didn't ease the inferno that was still raging inside you. If you had the ability to have Lorraine to yourself more than once in a blue moon, you would have been satisfied. But the “lust of the flesh,” as daddy called it, was as present and angry as always.

Thankfully, Lorraine seemed to feel the same when you felt her hips move and you felt her arousal on your thigh.

“Wanna try somethin’ new?” She asked, placing a seemingly innocuous kiss behind your ear.

“With you?” You asked. You placed your finger under her chin and lifted her face until you could see her eyes. “Always.”

She smiled and kissed you quickly before sitting up. You tried to sit up with her, but she used her bad hand to push you back down with ease. Not that it stopped you from trying to look around her to see the thing she had brought into the room. Her smile turned nervous, but no less excited as she finally turned back around.

“Is that-”

“-Maxine and Bobby-Lynn used one like it a few times,” Lorraine started to explain while she started pulling straps around your hips and thighs. “I asked ‘em to get me one not too long ago.”

“Jesus, Raine,” you said as she pulled the straps tighter.

“It works the same as-”

“-I can guess how it works,” you interrupted.

Her hands slowed to a stop as she finished securing the… phallic toy in place. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Lorraine,” you said as softly as you could, finally sitting up - as best you could without feeling too awkward - and placing your hand on the scarred side of her jaw. “I’m more than okay with it.” She leaned further into your hand. “If you asked me to wear only my boots and spurs, I would do it.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked, her teasing smile coming back in full force.

“Don’t push your luck, Day,” you said before leaning forward to kiss her again.

She moaned softly into the kiss. “If I did it right, you should feel it too,” she said as she lifted herself onto her knees, hovering over you. “So let me know.”

You nodded and pulled her into a kiss. As curious as you were to watch, you wanted to feel her lips against yours. You knew the moment she lowered herself onto the toy; her gasp was to die for. Shorty, breathy, almost inaudible if you hadn’t been kissing her already. The sound alone was enough to leave you soaking and needy.

But then you felt the toy press against you, and you knew you were a goner. Lorraine stayed still in your lap, catching her breath, and you would have been more than happy to keep her there. If she moved, you swore you would cum on the spot. It wasn’t a feeling that was so much better than everything else, but simply the knowledge that you were both feeling something together.

“I guess it works,” Lorraine teased even though she could barely keep herself in control.

“It does,” you said through clenched teeth as you tried to stay strong when she started moving again.

She didn’t have to move for long before you pulled her into a kiss, holding her tight against you. You did your best to move your hips with her. It was awkward and clumsy, and you both laughed a little when, more than once, you moved wrong and the toy slipped out. But you were okay with that, because it meant you got to hear her little gasp again.

As wrong as it felt, you had to picture Jackson to get a good rhythm going, or at least to get started. Specifically, you thought of the way his hips had moved with each thrust. You knew you got it right when Lorraine moaned, her head falling to your shoulder. If you hadn’t been so focused on not cumming or losing your rhythm, you would’ve moaned just the same.

“Baby,” she mumbled against your neck. Her nails dug into your shoulders; you would have to cover the marks up in the morning.

You knew what she wanted; she only ever truly called you “baby” when she was almost ready to cum. And you were more than happy to oblige. You kept one arm wrapped tight around her waist, holding her in place while your free hand slid down her stomach. Past the almost unnoticeable scatter of scars and through that small patch of hair.

Her hips jolted against your hand when you brushed against her clit. It was sloppy work; you would need to get used to the unusual angle later. But clearly it didn’t matter, because while her moans stayed quiet, they got higher in pitch until she bit down on your shoulder.

You used that as your sign to follow her, not even needing three more thrusts before you tipped over the edge along with her. You held her tight, hyper aware of every inch of her skin against yours. Of the slick sweat that coated both your bodies. Of the sting of her teeth and nails, but you would rather die than have her stop. Of your breaths intermingling between you until you were of one breath, one heartbeat, one soul.

Heaven existed, and it was right in that moment with Lorraine.

“You’re bleedin’,” she said softly. You didn’t have to look to know what she meant.

“It’s alright,” you said, pressing a light kiss to the side of her head. “You can nurse me back to health later.”

Lorraine giggled. A light sound that reminded you of when you were all kids and you would do anything to get that sound out of her. It was a reminder of simpler times, back when you were too young to understand that everyone believed what you felt for each other was wrong. A sin. Back when love was just that; love.

You let yourself fall back onto the bed, pulling Lorraine with you. She made a small noise when the toy moved inside her, but quickly settled back onto your chest. Her nails felt good scratching lightly against your skin, more comforting than ticklish. A nervous habit of hers.

“Did you learn all that from Jackson?” She asked.

“Don’t remind me,” you said; she chuckled. “I ain’t proud to say I had to picture him there for a minute.”

“Well, you gave him a run for his money,” she said.

“Think so?” You asked; you felt her nod against your chest. “Cause you still didn’t make the same noises.”

“Because these were real,” she said. Her voice grew quiet. “Everything with you is real.”

You wished she wouldn’t say things like that. That she could just let you both lie there, comfortable in the silence. Everyone was aware of the situation, but just once you wanted to pretend it wasn’t happening. That you actually did get to love her without feeling shame or guilt.

You just pulled her closer.

“I love you,” you said.

“I love you,” she repeated.

It wasn’t enough, but for the moment, you were going to pretend it was. For the moment, you could pretend this was your daily life. Being in the same bed as Lorraine, showing her just how much you loved her, how much she truly meant to you. Holding her tight until you were of the same body and spirit, because no matter what the world thought, you were.

It wasn’t enough. But it would do.

“Are you really goin’ to film a scene tomorrow?” Lorraine asked.

“Absolutely not,” you said. “Bobby-Lynn and Maxine just wanted to getcha all riled up.”

Lorraine lifted her head from your chest and lowered her brows.

“Are you serious?”

“As a heart attack,” you said with a smile.

“Sometimes I hate all of y’all,” she mumbled, quickly ducking her head back underneath your jaw. You still managed to catch the smile on her lips.

“I love you too, darlin’,” you said, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head.

Now this. This was enough.

#lorraine day x reader #lorraine x reader #lorraine day #jenna ortega x reader

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txttletale · 1 month

Note

can you elaborate on the reasons ? what criticisms do you disagree with?

criticisms i disagree with:

"they character assassinated jane" amiguita there was no character to assisnate.

"they character assassinated dirk" dirk is at his most interesting and likeable ever and is just about the only redeeming thing about these

"they were just written to spite the fans" if true tht would have been Epic, and Based. but they very obviously werent

"its too violent and sexual for cheap shock humour" did you. read homestuck, the web comic? what were you Expecting... also like it or not the sexual content isnt just random or gratuitous it is obviously trying to be a conclusion to the whoel coming-of-age theme of homestuck as a work.

"so-and-so is out of character" homestuck characters are malleable little dolls that can be rearranged to suit the narrative at a whim. this is true about all fictional characters ofc but it is like explicitly textually metaphysically true in homestuck

my criticisms:

the heavy-handed political messaging is fucking tedious and awful and so profoundly of its time in a bad way. its clearly a reaction to trump but it doesnt have anything interesting to say about him or fascism or racism or anything, really, except, um. Cheeto in the white house?. the whole Evil Jane plot is too stupid and contrived for the sake of the satire to take seriously but also its awful satire written by liberals who think fascism as invented in 2016 by the orange man

god can we fucking talk about how fucking embarassing the obama shit is. jesus fucking christ. for a start it's a callback to a running jhoke in homestuck that is straight up just super racist. and they decide to pivot from the joke being 'its funny that theres a black president', which is good, but they pivot it to 'obama seems so heroic and magical now that we're stuck with the Orange Man', which, admittedly, is better than Being Racist, but also sucks shit. he killed people amiguitas.

'post-canon' is cheap bullshit. like, the work makes a big deal about tryng to talk about What Canon Is, without ever acknowledging the concept of, like, IP law. claiming to just be a non-canon continuation like any other when it's made by people with the Official Exclusive Legal Rights just feels hollow and detooths any liberatory/deconstructive potential there. unironically my opinion of it would go up like tenfold if it had been actually published in AO3 instead of just joking about it.

in general i think that all of the attempt to deconstruct fiction or storytelling is rooted in a really weird and flawed model of storytelling. a lot of it seems to be taking an extremely long route to writing something bad on purpose and then saying 'see, if you wrote something like this, it would be bad'. Okay. i like deconstructive collapsing narrative shit in e.g. if on a winter's night a traveller because i think calvino has trenchant and interesting insights about literature and storytelling. i do think hussie also has those but they essentially dropped and explored all of them in homestuck and the epilogues just seem like an attempt to connect ohomstuck's disparate and contradictory approaches to Narrative into one overarching schemata and then crtiique that schemata, which i think is a doomed project that results in little of interest to me.

#ask #homestuck

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mirohlayo · 5 months

Text

ALWAYS | CL16

inspired by the song always - daniel caesar

( charles and you broke up 6 months ago. but no matter what, he'll still love you forever. )

warning : sad, angst, heartbreaking (i'm sorry for that 💔)

word count : 1.7k

!! english not my first language !!

it still hurts. time passes but the memories remains. they remain profoundly anchored in his heart, in his head, and every day he hopes these tender and precious memories will never fade away.

maybe he's wrong for thinking like that. maybe he's wrong for losing his head over you.

maybe if time elapses rapidly, maybe if enough time passes, he will see you again. and you both will laugh together, heart fulfills with joy, never forgetting how much you were made for each other.

and he knows deep inside that he can't deny it. that there'll always be, no matter what happens, a place for you by his side, this same place that you sorrowfully left six months ago. this place will always be reserved for you, because he promised it to you, because he finally knows nobody will never occupy it the way you did.

laboriously lying down on his bed, charles closes his eyes. the moon softly shines in the nocturnal sky, skimming his hollow cheekbones. the light dimly illuminates his dark circles under his eyes, as if it had been an eternity since he last tasted a peaceful sleep.

it's night. and for those last six months, he found comfort in nighttime. because there is this quiet atmosphere, not a single noise disturbs him, apart from the unremitting sounds of the cars' motors which turn around his monaco building. he feels alone there, and that perfectly contrasts with this sensation you caused him since your departure. he terribly feels abandoned, lost and alone. like the moon is neglected among the billions of stars behind her.

and he closes his eyes. he wants to sleep. he wants to dream. he wants to dream about her, maybe to forget or maybe to remember. but he definitely doesn't do it on purpose, sometimes he dreams about you. because maybe that's what the night is for : arrange to meet the ones we love.

because he truly loved you. genuinely and profoundly. he fell very hard for you. and that since he first laid eyes on you. his heart rose when he saw you, his cheeks became hot when you smiled to him. his eyes were full of love and affection. it was as if he laid eyes on the most beautiful thing. and it was you.

his heart, his soul never stopped to love you. his body burns of love and desire for you, and all his being beg you to come back to him, to tell him everything will settle. because his poor heart awfully suffers, and every day he dies a little more remembering why you're no longer his anymore.

he loves you infinitely. never no one has ever been able to fill him with so much passion. he knows he truly loves you, from deep inside. he loves you for a thousand and one reasons, but mainly for the one he doesn't understand.

pretty lady. he liked to call you like this, even though sometimes you thought it was silly. but he knew you actually loved this surname, so he never missed an occasion to make you feel special.

so with his pretty lady, he used to walk down the streets. hand in hand, maybe shared earphones, and above all your love for each other. you walked slowly in monaco's streets, until he begged you to let him buy you a gift. buying you anything, as long as you were happy, it was the main thing. even though his bank account was empty afterward. but it was okay.

and he still remembers the fussing, the fighting, the fucking and the lying. most of the time, it was you getting mad at him for buying expensive stuff for your simple person. but sometimes, it was more an underlying and painful reason. but you always ended up reconciled, because neither could stay apart for too long. it was like that.

except last time, there wasn't a reconciliation. you left each other, teared apart and frightfully hurt. none returned to the other. and that haunt charles for way too long now.

maybe he's wrong for thinking like that. maybe he's wrong for losing his head over you.

he's fed up. he opens his eyes, and in just a fraction of a second, he's already dressed in a coat and in a scarf. he needs to get some air, he needs to think about something else.

was it by going to the cafe you always went to that he would really think of something other than you? no, certainly not. but he needs it, it's stronger than him. he pushes the door and immediately orders a warm drink.

and then he takes a sit in a secluded corner. he doesn't want to be seen, but from his spot, he can catch sight of every person present. a waiter comes to bring him his drink. he thanks him with a fragile smile. it's been a long time since he smiled brightly, like he always did with only you.

he takes one sip. two sips. it's warm, and it comforts him. because it reminds him of the soothing warmth you gave him when you used to hold him tight. and it comforts him as much as it grieves him. and the deeper the sorrow digs into his being, the more joy he will be able to contain.

and maybe this joy finally weaves in his heart. this joy which suddenly explodes at the view in front of him. he can't believe it. you push the cafe's door, a silly smile on your lips as a deep laugh echoes in the air. soon, charles' happiness transforms in bitterness and pain.

he knows it. he knows it dawn well. you moved on. you're no longer his anymore. you don't belong with him anymore. but with this new man who seems to fill you with happiness like he did with you before. his heart squeezes when you take the hand of your new boyfriend, dragging him to a table not far from charles' one.

you look so happy. your big smile warms his heart, but it cools down instantly when he remembers your smile isn't meant for him. no, it will never be intended for him again. and it hurts him terribly.

the same waiter brings you your drink, which you obviously had to share with the man that charles already hates with all his being. but on the one hand, he couldn't stop your man being better than him. he must accept his fate, he must accept that this man is the new chapter of your life. and that he only remains as a page that you have difficultly turned.

but he doesn't want. he still wants to have hope. he still wants to hold onto you, because he tells himself maybe one day everything will return to the way it was before. he prays for this day to comes, whatever fate does.

so he just doesn't care. he doesn't care if you're with somebody else. because he'll give you time and space to hopefully bring you back. he still hopes every day, because he wants you to know he's just not a phase. and that he never was one.

so, it's selfish, but he disregards the man who is sitting in front of you and back to him. he has a perfect view on your face. and he imagines only you and him, on a date, face to face. he imagines that the smile glues to your face is addressed to him, that all the sentences that come out of your mouth give him the impression that he is your confidant again. even if it's not the reality.

because one of the hardest battles we fight in life is the fight between the mind that knows the truth and the heart that refuses to accept it.

the more he looks at you, the more you pleasantly disconcert him. the more he closed his eyes, the more he missed you. and it wasn't good. it became suffocating. so he had to leave. leave the café, but not you. even though he knows he'll never have a second chance, he'll continue to hold onto you and to love you.

you had left to the bathroom. so he took the opportunity to leave the place. and leaving something behind for you.

you come back to your table, excusing yourself to your boyfriend for taking too much time. you keep talking with him, but the waiter just now approaches you. he points to a table lost at the back of the cafe, a cup of coffee still left on it and, a gray scarf.

a scarf which you perfectly recognize. gray and soft. made by cotton. a scarf you offered to your first love, the one you loved dearly for one year, the one you haven't seen since six months now.

"the man who was sitting here left. but he said this scarf was for you." the waiter says to you before getting back to the counter. you gently thanks him, and you try to avoid the questioning look of your boyfriend.

you desperately look to see if he's still here, if he's still present in the cafe. or in the street. because either you can't deny it, a piece of your heart still beats for charles. but nothing, nobody's around.

and meanwhile, charles leaves the street corner where the cafe is located. he returns to his apartment, alone again and perhaps even more hurt than before.

he left his scarf - no scratch that - he left you his scarf. maybe he did it on purpose to abandon a part of you, to pass on to you what belongs to you. to start forgetting about you. or just merely for you to remember him for ever, that every time you'll see this scarf his face will appears in your mind, and you'll be able to smell his cologne.

he thinks about you once again. in your pretty coat, your pretty hairstyle, and of course this man by your side. peacefully drinking your hot drink. he curses himself for not being the one to share your hot chocolate. your favorite drink that he knows you ordered tonight.

but it's okay. he knows it, he deny it.

it's all fine, you'll always be his. forever and ever, always.

always, you can count on him sure as the stars in the sky. always, you can count on him as sure that the sun will rise. always, his love for you ain't going nowhere.

always, he will be here.

for you. forever.

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 #cl16 imagine #cl16 x you #charles leclerc fanfic

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natalievoncatte · 1 year

Text

Nothing has ever hit Lena like this.

She’s been abducted by aliens. She was almost shotgun married to an alien. Her ex was eaten by nanobots in front of her. She’s been tried to a chair while her brother tried to murder the world’s most beloved hero, and nearly vaporized by a man with a radioactive chunk of another planet for a heart.

Not to mention the mundane stuff. The L-Corp logo in the lobby almost crushing her. Bombs, bullets, blades, being thrown off a balcony, thrown off a roof, left to die in a plane crash.

Almost killed when her brother sent drones to shoot down her helicopter and a golden vision of inhuman beauty came from the sky to save her life.

Of course, that golden vision had tarnished, turned brass. She could be bossy, sanctimonious, paranoid, prone to snapping at Lena one moment… then making her knees weak the next.

Because sometimes, Supergirl wasn’t bossy, sanctimonious, or paranoid. Sometimes she was all dashing grace, with a profoundly frustrating tendency to scoop Lena into her arms and carry her there with surpassing tenderness, as though she were the most precious treasure the alien had ever seen.

Poor Lena’s heart had suffered terribly through all that, yet never skipped a beat.

It skipped now.

Kara looked up from her burger, apropos of nothing. Or, that’s what Lena would have thought a moment ago, before she recognized that scar.

The world spun crazily. Lena grasped the sides of her seat for dear life while alarms and sirens blared in every direction. Smoke coughed noisily from the remains of the turbines that had powered her chopper’s rotor blades. As the world seemed to grow weightless, Lena finally accepted what was happening- the chopper was going to crash. She was going to die.

And then there was a wind.

No, not a wind. A blur of motion, a red and blue streak cutting through the brilliant afternoon light and then a stomach-churning lurch as the falling aircraft just stopped, gently floating to a safe landing on the roof.

With a squeak of tearing metal, she was there. A goddess in primary colors, soft waves of golden hair framing her devastatingly lovely face as she checked the pilot and then turned those arresting blue eyes to Lena and then asked-

“Are you okay? Lena?”

With trembling hands, Lena reached up. Kara froze, a thousand emotions flashing on her face, fear flickering in the oceans of her eyes. They both paused, testing the moment. This was it. They had their choices: Lena could stop, make some excuse. Kara could flinch and offer some gee golly shucks reason to move out of reach and dissemble her way out of it. They could decide not to do this.

Lena did not stop, and Kara did not move. The frames of Kara’s glasses were surprisingly heavy in her grasp as she softly tugged them free and set them aside. Lena raises a hand to Kara’s cheek, ever hesitant quiver of her palm a question. She closed the gap between them on the couch and brought her other arm back up, circling Kara in something that was somehow more intimate than a hug. He best friend sat stone still as Lena worked loose the band that held her hair.

Golden locks spilled about her shoulders, and Lena gasped. She caressed her hand up Kara’s shockingly soft cheek and touched the scar lightly with her thumb.

Lena felt the tears trembling in her own eyes as Kara’s welled with her own. The moment had come; the river was crossed, the decision made.

And yet in this moment there was another one, at once simpler and more profound. Lena’s lip trembled. Anger welled in her chest, burning hot and bright.

It’s not a great question for a Luthor to ask someone in my family.

It twisted in her like venom, burning at her insides, trying to eat through her from the inside out. The fury rose until she thought she’d be sick, and then…

Kara Danvers believes in you.

Take me instead!

I can’t hold both! You have to jump!

I will always protect you.

“It’s you,” Lena whispered. “It’s always been you.”

Before she knew what was happening, Kara drew her forward with surpassing tenderness. Hands that could crack marble gently guided Lena’s weight into Kara’s lap. What had not been meant as an embrace became one, and Lena made her choice.

It was her.

It had always been her.

Noticing small details about them (physically)

#Supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supercorp fanfic #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #Lena Luthor figures out Supergirl’s identity #seriously she flew here on a bus?#Kara Danvers loves Lena Luthor #Supercorp from a prompt

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smolwritingchick · 2 months

Text

Smol Brainstorm/Oneshot: Just Let Me Get It Out Of My System

Words: 4,000+

Author's Note: Ok Ok do you remember when Jungkook rapped Ddaeng? When he did this and I saw it years ago this idea sparked in my head. This has some smut in it so if you're not into smut then just ignore it. I actually really liked this and hope to put it in the story when I get to that point after tweaking it once again. So here, let this hold ya!

This would take place well after JenKook are established in pleasuring each other. Both of them are confident in bed and know each other's bodies well by this point. I feel like Jennie would be a switch and once in a while act bratty at times in bed. I kind of get brat tamer vibes from this scenario. Kinda?? In this, she definitely wanted to be in control this time around but Jungkook had other plans when she drove him crazy, lol.

--------

Nah...this was not OK. Nowhere near OK.

How dare he? Does he not understand how this was making her feel?

There Jen stood on stage watching along with the rest of the members as Jungkook rapped a part of Ddaeng. Aggressively might she add. He rapped so well. Jungkook always gave it 1000%. But his appearance was beginning to distract her while she attempted to put how sexy he looked in the back of her mind.

She failed instantly.

Usually, she would not act this way about him on stage but tonight it was just something about him that was making her feel some type of way. A type of way that made her feel a familiar ache between her legs.

‘What he so loud for?’ she thought, mesmerized as she watched him.

Was it his hair? How fluffy it appeared and framed his handsome features?

She loved that he was growing it out. It gave her extra excuses to run her fingers through it. Long hair suited him well and it seemed like he wasn’t going to be cutting it, anytime soon. If not the hair, was it his voice? He sounded sexy when rapping.

‘Not the time or place, sis,’ she scolded herself, attempting to push the dirty thoughts away.

Okay, but what about his outfit? Because damn, he was looking good.

Actually, screw it. It was all of the above and again, it was not OK.

Miss Bangtan went on to turn her attention to the crowd, hyping them up with the rest of the members because of how her body was getting worked up. She needed to keep it professional and put these aroused thoughts in the back of her mind.

One thing is for sure, she was going to get this man alone, tonight. No ifs, ands, or buts. Nobody was going to ruin her impromptu dick appointment.

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

After the show, the members were safely dropped off at the hotel, coming off from the excitement of the fifth muster. They chatted amongst themselves about the show and what they wanted to eat.

“All right, Korean BBQ it is. Make sure you’re ready in 20.” Namjoon confirmed what they were eating for a late dinner.

“We’ll meet at the lobby,” Yoongi added as they all agreed.

On the floor where their rooms were, Jennie walked behind the guys and Jungkook walked beside her. All those dirty thoughts she had about him this evening came back as she impatiently waited for an opportunity to get him alone. Once the guys were distracted with their own conversations as they walked down the hall, Jennie firmly grabbed Jungkook's hand and began to lead him in a different direction. The direction of her room as they left the rest behind, who were oblivious of their absence.

“Babe?” Jungkook asked softly.

If only he knew how hard it was to not jump his bones right there...

When she didn't answer him, he raised an eyebrow and watched her curiously as she led him to the door of her room. The room she had all to herself after beating the members in rock, paper, scissors. Once she opened it, she let him go in first and quickly followed in. It was a master suite and Jungkook understood why the members were profoundly upset when Jennie won the game. The room was huge with a dining table, king sized bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen area.

After tossing his bag on the couch, he turned around to see Jennie tossing her room key and bag on the floor.

“What—” before he could finish his sentence, her lips crashed against his, hurriedly.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, smooching him for dear life as she held him close. Before he knew it, her tongue had eased its way to brush up against his. The heated gesture prompted him to kiss back, placing his hands on her hips. Whatever had gotten into her, he wasn't complaining.

Pulling away to breathe, her hands roamed over to his jacket, yanking it off. She then proceeded to walk him back to where the bedroom was.

Wasting no time, she lightly shoved him on the king-sized bed. She watched as his back hit the soft sheets while the sounds of his soft panting filled her ears. He looked taken aback by her behavior and prompted himself up on his elbows.

She glanced at his lap. It looked enticing with his legs spread out. Just waiting for her to take a seat. After removing his black bucket hat and tossing it aside, he watched as she stripped down to her underwear. With hungry eyes, he stared at her exposed skin, feeling his jeans getting tighter.

They're supposed to meet everyone in the lobby in less than 20 minutes, right? Well, everyone was going to have to wait.

No longer wondering what was happening, he sat up and reached out for her.

"Get over here," he demanded in a low voice, pulling her to him by the hand.

With him on the edge of the bed, she straddled him, placing her knees on each side of him. She closed the gap, kissing him again, hands roaming down his chest. She felt that a few buttons were unbuttoned from his shirt. Feeling impatient, she ripped open his shirt and the loud pop of buttons filled their ears. The buttons flew all over the floor and she quickly peeled the shirt off, tossing it away.

Cupping his face, she went in for a deep kiss, while his hands slowly roamed down her body. The sensations between her legs became prominent once she began grinding into him. The action caused Jungkook to groan softly into the kiss, gripping her hips tighter.

"Baby..." he breathed out against her lips once she moved again.

If she kept this up, he wasn't going to be able to control what he was going to do to her. Whatever her intentions were, her being in charge of this was on thin ice.

Not when she teased him like this.

The Golden Maknae definitely planned to take over soon. But for now, he allowed her to have her fun and let her believe that she would dominate tonight. Jennie moved at a slow pace, driving him crazy. The more she moved, the more she felt him hardening. Just what she wanted.

Everything she was doing with him felt good as her need for him grew. She needed him badly and already felt ready for him as her panties were soaked. They hardly did anything yet he had this effect on her. Pulling back, her lips traveled down to his neck while his breathing became more audible. He let out a few curses as she lightly nipped and sucked on his neck until she found his sweet spot.

A sharp gasp escaped her lips when he moved his hips harder against hers. It seemed like he wanted this as much as she did, meeting his lustful gaze.

“You rapping tonight was too sexy,” she spoke up. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to get you alone? How much I’ve been wanting to ride you?”

That made him widen his eyes. Sure she topped before but he had never seen her in this state of mind after a show. He made her like this because of the way he rapped, tonight?

“Just...just let me get this out of my system and then we can meet with the guys, all right?" she proposed, with urgency in her voice. "Right now, I need you. And I need you to fuck me. Can you do that for me?”

All she wanted was a quickie. She wanted to get railed and then get ready to go out to eat.

Processing her words, Jungkook couldn’t help but chuckle and slowly lick his lips. His doe eyes darkened as he suggestively raised an eyebrow. She squirmed at the sight of the tempting smirk on his features.

He leaned over to her ear, making her shiver. "You need me that bad, huh? I can do that for you."

That's all she needed to hear as she softly bit her bottom lip and pushed him back down on the bed. He watched as she went to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants.

"Follow my lead," she answered and she pulled his pants and boxers down.

'I'll follow your lead for now. But we're both going to know who is leading tonight when I'm done letting you have your fun,' he thought to himself as very physical ideas popped into his head.

She heard him mention that he had condoms somewhere in his bag, but she shook her head and took out one from her bra, handing it to him.

"Came prepared," she said proudly as he proceeded to put it on his length.

She was so ready to sit on him but before they could proceed, they heard her phone ringing from her pants. Annoyance briefly flashed on Jennie's face as she had a feeling who was calling.

"Answer it," Jungkook stated.

"Answer it? Are you going to stay quiet when I talk?"

"Maybe," he grinned mischievously as he sat up, getting close to her face.

"Kookie..." she warned, earning a light chuckle from him.

She reached over to her jeans while he held her so she wouldn't fall over. Back safely on his lap with her phone in her hands, she looked at the called ID. Surprisingly it was Namjoon and not Jin who called.

"Yeah?" she answered.

"Nini, you almost ready? We're downstairs waiting," his deep voice filled her ears.

"Um...go without us, we'll catch up, Namjoon," she replied while he immediately understood.

He laughed at her statement. "Okay. Don't be too long,"

"Give me the phone," she heard Jin in the background. It sounded like he snatched the phone from him as he began to ask questions. "Where in the world are you? Are you almost ready?! We're waiting!"

Before she could answer, Jungkook took the opportunity to trail light kisses around her neck, making her eyes flutter.

"Are you there, Jennie? Hello? Are you seriously ignoring World Wide Handsome Jin?"

She cleared her throat, pulling away while giving Jungkook a warning glance. He was going to get it for being this playful in a situation like this.

"...yes...I'm still here, Jin," she put an emphasis on his name as a signal to Jungkook. But he didn't care and persisted in kissing and nipping at her neck.

This little shit...

Jennie fought back the moan that threatened to escape. One wrong sound and it was over. Jungkook didn't seem to mind. He always loved a challenge and the thrill of getting caught these days.

“We're all waiting in the lobby. I want my BBQ, so hurry it up, will you?" Jin exclaimed.

Struggling not to make any sounds from what her man was doing, she stammered, “So-rry. Be down in-a-few!”

“You sound weird. Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?”

She should have just hung up right then and there because Jungkook began to laugh.

“Hey! Why is that troublemaker laughing? Jungkook is with you? What are you two doing?!" the oldest member demanded.

"Let's give her another five minutes. If not then she'll just meet us there. You know how she likes to take forever getting ready for things," Namjoon grabbed the phone back, trying to ease the situation for the young lovers.

She heard him end the call as she shook her head and tossed her phone on the bed.

"I can't stand you for doing that,"' she playfully scolded Jungkook.

"It's fun messing with him," he responded and pulled her in for another heated kiss.

She pushed him back down to continue where they had stopped.

"We don't need much foreplay, I'm already ready for you," she admitted, biting her bottom lip softly.

“Yeah, I can feel it. All this from me rapping? I'll make sure to do it again,” he looked pleased to be the one to get her like this.

"You might have to," she said before letting out a sharp gasp when she slowly sat down on his length.

She let out a curse and used his chest for support. When he felt her sit down, he let out a breathy moan and threw his head back. She felt so good around him. Something he'll never get enough of.

"Go slow for me," he directed. "I want to see you enjoy yourself,"

He knew how much she wanted to go fast to get a quick release. The whole point was to have a quickie but he wanted to take it slow first. Regardless, he was going to make it worth it.

His statement made her feel flushed. Over the past few years, his confidence in their intimacy has grown with patience and communication. And he had always made her feel sexy. This time was no exception.

At a slow pace, she moved up and down, closing her eyes in bliss. It had been a while since she topped and she almost forgot how good it felt as soft moans fell from her lips. Jungkook watched in delight as her face scrunched up in pleasure, enjoying the view. After a while, she had found a steady rhythm, bouncing on him, sensually. He was captivated by her. A gorgeous view all to himself. His warm hands roamed around her body as he gazed intently into her eyes.

"That's it...keep going. You look beautiful like this," he admired her.

His hands wandered around her chest. The yellow set she had on complimented her dark skin and he contemplated ripping it off and flipping her over. Finally joining in, he gripped her hips to guide her. As he lifted his hips up, he guided her down to meet his. The movement caused her to whimper his name loudly and he slightly increased the pace.

"You always take me so well,” he praised.

His words made her involuntarily clench around him and he let out a loud moan, slowing down his movements. The way he sounded made her squirm. It was so sexy, she wanted to hear it again. Jungkook, however, was about to snap and gave her a dark, sensuous gaze.

"Jennie...if you do that again, you're going to be in trouble," he warned with a growl.

Did he just...growl underneath her? That sounded even hotter.

"Am I?" she asked innocently.

"Try me,"

She was amused to see him like this. He was the one who messed with her first when she was on the phone, so why not have a little payback?

Jen had no clue what she was in for because Jungkook was always unpredictable in and out of the bedroom. But she took a chance and chose to be hard-headed as she clenched around him again.

Jungkook growled out a loud curse and swiftly sat up, taking her by surprise. Having enough, he gripped her hips and guided her up and down at a faster pace. Snapping his strong hips up against hers, he made her cry out louder than she ever had tonight. She dug her nails into his back and held onto him for dear life. He wasn't kidding when he said she would be in trouble. She was becoming undone by each deep thrust as desperate whimpers escaped her along with his heavy breaths.

"Are you close?" he asked, picking up the pace as he loved how she responded to him.

"Fuck...J-J..." she whined.

She felt herself getting close, feeling an overwhelming amount of pleasure.

"Does it feel too good? You don't want me to stop, do you?" he teased.

She couldn't speak as she shook her head.

"Use your words, baby girl," he demanded.

"N-no, don't st-op-ah!"

Feeling her high approaching, the ecstasy of his thrusts began to make her squirm. It felt so good. So good. But she felt like she wasn't going to be able to withstand it any longer. Jungkook felt her writhe and try to get out of his grip while he proceeded to make her into a moaning mess with his hips.

"Mm-mm," he shook his head and enveloped his arms around her waist firmly. "Remember what you asked for. Isn't this what you wanted?"

He wanted to put her pleasure first and she was going to take it.

"You're not getting off of me until you're fully satisfied," he said as she clung onto him again, scratching his back.

It boosted his pride to see and hear her like this. He knew he was doing his job right, giving her what she wanted.

"You can do it," he encouraged as he felt that she was going to release any moment. "You can handle it. Just let go, baby. Let go for me,"

That was all she needed to hear as she cried out his name, release washing over her. Jennie's body trembled fiercely from how strong her high was because of him. Jungkook's release followed as a low moan escaped him, slowing down his movements. While he stopped thrusting, breathing heavily against her neck, he noticed her body was still shuddering. All because of him and it was a spectacle he wanted to see more often if he could do what he just did again.

"Good girl..." he praised as he felt her shakes come to an end.

Once their breathing slowed down, she let a low chuckle, murmuring, "Shit..."

She had to take a moment to recollect herself. Fucked up was an understatement but she was well pleased. She never had such an intensified release like this. No matter how much she scratched and pulled his hair, he wouldn't let up and got her to this state. Moving away from his neck, she went in to kiss him, taking in the moment. Gosh, she loved him.

Taking a look at her, Jungkook regarded her cheeks looking wet. Had she been crying? The pleasure felt so good she had shed some tears.

"You okay?" he asked tenderly, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“Mm-hm. I feel great thanks to you. I just hope I can walk," she lightly joked.

"I'll carry you if you can't," he grinned.

"How will we explain that to the guys?"

"You hit your leg on the table of your suite," he suggested, making her chuckle.

"What about you? Are you okay?” she brushed his hair back that was sticking to his forehead.

“I am now that you’re feeling good. Remind me to rap more often to get you like this,"

She got off of him and felt that her legs were a bit wobbly but she managed to walk. Glancing at the floor, she noticed the buttons of his shirt scattered around.

“Oh no,” she said, embarrassed, "I did it again! I should really stop doing that so I won't have to keep buying you shirts to replace the ones I rip,"

She had a bad track record of ripping some of his shirts when they got too passionate.

“Don’t worry about it," Jungkook smiled in reassurance after he threw away the condom. "I love it when you do it. Let's shower,"

"All right. And we need to think of an alibi. I'm thinking this time we can be late because we were shopping for snacks at a store. I'll buy extra snacks for Jin. You know once he sees them, he forgets about everything else,"

He grinned at the idea. "Believable. I'll get the shower ready,"

After gathering the outfit she was going to wear, Jennie went to meet Jungkook in the bathroom and noticed some of the scratches she made on his back.

"Oh gosh, your back," she pointed out, feeling a little bad.

"Hm?" he turned and checked out his back in the bathroom mirror.

A few visible scratches from their physical activity. Nothing bad at all. In fact, he liked them.

"It's a sign I did a good job," he said, feeling cocky. "I mean you were shaking because of me,"

He watched as she playfully rolled her eyes while her cheeks burned up at the thought. He was not going to forget making her tremble tonight. No way. Not the way her body reacted to him. She was not going to hear the end of it.

“How’s the water?” she asked, looking at the shower that was running.

Her shower playlist from her speaker played in the background as she awaited his response.

“Nice and ready for us,” he gestured for her to go in first after she stripped out of her bra and panties.

But when she stepped in and felt the water hit her, she yelped and jumped out.

“Jungkook! What the hell!? It’s freezing cold!”

The Golden Maknae laughed loudly at how startled she was and blocked her ongoing punches. She was so easy to mess with.

“Annoying~! Cut it out!" she laughed and changed the water setting so it could heat up.

When they got in, Jungkook continued his playful behavior.

"Oh my gosh, would you move?" she complained as he purposely blocked her way so she couldn't reach her body wash.

"What? I'm not doing anything," he replied innocently. "Oh, you're reaching for this?" he grabbed the body wash.

"Yes, give it," she reached out for it but he lifted his arm up high.

"A kiss first," he negotiated.

She gave him another glare as he puckered his lips. Closing the gap, she gave him the lip lock he wanted. When they pulled away, he smiled victoriously and handed her the body wash. They helped wash each other as the hot water relaxed their bodies. The shower was enjoyable and they danced and sang 'Done For Me' by Charlie Puth and Kehlani.

Feeling him poke her butt for the third time of their shower, she retaliated by smacking his. Her hit caused him to yelp while she giggled at his reaction. Following Jungkook rinsing off, he almost slipped which made her laugh wholeheartedly.

“Not funny!"

“That’s what you get for putting cold water on me," she stuck her tongue out at him.

After getting out of the shower and getting situated, Jennie checked her phone to see a message from Namjoon not too long ago. It was to inform her that they went on to the restaurant. At least they wouldn't be super late.

She put on a white tank top, jeans, and her Nike brand sneakers she had released. She noticed that Jungkook had coordinated with her, wearing his white shirt, Timberlands, and jeans. She placed his large black hoodie on herself, so she could stay warm if the store's air conditioning was too cool for her skin.

"And before we forget. Concealer," she remembered.

Jungkook took a seat on the toilet and watched as she placed her dark colored concealer and his on the bathroom counter. Approaching him, she went to take care of concealing his neck first so they could hide their passionate marks.

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

When they made it to the store, they grabbed a cart and explored the aisles.

"Okay...those chips Jin likes have to be somewhere," Jennie murmured while Jungkook pushed the cart. "Ah-ha!"

She placed two bags in the cart. "Oh, and these. Tae eats these cookies. I tried them and it's pretty good. Have you?"

"Yeah, but I've been wanting to eat your cookies, again. Can you bake soon? I can help if you want," he asked.

She smiled at the idea, "Yeah, let's do that. Might as well buy some cookie mix while we're in here,"

Fooling around, Jennie sat inside the cart, careful not to crush the snacks. She enjoyed riding in the cart while Jungkook pushed it through each aisle. Before they went to check out their items, he took out his phone to take a selfie. He held the camera up high and stood in front of the cart. He had a silly expression on his face while Jennie posed excitedly with all the snacks, holding up a few bags of chips and candy. After clicking away, he stood beside her to check out the pictures. They laughed at how silly they looked and she encouraged him to post it on Twitter.

He tweeted the photo with the caption, 'Snacks! Nom Nom Nom! #JK'

Tweets under JenKook's selfie came through at a rapid rate, with ARMY gushing over the couple.

‘Omg they’re so cute'

'You two look perfect together'

'awwwwww'

'wtf this is so cute'

'golden duo at it again'

'they look so happy'

'Jennie is in the cart hahaha'

'omg another JenKook post! Finally! We were starving!'

'This is typical JenKook energy lol'

The members, who were already seated at the restaurant and on their phones, saw the post. They began to tweet out their reactions, making ARMY laugh at their banter.

‘Are you telling me you kids have been snack shopping this entire time while we're waiting for you to eat? #Suga'

'Kekekeke. #V'

'Share! #JM'

'YOU'VE BEEN AT THE STORE ALL THIS TIME!? #Jin'

‘Hurry up so we can eat! #Jin'

‘LOL! We’re on our way, sheesh #Jen’

#smol brainstorm #smol oneshot #jungkook smut #jungkook x black oc #jungkook scenarios #bts 8th member #jungkook x oc

93 notes · View notes

hitlikehammers · 3 months

Text

intimately entwined

rating: e (but not how you think) ♥️ cw: the deepest intimacies in the most unexpected places knocking someone on their ass ♥️ tags: established relationship, care-taking, casual intimacy, fluff, relationship development, slice of life, idiots in love

for @steddielovemonth day three: Love is wanting to do everything with someone, even if its nothing special

and yes, again: these boys probably grow up to star in the rockstar-husbands-with-the-sex-toys fic je ne regrette rien which will have a sequel flavoured revival via @subeddieweek in April whaaaaaatttt

“Another.”

And the way it’s said: it’s almost fucking expectant too, Jesus Christ, this man.

“You’re sure this is okay?”

Because, like, Eddie needs to know it is. He needs to check, then double check, then triple check because…because this feels like a wholly different step, y’know? This feels like crossing a kind of line they haven’t even dared to tiptoe near just yet, wholly different from all the other lines they’ve navigated, both reckless and careless but together, always, and that helps, in theory. It helps to know that no matter how they’ve fumbled or triumphed in this, between them: it’s been hand in hand. Before, and during, and after.

Still, though. This is…this just feels very fucking different. The kind of boundary with implications that feel heavy and expansive under Eddie’s ribs. Maybe it should seem less monumental compared to other shit they’ve done, and most of that with far less deliberation and hesitation for them, at that. But this does, it…Eddie genuinely believes this pumps weird and novel through his veins, because it is different; and incredible for it, no question. Terrifying. Wholly beggars belief, honestly, and Eddie never really understood that phrase meant but.

He thinks this thing fits it, to a T.

“I said it was, didn’t I?”

Eddie blinks, recenters: was it okay?

And this, this…brilliant perfect little shit: Eddie can hear the smirk in his voice without even looking. He can hear the amusement as much as the loose-ends of frustration. Like Eddie is being absurd here.

Which: what the actual fuck; seriously.

Like, like: goddamn seriously.

“Yeah,” Eddie answers, a little hesitant, a lot fucking dazed; “yeah you did,” because…he did. From the beginning, from even before they settled int to start this: Steve had been…vocally enthusiastic. Not that Eddie hadn’t been! He’d mostly just, he’d just been—

“You think I’m fucking with you?”

Again: without having to see Eddie clocks the eye roll, the not-even-subtle challenge in it.

Alongside the nugget of genuine hurt held for if it turns out true and that: no.

No, Eddie will not fucking have that, so.

Okay, he won’t have that, but also first:

“I mean, yeah—“ because umm…their sex life is a little undeniable.

Steve snorts; how. How

“Here and now, jackass,” he snipes back and Eddie…Eddie really and truly doesn’t fucking know what to do with this. How cal, Steve is. How focused and dedicated to the task. How monumentally and profoundly, just…

How this is sitting in his chest as so much more than the rest of it somehow in a way Eddie cannot wrap his mind around to understand and it’s frightening. Not understanding something so clearly and intimately important; so clearly fucking intimate.

“Not exactly,” Eddie ultimately settles on speaking rather than continuing to gape, continuing to stew in his terror as his heartbeat picks up but speed, it comes out more choked than he’d been hoping; less convincing by a mile as a result. “I don’t think you’re fucking with me like, like it’s something intentional,” and Eddie seeks out Steve’s gaze directly then because that’s it, that’s the hurt part he needs to root out and not crush to bits because he doesn’t crush any part of the man he loves, ever; no.

No, Eddie needs to root that out so he can draw it into the pounding in his chest warm and safe to be cradled and adored until it snuffs itself out in contented fucking joy, for being loved right. Like it deserves.

Which might be part of the problem in the present case just: this time it’s a problem for Eddie.

“Like not mean or anything,” he reiterates, to make absolute sure of this part too; “I just…”

Steve watches him as he struggles to put any part of it into words, can’t even move, or fidget like this: caught, and kinda giddily so underneath everything else, and maybe he needs to lean into that base sensation, see if he can chart his way out from the center versus stumbling around the sides:

“It can’t be, like, enjoyable,” is what he ultimately settles on saying as clear as he came because honestly, that sums up the bulk of it.

Plus he’s learned by now to trust Steve to reach around his rougher edges and find the heart of his meaning, or else, and probably more often: hold his hand as the send out a search party between them for the right words.

Because that’s still it, isn’t it: together.

And of everything else, Eddie doesn’t have to even pysch himself up to trust in that; it just it. It comes natural like breathing.

“Umm,” Steve draws out, a little incredulous; “why not?”

Why not? Why isn’t this exchange clearly one-sided?

“Because,” Eddie tries to find his words, or at least some of them: “I guess, what do you get out of it?”

Steve’s the one glancing to lock their gazes and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t feel ashamed where he might have early on. But he recognises the similar dive where it still lives in his stomach for the gentle warmth that Steve stares into him. Like he sees Eddie’s question, and loves Eddie enough that he won’t dismiss it.

“One more,” Steve instructs confidently, just-shy-of-demands.

“Steve—“

“If you hate it we never have to do it again,” Steve counters; a compromise; “promise.”

“That’s not—“ because fucking hell, as if Eddie could ever hate it.

“One more,” Steve reminds him with the patience of a saint and…Eddie’s moving almost without any thought for it at all, like his body runs the way of his heart and moves for Steve be rote, which.

Kinda, yeah.

“Blow,” Steve’s instructing and Eddie’s doing the moving-by-instinct-because-Steve-says thing again; knows he’s blinking owlishly as he purses his lips and does as he’s asked.

Blows. Ever-so-gentle.

“Okay,” Steve assesses and then grins: “okay, that’s it. Perfect.”

Eddie won’t fucking argue. Not least because it’s true.

Though he’s more invested in the perfection looking up at him like this.

“Verdict?”

And okay, Eddie thinks maybe he has words now, at least inside his head: intimacy wasn’t something he’d ever had before Steve, and frankly was never something he was hanging hopes on ever getting, again—before Steve.

But it wasn’t just because he didn’t have other options that Eddie banked on intimacy equalling sex, either. Because once he did have Steve, it just shifted to the idea of sex as a way of showing love. The more of himself he could give to Steve, the more intimate they’d become: the more of him that was Steve’s for the taking, the more of Steve he look reverent into himself, body to body: that was intimate. That was a relationship, how it looked as it grew. First time Steve came inside him. First time Eddie licked him open. First time he fucked Steve’s gorgeous goddamn thighs.

That kind of thing.

But Eddie’s not sure even the heaviest, headiest sex has ever left his heart as much of a thumping, fluttery mess as just this, which doesn’t feel like just anything: Steve. Sitting in front of him. With a bottle he drove out to Indy to get just for Eddie. Because Eddie wanted it. Because Eddie would like it. Because it might make Eddie happy and it did, it really really did, and—

Steve’s just painted his fucking nails the most gorgeous shiny black, only the slightest bit straying off on the skin, too, and it’s somehow hitting Eddie deeper than the first time they fucked, the first time they stretched each other open, the first time they 69’d in the sheets.

This is apparently what knocks Eddie on his ass for just how deep the love goddamn goes.

“That.”

“Hmm,” Eddie hums, blinking back to the moment where he was busy getting caught up in the new revelation of what intimacy looked like, not to mention caught up in admiring his nails: “what’s ‘that’?”

And Steve’s smiling beatific, incandescent, as he pokes Eddie’s cheek, no, more specifically: as he pokes Eddie’s dimple.

“What I get out of it.”

And Eddie flushes hot under Steve’s touch, then, as it all adds up and seeps in strong enough to shake his core before reshaping him from the inside out as Steve taps the little divot in his skin playfully:

“That.”

Which is how Eddie realizes full on and forever, probably something he already knew, just somewhere under the surface: the intimacy was the sharing of the joy. And in love, especially a love like this one: joy itself is the payoff.

Joy, like everything, is shared by default.

Eddie lifts his eyes, meets Steve’s smile so wide, and relishes the color on his nails as a sign of it for seeing; relishes the dizzy cadence pumping in his chest as proof for the rest of him, to feed and nurture this depth of loving for all the simple things, undimmed and forever until his heart stops doing anything at all. Because there is no pay off, even if there is always something to get out of it. Out of all of it.

Because love is them; together.

Intimately entwined to the goddamn cells.

tag list (comment to be added): @pearynice @hbyrde36 @slashify @finntheehumaneater @wxrmland

♥️

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frenchtantan · 7 months

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Okay, after that mini-date between q!Tina and q!Bagi, I have some gripes to settle regarding how some people have been reacting.

First and foremost, cc!Tina. Miss ma’am, I know you’ll probably never read this, but let me tell you, if I hear you one more time saying you’re not good at roleplay I will SCREAM! You are SO passionate and in the moment, so immersed, and you immediately level yourself with how into it the people you’re interacting with are. You’re not afraid to make your character show vulnerability, fear and sadness. This is PEAK roleplaying skills, and it’s so enjoyable to watch! Please never feel invalidated just because you don’t have a 60 pages Word document about your character. You’re SO talented, and your monologues from the mini-date are incredibly poignant.

Secondly, I wanna touch upon the notion that q!Tina is easily swayed. This has some truth to it, and it did show with q!Bagi most of all. Many times she changed an answer about a question or a topic because q!Bagi had a different one. However, those were all about menial things. “But what about her opinion about the Federation?” I hear you ask. Well, it’s true that the people she’s been hanging out the most with (q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Ironmouse) are either pro or neutral towards the Federation. However, because they are still keeping her at arm’s length, they don’t go into too much details as to the why and how. q!Foolish and q!Jaiden especially have a mutual trust and share secrets that they’d never tell q!Tina, at least not now. As such, while at first simmering in a relatively Federation-friendly climate, it wasn’t such a big focus point, especially since she was so new. Like she said, she lived in blissful ignorance, and the people surrounding her didn’t really do anything to change that.

Then comes q!Bagi. Slowly but surely, they both develop a crush on each other, and as such, q!Tina wants to impress. She grasps at a small excuse to flip her view of the Federation as a way to do that, but again, in that moment, it’s not a big deal. And because they are very shy with each other and clumsily flirt, the seriousness of the topic is still somewhat behind a curtain, even though q!Bagi has been knee deep into the dark side of the island. The terrible truths and secrets, the violence, torture, betrayals, she’s seen it all already, but when around q!Tina, she puts on a brave face and acts all sweet, because it’s clear she likes her a lot! However, she does sometimes let a smidge of truth slip out, which q!Tina unconsciously hears and stores in her memory for safekeeping without thinking too much of it.

Finally comes the turning point. q!Bagi discovers q!Cellbit is her long lost brother, and he reacts badly to it, leaving her profoundly sad. q!Tina is present enough to start to see how complex her crush’s life is, through multiple days. After a setback, q!Bagi decides to invite q!Tina on the mini-date and fully opens up to her. Despite building up to it, this wave of information comes crashing down. q!Tina is hit with everything. But most importantly, she is confronted with how blissful her ignorance was, and she is SCARED, leading to her AMAZING monologue about it. However, this fully awakens her critical thinking, and she actually starts to reflect on the situation! Seriously, I don’t know how people didn’t see that! Multiple times through the mini-date, she not only expresses her honest opinion, but even does so when it CHALLENGES q!Bagi’s. She defends q!Foolish, q!Jaiden and q!Forever, she tells her that one of the Cucuruchos is nice, she questions the idea of leaving the island, the Federation’s desire to harm, and so on. At that moment, she’s not trying to impress anymore, she wants to understand, and suggesting otherwise is highly disingenuous, reductive even.

By the end, there isn’t even a real agreement reached on any of those questions! However, what becomes clear is that q!Bagi did something nobody has truly done yet for q!Tina: she opened her heart, and decided to be completely honest. For a while now, q!Tina had become jaded about who to trust, noticing how much the others were keeping secrets, even her close friends. It upset her, and made her act irrational. Yet q!Bagi, without any second thought, chose to trust her. Not to manipulate her, not to test her, but because she truly wanted q!Tina to know who she was. She did that out of respect, to give her all the keys to make the most informed decision about their relationship. Through some more heart-to-heart, they realize they both feel the same way about the others keeping secrets, and now they know they have each-other, at least for the time being.

This leads me to the third misconception: q!Foolish. Doozers, I love you guys. The past months, you’ve fought tooth and nail to make sure q!Foolish wasn’t mischaracterized by the fandom, and I fully support you for it. However, there is something you need to realize: the other cubitos are NOT the fandom. They shouldn’t know, CANNOT know his POV, or q!Jaiden’s. As a result, the hard truth is that due to q!Foolish’s chaotic nature and seemingly wavering loyalty, NOBODY apart from q!Jaiden actually trusts him with regards to Federation matters. He’s often filibusting, joking around, and deviating when it comes to these matters, he has shown to be ready to arrest people. He CHOOSES to act like that, and since others don’t know his endgame, you cannot in good conscience blame any of them when he does not appear trustworthy. Even q!BBH with whom q!Foolish has somewhat of an unspoken bond, doesn’t tell him everything. I know you all want q!Bagi to have a conversation with him to understand him, but it’s going to take way more than that for any islander (again, other than q!Jaiden) to see him the way you do, much less q!Bagi.

This includes q!Tina by the way. As she said during the date, he’s been keeping her at arm’s length, so she’s started doing the same. He may have good reasons to do so but she can’t know them. Now, as she also mentioned, this has become kind of a mutual understanding of what they’re willing to share, and while it remains so, their friendship is almost certainly not endangered. That being said, if it WERE to come to blows, you cannot fault her if she ends up siding with q!Bagi, who’s shown willingness to cross bridges he hasn’t. Again, this is the worst case scenario. She’s still defending him so it’s suuuuuper unlikely to happen.

So yeah, that’s about it! TL;DR

q!Tina might sometimes be easily swayed, but keep in mind that when things get serious, she does have a good head on her shoulders and is capable of critical thinking.

While it’s important for the fandom to understand q!Foolish, it’s equally crucial to realize he does not appear trustworthy to almost all islanders because they don’t have the information the viewers have.

#qsmp #qsmp tina #qsmp foolish #qsmp jaiden #qsmp bagi #teaduo #shyduo #gatina #qsmp federation #tinakitten

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onbearfeet · 2 months

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Kat watches Moon Knight

Okay, so with the encouragement of several people on here and the emotional support of my roommate, I have finally (in February 2024) started watching Moon Knight, a show whose basic concept scares the shit out of me.

Context: I had an adopted older brother with DID. Note that I said "had". That's past tense because life treated him so appallingly poorly that he died (horribly, in prison) when I was 19. Part of that abuse was enabled by pop-culture depictions of DID in the 1980s and 90s that convinced everyone who knew about his condition (including the court system) that he was a walking time bomb.

One of my earliest memories is of my brother as a young adult, playing Super Mario Bros with my toddler self. Another is of him patiently teaching me how to make friends with a large dog. I never met any of his alters, afaik; I was small and cute and safe for him to be himself with, so he probably didn't need them around me. He was a profoundly gentle man when he was allowed, and it hurt like hell to see him turned into a monster in movies and on TV. I've turned off a lot of "psychological thrillers" in sorrow and disgust.

Ironically, I loved Moon Knight comics as a kid in the 90s, BEFORE he was retconned to have DID circa the mid-2000s. Because those comics came out right after my brother died in 2002 and leaned HARD into making people with DID seem like violently unstable monsters (for reference, see the cover of Moon Knight: God and Country), I stopped reading them around 2008, when I couldn't take being poked in the trauma by a comfort character anymore.

But I do love Werewolf By Night, and there's been a lot of good fic mashing Jack up with Moon Knight without dehumanizing anyone, and several people have encouraged me to try the show. So this post will be a place for my thoughts as I try to work my way through with my Essential Editions in one hand and my memories of my brother in the other. I'll add to it as I watch.

If this entertains the Moon Knight fandom or provides useful fic reference, so be it. Just don't be jerks on my post.

Also, anyone who chooses to be shitty about my brother will be eaten by bears. I don't make the rules.

Episode 1

Okay, we open with Steven as our POV character, and he's...convinced he's a sleepwalker. All right, not terrible. Steven is now a bumbling nerd, which is probably an improvement; good luck making a billionaire playboy sympathetic in the 2020s. Jake would be the logical everyman POV from the comics, but I understand from fic that he's got a different role now. I'm confused about the accent, but it's only episode 1, and Steven clearly doesn't yet know who Khonshu is, or that Marc exists, so obviously there's a ways to go here. (Is Marc ... undercover inside Steven? Ugh, this is a trope I have seen and do not like.)

Did Marc kill Steven's fish? Did Khonshu kill Steven's fish? I'm baffled by the fish. Which is a nice break from the larger anxiety. I'm gonna try to worry more about the fish.

The bits with Steven losing time and finding himself in odd situations were distressingly close to the old tropes, but both of those happened to my brother, so I'm not going to bitch about them quite yet. I want to be as fair as I can.

Oh, hey, I recognize Harrow from the comics. What up, dude. How's the cult biz treating you?

The end of the episode, with the jackal thing chasing Steven into the bathroom, came RIGHT up to the line for me. I realized that what I was most afraid of was that the story would assign "good" and "bad" labels to the alters--make Steven the sweet, innocent one and Marc (or maybe Jake, I guess) the monstrous killer. The early flashes of Steven covered in blood didn't really help allay that anxiety. And now Marc is demanding that Steven let him have control in a pretty threatening manner. But so far, it seems like the contrast between Marc and Steven is one of competence--Marc is better at fighting and Steven is better at ... panicking? Unclear. At least Oscar Isaac is playing the protagonist, so his character(s) might remain sympathetic. Nobody has been monsterized quite yet.

I finished the episode with every muscle in my body locked up, waiting for the emotional punch in the face. But I did finish it, and I think I'm gonna try episode two.

#kat watches moon knight #moon knight #marc spector #steven grant #i guess I'm processing trauma again #hello trauma my old friend

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vaguely-concerned · 2 years

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after some reflection I've reached the conclusion that to my mind nona the ninth did need to be its own book -- not in terms of delivering the plot or character developments, necessarily, but to be a thematic mirror to harrow the ninth in a way I don't think you could have done if this was also trying to do its job as the last book of a trilogy.

harrow the ninth is about the horror of nothing changing -- the grim, unending slog of mental illness, the inexorable method in madness grinding along, grinding you down, moment upon moment; it's about how grief can seem to create its own pockets of eternity. it's about how some things can only be remembered in forgetting.

nona the ninth is about the horror of everything changing all the time forever -- the people you love, until they aren't quite the people you loved any more, the places you love, until it's become somewhere you can never go back to, the world, every day -- you, until you die one way or another, in truth or in no longer recognizing yourself. you go to school for the hour of science and noodle every day, until one day you just don't anymore, and nothing can be done about that. nona is about 'life is too short, and love is too long', but also 'you can't take 'loved' away'. pyrrha, who's tried for ten thousand years to kill her feelings but "Don't worry, kiddie. I'll keep loving you -- my problem is I don't know how to stop." even when it just hurts us, we love. we just can't help ourselves. and at the end alecto remembers herself (itself?), which means forgetting nona.

the strange paradoxical comfort of madness vs. the unbearable loneliness of sanity. harrow is mad, and for all her suffering it keeps her from having to face the most inconceivable, the thing she can't live with: a universe without gideon. cam and pal are so so sane, and they can't bear it. they die to live in a way they can... uh, well, live with, and it's a crazy thing to do but it's the kindest thing they could find for themselves. the world of harrow the ninth is so dead and deadened, and the world of nona is so unbearably alive.

(ironically ntn was a much more difficult read for me than htn, because the way htn works is already so close to how my own mind works (yes, unfortunately, really. no, I'm not okay, but not in a way anyone can do anything about with any immediacy so let's ignore that for now lol). I understand the logic of it intimately, for all it looks confusing if you just see the surface. but the ongoing nature of the restless dread in ntn -- the way you love these people, and through the book they keep drifting away from you so steadily and gradually that you can't even put your finger on exactly when you really lost them as they were at the beginning. at the end, when pyrrha is carrying nona because she can't stand anymore (carrying her in 'the halo of her arms'...... god. yes, that is what a parent feels like for a child huh), I vicariously felt what I suspect is pyrrha's train of thought as well that like... what if you could just hold her close enough, love her hard enough, that she won't have to go, that she could get to live. what if you could just refuse to let go of her, what if you could be strong enough for that. and one person in this universe is that strong-- why would you let someone go -- away from you -- untouchable? John's obsession with being able to touch his loved ones, except he's so profoundly fucked up he doesn't understand any way to do it but to make them into extensions of himself, to consume them and transform them into himself, the very hungry caterpillar style -- he wanted to touch so he made them his hands, and he doesn't understand why it doesn't fulfil him. and thank god pyrrha has the soul and sense to understand why you can't just eat what you love, narrowly, but I still wanted her to be able to still hold nona and protect her from everything including death so fucking bad, and of course she can't. that's the tragedy of it, that's the beauty of it. love doesn't change anything, and we just can't help but love anyway, and it changes everything, and it's all we can do sometimes. fuck I'm going to need a lot of lying face down on the floor for a few hours to process this book huh lmao)

#nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #ntn spoilers #the locked tomb spoilers #nona spoilers #the locked tomb #harrow the ninth #tl;dr: nona the ninth fucked me up okay don't look at me lol #harrow the ninth is still my favourite of the series because that book recognized me in a way few other things have #but muir is Doing Some Shit in ntn holy fuck #the locked tomb meta #I'm. I'm going to go have a shower to calm down probably I think haha

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burplewrites · 3 months

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saudade | tamarack & qiu

𓆉 | fandom: our life: now & forever

𓆉 | characters: tamarack, qiu, reader

𓆉 | word count: 1,075 words 5,946 characters

𓆉 | a/n: this story is sort of in qiu's pov, and about grief and stuff!! i don't think its too sad, just an experience but you have been warned!

𓆉 | quick summary: y/n passed. the world just needs to learn how to deal.

saudade is an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

“and you two are gonna grow up someday and i’m gonna grow up too, but that’s never gonna stop us from being the same age. cool.” that’s what they said, eight years ago, when they first met y/n and tamarack for the first time after the duo waltzed their way into their life.

ever since that fateful day, the three were friends, best friends. even with the little break of their friendship from ‘personal problems and moody feelings’ as y/n used to say, y/n brought them together again and reminded them why they were friends in the first place.

their friendship only got better from then on, and they committed to bettering themselves and each other, talking about problems, and about random thoughts that entered their minds. at least, that’s what qiu thought. he thought that they all told each other everything, all their stupid secrets, random thoughts in the middle of the night, things that would be considered too much information for other people. so why didn’t y/n tell them, not tamarack or him, anything about what they were going through? why didn’t they say anything at all?

they never expressed pain, or acted like they were suffering at all. they were always smiling, expressing their positive emotions with not a care in the world. qiu loved them for that. they had been crushing on each other for a while, qiu knew that, y/n knew that, and even tamarack, who had to watch the whole thing unfold in front of her, knew that. they just never got together, and now they would never get the chance to.

it was only a year ago when their life changed. when tamarack yelled in the middle of the night, alarming everyone out of their drowsy state, y/n was having trouble breathing, and was trying to get upstairs to their mother's room without disturbing their best friends on the couch. their limbs started giving out, making them fall to the floor. that whole night was a blur for qiu and tamarack alike. watching their best friend’s mom trying to help y/n take some breaths as they all cried, seeing the tiredness in y/n’s eyes, like they’ve been fighting this for years and was finally starting to give up, and opal’s sobs as she begged her only child to keep trying, to keep breathing. tamarack clutched hard onto qiu that day, the shock causing her to freeze up.

hearing their best friend's last words, being so weak, so quiet, yet so genuine. it was like y/n trying to fully get everything out like they knew this would be the end.

"hey its okay, you're okay… you're okay. i love you guys so much, more than you'll ever know."

that's what they whispered, as the paramedics took them away. a smile never left their face, even with the ventilator on their face and the paramedics checking their vitals on the way out the door. they died on the way to the hospital. even to the end, they were caring for others.

opal changed as a person after that. having to bury your only child, someone who you watched grow up, someone who you experienced their good days and bad days, and was just expected to keep moving. but that was impossible, how could she? her world stopped that day but everyone kept moving, the world kept spinning at the same speed it always did, no faster, no slower.

but y/n was gone.

tamarack put her whole being into her cello practice since y/n always seemed to like it when she played for them. she even played a song she wrote at the funeral; a song that was supposed to be for her best friend. one that they were somewhat writing together. she still tried being normal, helping opal with whatever she needed, but never trying to pressure her. it was tamarack's form of escape. if she could be in the house that y/n was in, surrounded by all the things that made them, them… that would be enough. it had to be enough. qiu simply regressed into themself. it was like they were back to when they were fourteen. they stayed outside sitting by their ‘hideout’; hiding away from the world. tamarack tried to stay with him some days, when qiu wanted the company and couldn’t deal with being alone without someone to talk to, someone who understood, but other times it was too overwhelming and they preferred to be alone.

life changed. golden grove moved on, and people found other things to talk about, but sometimes things brought them back to that day one year ago.

especially today, the one-year anniversary of y/n’s death. three hundred and sixty-five days without them. it was early morning, around five am, and qiu biked to the cemetery to just be with them alone. they knew tamarack would be coming in the morning after she woke up, and opal would be coming in the afternoon, so this was the best option. plus they couldn’t sleep.

qiu never knew they could cry that much. every time they came to visit, to talk about something exciting that happened, or something weird, or anything really, they would end up breaking into sobs each time, gasping for air by the time their tears ran out.

‘why did you even have to come into my life if you were going to leave it partway?’

that was a question that they asked themselves multiple times and always felt bad for thinking about it after. they knew tamarack felt the same. tamarack was the first of the two to mention that thought out loud.

but it was true, wasn’t it? they never regretted having y/n in their life. everyone's life shone so much brighter with them there, like the sun on a summer day, but with the sun gone it gets darker. the sun always comes back, but y/n wouldn't. y/n was dead. they were gone, and they were going to stay gone.

no matter how much opal begged, how much they all hoped and dreamt, y/n was not coming back. they were never coming back. they had been gone for the last three hundred sixty-five days, they would be gone for the next year, and the years after that. and nothing could change that.

so as qiu sat there, laying by their grave while talking about everything and anything, all they could really do was hope y/n was there and listening.

#our life #our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #tw grief #burplewrites #fics #tw grieving #hopefully this doesnt like ahcdnmsjkfdsm

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currently-tired · 3 months

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Tgs, but Jekyll doesn’t know he’s Hyde

Aka Jekyll is a alchemical blackout drunk.

Based off of this post; https://www.tumblr.com/ja9-animations/741619471611985920/tgs-but-all-the-lodgers-know-that-jekyll-and-hyde

@ja9-animations

“Are you sure I cannot meet Hyde?”

Lavender paled. “No, you can’t!” She burst out quickly, with wide open eyes.

Bird elbowed her sharply.

“Erm, ‘m sorry Jekyll, but you can’t. We don’t know when ‘ey show up, and-“ He began, but soon stalled, clearly unsure of what to say.

Archer picked up after him.

“They’re such a strange person. Trust me, you’ll know them if you see them. But we can’t make them appear on command.”

“Is he a sodomite? I’ve never heard of a singular person using they instead of he…” Jekyll asked softly, with a wrinkled brow.

Lavender stuttered over her response. Bird coughed, and Archer twitched nervously.

Jekyll’s eyes opened widely and he paled almost as white as a sheet; as if he never meant to say that comment aloud…

“That was profoundly impolite, and none of my business. I apologize.” Jekyll looked numb as he said these words. Same light voice as before when he had been asking about Hyde, but an uncharacteristically pinched expression on his face.

Unseen to the group of lodgers, his hands were fidgeting at his sides.

“And if he is?” Archer questioned, with a (unconvincing) impression of lightness on his face

A bitter smile instantly spread across Jekyll’s face. “As much as London’s high class officially has a problem with sodomites, I can assure you that to most, unofficially they do not…”

“Hypocrites!-” Henry hissed angrily, just quietly enough not to be heard.

Damned hypocrites who went to the [unofficial] sodomite’s bar, and fucked men just like the rest of them! It made them want to growl, and-

[How did he even know this?!- Jekyll hadn’t been to those sorts of places since university; he had seen gentlemen (in training) there, yes…

But not the ones that came to their mind. Hazy faces they he somehow recognized, memories distorted as if seeing them through a thickly frosted glass…

Jekyll packed the thoughts down to inspect later, in the quiet of their office. Preferably with a glass or three of wine…]

He continued out loud, in a louder voice.

“To me personally, it is not a problem at all. I don’t see the obsession over policing others, especially for things they cannot control. Alas, this is the society we exist in…” Henry said bitterly, trailing off with a deep frown.

Lavender gaped at him, absolutely shocked. (Henry didn’t notice, as he was too busy glaring a hole through the wood flooring…)

As soon as she recovered her composure, she began to speak.

“Okay then!…” Lavender replied quickly, trying to draw attention away from the topic.

She began talking about her newest studies into the void, and her ideas on its composition. Jekyll noticed the clear diversion, but followed along with it, distantly replying to her comments and ideas. [What was that mental slip of sorts earlier? It sounded like him. It was his own voice!- But somehow not… The thoughts were familiar; sourced from that deep seated anger he tried oh so desperately to suppress. But why were those memories so distant and hazy? How did he even have them in the first place?!-]

Archer then began to talk about his newest type of plant. A crawling vine that he said Hyde brought him from blackfog.

At the passing mention of Hyde, Bird stomped Archers foot loudly. Archer hissed in pain, and quickly moved on from the topic. (But not before flicking Bird back harshly, with his mechanical arm.)

At that point Jekyll had seen enough. Clearly whoever Hyde was, he was not going to find out from these lodgers. For whatever reason they were completely dead set on not telling him a single thing about Hyde!

The other lodgers were similar. The ones more skilled with social interaction brushed off his questions or changed topics skillfully. (It would’ve fooled most other people. But not Jekyll. That was Henry’s wheelhouse, and he recognized the exact same tactics that he himself used to deflect criticisms against the ‘mad’ scientists.)

The less experienced ones told him off more frankly, or refused the question.

Griffin flat out told him to fuck off. (Ouch! Especially since he was the one funding his experiments! Jekyll didn’t expect ass kissing from anyone, but a little bit of tact went a long way!…)

To make things even worse, Hastie was absolutely clueless, and no help at all. He told him rumors he had heard, but nothing else. (Which was something, he supposed. But Jekyll himself knew how greatly exaggerated rumors in that city were, based on what they said about him personally...)

The other person he’d usually ask, and trust to tell him the complete and utter truth was Rachel. She was less clueless; Henry knew that for sure… But she also refused to tell him a thing about Edward!

It was so unusual!-

Henry wanted to stay a little longer to try to pry just a bit more. He should know who was frequenting his own building, right?

But Jekyll knew he wouldn’t get anything voluntary. And accidental confessions were always full of annoyingly large holes that people usually never filled until they were ready to.

So Jekyll slipped away back to his office, citing the finances, with a small smile on his face. (Even if he was feeling anything but, the smile was always plastered on his face. It had to remain there, convincing and shiny…)

He slid into his chair, and instead of doing accounting, promptly drank down an entire glass of wine like a shot.

As he swirled around his second drink in his glass, he thought over what he knew about Edward Hyde.

Hyde was shorter than most people at the society, even Lavender. That would put him at around 4’9, perhaps shorter. Hyde had blonde hair with brown roots. They(?) fought viciously, and had a horrible reputation that made its way up to Lanyon in several ways somehow. (Friend of a friend’s cousin for one certain incident? Hell if Henry knew…)

They liked the color green, carried a cane that was rumored to have a long knife inside, and had a Scottish accent. (To what intensity, Henry did not know.)

And up until that day, that was all Henry knew.

His recently gained knowledge was that they [Henry did not understand that pronoun. Both its significance, and what it was even used for. But for whatever reason, Hyde was referred to by it...] were (was?) some sort of sodomite.

That was mildly unhelpful though.

The use of sodomite was broad enough to be classifying, but far too broad to really be helpful, which annoyed Henry.

The term sodomite could refer to the men who dressed up as women, the ‘men’ who were actually women, men who enjoyed the company of other men, those who engaged in bestiality, (Henry desperately hoped that Hyde did not engage in that…) and/or a million other things deemed evil or sinful by society.

Unmentionable things, that did not even deserve a term attached to them, other than the label of S. I. N…

And so, Henry was at a loss.

He was unhappy about his pitiful level of knowledge on the man who frequented the society. (He had labored far too hard, worked far too much for it all to be torn down by some unknown that he could never account for!) However, there wasn’t much he could do, barring searching London’s underworld himself. (And the ‘Good Doctor’ could not do that. Besides, even then he may not see Hyde after all...)

And so he resigned himself to filling out paperwork, wondering about that strange person in between scratches of his pen.

At the chime of nine in the night, Henry put down his pen, capped his ink, collected his papers into a neatly organized pile, and got up and stretched with a groan, stiff bones creaking.

He went into a certain cabinet, and pulled out a pre measured quantity of salt and a beaker.

Then combined a couple of substances together that formed into a noxious looking bright potion, calmly watching the viscous blue green solution swirl around the flask, and wispy smoke pouring off of it and into his face, as if it was perfectly normal.

And to Jekyll, he supposed it was.

Henry had been taking the serum for years, off and on throughout the week.

He never remembered what happened during or after they took it, except for an almost addictive deep seated contentment flowing through his veins and a peace he could find from nothing else flowing through him for hours after he came back in the morning.

The potion must’ve done something, especially with the great change it inspired in him during his darkest moments… Perhaps split off the evil? Maybe it had been separated from him entirely, or shoved off to the side to languish.

Perhaps he even vanquished it… [But why then, was he still sinful, and full of desires he knew he couldn’t have? Why did he still have a short temper, and an even sharper tongue that he had to choke down almost daily?]

Those things were not terribly good. But they were not terribly evil either.

And so, that led him to believe that he didn’t actually separate good from evil…

But whatever truly had happened, Jekyll did not know. (Or care enough to investigate, to be fully honest.)

It helped him suppress those pesky desires that plagued his mind like nothing else in his life had before. Not copious amounts of wine, or prayer and church, or hobbies he dumped after a week from sheer inability of effort, or self harm.

It kept him sane, and smiling perfectly, with a straight back and a distant but somehow still friendly posture that made young gentlemen weep.

And so, he kept drinking it, despite the total blackouts.

…A little bit of indulgence in the unknown would not damage him too much, right?

And so, without further pretense, Jekyll drank the bitter sulphorous solution, choking a bit. (He had never fully gotten used to the syrupy and somehow still liquid texture, even four years later…)

Within thirty seconds, like clockwork, they began to transform into… something else. [Exactly what it was, he had never found out…]

Bones began to move into different places, and crack open with a horrific sound. Other changes occurred, that he was too far gone to even attempt to understand what was happening. And like always, thankfully, after the pain became too great, Jekyll faded away.

And twenty minutes later Edward Hyde emerged from their own office, fully dressed.

Hyde snickered loudly at their own incompetence. Of course that potion didn’t split them into two entities! Good and evil were not distinct things! They were commingled in each man’s personality forever; from birth to death.

No fully evil entity existed. No fully good entity existed. (And it would always be that way, for all of eternity!)

However, Jekyll never remembered their second life as Hyde.

He didn’t know the revelations they’d had, both about the world, and about themself.

He didn’t know the way they laughed; freely and insanely for the first damn time in their entire life! Able to express all they were forced to repress.

He didn’t know their face.

Their absolute delight and wonder, every single time they ran a hand over their face, and felt facial hair! (Something that they were never lucky enough to find a potion to fix in the past...)

The all consuming joy that overcame him even from first look, when he realized that finally, the evil streak that they had felt inside of them their entire life shone through. Laughing wildly at those who shuddered at the sight of their face, as if subconsciously.

The way people stepped away, and were scared. Scared for once, instead of far too friendly and comfortable with someone who was practically a stranger. [“You have an honest face!” An old noblewoman at a party crooned, patting their head, after saying something far too revealing. Jekyll was briefly tempted to bite her hand. Scream at her to fuck off! Grab her hand firmly, and throw it off of his head.

But the smile stayed firmly on his face and he excused himself politely but firmly to go speak [bitch] to Hastie again. Others, who he revealed nothing to, did not trust, or did not like much, but had spoken to for months, revealed deeply intimate things to him, some practically sobbing on his shoulder.

(That damned earnest face!-)

Jekyll tried to comfort them. He disliked others being sad. He knew just how hard that hit, and how deeply it hurt.

But in the end, it just ended up being just another secret to lock away in his mind forever. One more thing to pack away, and try not to think about the next time he saw them…]

Henry didn’t know their unrelentless joy for an infinite amount of reasons. (The world was beautiful! The moon gleaming and hanging low in the sky, the smog framing the air like a gorgeous painting. The biting chill of the air stinging their reddened cheeks, and the freshness of it. Even the things he usually disliked took on a new tinge of enjoyment!)

The joy they felt at having the freedom to be and do what they wanted.

(Who gave a fuck about who or what they used to be? Who they decided to fuck? Everyone was far too busy with their own business and problems for that. It was a welcome change from bored busybodies who had nothing better to do than to gossip…)

That complete and utter anonymity they enjoyed at first, and a delightful infamy later that made them laugh, and laugh, and laugh!-

But what he did know, is that he had holes in his memory after he took the potion. He knew the way he felt contented in the morning.

(Not flooded with pleasure like he was as Hyde. More like the echoes of it. Filtered through layers of flesh and bone, long blonde hair returned to short brown, blue-green dripping tears, and whatever the mind was comprised of.)

The way he was just slightly sore; but in a pleasant way he delighted in, even without knowing the source.

And most importantly, the fact that his strict facade became easier to maintain. As if a small vent had been slit on something that was about to burst.

He reaped some of the benefits of the potion, without even knowing what it did.

He was like a blackout drunkard. Despite having no clue what happened, he returned to his vice night after night.

Edward Hyde was Henry Jekyll. (Through and through, with every single one of his memories and experiences belonging to them.)

But Henry Jekyll was somehow not Edward Hyde. (How could he be, with only the tiniest hint of their memories and experiences? Only the slightest peak from behind an iron mental curtain?…)

Hyde was Jekyll in the way a Phoenix was ashes. The pieces of what he used to be and was just hours ago, reborn again into something completely different. (Glorious to them. Perhaps more of an annoyance at best to others. Several slurs at worst. That made it even better! Jekyll tried to be the best person he could be. Tried to do right by everyone, in the best way that he could.

But after spending a whole day being frustrated, and suppressing violence even against the stupidest inconveniences, they adored inconveniencing others! Making them feel at least the tiniest bit as shit as he had, just hours earlier. [The fact that misery truly does love company, was something that Hyde had soon found out…])

And Jekyll? He was completely ignorant and unknowing. Occasionally, Hyde wondered if this all would’ve been easier if it wasn’t so…

[That (beloved? damned? incredible? painful?) potion flicked that invisible mental switch, that let all of the memories of their life as Hyde rush back to them. How? Why? Why not let them keep these memories as Jekyll? Why must he have been ignorant? Confused about their own actions, that he didn’t know were theirs?]

How much of a person’s identity relied on their memories?

[Jekyll and Hyde were effectively two entirely different people, despite living the exact same life at times. At most times, actually… How much did their memories, or the lack of them affect that?]

How much of Hyde’s identity was completely new, or something spurred by their new mindset but already there, and how much was old; some sort of leftovers from Jekyll?

How much of it was preexisting, but mutated drastically until it truly fit them?

Was it a combination of all? What about a-

Hyde stopped themself.

These were thoughts for being piss ass drunk, rambling to some faceless stranger, (Or more safely, and thus commonly a lodger if any of them were so inclined.)

Not thoughts for being sober…

And so, Hyde quickly did their rounds around the society.

Nothing was on fire so far.

All plants were under control, and certain labs were slightly cleaner than usual! What a pleasant surprise!

Griffin’s cat got loose again, and he was bitching about it. At a flat annoyed glare from Hyde, he shut up instantly, and said he’d find it.

“You’d better...” Hyde snapped annoyedly.

(That thing escaped practically every other day! And Edward was not particularly keen on it, especially after it clawed up both of their arms and bit them, leaving them bloody and pissed, pouring antiseptic down their arms..)

Doddle was asleep, but all of his materials were neatly put up; both flours and baking supplies, and chemicals and more alchemical components, neatly shelved from first look. Nothing smelt burnt when Hyde peaked their head through the doorframe, so they let it be and moved on.

Ito was requesting some more lab equipment. Hyde told her to write it down and slide it under their door.

Cantilupe was more than a little annoyed at surplus of invisible animals nosing around the society and getting into her and Lavender’s research and skeletons. The rodents in particular were a large issue, as they’d gnaw on anything even remotely close to the ground. Again, Hyde told her to write it down, making sure that she stressed the fact that the rats harmed her and Lavender’s research, and said they’d deal with it in the morning.

(…Maybe not them in particular, but Jekyll would.)

Hyde finished up their rounds, and paused to think…

Okay, Good! Everything was calm in the society! No situations, no questions, and no issues. That meant Hyde was free to leave, and get on with their night.

But before Hyde could slip out the back door of the society, they were tapped on the shoulder.

They spun around extra dramatically, and saw Archer, Bird, and Lavender gathered next to each other in a group, looking nervous. They talked to each other quietly, nodding, or shaking their heads.

Oh come on!

Hyde didn’t do any of that ‘waiting around for people to be ready’ bullshit! They had better things to be doing than standing there, still and waiting!-

“Spit it out.” Hyde snapped more than said at them shortly, with a hiss. An externally bored expression, with a tapping foot.

(Internally, their panic mounted. They looked so stressed! Oh God, they hoped something didn’t happen! Everything had been so calm and good just five minutes prior!)

Archer poked Bird and said something quietly to him that Edward couldn’t hear. Finally, Bird groaned loudly, but spoke.

“Jekyll ‘as asking about ya again.” Bird said, with an awkward sort of shift to his body.

Hyde’s panic deflated instantly, with a relieved outtake of breath.

Then after a moment, they rolled their eyes. Was that seriously all?! They were so stressed about that tiny little thing? (To be fully honest, it didn’t concern them at all...)

Jekyll didn’t remember or know Hyde, so he was a completely unknown variable. And as Jekyll, they did not like anything to be unknown. (Hyde understood it, they supposed. Unknown things could lead to disaster, and in their past they had frequently. But as Hyde, they had taken to enjoying those surprises. Something unknown meant an opportunity to work out a new strategy on the spot, which was always entertaining, even if they lost and got their teeth kicked in. They took it as an opportunity to innovate, and be clever. Hyde took it as fun, not a chore.

Unlike Jekyll, they did not view it as random error, or an unexpected variable they couldn’t control in an experiment, to exaggerate his thinking…)

They remembered asking that question a couple hours before well enough. The flood of confusion in their (his, at that moment) mind.

He was stressed about the unknown man that all the lodgers consistently lied to him about so staunchly, refusing to give up even singular crumbs.

Well, Hyde was touched by the concern and dedication the lodgers had for them! The loyalty!

…But they had to admit they were getting tired of this all.

Hyde was just about to write a letter to himself! This was getting too far out of hand!… [Why the fuck were they (was he?) so stressed about themself? Henry’s stress was their stress! And that same stress he felt at that time affected them when they were like this too!]

(It hurt Edward’s head when they thought about it for too long...)

So maybe it was time to switch up their strategy. The old one of asking the lodgers not to tell Jekyll about his second life he didn’t know about in the hopes of getting himself to keep taking the potion without any hesitation was getting headache inducing.

(And Edward was getting sick and tired of additional headaches…)

“I see. And what’d he say?” They asked, acting as if they did not remember a thing.

…Hyde may have ‘forgotten’ to discourage and maybe even mildly perpetuated a perhaps… ‘Morally incorrect’ idea about the nature of their relationship with Jekyll to the lodgers…

[It was for a decent reason, they swore!..]

The lodgers all had these preconceived notions about what Hyde was to Jekyll. That they were the ghost lurking in the back of Jekyll’s saintly [HA!-] mind.

Some sort of demon that had stalked Jekyll for his entire life, finally let loose with chemical interference. (Correct general idea… It was wildly off track though.)

Hyde thought these assumptions were mostly because they couldn’t believe that Jekyll would ever act this way by himself. (Or, of his own accord.) Because he was a gentleman, cream of the crop. Elegant, and perfect. Not sinful, or sexual, or perverse in any way at all… [Well, if only they knew!]

Edward never corrected them. That assumption was incredibly helpful to both of their lives.

They didn’t have to spend hours trying to verbalize, and then explain the subtleties of their relationship with themself.

This also meant that they viewed Edward and Henry separately, treating them entirely differently. (Which was good. They would have a heart attack as Henry if all the lodgers shifted from their previously static and predictable behavior, to a close friendly relationship. [Something that he did not remember forming.] That wild shift would make him paranoid, and them even more stressed.)

And they were already stressed enough in both states of mind.

…And did they really deserve the truth anyway?

Hyde hadn’t even meant to reveal themself!

Ito had cracked the door open with a gentle knock one night, to ask for advice with a reaction involving the feathers of a Phoenix.

Having the door open unexpectedly let their pained mid transformation screams escape into the society; shrill and warping wildly from the ongoing change from Jekyll’s deep vocal cords to Hyde’s high, almost whiny voice.

The soundproofing in their office had became entirely useless, with that one simple action.

[FUCK! He should’ve remembered to lock the damned door! He screamed at themself afterwards, as soon as they gained awareness.]

The entire society (barring Rachel, who was visiting her brother) ran up to the room. [To watch what had happened and take notes? To help? Hyde did not know.] But whatever reason they had came for, the result was the same. They all witnessed the tail end of their transformation.

Hyde shook on the ground, and panted with the aftershocks of the transformation; unwanted thoughts that stressed them screaming in their ear at the buzzing of unexpected voices, and the air from the wide open door hitting their scalp.

[They shouldn’t be here. I’m damned. They’ll report me for insanity. The asylum. Bethlam! I’ll rot. Never see the moon, the rising of the sun. They’ll kill me. Never drink another glass of wine. Get railed again. I won’t survive. Ever see Lanyon again. Kiss his face. Beg him for forgiveness for my uncaring facade.

I’ll die alone and presumed insane!- I’ll be remembered for something I’m not! My grave will not be my own! Who will take care of Zosi? I’ll be tortured for hours on end, in the name of ‘medicine.’ I’ll die!-

They went on and on and on, in a hysterical loop, as they shook on the ground.]

As they were breaking down, Ito told them all what she had just seen, with a shaking wavering voice, and a shocked hunch to her posture.

Hyde heard her and paled, staring ahead with wide open eyes that were swirling that same green-blue color as that godforsaken potion, and a wild pant, heart racing so hard it felt like they had just ran an entire marathon, at the calls of their usual name, and not the name of the body they were currently inhabiting.

And slowly, with over a dozen stares aimed at them that felt weightier than a massive boulder on each shoulder, they began a bare bones explanation with a shaking voice and fully Scottish accent.

(So truly, it was entirely their faults for intruding in their office! They did NOT want that revealed! Jekyll had the right to lie to them!)

[Right?]

Bird answered, much calmer at Hyde’s uncaring reaction. (Completely unaware of their inner turmoil. Perhaps they were still good at hiding it…)

“He asked if you were a sodomite.” He replied.

Hyde’s eyes snapped to his face, pretending to have been paying rapt attention the entire time.

“I see. Then what?” Hyde asked back, with a slight tilt of their head.

“He said he supported sodomy, in a roundabout way.” Lavender chimed in.

“I never would’ve pegged him to be that sort of person.” She frowned in thought, humming quietly.

(Well, he certainly was…)

“Well, I’m sure Jekyll subscribes to the art of desiring both men and women” Hyde ventured, commenting lightly.

Archer laughed out loudly!

“Jekyll can’t be bent! He’s so gentlemanly and regal!“ He said incredulously, choking on laughter as he spoke

Hyde cackled out loud.

They intimately knew how that meant dogshit! Some of the most celebrated men (some even holy!) frequented the exact same bars they did, to find other ‘bent’ people.

They had even fucked a couple of them, when they were bored enough and curious. They were far too normal to hold Hyde’s interest for long, however, so they soon left them alone to their daily dose of sin.

Still, Hyde catalogued this quietly in the back of their mind.

“You’d be surprised.” They murmured, staring straight ahead at the wall, spacing out a little bit. (Sometimes they wished being gentlemanly really did mean they were normal! It would’ve made their entire life so much easier!..)

Hyde soon snapped out of it at Bird’s awkward cough.

“Anything else you’d like from me? Leader duties, or otherwise.” Edward offered, fingers drumming against their thigh.

“No.” They all replied, practically at the same time, with a shake of her head (Lavender) a tilted head (Archer) and a blink (Bird).

Satisfied with these responses, Hyde made a slight movement towards the door, telegraphing it to be as obvious as possible.

An easy non verbal way of saying they were getting tired of talking. Time was ticking, and night was bleeding away! They didn’t have forever!

At this, Archer promptly stepped forward with a friendly grin and offered a handshake that Edward took immediately, shaking his hand firmly and wildly, arm swinging. They smiled widely as Archer shook back forcefully, pushing their smaller frame around.

This turned into a friendly hug. Hyde laughed joyfully from inside of his arms, and squeezed him tightly.

Archer took a step back.

“I may meet you later, depending on how this experiment goes.” He said with that same happy smile.

(Hyde liked Archer. A nice friend, who was fun to go drinking with.)

“This the one with those magic vines I got you?”

Archer nodded.

“That’s fine.” Hyde replied lightly.

“Ask around when or if you’re ready. I’m sure you’ll find where I’ve gone...” They said, with a slightly sinister laugh, full of joy.

(Christ, they loved being Hyde.)

Archer nodded and rushed away as quickly as possible, with stumbling feet, presumably to prevent the plant from growing all over the lab. (The vendor did say it had a bad tendency to grow uncontrollably after it had been watered sufficiently.)

What a shame. Their room actually looked organized, for once. (Mostly clean floors, that weren’t flooded with clock pieces, dirt, and leaves!)

To Lavender and Bird, Hyde bowed deeply and thanked them for their concern. They told them that they didn’t mind Jekyll knowing more about them anymore, and asked them to please inform the others of that shift in preference.

[This could either go really well- acclimating Jekyll to the idea of Hyde, and eventually the truth, or horribly- make Jekyll hate themself. Only time would tell, they supposed…]

Lavender and Bird nodded, and went back to whatever it was they were doing before they came to speak with Hyde, walking away.

How would Jekyll react to that idea? Knowing all they knew at that point in time, they couldn’t really judge his own reaction properly. Would he-

Oh! Forget about it!-

That was a worry for tomorrow. (Or whatever night this frame of mind was released on next.) They had things they preferred to do tonight.

So finally, they slipped outside with a smile so wide that it hurt their face, and a folk song from their childhood on their tongue, that they whistled gleefully.

How could they be stressed? Worried or sad? The world was gorgeous! The people, and the things inside of it were too!

And at that very moment in time they were Edward Hyde! Free, and unrestrained!

How could they be depressed, with pleasure singing through their thoughts and mind, and an infinite pulse of energy just underneath their skin?

With the moon shining above them, delicately floating lanterns gleaming, and the smell of rain in the air, how could negativity overwhelm them?

How could they be anything but overjoyed when London, with all its good and evil, wrong and right, moral and immoral awaited them with the widest of open arms!

#honk shoo posting #the glass scientists #tgs jekyll #tgs hyde #jekyll and hyde #I worked hard on this guys #Jekyll and Hyde are the same person #personally not a fan of the personality split thing #headcannons galore!#hoorah

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