#Incredible. You have learned that Some People can do things. Ready to learn that Some People Can't?

[pssp-lore]

Troll Jobs/Royalty (part 2 of ???)

this installment is gonna cover seadwellers and clowns! We know they're royalty but what does that actually mean in the context of of a culture that's so "do what you want"?

obligatory disclaimer that these are mostly applicable to stellar parallax and if you don't agree it's ok it's just playing dolls etc etc

visual TL;DR ⬇️ rambling paragraphs under the read more!

FUCHSIAS

it's lonely at the top but someone's gotta do it, and that someone may as well be the only troll who can withstand the psychic connection to the big scary nightmare monster of the deep!

While learning politics is important of course (after all you gotta have some clue what you'll do with the empire should you beat the million to one odds of winning the crown), the main duty of the heiress is to make sure that G'lbgolyb is well fed and silent. How she goes about this will depend greatly on the nature of the heiress, whether she feels especially emotionally connected with G'lbby or not, and of course, whether G'lbby is interested in bestowing secrets and (dubious) wisdoms to her.

As for the actually doing politics part itself, an heiress might use those secrets and wisdoms, her own judgement and whims, the input of friends, and/or her vision of what a future under her rule might look like to inform how she keeps Alternia running. While some things aren't strictly under her control (allowance accounts or the fleet for example), she has indirect means of influencing the Empress for certain favors, as HIC is always informed via drone recorded files, informants, and G'lbby herself as to what her successor is up to. Since the shared lusus and inevitable showdown creates an inherent strain in such a relationship, these favors are few and far between, and an heiress will simply make do with her own might and intellect to get her subjects and drones acting how she wants. For some this means careful diplomacy, others an incredible amount of C4 and lasers.

Beyond her physical training, she is also expected to make good connections between herself and her seadweller peers; after all, they will become her Overseers if she wins the duel for the crown! Particularly in the age of social media, knowing who's who and what's what is as imperative to making sure that a coup doesn't occur as her speed, strength, and intellect.

Fuchsias are also, due to the cyclical nature of their position, the only troll on Alternia to be assigned concupiscent quadrants; there needs to be a butt on the throne and a head in the tiara precisely every 9 sweeps. The jades use esoteric means* to determine which of her broodmates are best suited for the slots, though socially it is considered pretty embarrassing to have to resort to using your betrothed--an heiress should have people crawling over each other to get to be hers, after all.

to put it crudely, a heiress's job is to fuck, fight, and hopefully not die, and everything beyond that is just window dressing. Then, when the day arrives that she comes of age, she is escorted to the mothership for the Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny (airing live Friday at 8p, EST/7p central!). It's rumored there's an opt out, but who would do something that humiliating by choice?

VIOLETS

If fuchsias are the head, violets are the neck that moves it. While they don't have to worry about G'lbgolyb as directly as the heiress, seadwellers have to find the delicate balance of being ready to serve in aiding that she be fed adequately, and corralling (coral-ing?) their local subjects--sometimes these are not mutually exclusive (dead kids are delicious and nutritious!). Both duties are rather exhausting, of course, so many will find themselves attracted to turning their hobbies into a full time gig, cos nothing takes the edge off like monetizing your passions.

They end up being something of a wildcard in this respect; with enough money, power, and influence (finfluence?) to back up even the strangest of pastimes, seadwellers can be found doing everything from funding music festivals to playing sports to building cool new ways to shoot things. If they're smart about it, these hobbies can build clout that will give them a sort of 'niche' to fill when they're old enough to be looking after their own enslaved alien worlds colonies; that is, they can be assigned subjects they can best rule over, vs trial-and-erroring a random option. They can use their connections and notoriety built upon these hobbies to ingratiate themselves to the adults, and Empress, before they've so much as set foot on the test field for their Ordeals, particularly if they lean into entertainment or military related activities, so it definitely pays to have something uniquely useful on your resume.**

While it is rare for a seadweller to die before they reach ascension age, it's not impossible; particularly if a turf (surf?) war breaks out between two or more of them. As such, it's also prudent for young violetbloods to be as well-trained physically as they are politically. nobody wants to be poisoned or stabbed before they get a chance to rule their own colony! In a similar fashion to the heiress, they're expected to put those skills to the test in their Ordeals against each other; the last fins standing get their crowns and their planetary assignments, and if the stars align just right, an acknowledgement from their presumed ancestor.***

PURPLES

The circus doesn't run itself, and neither does the shitshow. Whatever your flavor, purplebloods are here to entertain, be it dancing for your smiles, or slashing throats for the altar.

while the particulars of their faith are unknown to the common troll, all clowns understand their own solemn duty to be one of maintaining the balance between comedy and tragedy, chaos and order. sometimes you gotta beat a motherfucker with another motherfucker about it. The especially pious make it their business to maintain the tents, carnivals, and sacrifices, while those more casually part of the clurch spread the mirthful mantras through music, gameshows, and an appreciation of the arts (both visual and martial). All purples in preparation for their role in the court systems, whether as a judge, clergy, or bounty hunter, are inclined to find a way to apply speed, strength, and comedy training to their revelry. sometimes this is very direct, as in playing mock trials to make friends laugh, or chasing down hapless victims on fright night; others is a little more subtle, like practicing feats of physical prowess during circus routines and preaching over the radio.

socially, they are also the link between seadwellers and landlubbers, the strand between the teeming masses and their isolated rulers. historically speaking, this plays out more like hostage negotiations than constituent representation, but as long as the lowbloods keep their horns down and highbloods remain sycophantic, bloodshed is minimal. Besides, as mysterious as their religion, clowns have hitherto unknown motivations regarding the state of the world--not that they'd be crazy enough to blatantly go against the finfaces, but it's unclear who's side they're on exactly. Having direct contact with the GHB and Jesters, purples are far more privy to the inner workings of the greater political climate of the whole empire, not just alternia, and thus are far less likely to rock the boat in a fit of teen angst. this doesn't mean they won't needle and jeer when the timing is right, of course. Not ones to be openly mocked, seadwellers will often course correct any particularly anti-social behavior to avoid being the butt of the joke-- in this way, purples serve as a barrier between trigger happy tyrants who'd otherwise flippantly decimate the population, and the vulnerable trolls under their designer boots.**** *it's hardly better than astrology, but given how superstitious the uppercrust tend to be, is treated as gospel and even if they don't end up together, heiresses will often seek out their assigned fallback just to get a vibe **sometimes this backfires of course, if you pigeonhole yourself too well it can limit your reach of influence once you're up against someone with broader "appeal" or skillsets. Planet auctions are a rough game, and everyone comes to cheat! ***this almost never happens because being an overseer is such a tough, backstabbing, dangerous job that rare few violets live long enough to see their descendants, but gosh, a troll can dream. **** the irony of their faith requiring death and being one of the few castes strong and witty enough to keep total annihilation at bay is not lost on them but that's the silly contradictory nature of the universe innit

[stray-k1tty]

being autistic now is so weird. Like when I was younger the opinion seemed to be "autistic kids are all babies who can't do anything" and it was like no autistic people can do things what are you talking about.

and now it's flipped and Im like hey I need help for this thing and I'm told "Ummm but autistic people can do that. I know autistic people who can do that." that's so crazy!!! Is the autistic person who can do that in the room with us. Because it's not me. Otherwise I wouldn't be ASKING you for HELP girl.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Shameless

Tags: dad!Toji x fem!reader, modern!au, nsfw, mdni, breeding kink, he calls himself daddy

Synopsis: You’re Toji’s live-in nanny. He wants to breed you, and he successfully does so.

An: This is my story on ao3!! You can read it here. If you’re feeling extra nice, a kudos would be cool too.

Being a single dad was hard. Toji learned quickly after his wife's death that he in fact couldn't do this alone. The way little Megumi's big eyes looked up to him for direction... him of all people. He was not cut out for this. Megumi's mom was a wonderful mother: sweet, nurturing, and patient. Toji really didn't know if he was any of those things.

Luckily, her life insurance provided Toji with a relatively comfortable life combined with his job in construction of course. Construction might be his vice. He got away from home for 12 hours a day, and he worked so hard that his brain was mush by the time he was home. Not that he didn't love his son, he did, but every time he looked at Megumi he saw his sweet late wife. He also saw his short comings as a father.

Babysitters quit on him regularly. It was always the same excuse. "Megumi's an angel, but I can't be here 7 days a week. I have a life too." It was incredibly annoying. They'd stay for Megumi but left due to another one of his shortcomings.

Another one quit. That would be the third one this month. "Listen Mr. Fushiguro, I know a friend. She does this sort of thing on a different level. Have you ever considered having a live-in nanny?"

That stupid girl's question enlightened Toji. He had completely forgotten that live-in nannies still existed. After getting her friend's number and paying her what he owed her for her time, Toji relaxed on the couch with little Megumi tucked into his side. The three-year-old was happily babbling next to him, enamored by Toji's phone that was in his hand.

Toji looked at the number dialed into his phone, and he sighed. He was tired of making cold calls to potential babysitters like he was some desperate whore, but maybe, maybe this would be different. He wouldn't mind having a live-in nanny. His house wouldn't mind it either. Toji would be able to finally breathe. No more coming home from 12 hour shifts to pop something to eat in the microwave and wash the dishes. He wouldn't even have to see this so-called nanny often. He could pick up more hours at work with all of his new freedom of not having to worry about pissing off the babysitter.

*** *** ***

Either way, that's how you ended up in Toji's house. For the past three months you had taken care of Megumi, cleaned and deep cleaned his entire house, cooked him plenty of dinners from scratch, and even did his laundry the exact way he preferred. His house has never looked better, and Megumi had never looked so happy.

Despite being here for three months, you barely saw Toji. He seemed to avoid you like the plague and only answer with one-worded answers, which was fine. This was your job, not your actual family. There was no need for extensive communications. Though, you had gushed to your friend plenty over text about how hot "Mr. Fushiguro" was. He was conventionally attractive, yes. But you also always had a thing for the brooding types, and dammit, Toji was brooding. There was also something to be said about how he came home in the evenings. A black wifebeater clinging to his skin from a long day of working out in the sun. His jeans would be dirty from the work he was doing. His skin glistening from a thin sheen of sweat. His hair was always a mess. Goddammit. It was enough to make you feel fertile.

It was early in the morning, Toji was getting ready to go to work. Megumi had woken up, crying for his papa not to leave him. He's going through an extra clingy phase. He's usually okay once Toji's gone.

"Papa!" Megumi cried as Toji entered the living room. You had Megumi in your lap, rocking him with a sleepy look on your face. His tears were wetting your shirt, but you didn't seem to mind.

"He'll be back tonight, Gumi." You shooshed him and continued to try to rock him and pat his back.

Toji's face was unreadable. He was never one to get all upset over Megumi's crying, but hearing his son cry out for him tugged on his heartstrings extra this morning. Then, there was you. You were a godsend to Toji's life. Getting a live-in nanny was one of the best decisions he had ever made. Above that, you were excellent with Megumi. You were sweet... nurturing... patient. He hated how seeing you with his son made him feel. It almost felt like maybe 2 kids wouldn't be that big of a deal. Maybe 3. One on each of your legs and another one swelling in your belly. God. He was disgusted in himself for thinking like that.

"I love you, kiddo." Toji said quickly as he leaned down, giving Megumi's forehead a quick peck. The toddler made grabby hands for him. It was almost enough to make him stay home. Almost. Toji's eyes met yours as he was still leaned over. His face was close to yours. The tension between them were palpable. The moment felt like eternity between them.

Then, a black credit card was in view. "I need new work gloves. Get the extra thick rubber ones, will ya? Also, get whatever you and the kid want. I'll be back late tonight." He handed you the card and sauntered out of the house despite Megumi's pleas for him to stay. You looked at the Amex black card and blinked a couple of times. Only the top earners in the world had cards like this. Toji was just an average blue collar dad... It made you wonder how he got a card like this.

You still spent that shit though.

*** *** ***

Toji looked at his phone on the jobsite. No one dared to tell him to put it away. Toji was the best most competent worker out on the field. He could work circles around supervisors and project managers alike, and he was damn smart. He didn't need a pencil and paper or a calculator to make quick conversions in his head. So, most people stayed out of his way.

He smirked and chuckled at the notifications rolling in from his bank. 78.97 at Target. 21.25 at McDonald's. 43.52 at Barnes and Noble. 9.24 at Starbucks. He was happy you and Megumi were getting to have a little shopping spree.

You were also great at keeping him updated. You sent him lots of pictures and videos of Megumi. He cherished each one of them, immediately getting some of them printed and hung up in his house. There was even a picture of you and Megumi proudly displayed in the living room. In his mind, you were an integral part of the family. The "family" simply would not function if it weren't for you.

A fond smile spread across his face as he opened his messages. A picture of Megumi's little hands trying to fit into his new gloves that she had bought him. Great. She got the right ones. "I think he wants to be just like daddy :)", the message read.

Oh.

Oh.

The twitch that just occurred in his pants should be punishable in a court of law. In no way should he have gotten turned on by that. You were just being nice. It was a normal thing for people to refer to him as "daddy" in that context. It never affected him in the way it was right now.

So anyways, that's how he ended up in the port-a-potty busting a load all over a picture of you that he had on his phone. After the shock of his orgasm that came quicker than ever, he looked down, disappointed in himself. He wasn't some horny teenage boy anymore. This was just downright deplorable. Begrudgingly, he wiped his phone clean from his sins. Post-nut clarity swirled his brain. He couldn't believe he just did that.

He called your number. He had to make things right.

"Hello? Is everything okay?" You immediately asked. After living with Toji for some time now, you learned that he doesn't just call people. He will absolutely decline a call to just text and ask what's up.

"Everything is fine." He replied, trying to hide his amusement. It was cute that you seemed so worried for him. "Are you still in town?"

"Yeah, Megumi and I are about to leave Starbucks and head home. Why? What's up?" You responded back to him. He could hear Megumi happily singing a song in the background.

"You know you spent 152 dollars today?" Toji asked as he popped his back up against the port-a-potty door. He had a lazy smirk on his face.

"Oh- crap. I'm sorry. You can take whatever you see fit out of my pay-" He interrupted your nonsense quickly.

"Do you think I'm poor?" His voice was amused, not angry like you expected it to be.

"What-? No.. no, sir. I was just-"

"I told you to get whatever you and the kid want. Don't come back home until your certain that you can't carry the amount of stuff you bought in one trip." He said quickly. His stomach was already coiling from how you called him sir. He grimaced as he felt another twitch. I just took care of you dammit.

"Oh... oh, okay? Are you su-" Click. He hung up on you. One too many dumb questions. You looked at Megumi as he strapped into the backseat of your car. He looked intrigued by the conversation even though you knew he realistically had no idea what was just said. "Daddy said we have to go to the toy store." You grinned at him. He was smiling and clapping over the word "toy".

234.22 at Toys-R-Us. 122.56 at Lego. 208.38 at Aerie. 88.21 at Ulta Beauty. Another 94.48 at Barnes and Noble.

The way Toji grinned each time he felt that familiar vibration of his phone go off, meaning another notification from his bank was off-putting. Workers on the jobsite never seen him so happy. It was his penance for being such a horny freaky fuck.

*** *** ***

It was later that same evening. Megumi was in the living room surrounded by toys and crafting materials. He was currently drawing all sorts of "shadow animals" as he called them. You would of course look and nod your head, congratulating him on each terribly drawn animal. You acted like that was the best damn wolf-bear-owl hybrid you ever saw.

You were in the kitchen cooking chicken and dumplings. The clock on the stove read seven p.m. You didn't expect to see Toji at all this evening. He said he was working late this morning. Usually, that meant he was dragging his feet in through the door until well past ten p.m.

Still, you made him a serving of chicken and dumpling soup. You always did. Even when he worked late, you would put him a helping of dinner in the microwave to keep warm. You never knew, but he was always delighted by that. He ate the dinners each time.

A key jingling in the door handle caught your attention while you were getting Megumi settled at the dining room table. Three-year-olds were so hard to manage: too small to eat by themselves but too big to be locked in a high chair.

Toji stepped into the living room with a small grunt. He smirked as he looked around at his destroyed living room. Toys, crayons, and pieces of "artwork" were strewn all about the place. He glanced up towards you and Megumi in the kitchen. He took note of how your face was flushed and surprised.

"Papa!" Megumi happily shouted before the little bastard ran from your grasp to go hug on Toji's legs. His dad smiled as he looked down at Megumi, and he used his hand to mess up Megumi's hair affectionately.

"Go eat your food, kiddo." Toji said warmly to his son. Megumi happily obliged and ran right back to his seat right next to you, and you fed him a spoonful of the soup.

"You're home early." You stated the obvious.

Toji would never tell you, but he left early because he missed you two.

"Don't sound too happy to see me." He remarked in a sarcastic tone.

"What-? No, I just.. would've cleaned up more had I known you would be home so soon..." You responded. Megumi was sitting beside you whining for another bite of food. You snapped out of your surprise, and you fed him another bite of chicken and dumplings.

"Why? I don't give a damn what this place looks like." Toji said with a small nonchalant shrug. He walked through the living room, carefully stepping over the toys. Before you had become his nanny, this was how his house normally looked: messy, lived in. "I've got a bowl of dinner in the microwave. My kid's happy and fed. I couldn't care less what that living room looks like."

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Toji was easy to please. He really just wanted what was best for his kid, and that was you. "I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." You replied. He looked at you with an unreadable expression. It looked like he might've wanted to say something, but he had backed out last minute. He hummed and walked towards his bedroom to shower the dirt, sweat, and grime from the day.

While Toji showered, you had finished feeding Megumi and yourself. You allowed Megumi to have about an hour of TV time before bed. He really enjoyed old X-Men cartoons. You turned them on for him and parked him on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket.

You hummed softly as you worked in the kitchen. You packed meal prep containers of soup for Toji to take for lunch for the next couple of days. Then, you were washing dishes in front of the sink.

*** *** ***

"I like making sure you have nothing to worry about." Your words repeated in Toji's head over and over like a mantra. He hadn't felt so... cared for in a long, long time. It made his heart feel full, which was an unfamiliar feeling for him. A less unfamiliar feeling was his dick standing fully erect and at attention. He groaned quietly as he leaned his head back in the shower.

Something had to be in the air recently. He was a grown man with desires, sure. But this was a new record for him. Ever since you started being a live-in nanny for him, the boners were a daily thing. Hell, twice or three times a day sometimes. He's tried everything... Well, okay, maybe not everything, but he's tried cold showers and staying away from you. Neither of those things work to soothe him.

His hand was gliding up and down his length for the second time today. He was facing the shower wall with his arm propped up on it, supporting his head. Damn you for making him feel like a slave to his desires. You wanted to make sure he had nothing to worry about? Then, you should be the one in here fixing this damn mess, not him. He pitifully rutted into his hand, imaging he's plunging deep into you. Imagining the multiple ways he'd fuck the hell out of you is the only thing that soothes the ache, but this time he didn't see an end in sight.

He gritted his teeth together, and he balled up his fist, rearing back before stopping himself. He's not a teenager anymore. He can't punch walls. He took a deep breath and turned the shower off. No, this won't do. He needs to fix this at the source.

After quickly drying off and getting dressed, he walked back into the kitchen. His eyes scanned over the house. Megumi was enthralled by the TV, and you were washing dishes. Perfect.

He slowly approached you from behind. He could tell you didn't hear him as you were still softly humming. Usually, you would stop humming if he entered the kitchen. He never understood why. The sounds of your melancholic hums were beautiful and soothing to him.

He was directly behind you, and his hands gently cupped your hips. You immediately flinched and made a soft scream that was quickly silenced by one of his hands. "Shh, we don't want to disturb the little brat, do we?" Toji said into your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell of your ear, making you shiver.

Toji's eyes flicked over towards the living room. Megumi hadn't moved an inch. Perfect.

Toji slowly released your mouth. To his delight, you didn't make a sound. He could hear how your breath was slightly labored from him scaring you. A small chuckle rose from his throat. His hands went back to your hips, and he pressed himself against your voluptuous ass. A hum of approval escaped him. He could see your hands gripping the countertops.

"Nod your head. You like this? Want me to keep pressing myself against you?" Toji whispered into your ear. You took your bottom lip between your teeth, and you nodded your head eagerly, giving him consent.

"Dirty fucking girl." His voice was like a growl in your ear as he started to move his hips, dragging his length up and down along you. You could feel each inch of his length beckoning for you. "I knew you'd take whatever I gave you, but this? Letting me grind against you like a pathetic teenager while my son is in the living room? You're such a fucking slut." His hands were digging into your hips as he continued his controlled motions.

"Mnn.. fuck.." You softly whimpered out. Thank god the X-Men were currently in a loud fight scene.

You slightly frowned as you suddenly didn't feel Toji behind you anymore. You were about to turn around and ask what he was doing, but his fingers curling into the waistband of your leggings told you everything you needed to know. "Toji-" You managed to whisper out. No way could you two do this while Megumi was in the next room over.

"Shut up." Toji interrupted you. He had taken his throbbing length out of his sleeping pants, and he had a look of concentration on his face as he angled himself right at your entrance. "You have no fucking idea how long I've needed this. So just be a good girl, shut up, and take what I give you."

Direct orders from your boss. Who were you to deny the man who just spoiled you all day today?

It was a tight fit. Toji wasn't a gentleman. He didn't prep you with his fingers or mouth. This wasn't love making. It was hardly fucking. This was fulfilling a need.

"God... fuck. I didn't expect you to be that tight." He growled into your neck as he held your hips still against him. It felt like he was splitting you apart. You couldn't even respond to him.

He noticed how tightly you were gripping the counter and how you weren't responding to him. Your knuckles were turning white. He almost felt guilty. His hand came around the front of you, and he gently rubbed the swollen bundle of nerves. "Shhh... You can take it. I know you can." He whispered into your ear as it was taking every last shred of self-restraint not to fuck you into oblivion right on this counter. He slowly pulled back until just his tip was inside, and he pushed all the way back in. "That's it. There's my good girl." He praised in your ear. It was not lost on him that he felt you get wetter with each praise.

He hesitated, but he said it anyway, "You wanna be a good girl for daddy, don't you?" He whispered into your ear. That phrase made you tremble in his arms and nod your head. He slowly pulled back out and pushed right back in, taking you slowly. "That's right... hngh, fuck." He moaned into your ear. "You want to be fucked by daddy. You want to take his cock like a good girl. Take it." His hips started to move with more conviction.

You were already so out of it. This was like a dirty fantasy come true. You couldn't help but check the TV a few times to make sure X-Men was still playing. You were still worried that Megumi might run in here for whatever reason and see you bent over in front of his dad. You knew it was unlikely. Megumi could watch that TV like a zombie all day if you let him. Besides, you would be able to hear the small pitter-patter of his footsteps.

"Stop looking at the fucking TV. Trust me." Toji growled into your ear as he forced your hips down onto him roughly. A noiseless gasp escaped you. He wasn't small, and he knew that. He was using it to his advantage.

"Fuck." He groaned quietly as he rubbed you with a bit more fervor. You could already feel that familiar warm feeling coiling in your stomach. "I'm going to fuck a baby into you. You were fucking made for this. Made for raising my kids and taking my fucking load." He was spewing nonsense into your ear, but in the moment, you couldn't help but nod and moan. "You were made for me." He proclaimed as his hips continued harshly snapping into your backside. Somehow the sounds were masked.

"You want that, don't you?" He asked as he bit down on your neck then lapped at the bite mark with his tongue.

"Yes, daddy!" You quietly exclaimed. His thrusts only increased in power. Your eyes started to cross, getting lost in pleasure.

"Fuck. You're gonna look so perfect pregnant with my baby. I won't let you have a break. As soon as one comes out; I'm puttin' another one in you." He continued on yapping about how many kids he was going to pump into you. "I'll breed you again and again." His thrusts were heavy and brutal. You couldn't take it anymore.

He moaned as he felt you clenching around him, finishing all over his cock. It was enough to drive him overboard. He pumped you full of cum until you were sure some of it was seeping out.

There was a peaceful moment of dizzy highness for you two. Toji panted against your back. For the first time in while, he's felt satisfied. A soft amused laugh escaped him as he heard the iconic X-Men episode coming to an end. He swiftly pulled out of you, and he tried to ignore that little whimper of protest you let out. He tucked himself back into his pants, and he pulled your leggings and panties back up for you since you were still a trembling mess over the counter.

"Alright Kiddo, c'mon. Time for bed." Toji said as he sauntered off into the living room as if he didn't just rearrange your guts. He put Megumi to bed that night, and he cleaned up the living room for you, allowing for you to recover in his bed for round two. He was much more of a gentleman for round two.

*** *** ***

"Hey... I know I ain't been to see you in a while. I'm sorry." Toji said as he sat down on the grassy ground. "I was letting life pass me by for too damn long." He said as he took a wet washcloth and began to wash up his late wife's gravestone. "I'm doing better now, so don't worry about me."

"Megumi's growing like a weed. I'm sorry I didn't bring him to see you... I just don't know how to explain it to him." Toji's voice was full of guilt as he dragged the wet washcloth against the stone. "He's a good kid though. He looks just like you, damn bastard." He softly laughed, knowing his wife would've struck him over the side of the head for calling Megumi a damn bastard.

"Listen... I met a girl." He leaned his head over the gravestone. It had been close to three months since you and Toji started sleeping together. There wasn't a formal label to your relationship, but it didn't feel necessary. You two both knew you were sleeping exclusively with each other. "I think you'd like her, or maybe you wouldn't since she's fucking your husband. But either way... I-" He choked up a bit as he held onto the cold stone. "I feel so fucking guilty... I know you're not coming home anytime soon, but I just... I need your blessing. If you can somehow hear me, please... I never asked you for anything until I asked you to marry me. Now, I'm asking... please somehow show me you approve of this."

"She's good for me... She takes good care of Megumi. He's so damn attached to her somedays." Toji softly laughed as he remembered how a few nights ago Megumi crawled into bed with you and him because he had a nightmare. Instead of taking to Toji like he normally does, he crawled into your arms. Toji had never felt so damn proud and slighted at the same time.

"I should get going. Give me a sign though.. Something that tells me you approve." He finished his visit with his wife, and he went home.

*** *** ***

That night at dinner, Megumi sped into the kitchen with an action figure in his hand. He was pretending to be Batman. "Gumi, I've told you three times. Stop running." You said as you gave the small child a look. Toji smirked as he knew that look good and well. It was the look a mom gave as a warning. Megumi was on his last warning.

"I'm sorry, mama." Megumi apologized, causing for both you and Toji to freeze right in your tracks. Megumi had never called you mama before. He always said your name.

Your heart swelled in your chest. It was a feeling of affection and guilt. "Oh no... baby.." You said softly as you took his hand. You lead him into the living room, and you crouched down, showing him a picture of his mom to him. "That's mama." You gently corrected him.

Toji watched the scene like a hawk from the dinner table. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had never been shy about telling Megumi who his mom was, but he hadn't exactly been forthcoming about how his mom passed away when he was a small baby.

Megumi pointed at the picture. "Mama." He said quietly. You nodded and patted his head.

"That's right." You praised affectionately. He then turned his attention to you. and he poked your chest with his tiny finger.

"Mama." He said, pointing at you.

"No-"

"It's alright." Toji spoke up from his seat at the dinner table.

"I don't want him to be confused..." You replied as you slowly stood back up, looking at Toji.

"He doesn't sound confused to me." He retorted with a small grin. You turned your attention back to Megumi, and Toji looked up towards the ceiling. "Thank you." He muttered so quietly before kissing the necklace that hung around his neck. He had his wife's blessing. This proved it.

After finishing his dinner, Toji joined you two in the living room. You and Megumi were curled up on each side of his while watching that old X-Men cartoon. Suddenly, Megumi rose from the couch. You and Toji watched him with a hint of confusion.

"What is he doing?" You softly asked Toji as Megumi bent over, and he looked between his legs at both you and Toji.

"I have no fucking id-" He was about to respond, but then, it hit him. "Get up." He said as he stood up from the couch. He quickly grabbed his phone, keys, and wallet like a madman.

"What? What? Is something wrong?" You asked as you had never seen Toji move this fast. You quickly got up too.

"Nothing's wrong. Come on. We're going to the store." He grunted as he swooped Megumi into his arms.

You were confused and in denial when Toji bought a pregnancy test and made you take it. Now, both of you were waiting outside of the bathroom for the five minutes to be over. "This is crazy, Toji. I'm not pregnant."

"It's an old wives' tale. When babies do that, it's supposed to mean their looking for their sibling." Toji said with a nonchalant shrug as if what he said was matter-of-fact. "My mother told me that's how she knew she was pregnant with me."

The timer went off on his phone, and both of you fought to get into the bathroom first. He eventually overpowered you and snatched the pregnancy test off the counter quickly. "Oh." He said quietly. The room went still.

Suddenly, your heart was racing. "What is it? Is it negative?" You asked a hint of disappointment hit you. You didn't know why, but a small part of you hoped for it to be positive.

"Oh, you're fucking getting it tonight." Toji smirked as he turned the pregnancy test over. Two pink lines were clear as day on the test. You're pregnant.

Tags: @lemonlimecrystal-blog @theuniversesnepobaby

[poguehearted77]

Tap Out

Just thinking about Rafe's super gorgeous, beautifully breathtaking girlfriend who is notorious for giving people a hard time. Especially him.

She got that million dollar Million dollar oow, oow And all I want to do is touch it Make her tapout, tapout, tapout, tapout,

Rafe stands tall and brooding in front of the bed where you sat while he hits replay on the overbearing series of voicemails you'd left him while he was out.

"Hi Rafe, I know you said you and Barry had to go take care of whatever it was that you said—I don't know; I wasn't really listening, but I just saw this new coach bag online, and I need you to send me a picture of your credit card front and back so I can get it. Thanks in advance baby."

You stay silent and unbothered by the replay.

He plays the next one, "It's almost midnight, Rafe. When are you coming home? I miss you. The bed is so big and empty without you in it. You remember that night we came back from the Blue Diamond charity gala and we barely made it up the stairs? The way you fucked me so good, left me aching for you for days--mmmm, wanna feel you like that again, come home Rafeyy."

Your boyfriend huffs as he moves to play the last one except this one is silent for the first few moments until some lewd sounds can be picked up. It's wet and sticky. It sounds like Thanksgiving mac and cheese being stirred in the pot. Soon, the faintest string of moans can be heard.

Most wouldn't be able to pick up on it, but not Rafe. His ears are trained to the sound of your voice. He's accustomed to every pitch, tone and frequency your pleasure can take on.

You stand, ready to plead your case, "You were gone for hours, what was I supposed to do?" Your arms cross defensively and they suddenly drop when Rafe's big hand is holding you by the throat, squeezing tight enough to have you gasping.

"You think this shit is funny?" His voice is strict, unwavering and serious. "What if Barry heard this? Huh?" Your eyes roll, defences refusing to crumble even with a limited supply of air, "It's Barry, he'd probably thank me-"

You need to learn when to shut up at the end of a rhetorical question because now Rafe had you bent up like a pretzel. One hand is still around your neck while the other holds you at the waist.

Your legs are shaking as he brings you to what you thought was your third orgasm but is actually the fourth (you'd blacked out during the second one). "Rafe- no- s'too much," You murmur, voice broken and weak from all your screams.

"Nothin's too much for you." He groans, punctuating his sentences with a sharp snap of his hips. It sends you reeling and your eyes roll back as you feel that familiar heat begin to unfurl in your core.

You shake your head repeatedly, "I can't--Rafe! Please." You beg, so incredibly turned on by the sight of your hot boyfriend who looked down to where your bodies connected. The way your slick covered his cock down to his balls. It pulls a groan out of him from his core.

You admired the sweat that gathered over the thin hairs on his chest and that piercing blue gaze that would glance up at you from time to time to taunt you like now. "You know what to do if you can't take it sweet thing." You do know what to do, but you refuse to back down, you're so close.

"O-oh shit I'm-" The words escape and your climax is stolen from you when Rafe stops completely and pulls out, his hands move down to your hips, shamelessly displaying his physical dominance over you and flipping you onto your stomach effortlessly.

He grips the flesh of your waist and manhandles you until you're being pulled back against him, the beautiful sight of your plump and juicy ass in his hands is enough to send him to the heavens above or maybe the firey pits below.

You're already too weak to hold yourself up on your arms, so you let yourself fall into the sheets. Your cries muffled into the pillows as Rafe slowly presses back into you, stretching you back open. His rhythm picks up with nothing but urgency and mercilessness.

Your back arches, and you cry out his name when you're blinded by your own orgasm. Coming undone once more and he comes soon after with a breathy chuckle. His hips are still rolling into yours lethargicly when he whispers, "You got one more in you, baby?"

"Fuck no. I'm done." You whine, your fists tapping out on the pillow and his pace slows until he finally stops, slowly pulling out.

"That'll teach you to fuck with my voicemails when I'm not here." He lays himself down beside you, carefully moving the stray strands of hair out of your face to admire you.

Your lips were swollen from all the sucking and biting he'd done to them earlier, your cheeks flushed and your body is spent. You grin, "You know you liked it, especially that last one." Rafe exhaled, even in your drained state you can still find time to be bratty.

"I did, I did. You sounded so fucking pretty playing with that perfect pussy of yours. Had to go rub one out in Barry's bathroom because of you." You smile a little bigger at that. "Good." Is all you say and Rafe can only roll his eyes as he moves to hold you in his arms.

You both lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies until Rafe speaks up softly, "Tuesday." He says, and your head looks up at him with a confused tilt. Without having to ask him, he explains, "The purse you want. I ordered it. It'll be here on Tuesday."

Just when your smile couldn't get any bigger, it does, and Rafe can't help but to be in awe because god you're so fucking gorgeous but you're such a pain in the ass.

His prettiest headache.

[neerathebrightstar]

An Unhealthy Obsession

Yandere Tim Drake inspired by the song “An Unhealthy Obsession”

SYNOPSIS -> Tim Drake will always remember the day he saw you for the first time as the best coincidence of his life. And you will always remember your second meeting as the thing that doomed you.

Warnings -> This is a work of fiction but beware the themes like stalking, obsession, manipulation, smut, the fic is written mostly in Tim’s pov so an unreliable narrator, sub!Tim Drake, there is a brief mention of things like branding and kidnapping, exhibitionism

MINORS DNI

You will never forget the first time you met Tim Drake - freshly 18, still with hope for a better life in your eyes and incredibly broke. You worked hard in high school and got the opportunity to study in Gotham University on Bruce Wayne’s founded scholarship. You were ecstatic back then, you always thought you would immediately need to go to work after you hit adulthood, and offered with a chance to make something of yourself you didn’t think twice about moving to Gotham despite its title as the most dangerous city in America.

Your parents were skeptical with the whole ordeal, who wouldn’t be terrified with their child moving to Gotham where people were more scared of clowns than guns, but they ultimately let you go when you begged for it enough.

You wished they didn’t, you wished they locked you in a room and binded you to your bed so you wouldn’t go anywhere.

In the end you moved to Gotham all wide eyed, ripe for the taking in the city known for swallowing innocent souls like you. You were hopeful, ready to learn and work even harder for your future.

You thought yourself to be fearless back then. On top of the world and untouchable, with wings made of dreams ready to carry you even higher. You spend your nights before the courses start fantasizing about life when all the riches in the world are at your hand - living in a mansion with a significant other that truly adores you, never wanting for anything. And all that you would achieve through your hard work.

But reality hits you hard and brutally when the assignments start piling up, your professors are cruel and you can barely keep up, not with additional work you have to do after hours to support yourself. The scholarship doesn’t cover your basic necessities and food doesn’t magically appear on one’s plate when they wish it so.

You are constantly tired, overworked and underslept so no one can really blame you when you miss literal Red Robin walking into the 24h diner you work at.

(You didn’t know he was a vigilante back then, you were new in Gotham - you didn’t have the time to learn the names of the entire flock of bats and birds)

You were alone that night, your coworkers already went home and you craved to do the same. You still had to clean up and wait for the next shift to come in and you really hoped that they would hurry - you wanted to take a quick nap before running to campus.

Instead you are met with a bizarre sight of a man dressed entirely in a funny red costume. High black combat boots with black skintight pants and a red top that looked like a girl’s one piece swimsuit. For some reason he was wearing the ugliest yellow belt you ever seen, with pouches fulled to the brim. Was he practicing for a role or something? You highly doubted that, not with the bondage type of straps that were holding a very dramatic cape on his shoulders. Gotham was weird but you never seen people wear costumes from fetish magazines out in the streets like that before. And for fuck’s sakes was he wearing a fucking mask with a beak? You wondered how to politely throw him out without involving very strong words and calling him out on being a prostitute for villains with a vigilante complex but in the end you never had to do so.

The encounter doesn’t linger in your mind past the next morning - sure the guy was weird but polite, you served him his order and he went on his way. You blissfully came back home to your bed after swapping with your coworker to catch a few hours of sleep unaware that you just doomed yourself.

I want to be able to tell you that you came here to read a story of a maniac, an obsessive freak of nature like you all think me to be. But really I am that bad for wanting to protect them? That I saw how they live and decided to give them everything? You all can judge me all you want but the truth is you would have done the same - except you are cowards and I am not afraid of getting my hands dirty for the ones I love.

I would never kill anyone, I know better than that - Bruce taught me better than that. However there are so many ways one’s life can be ruined without depriving them of it. Sometimes one letter is all it takes to fire a man supporting his whole family, to get him banned from working ever again. What does the life of that family look like after that? No one ever thinks of it later, when you have that one annoying employee out of your sight, what use is there in wondering how he fares right? After all you didn’t kill him, you can absolve yourself of all guilt, he deserved it and you showed restraint in letting him see another day.

But his family will fall apart, his children will lose countless opportunities because there is no longer enough funds to support them in pursuing a better, brighter future. You won’t see his wife struggling to make ends meet while her husband uselessly walks around with his resume. And when she leaves him behind to find a better man for her and her children? Will you be there to look at what you have done ?

You see? I don’t need to kill anyone to destroy their life. And if I can do it so easily, who says others cannot do it to them ? It was already happening when I met them - my love was underpaid, overworked and with no real way of making a better living. They could have crumbled like a house of cards with just one gust of wind. A university student, non-Gothamite living on tips and praying their scholarship won’t be taken from them? Poor little thing would have been swallowed by this city if not for me. Don’t judge me yet, I know I sound pretentious. Let me tell you the whole truth and then you are welcome to make your judgment. But know it’s already too late for my love to leave me - I got my claws into them and they are never leaving again.

I met Y/N purely by chance. They were working at a 24h diner located near Crime Alley and I was in my Red Robin armour, freshly after a fight with local gang members who distributed narcotics to children. It was a big case, big enough that Jason asked for help. I was tired, basically a dead weight on my feet. I needed to eat something and drink enough energy drinks so that I would be caffeinated enough to fight god and then make my way back into the Nest. I didn’t want to look for an open corner store - most of them were money laundering spots at this hour anyway and I didn’t feel like throwing punches with spooked clerks. This side of the city was Jason’s problem, he could deal with that later himself.

Usually a superhero vigilante walking into any place at this hour either invoked fear or awe. I was used to calming down civilians that I was not in the local area for villain related business or smiling for pictures. What I was not used to was being unseen, simply ignored. Y/N was the only person in the diner that night and they didn’t spare me a single glance, no lingering looks like people who wanted to play cool often acted. They were just just meticulously cleaning tables and even from where I was standing I could see their eyes were half closed. An underpaid and tired employee is technically not a thing out of ordinary in Gotham - even with the money Bruce pours into this city the hole of poverty seems just never ending. I should have walked out and left that poor person alone. Bruce would have left a pile of money on one of the still messy tables and left it at that. I for some reason couldn’t do that.

I walked over to them and cleared my throat which in consequence immediately made me feel like an asshole. I was not only interrupting their work in one of the most rude ways possible and in the back of my mind I kept thinking what an idiot I am and that I will scare this poor thing shitless. Maybe it was a good thing I was not as tall and grotesquely muscular as Jason who looked like a thug most of his good days.

Imagine my surprise that when they turned around they only took one good look at my armour and scrunched their nose at me. Like I was the one being an idiot here. Didn’t anyone tell them that being so unaware of their surroundings in Gotham could cost them their life?

“Halloween is in October. And I am pretty sure that ComicCon was like a week ago”

Their smile was weak, without any teeth but I could feel them mocking me. What person living in Gotham didn’t recognise it’s vigilanties?

“Very funny sweetheart. I am not exactly in the mood for games.”

I didn’t restrain my urge to roll my eyes at them. Gothamites could be weird and disrespectful but they were good people at heart (well most of them anyway, there were exceptions where people did crimes because they wanted to do crimes not because they needed to. And this city had a way of turning people a certain kind of mad), who were often better to be left alone rather than entertain their craziness.

But they did something that got me hooked and interested constantly. They laughed. They laughed and it felt like thousands of little bells ringing the melody of worship, making that little beast in me raise its head. I wouldn’t say I fell in love with them then. I would lie and I promised to be honest with you didn’t I? But I got that feeling, the one I usually get when I know my interests have been peaked and my claws are ready to come out. I know when I want something and I can distinguish the difference between interest and devotion. This was not devotion, not yet. It was merely a single seed of curiosity that could grow to become an enormous problem later on.

The last time I felt something similar had me running around Gotham at night, chasing after a boy in scally shorts and pixie boots, following after him and his mentor who to a little brat appeared to be dressed in darkness itself. Now I could laugh at that ridiculous comparison, knowing that a man hidden behind the kevlar disappointed me more times than both of us bothered to count.

I can tell you now that I will fall hopelessly in love with them, ready at their single beck and call. I was more of a dog than a man but I could be a very loyal one, a faithful companion. I desired to be collared, to have the certainty that another person won’t leave me again. I always tried to sink my claws into everything that didn’t belong to me and every single time, without a doubt I would hold it close even when it was thrashing against my hands. Not once have I managed to keep anything that way, not even a piece of my love given back. No scratch marks to show that I was there, that I loved that I hoped. My claws always ended up torn out, stuck in the flesh of those dear to me, bleeding and rotting like unwanted trash.

”Well pretty boy don’t blame me for assuming when you look like you just walked out of someone’s bondage fantasy”

Their eyes trailed me up and down before a look of disbelief crossed their face. They pointed one finger at the symbol on my chest and pushed it delicately.

(For some reason I longed for them to hit me, to strike me deep, hard and fast. Bruise me and show the world they designed to touch me. That I was not disgusting and unlovable.)

“Was the theme supposed to be Robin and you just botched it into looking like a duck? Anyway honey I need to ask you to get out. This place is family friendly and fetish workers don’t fit into that category”

“Excuse me?!”

“No need to ask for permission, the door is that way”

I glared at them with one of my BatmanTM glares but it only seemed to make them more annoyed.

“I am not a prostitute, I just really need some caffeine.”

They snorted with laughter and I could feel myself getting red. What was even wrong with them?

Hit me hit me hit me hit me hit me Bite me bite me bite me bite me

“I am pretty sure they can also sell it to you at the nearest BDSM club. You need some kind of order to leave or will you see yourself out?”

“Aren’t you supposed to serve all customers?”

I was angry and tired and they were rude but I really just wanted to go home so I swallowed any comebacks I might have had and smiled politely.

“Listen this is Gotham and it’s like 3 am. No one cares about that family friendly shit anyway. And I will pay double.”

Whatever angry complaints they were about to throw at me died quicker in their mouth than hope in B’s eyes when Jason kills another criminal. They raised one brow at me but I knew I won.

“I don’t know if I just got that amazing offer because I bullied you a little and you really are a bondage slut or being a bondage slut pays very well.”

“I’m not paying throuple”

They grumbled a little but in the end took out a small notebook and a pen and gave me the nicest smile I probably saw all week.

(My heart got tighter and for a second I couldn’t breathe. I imagined myself taking that smile into my mouth and tearing it off, bloody and wonderful. If I consumed it would the warmth stay with me forever? Or would it leave me like all things seemed to do?)

“Well, my most wonderful totally not a bottom customer, what will you desire today?”

You you you you you you you you you

Tim was never a man capable of self restraint.

And you left him very intrigued.

It really wasn’t his fault that for the next week he could only think about your hands tightening ropes, intricately woven across his body. Or the same hands leaving welts across his body, your nails scratching him to blood. Marking him up for all to see.

It wasn’t really about you or who you were as a person, not at first anyway. You just happened to hit every box Tim had in mind when he was looking for something more, someone to help him get through the stress of his life. Because the truth was that Tim enjoyed the act of giving away his control - treated it like an act of worship, a highest honour and most precious gift he could give to anyone.

But he had no one to give it away to, not without fearing that someone might take advantage of him, hurt him too deeply. Leave him so shattered that this time he might not be able to pick up the pieces and construct something resembling a human shape around his true self again. The sharp and ugly parts of him were already uncovered too much, sticking out of his shell - ready to burst and spill blood.

You on the other hand would never be able to hurt him. You could bark all you wanted but your teeth would never be strong enough to bite through his skin. But Tim could trick himself into thinking otherwise and it would still satisfy him so what was the hurt in trying? When you were already so eager to mock him, to order him around?

So he began following you, making sure you were safe on your way back home from work. Gotham was scary after all, why would you mind a little hidden company in exchange for safety ?

Tim somehow convinced himself that he would get his urges satisfied that way. A little surveillance here and there never hurt anybody, not in this city. And learning your name was crucial if you ever ended up becoming a villain right? Tim was The Red Robin after all, he needed to keep an eye on everyone in Jason’s his neighbourhood.

A month observing your balcony would be all he needed to make sure you weren’t up to anything bad. He had to watch you fall asleep so he knew you would not go out anywhere else during the night. Who knew what kind of henchmen meetings you could’ve been sneaking out to. Maybe you were Clayface, ready to fool him for some masterplan.

And then it escalated.

Really, Tim was very proud of himself for not installing cameras in your dorm earlier. His skin was getting uncomfortable for the past few weeks but he prevailed, gave you a chance to run away. You didn’t and that’s why you were both in this situation - Tim sitting in front of his computer, mouth wide open, unable to understand what was even happening while you danced naked around your bedroom.

He didn’t even have to think before his fingers automatically moved to save the live feed to his folder, designed especially with you in mind. Hundreds of your pictures already rested there, saved and tucked for later.

(It was an impulsive behaviour that Tim couldn’t explain before himself, an illness he tried to treat on his own. He deleted a few of his least favourite pictures and waited for the hand of god to strike him, punish him for his insolence. He should have fallen to death as punishment but instead he could feel himself start shaking. Tim’s heart clenched painfully and vomit gathered behind his lips. He barely made it to the nearest trash can before he needed to breathe again, eyes already turning bloodshot. He sat there screaming his pure throat raw and ugly sobbing. With hands flying to his neck and choking just to shut himself up, nails leaving angry marks that filled with blood fast, Tim crawled to his computer. He needed the pictures back, now!)

And yet you tested his resolve once again, carefully picking at the sound parts of his mind and replacing them with madness. Tim felt small next to your greatness, unworthy of looking upon your image - with body soft and plush, cream freshly applied after the shower, your hair wet and curling against your cheeks. A perfect portrait of divine being, with a body that looked fragile upon first glance and sharp, cunning nature.

Tim should’ve stopped watching when he first discovered you naked as the day you were born, should’ve gone over to your house and got rid of cameras. There were many things he should’ve done instead of tugging his cock out of his pants, already hard and leaking.

He shouldn’t have started stroking himself to the quiet sound of your humming when you got yourself ready for some party. And he definitely shouldn’t have been imagining kneeling between your legs and humping your foot like a dog in heat.

Tim was a weak man, he could’ve admitted that but have you ever heard of a man who stumbles upon a naked goddess and walks away?

On the monitor, unaware of his heated stare you spread glitter all across your body, still humming a melody that would haunt Tim forever. You were so precious and so innocent and he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you - to corrupt you with his filth, fill you to the brim with his essence. He could see it all now, both of you stitched together, skin to skin, side to side.

You and him chained to bed, unable to say where the other begins and where the other ends. There would be no such nonsense as him and you by then. You will be a joined entity, a two faced god of devotion and codependence.

You reach for a pair of red underwear and Tim’s breath hitches - his colour, you are wearing his colour

His strokes quicken to the point of painful stinging. His hands are covered in calluses, so unlike yours. Your hands are soft and delicate with sharp nails and long fingers made to put him in his place. Like a good dog he is, he would’ve laid down to rest at your feet and lap at any leftovers you give away.

Tim loses himself in the pleasure, bottom lip stuck between his teeth, eyes glued to your form on the screen. He thumbs his tip, precome gathering there like little beads of white tears, all falling for you. He would have made you taste it, your pouty lips embracing his thumb and sucking. You would have asked him to open his mouth and spitten your saliva and his come come into his waiting throat, bared all just for you.

He fumbles his speed and moans sound out all across his room, a private symphony just for him and you.

Tim’s orgasm comes hard and fast, shocking his entire body, limps spasming uselessly. He makes a mess and ashamed of himself ducks quickly into the bathroom to clean up. His black shirt is unsavable, his come drying off leaving nasty marks.

Tim catches a glance of himself in the mirror and for the first time in a while, he smiles. It’s not one of those gala smiles he throws to journalists and other pests bothering him during work hours. It’s also not the smile he shows around his family, that one when he scrunches his nose and barely shows any teeth.

This time it’s his real smile. All predatory, teeth barred and ready to tear flesh apart. The beast officially released itself of its prison and its coming for you

You didn’t recognise him the second time you saw him. How could you when he was wearing a mask and you were so tired you forgot all about the dude the next day?

But since that day you were resting even worse. You had that feeling of eyes on you, following your every move, like a monster was watching you. Waiting for a moment to grab you, snatch you and never give you back to the world. You were getting paranoid, dreaming of hands tearing you apart and rebuilding you anew like a fucked up Frankenstein’s creation. Someone was choosing parts of you that pleased them and throwing the rest out - like it was trash, like it didn’t make you who you are.

Maybe you should’ve listened to your consciousness, an animal part of your brain telling you to run and never look back. But you were so lonely, isolated from the entire world. That’s why when your friends asked if you wanted to go out this Friday you didn’t hesitate to say yes. You got yourself all dolled up, covered your body in little specks of glitter and wore nice underwear, hoping to get laid.

It was supposed to destress you, make your muscles finally relax and release the pressure. You would have taken a nice boy or a pretty girl into the back alley and let them do sinful things to you. You would have relished in the embarrassment that definitely would’ve come the following morning and moved on with your life.

Instead the moment you arrived you felt like you were about to be stabbed at any moment. Like you walked into a trap, or a mouth of a horrendous beast, it’s jaw ready to shut down. Your first thought was that those were only nerves, after all it’s been a while since you were in a place like this. So you drowned yourself in cheap booze, taking shot after shot to your friends delight.

Now you couldn’t even say where you were and what was happening to you. You could hear music all around you so you must be still at the club, dancing bodies all around you. It was getting hard to breathe, and you felt yourself panicking until hands embraced you from behind, locking onto your hips and pulling your back into the chest of a stranger.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Whispering right against your ear brought you back to earth enough for you to realise your entire body was moving with the stranger, dancing suggestively. Lips moving the stranger, began sucking on your earlobe gently, taking it into his mouth, tongue coming out to play.

Your breath hitched but you didn’t move away, your vision getting cloudy with pleasure. You could feel something hard and warm against your ass when the stranger made your hips swing more aggressively. Your hands immediately flew behind you to wrap them in his hair. It was short and soft, a little wet from the sweat thanks to the atmosphere in the club. You pulled hard to get him away from your ears. His head went obediently, following your hand and you could feel his chest shaking with uneven breaths, a whimper catching on his lips.

Your mouth quirked into a satisfied smirk. You went out today, expecting to find yourself at someone’s mercy in bed - men often tended to prefer domming instead of bottoming and it was hard to find a girl brave enough to follow you home these days, you supposed it was because Gotham was less safe for women than your hometown. It was just your luck that somehow you danced right into a man’s arms you could probably break enough to have some fun.

Pleased, you kept one of your hands in the stranger’s head, twisting strands of his hair. Your other hand travelled down his chest, pulling on one of his covered nipples, while he rutted against you. Turning your head enough to lick his bobbing adam's apple, your fingers finally reached their intended destination and you quickly opened his belt, ready to feel your prize up. His hands gripped your waist tighter, to the point of pain. A weak sob catched your attention and your back stiffened. Fuck was he crying? Did you do something wrong?

You brought his ear close to your lips so he could hear you speak despite the loud music and other people moaning.

“Do you want me to stop, baby?”

The sobs got louder and you tried to move away from him. Horny or not that was not something you wanted to deal with, no matter how ecstatic his cries made you feel. But his hands didn’t let you move far away, their hold on you unrelenting. He nuzzled his face into your neck before nipping you with teeth and you trembled in your core. It seemed to finally calm him down enough to speak.

“Sorry, it’s been awhile since someone took care of me”

He guided your hand into his pants and his boxers so you could feel how hard he was. You squeezed him and tugged your hand up and down a couple of times before stopping at his tip to gather precome. He twitched so wonderfully against you, whole body trembling with desire and in the corner of your eye you could see his mouth parted around his fist that previously gave you permission to touch his warmth. Poor boy, you were just getting started and he already was so overwhelmed. You purposely didn’t stop dancing to the music, your ass making circles to ground down hard on him.

Your hand was cramping from the uncomfortable position and you knew your neck would hurt tomorrow from nuzzling it against the man’s neck where you licked, bitten and sucked marks into it. You caught a hint of blue in his teary eyes when your gaze locked with his and gave him your best smile, with your teeth gleaming in the club’s lights. He was close, you knew it from the way he humped your fist more aggressively, movements lacking precision. You laughed at his clear desperation, already deciding what you were gonna do with him. How could you refuse this boy, when he was serving himself on a silver platter for you?

You stopped touching him, taking your hands off his body and he whimpered like a kicked dog, scratching you in protest. You decided to punish him for it later, when you got him naked under you, at your mercy with no way to run away. But that was a thought better saved for later - he seemed pretty lost in his head, likely to hit subspace soon and you needed actual consent before taking him anywhere. So you arched your back to make it easier for him to hear you.

“Your place or mine baby? Ohh and I will need to put a name to this pretty face”

That seemed to wake him up a little, clarity returning to his eyes.

(They scared you for a minute, they were so dark and calculating, like he was getting ready to strike you and was only waiting for the perfect moment)

“Mine, I can drive us there. And my name is Tim”

You raised a brow at him - he was definitely drunk, a pink blush covering him from his ears to down his collarbone before disappearing behind his shirt with its two buttons opened. But you were so boozed yourself that it didn’t occur to you to say no, you only nodded your head and focused on refixing his belt.

You completely missed his dark smile, much more dangerous than yours. That night you went home with Tim Drake, thinking you were the one holding power in your little dynamic. You didn’t tell your friends where you were going and with whom, too horny to remember their existence, your brain and memory foggy. They will spend the rest of the night looking for you before giving up, sure you will call them in the morning and they will scream at you for being too reckless.

But you call them in the morning, nor will you call them a day after. You will never call them again and no matter how many times they will call GCPD you will never be found, your missing person case buried under countless others. They will inform your parents that Gotham swallowed you and they can only count on it spitting you out in pieces or your body showing up in Gotham’s Harbour.

Tim walks you into the night, to your new home giddy with excitement. He can’t believe his luck, that you willingly walked right into his life. He thought he would need to force you, drag you kicking and screaming into his bed but turns out you were just as eager as him to start your new life together. His eyes stray from your face illuminated by the street lights to your back and the curve of your waist, he can’t decide which place would be better for your mark - yours and his. You see Tim really can’t afford to wear a wedding ring, it’s too recognisable, too easy to lose. But a scar burned or cut into his skin? That’s something he will never lose, that will stay with him forever. He will let you plan the design with him - couples chose the wedding rings together, don’t they?

A/N -> Wow this was a ride, a whole 5k of words of Tim being a crazy freak and reader matching him too much for their own good. I tried to make them as gender neutral as possible but if I failed I am sorry 🫤 Special thanks to the discord server Yael created, @mishkradetsa and @this0user0is0a0atar who helped me brainstorm how reader can insult Tim’s Red Robin costume. I don’t know when or if I will make a part two of this but I definitely plan on writing that Tim Drake fic with branding in the future

+ I am only human and this fic was not beta read so there are definitely mistakes here, please don’t point them out 🙏

[staff]

We Asked an Expert...in Herpetology!

People on Tumblr come from all walks of life and all areas of expertise to grace our dashboards with paragraphs and photographs of the things they want to share with the world. Whether it's an artist uploading their speed art, a fanfic writer posting their WIPs, a language expert expounding on the origin of a specific word, or a historian ready to lay down the secrets of Ea-nasir, the hallways of Tumblr are filled with specialists sharing their knowledge with the world. We Asked an Expert is a deep dive into those expert brains on tumblr dot com. Today, we’re talking to Dr. Mark D. Scherz (@markscherz), an expert in Herpetology. Read on for some ribbeting frog facts, including what kind of frog the viral frog bread may be based on.

Reptiles v Amphibians. You have to choose one.

In a battle for my heart, I think amphibians beat out the reptiles. There is just something incredibly good about beholding a nice plump frog.

In a battle to the death, I have to give it to the reptiles—the number of reptiles that eat amphibians far, far outstrips the number of amphibians that eat reptiles.

In terms of ecological importance, I would give it to the amphibians again, though. Okay, reptiles may keep some insects and rodents in check, but many amphibians live a dual life, starting as herbivores and graduating to carnivory after metamorphosis, and as adults they are critical for keeping mosquitos and other pest insects in check.

What is the most recent exciting fact you discovered about herps?

This doesn’t really answer your question, but did you know that tadpole arms usually develop inside the body and later burst through the body wall fully formed? I learned about this as a Master’s student many years ago, but it still blows my mind. What’s curious is that this apparently does not happen in some of the species of frogs that don’t have tadpoles—oh yeah, like a third of all frogs or something don’t have free-living tadpoles; crazy, right? They just develop forelimbs on the outside of the body like all other four-legged beasties. But this has only really been examined in a couple species, so there is just so much we don’t know about development, especially in direct-developing frogs. Like, how the hell does it just… swap from chest-burster to ‘normal’ limb development? Is that the recovery of the ancestral programming, or is it newly generated? When in frog evolution did the chest-burster mode even evolve?

How can people contribute to conservation efforts for their local herps?

You can get involved with your local herpetological societies if they exist—and they probably do, as herpetologists are everywhere. You can upload observations of animals to iNaturalist, where you can get them identified while also contributing to datasets on species distribution and annual activity used by research scientists.

You can see if there are local conservation organizations that are doing any work locally, and if you find they are not, then you can get involved to try to get them started. For example, if you notice areas of particularly frequent roadkill, talking to your local council or national or local conservation organizations can get things like rescue programs or road protectors set up. You should also make sure you travel carefully and responsibly. Carefully wash and disinfect your hiking boots, especially between locations, as you do not want to be carrying chytrid or other nasty infectious diseases across the world, where they can cause population collapses and extinctions.

Here are some recent headlines. Quick question, what the frog is going on in the frog world? 

Click through for Mark’s response to these absolutely wild headlines, more about his day-to-day job, his opinion on frog bread, and his favorite Tumblr.

✨D I S C O V E R Y✨

There are more people on Earth than ever before, with the most incredible technology that advances daily at their disposal, and they disperse that knowledge instantly. That means more eyes and ears observing, recording, and sharing than ever before. And so we are making big new discoveries all the time, and are able to document them and reach huge audiences with them.

That being said, these headlines also showcase how bad some media reporting has gotten. The frogs that scream actually scream mostly in the audible range—they just have harmonics that stretch up into ultrasound. So, we can hear them scream, we just can’t hear all of it. Because the harmonics are just multiples of the fundamental, they would anyway only add to the overall ‘quality’ of the sound, not anything different. The mushroom was sprouting from the flank of the frog, and scientists are not really worried about it because this is not how parasitic fungi work, and this is probably a very weird fluke. And finally, the Cuban tree frogs (Osteocephalus septentrionalis) are not really cannibals per se; they are just generalist predators who will just as happily eat a frog as they will a grasshopper, but the frogs they are eating are usually other species. People seem to forget that cannibalism is, by definition, within a species. The fact that they are generalist predators makes them a much bigger problem than if they were cannibals—a cannibal would actually kind of keep itself in check, which would be useful. The press just uses this to get people’s hackles up because Westerners are often equal parts disgusted and fascinated by cannibalism. 

What does an average day look like for the curator of herpetology at the Natural History Museum of Denmark?

No two days are the same, and that is one of the joys of the job. I could spend a whole day in meetings, where we might be discussing anything from which budget is going to pay for 1000 magnets to how we could attract big research funding, to what a label is going to say in our new museum exhibits (we are in the process of building a new museum). Equally, I might spend a day accompanying or facilitating a visitor dissecting a crocodile or photographing a hundred snakes. Or it might be divided into one-hour segments that cover a full spectrum: working with one of my students on a project, training volunteers in the collection, hunting down a lizard that someone wants to borrow from the museum, working on one of a dozen research projects of my own, writing funding proposals, or teaching classes. It is a job with a great deal of freedom, which really suits my work style and brain.

Oh yeah, and then every now and then, I get to go to the field and spend anywhere from a couple of weeks to several months tracking down reptiles and amphibians, usually in the rainforest. These are also work days—with work conditions you couldn’t sell to anyone: 18-hour work days, no weekends, no real rest, uncomfortable living conditions, sometimes dangerous locations or working conditions, field kitchen with limited options, and more leeches and other biting beasties than most health and welfare officers would tolerate—but the reward is the opportunity to make new discoveries and observations, collect critical data, and the privilege of getting to be in some of the most beautiful and biodiverse places left on the planet. So, I am humbled by the fact that I have the privilege and opportunity to undertake such expeditions, and grateful for the incredible teams I collaborate with that make all of this work—from the museum to the field—possible.

The Tibetan Blackbird is also known as Turdus maximus. What’s your favorite chortle-inducing scientific name in the world of herpetology?

Among reptiles and amphibians, there aren’t actually that many to choose from, but I must give great credit to my friend Oliver Hawlitschek and his team, who named the snake Lycodryas cococola, which actually means ‘Coco dweller’ in Latin, referring to its occurrence in coconut trees. When we were naming Mini mum, Mini scule, and Mini ature, I was inspired by the incredible list that Mark Isaac has compiled of punning species names, particularly by the extinct parrot Vini vidivici, and the beetles Gelae baen, Gelae belae, Gelae donut, Gelae fish, and Gelae rol. I have known about these since high school, and it has always been my ambition to get a species on this list.

If you were a frog, what frog would you be and why?

I think I would be a Phasmahyla because they’re weird and awkward, long-limbed, and look like they’re wearing glasses. As a 186 cm (6’3) glasses-wearing human with no coordination, they quite resonate with me.

Please rate this frog bread from 1/10. Can you tell us what frog it represents?

With the arms inside the body cavity like that, it can basically only be a brevicipitid rain frog. The roundness of the body fits, too. I’d say probably Breviceps macrops (or should I say Breadviceps?) based on those big eyes. 7/10, a little on the bumpy side and missing a finger and at least one toe.

Please follow Dr. Mark Scherz at @markscherz for even more incredibly educational, entertaining, and meaningful resources in the world of reptiles and amphibians.

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Diasomnia with “who hurt you” trope

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia doesn’t feel like himself when he sees you, your eyes closed, your body impossibly still - he can feel his heart hammering in his chest as he approached you, fingers desperately searching your skin for a sign of life. It seemed his touch brought you back, even briefly, eyes finding his alongside a weak smile. He whispered his question with an intensity you’d never heard from him before, flinching as he almost yelled it in his next breath. He had to know who did this to assure they never did it again. When he sees fear reflected in your eyes he calmed himself, a hand delicately caressing your cheek as he asked again in a gentler tone and leaned down so you wouldn’t have to strain yourself or your voice. He hummed thoughtfully at the description and seared it into his head, hiding the eerie look on his face as he pressed a kiss to your head and promised you’d be okay soon.

Malleus Draconia:

Malleus had always been observant of the people he cared about, especially when there was a comfortable routine to be found. He had found such a routine with you, where your classes were right next to each other and you had the same lunch; you would often walk to the cafeteria together, getting your food and finding a much quieter spot to eat or enjoy each other’s company. He can’t say he hadn’t been curious about how long this might last until you forgot, when this wouldn’t just be a daily pleasantry to you but like an appointment you were expected to keep to appease the dragon. He tastes bile in the back of his throat the one day you don’t appear, a lingering disappointment though he tried not to let it show as his emotions tended to cause disasters. It’s only when he sees you again, your eyes looking lifeless and your body language closed off, that he realized something must have happened. He wants to pry, to ask a million questions to get to the bottom of this so things could return to normal, but his experiences had taught him many things, so he chose to wait beside you until you were ready to confide in him. He was confident he’d find out who hurt you regardless, and that he could handle it swiftly.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek doesn’t immediately notice any odd behavior, going about the conversation regarding your schoolwork as normal. It’s when tear drops began to stain the paper in front of you that he’s rendered speechless, knowing you weren’t weak enough to cry over something like potion ingredients. He’s incredibly clumsy in his attempts to understand what upset you, who upset you — it wasn’t him, right? As brash as he could be he had learned the proper way to act without pushing you away, so he’s confident it wasn’t that. He’s meant to be a fighter and if someone had physically hurt you, he’d know exactly how to restore your honor. However, with only figurative bruises on your heart he’s struggling, twice as much as he would with a regular friend due to the depth of his feelings for you. You can at least find some amusement in Sebek’s ever changing facial expressions as he used all his brain power to remedy the situation.

Silver:

Silvers steps were steady as he approached, stealthily following the trail of blood and hoping it didn’t lead to an unfortunate prize. He broke out into a sprint when he sees your form curled up on the ground, a much larger puddle of blood gathered nearby to hint he had found the main source behind the trail. He’s fighting not to panic as he kneeled over your body, hands holding your face as he begged for you to wake up, to just look at him. When you do it brings him enough relief that he could cry, forehead pressed to yours as he asked who did this to you. He doesn’t know what his next course of action is, frown plastered to his face as your eyes slid shut again; he could see your chest moving now, in the familiar way it did when you slept, leaving him a little more at ease. Silver felt like he might not sleep for another hundred years, not until the person who hurt you was thoroughly punished.

[shepherds-of-haven]

The End of an Era, and the Road Ahead

Hi everybody, the recent news about Dashingdon shutting down feels like it's a bittersweet turning point for many in the ChoiceScript community. Before Don stepped up and took things into his own hands, volunteering his own money, manpower, and time to create and maintain the site, there was no good way for people to host ChoiceScript demos and games in one place: I think the previous solution had been different Dropbox links (which was eventually nuked by security changes in how they hosted files) and possibly separate Neocities sites? Without the Dashingdon site, none of us would have had such an incredible space to gather, share and explore and experience games together, or--for some--even feel motivated to write a ChoiceScript game in the first place, not without an easy and intuitive way of sharing it with others in a playable format. The Dashingdon site significantly lowered the barrier of entry for anyone wanting to make or play or share games; more than that, it was a place of memories, creativity, and connection, and I fully believe that it served as a vital backbone of the ChoiceScript community for many years. A lot of that community relies on the efforts of volunteers--including the creator of CSIDE and the moderators on the forums--and, as with them, I can only thank Don wholeheartedly for his generosity and his 10 years of tireless, selfless, and often thankless work. The fact that a lot of people didn't even know he was a volunteer shows his altruism!

However, all of that work could have only fallen on the shoulders of one person for so long. It's a sad loss to see, though, and I'm very sorry to everyone mourning the loss of the community space, old or inactive WIPs, and save files that will be lost when Dashingdon goes dark at the end of the month. I do wish that there could be an official, stable, company-supported place for authors to host their games in one place, but at least there are alternatives for people to migrate to! (Thank you too to @hpowellsmith and everyone in the community who's taken it upon themselves to spread the news and try to make this transition as smooth as possible for everyone surprised by this announcement. And thank you to the volunteer who's taken up the banner at cogdemos.ink!) I don't know if cogdemos.ink has a page set up to help defray costs, but Dashingdon himself has a ko-fi if you want to leave a tip or thanks for his years of service to the community!

To that end, I want to reassure you all that Shepherds of Haven is safe and isn't going anywhere, and that this change won't affect the game's future. The news has, however, sped up my announcement of something I've been working on for a long time: transitioning away from ChoiceScript and moving Shepherds of Haven to Twine.

Granted, this wasn't how I originally planned on sharing this news. Patrons have known about this move since I decided on it, but I'm a dogged perfectionist, possibly to a fault. I wanted everything to be absolutely polished before unveiling the Twine build, but this unexpected news has been the nudge I needed to take the leap sooner. It's always been my habit to polish my work to an extreme degree: I will rewrite entire novels five, seven, however many times it takes before I send it to my agent or editor... or even before I show it to my own fiance! I still haven't let him read Shepherds, or the novel that I've been talking to him about since 2019, because it "isn't ready" yet, not in my own mind. A common refrain I've always heard from career associates is that my work is "unusually impeccable" by the time it hits their desk. When I do share something, it's usually done. But if I'm learning anything as I grow as a writer, it's that progress matters over perfection. The sudden closure of Dashingdon has made me realize that no one moment will ever feel perfect--and that’s okay. I have to accept that things will never be as perfect as I want to make them before I let them out into the world. Instead of holding myself to an impossible standard, I’m embracing this opportunity to push forward and bring you something I'm truly proud of. (However nerve-wracking that may be!) So, instead of reuploading the ChoiceScript demo somewhere else, only to take it down again later, my efforts are going to shift entirely to getting the Twine version ready for release. It’s a huge task, but it ensures I’ll have complete control over Shepherds of Haven and its future. If I drop everything and focus entirely on this for the next several weeks, my best estimate is that it will take 3-5 weeks of full-time work to make that final push and finally get everything caught up and ready.

Why Twine? There were a lot of reasons behind my decision to move. The biggest of all was that, as the game's wordcount grew, so too did my creative vision for it, and I found myself longing for a version of ShoH that could be just as visually rich and mechanically engaging as I was imagining. Codex entries, interactive maps, infinite saves that can be downloaded directly to your device! Moving to Twine removes the limitations of ChoiceScript's simpler engine, and allows me to honor the game's creative potential and deliver on it in a way that feels true to the journey we've shared so far. It's also a platform that offers greater flexibility and independence for both me and the game: I've put so much work into this project that I'd prefer for its success to rest more in my hands, even if that means taking on the monumental task of publishing it myself, rather than anyone else's.

So. Both the public demo and the alpha build will be released in Twine as soon as I can make that happen. The majority of the work's already done--I just need to get the alpha build caught up with some lingering day off interludes and Chapters 8.5 and 9, and I need to address a queue of lingering quality-of-life questions and tweaks. I want to also note that, while there are very exciting additions to unveil, everything foundational to ShoH remains exactly the same. The story, text, and original functions have been ported in their entirety to Twine, outside of basic edits and refinements that would have happened in the normal course of revision, anyway. I have even taken pains to implement a visual "classic" setting that will replicate the font, colors, and general simplified look of the original version, if players want to use that instead. :) But otherwise, this thing is stuffed to the gills with awesome new features. Custom music soundtrack! Clickable maps! Actual trading card collectibles! Stunning new art! Revamped codex and store and inventory systems! Helpful tutorials and autosave points! Important quality of life improvements, like being able to select pronouns separately from gender and change them any time! This doesn't even touch the surface of it, but needless to say, I think we're going to have a lot of fun. Thank you all for your patience, encouragement, and support so far, and please give me some time to get my ducks in a row. A new version of Shepherds of Haven will be ready for you to play soon!

[ceruark]

Hello! Recent follower but long time fan of your work. I adore how introspective you are with writing characters and how you tend to write the darling/reader, its a very refreshing take on yandere content.

On that note, I was curious if you had any insight or thoughts on how yandere!Aventurine would handle a Darling that rejects his advances, not from a place of distrust but a place of insecurities? Like I imagine it would be entirely possible for someone who is quite capable or self-assured to become overwhelmed by the glamor and brilliance that Aventurine maintains for his carefully crafted facade, esp if its directed at them with romantic intent.

What could you have to offer someone like Aventurine, a man who seemingly has everything he could ever desire? In perspective, it would be extremely humbling and perhaps make Darling feel self-conscious upon consideration, leading them to politely turn down Aventurine's advances and affections in the sake of self-preservation.

yan! aventurine x insecure! gn! reader

wc: 633 cw: yandere themes - obsessive behavior, stalking. a/n: thank you so much for the ask! i'm so sorry i'm answering it so late, but i'm very grateful for your compliments and your ask :> (this got a little suggestive at the very end, hope that's alright!)

Aventurine is incredibly adept at reading people, which makes this situation quite frustrating for him. You’ve always come across as someone secure in your identity—it’s clear in the way you carry yourself, in the way your brilliance takes up the entire room, an outward reflection of the completeness of your character. And he latched onto that immediately, holding the gem that is your personality up and carefully studying each refraction of light, committing the patterns to memory. He’d played his cards just right with you, and had no problem luring you in and getting you right where he wanted you.

So, then, why are you rejecting him? 

Things had been going so well between you two, up until he began flirting with you more openly and gifting you things he knew you wanted, but were out of your budget. He made sure not to lovebomb, of course—it would scare off someone like you, and he couldn’t have that—and he knew that you hadn’t yet discovered his… rather underhanded methods of learning everything about you. 

He knows you, everything has gone perfectly for him, and yet here you are, turning him away.

You’re being painfully sweet about it, too, in the way that you always are, reassuring him in a soft voice that it’s nothing he did, you just don’t think you’re ready for a relationship. You say this, but he can see it in your eyes, see that you want him, too, but for some reason, you’re hesitating. You’re scared.

From your perspective, it’s quite simple, really: Aventurine can do better, and he deserves better, too. He’s an extremely high-ranking member of the IPC, with an unfathomable amount of wealth to his name—what could you possibly offer him? 

You’ve heard countless stories of high-ranking IPC officials using marriage as yet another tool at their disposal, so his advances toward you leave you confused and bewildered. You’re a mere civilian who lives in the capital city of one of the planets he’s been assigned to watch over. You don’t come from wealth or political power, so what does he want from you? 

Not to mention all the risk that would come from being romantically involved with him—what if one of the IPC’s enemies came after you as a means to get him? You do like your head where it is, attached to your neck, and your own safety aside, you don’t like the idea of being seen as Aventurine’s weakness, something that would hold him back.

It takes an incredible amount of willpower for him to not spiral. No, he’s worked too hard for this, and he can’t risk messing things up by abducting you. It would ruin the feelings you so clearly reciprocate, yet refuse to act on, for some reason.

It’s not difficult to pay someone to pull your messaging history and get it cloned to his own device. After digging through conversations with some of your friends, your insecurities are made clear to him, and with them, your reason for rejecting him.

Oh, how he wishes he could coo at you and pull you into a reassuring hug. You’re worried about the fact that you don’t add value to his position in any way? How silly, that’s exactly why he wants you. You’re real, and once you overcome this trivial worry, you’ll be entirely his—not the pawn of some government body, not the IPC’s, but his alone.

No matter—it’s a minor setback. He’ll just have to work harder at showing you just how much he loves you, and that there aren’t any strings attached. His devotion will get through to you one way or another, whether it’s from honey words dripping off his tongue, or from loving every inch of your body with his mouth until you can’t take it anymore.

[munsonify]

Hiiiii there

Can I request a Joaquin Torres x reader where maybe they're close friends, roommates or they have like a mentor - mentee relationship and the reader has developed conflicting feelings for him

Like she doesnt know if she likes him romantically or if she's just super close with him

(Optional: The reader is in her early 20s)

hiii of course!! i feel this in my bones, she is me and i am her. like that’s twin. thanks for sending this in!

a/n. i do not know how internships would work with the military/government so pls spare me lol also a VERY possible chance of a second part if people like this. here’s to hoping this isn’t a jumbled mess!

confused and frustrated - joaquin torres x fem!reader

summary. you find yourself struggling to distinguish what kind of feelings you have towards joaquin

content warnings. flufff, a little bit of angst (kinda hurt comfort feelings wise), age gap (readers 23, fresh out of undergrad), probably way too long of a backstory, kinda unintentional flirty!joaquin & touchy!joaquin (sfw), r being referred to as ‘my girl’, food, swearing, hugging. not proofread

word count. 3046

———

moving in with joaquin was one of the best and luckiest choices you’d ever made.

you started your search for an apartment near dc and john hopkins university ignorantly optimistic. surely, you thought, there would be plenty of options for a recent 4.0 graduate ready to begin her masters degree. your optimism died down within two weeks, realizing quickly how difficult this was going to be for you. there were flaws in everything you found: outrageous rent prices, horrible (or the simple lack of) amenities, potential roommates who seemed to be from the deepest pits of hell.

when you’d found joaquin’s listing up on craigslist, you were practically leaping for joy. while living with a man wasn’t the most ideal situation - something you’d learned when you’d called him, his phone number listed on the contact information-, he seemed kind enough, and tidy. it was a two bedroom apartment, and while the rent was slightly out of your price range, it was doable. especially considering how convenient it was between the university and the dc area.

when you’d signed the lease, you didn’t know he was in the air force, nor did you know the kind of connections he had. it was pure luck on your account that you’d found joaquin.

during your first week living together, you’d gotten to know each other, dropping little tidbits of your lives as you came and went from the apartment. you’d told him your aspirations one night over a shared takeout dinner, cozied up in pajamas. you were beginning your masters in global security, desperately searching for an internship in dc. you weren’t even sure where to start with it, and you were rather casual with letting him know this. it’d been on your mind, and joaquin was curious, so you spilled.

it wasn’t your intention to receive his help, despite immediately receiving it without a second thought. he’d spoken to sam, the captain america, along with a few other people, and was able to hook you up with an internship with them. joaquin practically took you under his wing from then on, and you couldn’t have been more grateful. everything about this situation made you ecstatic. you felt accelerated, accomplished, proud.

that’s how you’d gotten yourself in your current predicament, though it was incredibly unintentional. you’d began spending more time with joaquin the longer you lived with him. some of it had to do with your internship. you were working with the air force, and a good bit of what you did was with him. he showed you the ropes of what he did, both as an air force captain and as the falcon. other times it was casual roommate things: movie nights, quiet conversations in the kitchen, late night snack runs.

you got along with him well, you respected him and admired him, his hard work something you strive to meet. you had your time away from him, you had university classes to attend and new friends you’d made since you’d moved here. still, you came back to joaquin and your apartment, forcing yourself to face something you’d been shuffling away from.

you might possibly, maybe, have feelings for him. the situation was complicated, you were conflicted.

at some point along the way, you found yourself becoming excited to see him, to come home and tell him about your day. you wanted to tell him about the little things, like the cute dog you’d passed on the street one morning, or the sweet new coffee place you wanted to visit. you wanted to spend time with him, to be close to him and enjoy his company. and sure, these were things you could feel towards a friend. a platonic friend. still, you were conflicted. was it the close proximity? all the time you’ve spent together getting to your head?

this is what you were tossing over in your head one morning as you lightly jabbed at your morning cereal, head hung low, body slouched. you weren’t inexperienced, you’ve had a boyfriend before, you were aware what romantic attraction felt like. despite that, you were still abundantly confused. platonic and romantic attraction, you found, had a bit of a blurry line between it.

your body tenses the moment you heard the bathroom door open, the floorboards of your apartment squeaking under joaquin’s feet as he enters the kitchen. distracting yourself, you scoop a spoonful of cereal into your mouth, chewing slowly. you fight back a choke when he enters the room, freezing momentarily at the sight of him. there he was, damp hair, low hanging shorts, shirtless, and all too casual.

this wasn’t abnormal, you’d grown a bit comfortable around each other. with what’s been on your mind, however, it caught you off guard. your eyes lingered at his torso for a moment or two before they glided up to his face. luckily, he didn’t catch on, his head turning to look at you the moment your eyes drifted to his. joaquin gave you that large grin of his he always has on his face. his hand found your shoulder as he passed you to find the cabinets, squeezing in a gentle, friendly way as he bids you a good morning.

you normally wouldn’t think twice about that, either, your mind once again drifting to your conflicting feelings. you swallowed it down as you greeted him back, turning your head to offer him up a small smile. with his back turned to you, he rummaged through the cabinet until he found coffee grounds, beginning the process of making himself a pot. your eyes lingered there, too, only briefly.

turning back to your cereal, spoon poking at bits of it through the milk, your mind began to turn again. the way you admire him like that certainly wasn’t friendly. heat prickled at the tip of your ears and the apples of your cheeks at the mere sight of his bare skin, tanned and toned. you needed to get yourself together, to compose your thoughts before you combust right then and there.

the next few days were strenuous for you. with two lengthy essay due for your courses by the end of your week, most of your focus was turned to that. even though you prepared for and began these essays in advance, your life was busy, especially with your internship. though grateful for the opportunity, you were pleased to have these three days off to focus on your coursework. you holed yourself up in your room when you weren’t in class.

that didn’t stop you from thinking about joaquin and your little situation while you attempted to fall asleep. it infuriated you that you couldn’t understand your feelings for him. you’re both friendly people who just so happen to live together. you couldn’t tell how that deep running respect and admiration you had for him was manifesting inside of you. you enjoyed and appreciated the close bond you’d grown with him. a part of you feared that if that if it was more than just that close friendship you felt for him and wanted from him, that it would ruin what you had.

you settled your mind on that last thought for the time being. that this friendship you had, the bond you’d made with joaquin, was something you needed to hold close to you. your second thoughts had to have been nothing. you were searching for something in him that you should, realistically, be finding elsewhere.

that sentiment kept your body and mind at ease throughout the remainder of your time working on your essays. between joaquin’s job and your schoolwork, you didn’t get a chance to even see him (despite living in the same apartment), let alone speak to him. it made things a lot easier on you.

after you’d finally finished your work up friday night, you granted yourself some well deserved tv time. sure, you could go out with some friends, drink and have fun. after the weak you had, though, you wanted nothing more than to curl up on the couch with a blanket. that’s exactly what you did, and that’s exactly how joaquin had found you when he’d gotten home.

he pushed himself clumsily into the apartment, his keys jingling in his hand, the rustling of a large takeout bag in his other. you pulled your head up from the armrest of the couch far enough to glance over at the front door, peeling your eyes away from your intriguing show. there joaquin was, toeing off his shoes and tossing his keys to the kitchen counter. he smiled wide at the sight of you, watching you perk up excitedly, your eyes shining over at him.

“there’s my girl,” joaquin beamed, sliding the bag off his shoulder and setting it to the ground. after grabbing two cold beers and a bottle opener, he began his way to you, beelining to the empty spot on the couch. “feel like i haven’t seen you in forever. i got us dinner!”

there goes your brain again, whirring up like a rickety old machine as he nonchalantly speaks to you. you tucked your feet away to give him space, situating yourself to sit upright on the couch. he sat down right down next to you, the coffee table in front of you becoming your dinner table for the might.

“you’re the best,” you told him, beginning to take out the white boxes of rice and noodles. out of the corner of your eye you could see him opening up your bottle for you and setting it aside. “those papers nearly kicked my ass this week.”

“they didn’t stand a chance,” joaquin told you, fishing out plastic silverware as he opens up one of his own respective boxes, quick to dig in. “not against you.”

he always had a way with making you feel nice. everything he told you had the sweetest sentiment to it, even if you were talking about metaphorically fighting a writing assignment. what had been settled in your mind was now being kicked up a little, dust particles floating in your mind now as you thought. the way joaquin spoke to you made your heart flutter, even if he wasn’t meaning to. it was the sincerest of praises, they always were, and it came so naturally out of his mouth. that left you a little dumbfounded.

with a box of noodles in your hand and a fork in the other, you leaned back into the couch, drawing your vision away from him and to the television. you still spoke to him, though. you’ve seen the show before a million times. you could practically quote the entire thing.

“you’re right, i totally made it my bitch,” you confirmed, a small cheeky smile on your face. joaquin huffed out a small laugh as he leans back with you, legs spreading open a little as his vision drifts to the tv, too. your jaw clenched as you caught sight of his parted legs, his knee right near yours. if you moved just a few inches to the side and you’d be touching.

your grip on your fork was a little tight, something you were almost too late on noticing. it was close to snapping underneath your fingers. you wished you weren’t so tense around joaquin, and you wished he’d stop making it worse on you.

“we got some new tech in yesterday,” joaquin told you. you didn’t quite understand some of the things he and sam used, though it was intriguing nonetheless. “i can’t wait to show you tomorrow.”

thats exactly what he’d done.

after the two of you ate and spoke together well into the night, you parted ways to your respective bedrooms for the night. you thought in bed about joaquin again, eyes open and staring up at the dark ceiling. you thought about how he called you ‘his girl’, how he seemed so excited to see you just like you were him. luckily, exhaustion took over your body before you could worry yourself all night.

the next morning, bright and early, you and joaquin headed out together for the day. the first thing you did on base was head over to the new equipment and tech he was so eager to tell you about. sam was on base, too, walking around with two of you. you listened to them both eagerly and intently as they spoke. joaquin took over the conversation, and sam let him have it, his clear passion pushing him to the head of the explanations.

at some point, joaquin needed to excuse himself, running off to assist someone. that left you and sam, who’d began tapping away at a computer in search of something. hardly looking up, he spoke to you all casual. “you’re super obvious, you know that, right?”

“what do you mean?” you asked, an eyebrow cocking at his words. you sat yourself down in a rolling chair beside him, spinning yourself around to face him. you earned yourself a glare from the man, a look of slight disbelief etched on his features.

“the way you look at joaquin? like you’re in love with him or something? it’s obvious.”

“what?” you croaked out, a look of horror washing over your face. you sat up a little at his words, arms crossing over you chest. “sam i’m not in love with joaquin.”

“you’re a horrible liar,” he told you, eyes not even leaving the computer this time.

okay, sure, you admired joaquin. he was one of your closest friends, someone you could rely on, someone you cared for deeply. and sure, you may or may not have romantic interest in him, you still weren’t certain. that didn’t mean you were in love with the guy.

“i’m not lying,” you told him, your voice breaking slightly. cause you weren’t. to your knowledge, you were not in love with him. your nexts words came out in a low tone, just above a whisper. it surprised you a little, a worry you didn’t quite stumble upon until it was said. “it doesn’t even matter anyways. he wouldn’t go for me. i’m a little younger than him.”

you weren’t sure why that was your defense and not that you two were simply friends. you weren’t even sure where that idea came from. leaning back in your chair, you kept your arms crossed over your chest, seemingly sulking. you thought about what you said briefly, and it was true. there was a nearly 10 year age gap between the two of you. it wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the most favorable, either. there were a lot of girls closer to his age who weren’t still earning their degree, even if you were working towards a masters. the thought of this bummed you out a little, something you didn’t get to dwell in for long.

“again, horrible,” sam insisted, finishing up what he was doing on the computer. he turned to face you properly, his eyes scanning your practically pouting face and your slightly hunched body. you weren’t sure if he had more to say or not, the conversation was cut short by joaquin’s presence. sam gave you a knowing look before the day continued.

he was no help to you. the entire rest of the day was spent with joaquin bouncing around the base together, practically attached at the hip. sam split halfway through, claiming he had other things to attend to. and, despite how much grievance he’s caused you, you were upset he was going. it left you with joaquin and your string of never ending thoughts.

it was clear that you were nervous and in your head. joaquin noticed the way you shifted on your feet more than usual, your mind, despite trying to focus, so clearly drifting elsewhere. he didn’t say a word about it, not for a long while anyways. you two finished up for the day, and he finally drove you guys home. even during the car ride, he stayed silent about it. it was best to ask about it in the apartment, somewhere you could retreat to. somewhere that wasn’t so enclosed and cornering.

the moment you’d entered the apartment, eyes a little heavy, joaquin began making his move to question you in the most careful way he could think to do.

“have you been doing okay?” joaquin asked you. while you were en route to your bedroom, your shoes already off and on the shoe rack, you stopped in your place. he looked awfully worried when you turned to him. his eyebrows were knitted together, a small frown on the same mouth that usually smiled at you, wide and welcoming. “it’s just that you seemed a little off today. like something’s bothering you.”

you nodded at him as you thought. you couldn’t tell him what was going on, not when you could hardly explain it to yourself. it was too complicated, too messy to bring up. the last thing you wanted was for him to be dragged into it, too. not until you had your feelings sorted.

“i’m okay,” you lied through your teeth, folding in on yourself a little. joaquin began walking towards you, and as much as you wanted to step back, you let him continue his way to you. “i’ve just had a long week, ya know. it’s starting to weigh on me.”

the second half wasn’t a complete lie. yes, you were tired. yes, you had a long week. that wasn’t the only thing bearing down on you, and you thought that, possibly, joaquin could see through that. he nodded along with you, though, finally reaching you. wrapping his arms around your shoulders, he tugged you into a warm hug, one you couldn’t help but melt into. you leaned into him, arms wrapping around his waist in a gentle embrace. with your head resting on his chest, joaquin whispered to you.

“i’m always here if you need someone to talk to,” he reassured. you nodded against him, pulling him a little closer on instinct. you knew you could, you knew you could trust him with anything. just not this, not now, not yet.

besides, when joaquin treated you like this, so soft and caring and careful, how could you not be a little confused?

[cloudtransprncy]

Get You Pt.1 (Teaser)

Mina X Male Reader Full chapter coming soon.

Was originally Yves and ready to release but Mina fit better in my head. So I'm doing a full rework. Just putting the teaser out because some people have dmed me about the Yves fic. Sorry ya'll

Snippet Below:

There's something about being in Mina's bed that always destroys you completely.

Maybe it's the way her loft surrounds you—exposed brick walls and towering windows that frame Vancouver's rainy skyline, the amber glow of carefully positioned lights warming the industrial space. Plants cascade from hanging pots, catching that golden light. Art books stacked with mathematical precision on the coffee table. A vintage record player silent now, though earlier it had filled the space with the warm crackle of Japanese city pop. Everything meticulously chosen, deliberately placed. Like her.

Or maybe it's the way she feels above you—unexpectedly strong for someone so delicate, each deliberate movement of her hips a revelation that makes your vision blur.

Or maybe it's how she looks right now—her face a fucking masterpiece that makes your chest hurt. High cheekbones catching the low light, full lips slightly parted, dark eyes holding yours with an intensity that pins you in place more effectively than her weight. Her skin is flawless, pale and perfect, a light flush across her cheeks the only indication of exertion. Her dark hair falls in carefully disheveled waves around her face, framing her features in a way that can't possibly be accidental.

Jesus Christ, she's beautiful. You save this image of her in your mind, another perfect moment to hoard like a dragon with treasure.

Or maybe—and this is the thought that feels like drowning—it's just the incredible fucking fact that you're here at all.

That somehow, after all the chasing, after every carefully composed response to your eager messages, every time she kept professional distance, every time you told yourself she's miles out of your league, she let you in. Let you have this.

And now?

Holy fuck.

It's everything.

She's everything.

She straddles you, those slim but strong thighs bracketing your hips, her skirt from the concert completely gone but that strappy top still clinging to her torso, revealing tantalizing glimpses of pale skin beneath. Her knee-high lace socks remain perfectly in place, the white lace a stark contrast against her skin.

Those goddamn socks. Something about them being the only thing she still wears below the waist makes your cock throb inside her.

"Look at me," she says softly, and it's not a request. Her voice carries that particular weight—gentle but absolute. You've learned that Mina doesn't need volume to command a room, or you.

Your eyes lock with hers as she lifts herself slightly, then sinks back down with deliberate slowness, taking you inch by inch. The sensation is so overwhelming you have to bite your lip to keep from making embarrassing sounds.

Fuck, you feel it. The way she envelops you completely, tight and wet and perfect.

"Good boy," she whispers, the praise sending a shiver down your spine. "You fill me so perfectly."

Your hands grip her waist, fingers pressing into impossibly soft skin. You can feel yourself throbbing inside her, the tight, wet heat of her body gripping you so perfectly it borders on pain. Her pussy stretches around you, cleanly shaved and glistening wet—part of her immaculate personal standards that extend to every inch of her body.

She takes one of your hands and guides it between her legs, pressing your thumb against where you're joined. "Feel how wet you make me," she instructs, her voice maintaining that gentle firmness that makes refusal unthinkable.

Jesus. The slick heat against your fingers makes your head spin.

Your body still thrums with adrenaline from the show—your first sold-out performance in Vancouver. Three hours ago, you'd been the one in control, commanding the stage, watching the crowd lose their minds to your sound. But here, now, that power has dissolved completely. She owns you so thoroughly it makes your head spin.

When you try to thrust up into her, she presses a firm hand against your chest. "No," she says simply. "Let me take care of you."

She moves with a deliberate slowness that makes your muscles strain with the effort of staying still. This isn't teasing—it's choreography. Her setting the pace, dictating exactly how this happens.

"You were so beautiful on that stage tonight," she tells you, voice low and intimate as she rolls her hips in a way that makes your toes curl. "Everyone watching you. Everyone wanting you." Her fingers trace patterns on your chest, leaving trails of fire on your skin. "But they don't get to have you like this, do they?"

"No," you manage to gasp out. "Only you."

Only ever been you, you think but don't say, afraid of revealing too much.

A small, genuine smile touches her lips—one of those rare expressions she reserves only for private moments. "That's right," she affirms. "Only me."

Her fingers wrap around your wrists, guiding your hands to her thighs. "You can touch," she permits. "But don't try to control. This is mine to give you."

Your hands slide reverently up her thighs, feeling the contrast between the lace of her socks and the silk of her skin. She watches your face intently as your fingers trace higher, cataloging every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features.

"I want to see more of you," you say, fingers tugging lightly at the hem of her top.

She considers your request, head tilting slightly. Then, with a slight nod that feels like a gift, she reaches for the bottom of her top and slowly draws it upward.

The movement shifts her weight, makes her body clench around your cock in a way that nearly undoes you.

Don't come. Don't you fucking dare come yet.

You bite down hard on your lower lip, fighting for control as the fabric rises higher, revealing the flat plane of her stomach, the delicate curve of her ribs, and then—Christ—the perfect swell of her breasts.

Her nipples are small and pink, hardened to tight peaks in the cool air of the apartment. The silver pendant she always wears now rests between them, catching light as she breathes. She is so fucking perfect it hurts to look at her—like staring directly at the sun.

"Is this what you wanted to see?" she asks, but it's not really a question. She knows exactly what the sight of her naked body does to you. Knows how you worship every inch of her.

Your hands instinctively rise to touch her breasts, but she catches your wrists and presses them firmly into the mattress above your head.

"Not yet," she murmurs against your ear. "I want to feel you like this first."

She leans down, her chest brushing against yours, creating the most exquisite friction. The position drives you deeper inside her, making her breath catch—a small, genuine sound of pleasure that she usually keeps carefully controlled. The scent of her sandalwood perfume envelops you, mixing with the clean smell of her skin and the faint sweetness of her shampoo.

God, the sounds she makes. That tiny break in her composure feels like a victory.

Her lips find your neck, pressing soft kisses along your pulse point. There's reverence in her touch—though she's in complete control, there's no mistaking the care with which she claims you. Each press of her lips feels like both a reward and a claim of ownership.

"You've worked so hard," she whispers against your skin. "Let me take care of you now."

She begins to move again, finding a rhythm that's somehow both torturously slow and perfectly calibrated to drive you insane. Her body rises and falls above yours, taking you deep with each downward motion. The visual alone is almost enough to make you come—her perfect body moving in the dim light, her dark hair cascading around her shoulders, her eyes never leaving yours.

Don't come. Not until she says.

"Look at how much you need me," she says, voice soft but commanding as she releases your wrists to cup your face. Her thumb traces your lower lip, pressing slightly into your mouth. Instinctively, you suck on it, and the flash of heat in her eyes is your reward.

One of her hands slides between your bodies, and she begins to stroke you in time with her movements, her fingers circling where you're joined. The dual sensation of being inside her while she touches you is almost too much, electric pulses of pleasure shooting up your spine.

"Can you feel how close you are?" she asks, her voice deceptively gentle as she continues her movements, bringing you right to the edge.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands now gripping her hips, feeling the delicate bones beneath soft skin. "Mina, please—"

"No," she says simply, slowing her movements and removing her hand completely. "Not yet. I'm not finished with you."

Fuck. The denial is both torturous and exquisite.

She leans down again, this time capturing your mouth with hers. Her kisses are like her—precise, intentional, perfectly controlled. Her tongue slides against yours, and you can taste the hint of the champagne she had backstage after your show.

As she kisses you, she shifts slightly, changing the angle of her hips, and suddenly you're hitting a spot inside her that makes her breathing stutter. Her usual composed rhythm falters momentarily, and you feel a surge of pride at being able to affect her this way.

That's it. Let me see you lose control too.

She pulls back from the kiss, eyes slightly wider, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks. For a moment, she looks almost vulnerable—surprised by her own response. But she quickly reclaims control, adjusting her position to take you even deeper.

"Just like that," she breathes, her voice huskier now. "Stay right there."

Her movements become more deliberate, more focused, as she uses your body for her pleasure. There's something incredibly erotic about being utilized this way—knowing she's taking exactly what she needs from you, that your sole purpose in this moment is to satisfy her.

"You feel so good inside me," she tells you, her voice a mixture of praise and command. "So perfect. So deep."

She's so fucking beautiful it hurts. The sight of her lost in pleasure makes your chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with physical sensation.

Your hands slide up her sides, feeling the gentle curve of her waist, the delicate architecture of her ribs. She allows this exploration, her eyes watching your face as your hands move higher to cup her breasts. The weight of them in your palms feels sacred somehow, like holding something precious.

When your thumbs brush across her nipples, her eyes flutter closed momentarily—another crack in her perfect composure. You repeat the movement, cataloging her reaction, learning what makes her breath catch.

"You're so beautiful," you tell her, the words inadequate but necessary. "So fucking perfect, Mina."

Her eyes open, locking with yours again, and there's something different in them now—a flash of emotion quickly concealed. She leans down, pressing her forehead against yours, creating an unexpected moment of intimacy amid the physical pleasure.

"Mine," she whispers, the word barely audible. "You're mine."

The declaration sends a surge of heat through you. "Yes," you agree immediately. "Always. Only yours."

Only ever been yours since the moment I saw you.

Her rhythm increases, her body taking you deeper with each movement. Her hand returns to stroke you where you're joined, adding another layer of sensation that has you teetering on the edge again. Your muscles tense with the effort of holding back.

Just as you're about to lose control completely, she stops moving entirely, her body perfectly still above yours. The sudden cessation of movement is almost painful.

"Not yet," she says, watching your face intently. "I want to keep you right here."

Jesus fucking Christ. You're trembling with the effort of restraint, sweat beading on your forehead.

"Please," you beg, not even sure what you're asking for. "Mina, please."

"Patience," she whispers, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. "Good things come to those who wait."

She begins to move again, but differently now—shallow, teasing movements that keep you right on the precipice without pushing you over. The control she exhibits is maddening and awe-inspiring. How she can be so precise, so deliberate, even in this.

Your hands grip her thighs, feeling the muscles flex as she rides you with calculated restraint. You're hyperaware of everything—the sound of rain against the windows, the faint music from a neighbor's apartment, the way her breath catches slightly when you hit that perfect spot inside her.

Remember this, you think desperately. Remember every second of how she looks right now.

As she leans down to kiss you again, her necklace slips forward, the cool silver pendant brushing against your overheated chest. The temperature contrast is startling, unexpected.

Something about that sensation—the familiar weight of it, the cool metal against your burning skin—suddenly sends your mind spinning backward.

The present moment blurs, rain and the scent of sex and Mina's commanding presence all fading as your mind pulls you away. Back to the beginning. To how you got here.

To how, against every fucking odd, you got her.

End of teaser. Full Chapter Coming soon.

[the-autistic-vulcan]

Healing is a Process (Thunderbolts x OCD!F!Reader)

Request: Would you write thunderbolts x youngest fem reader with OCD, (Not the cleaning kind tho and not organizing), (like the kind i would like is where you have to do stuff in threes, intrusive thoughts, avoiding gray and cracks etc) ty <3 - Anonymous

Description: Being the youngest member of the Thunderbolts and being diagnosed with OCD

a/n: much like the Mute!Reader headcanons I made, I have also done as much research as I could do to create these headcanons. OCD is NOT just being organized or cleaning excessively - end the stigma please!

a/n: talks of intrusive thoughts, poor mental health, negative thinking, but loads of supportive fluff, Alexei making an ill-educated assumption, reader is between 18 - 21

gif credit: @some-dull-scissors, @marvelgifs

You made it clear, pretty much the first day you were assigned to them as a new Thunderbolt, about the boundaries of your OCD and the diagnosis in general

The team may be the most mentally unsound people you know, but they are the last people to judge you on setting limits

One of the first things you were asked by none other than Alexei, was if it just meant you were incredibly clean - you had to physically sit down with him and explain that OCD is so much more than that

A few more conversations with the team and they somewhat understood, but they were still willing to learn

You had one particular trait the they, respectfully, found odd - that you often avoided, whether in the bar, the shower rooms in training or just on tiled floors - the cracks on the ground

It was compulsory that you stepped in the tile shapes - if you even stepped on one or two cracks, you actively had to start again until you were satisfied

Yelena and Ava help you in the shower rooms when you do this - they don't leave without you

Ava even took liberties to step in the tiles with you just so you didn't feel so...alien

Yelena was more of a verbal support, telling you that you were doing just fine and if you needed to start again, she'd be there

Bucky and John, for all of their bickering, seem to come together when it comes to facilitating your needs

One thing they noticed you tended to do was do things in threes - locking things, shaking the salt and pepper shakers, wiping your shoes of mud three times for each foot

John, oddly enough, was the first to step in if you genuinely overthought the whole 'threes' thing

You were locking the door to the training room since you were both finished sparring for the day, you were convinced you didn't do it the three times and insisted of staying by the door, locking and re-opening the door over and over

John just put his hand on your shoulder and gently, but gruffly, reassured you that you did indeed lock it three times

Bucky also noticed you cooking some dinner and seasoning with exactly three pinches of salt, you made an accidental fourth pinch and it was ready to drive you mad

Before you could begin to even overthink anything, Bucky went up to the pot and scooped up some of the food to taste it, and he insisted that it was completely fine - it eased you, even if you were still a little shaken up

Alexei, after much needed education on the matter, offers whatever help he can

But with that, comes convoluted advice that you just cannot seem to comprehend - it grated you when Alexei used some strange Russian proverb that you didn't understand

He soon realized you needed better clarification with reasoning, now opting to make things as obvious as possible - even if they lacked some tact

Finally, Bob tried to help you adapt to the craziness that was the tower - compared to everybody else, he was level-headed - as much as one can be

You once vented to him about having intrusive thoughts, whether they were violent, emotional or something you couldn't really put your finger on, he is there to bring you down from it all

One afternoon, you had a fairly debilitating episode, ending up in your room to try and calm down

Bob went to go find you, and when he did, he felt so disheartened - he sat on the edge of your bed, waiting for you to take your time to come out

Once you did, you sat and talked to him for a while, letting your mind try to drift from your episode - and he's there every step of the way, even sharing his own fears about the Void or Sentry

The team makes sure you're happy, healthy and safe - that is the most important part

And with much of the flaws you perceive you may have, they see their dearest friend - nothing more, nothing less

Like, Comment and Reblog! Have any ideas? Drop them in my inbox!

[rpclefairy]

𝐁𝐆𝟑 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

a selection of lines from the various companions' banter quotes (not cut scene dialogues!) from baldur's gate 3. these are generally spoiler free and non context specific so they can apply to different settings and dynamics! feel free to change names and the like to customize the prompts.

“Death can't have me. Not yet…”

“Calm yourself. There is plenty of me to go around.”

“Realmspace is vast. Countless worlds to be mapped, kingdoms to be conquered.”

“I have missed this. The adventure. The danger. The kicking of butts!

“Let me guess - you need something.”

“Such attention.. I never realised I was so popular.”

“Let's cook with fire, baby.”

“Do you intend to vocalise every thought?. Or just the most obvious ones?”

“Wherever we go, ye gods let there be something green.”

“Careful, or I will take your toy away from you.”

“Watch your elders and learn.”

“Perhaps try attacking the enemy?”

“So much we don't know, lingering in the furthest reaches of existence.”

“All the world's my stage and you're just a player in it.”

“The shadows are my friend.”

“Yes, yes, have your fun. It isn't you they're trying to kill.”

“Feet planted firmly on Faerûn, please.”

“Admirable stamina, yet terrible priorities.”

“Well you certainly have the 'omnipresent' part down, don't you?”

“I am ready, whatever may come.”

“My faith protects me.”

“Need a throat slitting?”

“Death greets us all - but not today.”

“You need my expertise?”

“Can you feel death's cold grip?”

“So many stars, so many mysteries yet to be discovered.”

“Death comes quietly.”

“And I thought we were going to be friends.”

“Locked tight, but there must be some way to open it.”

“No, you can't die. Get up, damn you!

“You had my attention, now you have my fury.”

“From silence to suffering.”

“So many worlds out there. You'd need a thousand lifetimes to see them all - more.”

“I hope this is important. For your sake.”

“Let them gaze deep into their own abyss, and wonder just what it is they are trying to achieve.”

“I ought to just burn this whole thing down.”

“We have slightly more pressing matters to attend to.”

“You have still have time to surrender.”

“Every kicked buttock, another step on the path.”

“Weave save me. I can't take much more…

“You are right to fear me.”

“Let me look around. Might be something that'll help me crack this thing.”

“Incredible, to think how many worlds exist beyond this tiny speck within a speck I call home.”

“I really wish I could cast a Hold spell on you.”

“I can fawn over my face later.”

“Ready for another round?”

“Keep your blade close.”

“I can't unlock it from here, but there must be a switch or a button somewhere…”

“No, that's not moving. There must be a way to open it somewhere.”

“Battle favours the fearless.”

“Sleep with one eye open, evil. Maybe both.”

“Gotta be something around here to unlock this thing.”

“Why do beautiful people taste better?. It hardly seems fair on the ugly - they have such wonderful personalities.”

“Oh, calm down. I'm happy to see you too.”

“Just go for the Magic Missile and fire away. Never fails.”

“Still standing, no matter what you heard.”

“Enough waiting. I crave blood.”

“Hang on - I won't allow this. You aren't dead, go it?”

“GODS, it's HOT in here!”

“No rest for the wicked, I see.”

“Better to hide than fight, sometimes.”

“Would that I could hide from you, too.”

“Are you feeling lonely, perhaps?”

“There is no right or wrong, only truth.”

“Battle is afoot - you can poke me once we are safe.”

“What good all this ethereal eladrin blood if I can still get pimples?”

“I should've been a drow. They have such stylish armour.”

“I am armed! Armoured! And entirely sick of your foolishness.”

“Let's have some fun.”

“War is an old woman's game.”

“No rest, be you wicked or wise.”

“I'm getting too old for this nonsense.”

“I would poke you back, but I fear that's what you want.”

“You have my attention - now do something with it.”

“You are insistent, are you not?”

“Do what must be done.”

“Your suffering will be spectacular.”

“Lest I sit down for a rest and not rise again.”

“Better to look evil in the eye. Even if it be very small.”

“I'm not built to crouch.”

“I think I could go another round.”

“Always the same old song.”

“Is perfection too much to ask?”

“Eyes on victory, tummy on dinner.”

“So many places to be.. and I chose Baldur's Gate.”

“I'm not opening that. Not from here, at any rate.”

“What is the point, if not victory?”

“Won't last much longer like this.”

“Let's hope the locals are friendly.”

“Let us show them how it's done.”

“Weapons high. Standards higher.”

“Must everyone be so exhausting?”

“What I would not give for a chunk of fresh honeycomb…”

“Which way to the nearest library?”

“Now this is my happy place.”

“Who shall I silence?”

“Stop, or die.”

“Wear your scars proudly.”

[hwaslayer]

wildfire (cs) | thirteen.

—spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 7k

—chapter content/warnings: cussing, we catch a lil moment with belle 🙄, crying .. lots of crying, just lots of hurt and heartache, more misunderstandings, we see a bit of parents from both sides - esp san's dynamic with his father, flashback scene with smut: oral (f. receiving), 🤠, praises, lots of sweet kisses and tender moments, some nipple play, soft and slow smut!!

—a/n: fic announcement soon!

If the texts yesterday afternoon weren't nerve-wracking enough, it was the downtime in between the texts and seeing San that had you ready to curl up in a ball out of anxiety; fetal position, rocking back and forth as an attempt to rid the feeling. San hadn't texted much after deciding the two of you should talk the following day, and you never questioned why he couldn't just see you the same night he had told you he needed to talk. 

you: 😞 you didn't even look my way when you walked back into the office and i haven't heard from you all day.

you: i hate how all my papers and presentations are due this week. plus ppl have been weird, idk. i just wanna cuddle 😭

san: i'm sorry. it's just been a day.

you: that's never stopped you before... ☹️ what's wrong, san?

san: we should talk, baby.

you: oh.. okay. so let's talk tonight? i just need to finish up a few things, and i'm halfway done on most of my papers and presentations. i think they can wait a bit.

san: no, you should finish up. i've got a ton of things to catch up on so tonight won't work. can we do this tomorrow? i'll come pick you up once we're both done in the lab.

you: are you sure?

san: mhm. i'm sorry again, it really just has been kinda all over the place today.

you: it's fine, san. as long as you can promise me we're okay?

san: we will be. i'll talk to you tomorrow, okay? try to take breaks and rest well.

You accepted it, even if it felt excruciating and painfully long.

These things never turn out well, and you knew your case wasn't gonna be an exception. You were afraid for it, you were nervous and you were wondering what San might do to try and lessen the blow of whatever was coming.

He wouldn't hurt you, right?

He meant it when he said you two would be okay, right?

Even if he tried to be as reassuring, everything about it felt off and cryptic. None of it felt like sunshine and rainbows, none of it felt like the San you felt in love with. None of it felt like the giddy excitement, the comfort, the safety you had come to know and love. 

You hated automatically assuming the worse, but nothing was preventing you from doing so— not even San.

Today was actually pretty uneventful, nonetheless. Despite the wait and silence from San, you felt like you managed to get by in one piece. It still felt like everyone was looking at you; like they had all known your deepest, darkest secrets. Like they had been following your every move, especially while you were with San. It still felt awful, but you had learned how to push aside because people could talk and assume— but they would never know the true story.

And who knows? Even if you tried to explain yourself, they wouldn't get it.

You didn't really owe that explanation to anyone, you think.

The only other weird part about your day was when you had tried to help Belle earlier since you had some downtime and she brushed you off completely. She had been avoiding you, and it was pretty obvious she was letting the talk get to her head. She didn't maintain eye contact with you, she didn't acknowledge you, and she didn't talk to you the way that she used to.

—FLASHBACK

You walk into the lab, passing by a few of your labmates with a tiny, toothless smile etched on your lips. There was no Sunwoo around, but there was Belle; yet, she still hadn't turned to acknowledge your presence. You had gotten through your to-do list for Sunwoo's project, leaving you with extra time to spare today. You hadn't been able to dedicate a lot of your support to Belle lately due to all those technical issues you needed to troubleshoot for your project with Sunwoo, and you figured this would be a good time to make up for it.

Unless she had other plans.

"Hey Belle!" You come to her desk, pulling the courage from deep down within you to approach her first. She looks up at you, a brow cocked up before returning her attention to her laptop. "I have some time to help—"

"No thanks, I'm good." She doesn't look at you. "Just so you know, I don't really need extra help anymore. I've got everything figured out already."

"Oh, okay." You step away from her desk, fiddling with your fingers while you stand there looking dumb. "Are you sure?" She pauses her typing before finally looking back up at you with her brows knit tightly together. 

"I just said it, didn't I?"

"I-I'm sorry, I just wanted to make sure since I had the time and I haven't been able to help you out as much cause of Sunwoo's project."

"Why don't you go and use your extra time with Professor Choi since you've been doing that anyway?" She gives you a look that settles in the pit of your stomach. You don't say anything to her, even as she shuts her laptop close and stands— brushing past you to get to one of the behavior rooms. You feel a bit hurt, and your other labmates aren't even paying attention to the whole thing; or, maybe they are, and they just don't wanna say anything to dig deeper into the wound. 

So, you turn on your heel with your head down, returning to your desk to continue your data analysis in silence.

—END

You try to tell yourself that it doesn't really matter— that you didn't need anyone's reassurance or validation. It hurt despite not being super close to Belle, but you knew she thought of you in a different light now and that wasn't really fair. You could see how it'd look problematic on the surface, but you thought she knew you better than that.

Guess it's also your fault for assuming.

When it's time for San to pick you up at your usual pick-up spot, you grab your keys and head out— still not having changed out of your outfit for the day. You try to take slow steps to not seem too eager, but you can't help it when you see San parked in his usual spot. This time though, he isn't watching for you in the rear view mirror. 

"Hey." You swing the door open and slide in. San gives you a small smile, followed by a:

"Hey." He watches as you dip forward to kiss him on the lips like you always do, and he surprisingly takes it. You were getting ready for the rejection or some kind of pull back; but, to San's own knowledge, he did it because he knew it'd be the last time he could savor it.

"You okay? Were you able to finish everything you needed to?"

"Uh, yeah. Think so." He says with a subtle chuckle before driving off. 

"Are we going to your house?"

"Thought we could sit at the view and talk, if that's okay with you?" You slowly nod, keeping your eyes trained on San as he drives.

"Okay. You're scaring me, Sannie." He shakes his head. 

"Please don't be."

"Then why couldn't we just talk about this like normal at your place?"

"Y/N, you trust me, right?" He quickly looks at you as he comes across a red light. You silently nod, just in time for him to drive off and continue onto the destination. "Okay, so trust me." He's still being so cryptic and distant that you don't even know how to respond. You quietly sit back in your chair and watch the surroundings pass you by, trying to settle the queasiness you feel building in your stomach.

These things never go well, and your case doesn't seem to be a one-off.

San continues to remain silent as he drives the rest of the way to the view, the music softly filling in as background noise that's enough to distract you. When he pulls into the small empty side lot and parks his car, he lets out a sigh and sits back.

"How was your day today?" He asks softly, still avoiding contact with you.

"It was okay, I guess. Better than yesterday."

"That's good."

"San." You adjust your position so you're looking directly at him, body facing him. "What is it that you wanted to talk about?"

"I don't know where to start."

"You have to start somewhere." He sighs again. "You know, whatever it is, you can tell me. We can figure this out together." You raise your hand to cup his cheek, almost somewhat of a gesture to force him to look at you. And for a minute, you feel him relax under your touch. You can tell he wants to turn and kiss the palm of your hand like he usually does, but he doesn't. "Sannie—"

"We should stop this." Your mouth slightly drops even though you don't know what to say. Your eyes widen, your touch turns cold. You retreat your hand while you let the response sink, San still keeping his gaze out of the window because he truly can't dare to look at you right now.

He'll fold.

He'll forget all about this and risk everything for the both of you.

He shouldn't.

"W-what?"

"We need to stop this, Y/N." He finally looks at you and his gaze feels like an icebox. Everything feels so cold and distant, even if it's supposed to be a front; it's working, and it's fucking you up completely.

"All of a sudden? I-I thought we were fine, what happened? What did I do wrong?" He shakes his head.

"Nothing. It's not anything you did, I'm just trying to be realistic here."

"Realistic? I thought you didn't care about the outside noise?"

"We're only prolonging the inevitable, don't you get it? Everything is going to come crashing down on us whether we like it or not. No matter how hard I try to stop it, this is what it'll eventually come to." You don't really understand where he's coming from or what he's getting at, but it's too late— you feel the tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.

Then, you're sobbing into your hands and you feel pathetic. But San feels terrible, he hates this. He doesn't wanna do this but he's conflicted between right and wrong, between being selfish and letting you go. "San, why?"

"Y/N, please hear me out on this, okay?" He's barely able to answer.

"Why? You ask him again. You cry in his passenger's seat, wiping it away with your sweater sleeves. "You said I could trust you, a-and that you wouldn't hurt me because you didn't care about anyone else."

"I need you to understand that I'm doing this because I care about you."

"But, I love you." San shakes his head as tears streak his own cheeks.

"We're being too selfish." He looks at you. "I am. I'm being too selfish and I don't need this to ruin things for you more. I need to put you first—"

"Why do you get to decide what that looks like for me, San?" He doesn't respond. "So, you don't want this?" He lets out a shaky sigh. "Us?"

"That's far from how I feel and you know it."

"Why can't you just say it back? Why can't we just let this be? I don't care—" You tug on his arm and he grips your hand before shaking his head.

"Because this is already hard as it is. Y/N, listen to me." He pleads, cupping your cheeks. He finally looks deep into your eyes, his thumb gently caressing the surface. The life in his eyes are gone. The glow, the stars. Now, his eyes are dull. They're holding back. They don't show you anything. "We should stop. We need to. Namjoon and the dean are discussing your future at the school, and I need you to keep going in this program. I need you to keep going forward even if that means I can't be right there with you every step of the way. You deserve to be here and you deserve to finish this until the very end. You've worked so hard to get here, and I refuse to let them lose out on you simply because of me."

"This makes no sense to me. Why do we have to do this? We can just be more careful and plan better. We can just—"

"I'm trying to protect you." 

"Protect me? From Namjoon and the dean? Or are you trying to protect yourself?"

"I don't give a damn about me, Y/N!" He's a little angrier with this response but you know it isn't directed towards you. It's towards Namjoon. The dean. Yunho and Iseul. This whole fucked up situation. "I'm always gonna put you first. It's always been about you and it'll always be about you." You cry a bit harder at his answer, unsure of what to make of this entire thing. You don't know if San really means this or if he is just trying to protect you. You don't know what to do, you don't know if you should keep trusting him the same way. 

You don't know if you can, and that's probably because you're blinded by all the overwhelming emotions you're feeling right now.

The both of you sit in this thick silence, your cries now filling the space while San tries to muster up the last bit of his energy to try and make you feel better— to get you to understand this better.

It's not that he wants to, he has to.

"I don't—" He swallows thickly. "I don't wanna do this but I have to. You have to understand." He says at a whisper, more tears streaming down his red-stained cheeks. "You have to understand, baby. Please." He begs. "I don't want them to do anything to you and I don't wanna jeopardize your future. Just listen to me. We have to do this." He leans forward to cup your cheeks and wipe your tears away with his thumb.

"No, we don't." You almost whine, but all San can do is shake his head and sit back in his seat.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, but I have to do what's best for you." His voice shakes. "I really am so sorry, sweetheart." He answers lowly, wiping his remaining tears before retreating back into his shell and showing off his cold demeanor for the remainder of his time with you. "I should get you back."

"I should've never trusted you. I should've known this was all too good to be true. You didn't care." You cry, repeating all this nonsense to try and get him to hurt the same way as you somehow. Because he'll never understand. Everything had led up to this and you were still unprepared for this. Even though you knew you'd be here at some point, nothing would have ever prepared you for the way your heart drops to your stomach; the way you feel nothing but thunder and rain.

Blue and grey.

He does, though.

In fact, he's probably hurting the most because he had to pull the trigger and let you go.

He hates it. He fucking hates it. 

He's trying to drown out the rest until he gets you back to your building because he can't take it. He can't take hearing you cry anymore, he can't take hearing you say these awful things because you're angry at the moment. He hopes that you'll see where he's coming from eventually because all he's ever wanted to do was protect you and keep you safe.

All he's ever done was care about you, and you only.

All he's ever felt was love for you, and you only. You showed him what love was like again and he'll never take that for granted.

This was him showing you love. He needed to put you first.

"I care about you more than anything. I'm trying to do what's best—"

"Without involving me? Deciding for me? Yeah." You wipe away at your cheeks once more before unbuckling your seatbelt. "Whatever San, save it." You tell him before swinging the door open and stepping out. "You were just trying to protect me. I get it."

"Baby, don't be like that. Please don't make this harder than it already is. I would never intentionally hurt you. You know this." He tries to reach for your hand, but you move it away.

"You don't get to call me that anymore." You roll your eyes. "Anyway, goodluck, San." Is all you say before slamming his door shut and storming off. You begin to cry to yourself again, feeling sorry for yourself and stupid. You know deep down that San was only trying to do the right thing and that he was trying to protect you. But, right now, you're angry, you're sad, you're upset. You feel empty and betrayed and you just need to feel this out in order to let it pass.

This too shall pass.

When you head upstairs, you quickly pack up a few things, along with your laptop and other school-related necessities before locking up and heading to your car. You feel a migraine coming on, which definitely means you should take it easy and stay behind; but, all you can think about is getting to your mom and being away from school for a few days.

Nothing's better than a mother's love and comfort, even though you aren't entirely sure how she's gonna react to this, how she'll feel about San.

In the end, you don't hate him. 

You can't.

You could never.

—FLASHBACK

"That was a good girl's date, wasn't it? We got massages, our nails done. Now we're eating a banana split under this nice weather." Your mom chuckles. "You need to come home more often."

"I know, I know." You scoop up a good helping of the banana split, internally conflicted on when is a good time to let your mom know about what's been going on. She would probably be surprised and scared for you, but your mom had a good way of choosing her words. She had a good way of being there for you but making her concerns known without pointing fingers or putting any blame on your actions.

"How has school been? Your friends?"

"They've been good. We've all been busy with our labs."

"Jiung's been good? You think you guys are all gonna stay in the labs you're currently rotating in?"

"He's good, yeah. And I think so, they all seem to be enjoying it."

"How about you?" You poke at the banana before scooping another helping. Your mom can already tell there's something else on your mind, but she's gonna let you take the floor and open up about it when you're ready.

Which is now. 

You just don't know if she's ready.

"Uh, yeah. It's been good!" You give her a small smile. "I'm still deciding on my route, but it's been good." Pause. "There's actually something else I've been meaning to tell you."

"Okay, try me!" She chuckles. "What is it?"

"I've been seeing someone."

"Oh?" She laughs. "Well, isn't that great?! I mean, you never needed a man, okay. But, as long as they make you happy and add value to your life. I just want you happy." She laughs. "Who is he, where did you meet? Tell me everything!" You sigh and take a deep breath before starting.

"We met at school. In the lab. Because.. he's my rotation professor." You give her a look, afraid of what she'll say. She stops mid-bite and almost chokes, setting her spoon down before looking at you with knitted brows.

"Your.. what?! Y/N—"

"Mom, please. Just hear me out before you start assuming and saying things. He didn't abuse his power, I didn't throw myself on him, okay? It just happened." You immediately say and look at her with puppy eyes. "We just happened. We grew feelings for each other and just clicked really well. We've been keeping things lowkey."

"But, Y/N. Honey, I say this sincerely. What if people find out? Not that I want them to, but they will." You shrug.

"I don't know, we'll figure it out."

"H-how old is he?"

"32."

"Oh, okay. He's young."

"And handsome." You rest your chin on the palm of your hand and smile. "His name is San. Choi San. He's pretty popular in the bioengineering and neuroscience world."

"That's good." Your mom is slightly shutting down and you know it's because her thoughts are traveling at 100mph and she doesn't know what to think or do.

Or say.

"Mom, I'm sorry. I know you're worried but I'll be fine, okay? I promise. It'll all be fine." You add to break the silence and reach for her hand.

"I just don't want him to hurt you and then you lose everything you've worked so hard for over him."

"I just don't know where this is gonna take us. Things feel too overwhelming. Like.. I just don't want any talk getting into his head about us."

"It could really ruin things for the both of you, Y/N. Please be smart about your actions. Don't throw everything away because of him. That's all I ask. Just by the looks of it, I know he makes you happy and you're riding cloud nine, but you need to remember who comes first— yourself."

"I know. I hear you. I don't mean to cause any unnecessary worry or anything."

"No, you're not. Lovey, I'm your mom, I'm always gonna worry regardless. But, I trust you enough to make the right decisions and to take care of yourself. I know you'll be smart and I know you won't be completely reckless. I'm not gonna lie, this— this isn't a 'conventional' relationship and I'm not sure how I feel about it yet." She sighs and looks at you with a hint of concern in her eyes. "I'm trying hard to see this from your side, not from my side, and I think it'll take me time to get used to. In the end, I just don't want you to get hurt. I don't want people to think bad about you, and I don't want you to lose everything you've worked so hard for."

"I know, but it's all okay. I promise." You promise her, but you don't even know if you believe the promise yourself. "You can trust him." She doesn't say much, and you can tell she's trying her hardest to swallow her true emotions.

"Just becareful."

—END

San picks up the phone to call Namjoon, hands slightly trembling. He's still sitting in his car, still sitting in the same spot because it's his turn to cry and let out all his feelings. He hits the steering wheel before running a hand through his hair, second-guessing all his decisions.

Why did it have to come down to all of this? Did he really have to? How long before he folds and comes back to you?

Before he says fuck this all together and chases after you?

He keeps trying to remind himself that he needs to protect you and let this blow over. He keeps trying to remind himself that it'll all be worth it and you both will find your way back to each other again.

In time.

"San."

"It's over with." Is all he is able to say before Namjoon lets out a small sigh on the other end.

"I'm sorry, San. Look, just give this time—" Quite frankly, he doesn't wanna hear it anymore. Not today, not tomorrow, not for awhile.

"It's fine." He cute him off. "You don't have to say it. Just please make sure nothing happens to her."

"You got my word. I'll figure this out. Don't worry." San ends the call before he's digging his head into his hands and cries.

And cries.

And cries.

Because now his days are going to blend back to the black and white filter he used to have on. He'll never experience that warmth, those colors, without you around.

He'll never witness where the sea meets the sky, when the sun sinks below the horizon. When dawn meets dusk. 

His days will be monotone and dull, lifeless and cold. Gloomy. Days he had prayed to get past and never return to.

But, he's here again.

And somehow, this pain feels worse this time around than the first time.

—FLASHBACK

San sighs when he pulls up to his parents' house, aggressively shifting the gear to park before taking a moment to himself. He wasn't happy when his father left him a voicemail, scolding him for the rumors going around about him dating his student. He was quick to call him names and demand him to make things right before his name could be tainted in the industry. San isn't gonna lie, he's always looked up to his father. Things changed when San started making a name for himself in the academic industry, creating some kind of competitive tension between the two. Well, San never felt that way. His dad strongly did though, for whatever reason.

He never understood it. It's whatever.

What San wasn't having was the fact that his father kept calling you a little girl who only wanted to use him to work her way in and up.

He slams the door to his car, adjusting his hat and his jacket before tapping the code into the keypad on the front door.

"San, is that you?" He hears his mom's sweet voice call out to him. He smiles softly when she comes into view in the hallway, opening her arms for a hug. "Please don't mind your father, you know how he is. He's just concerned." She gives the back of his neck a reassuring massage.

"Mm, yeah. I can feel the concern especially when he starts calling me out my name."

"San." His mom gives him a look before his dad looks up from the paper he's reading on the couch, forehead crinkling when he sees his son walk in.

"Why are you here?"

"Hi to you, too." San says while his mom steps in the middle.

"Honey." She turns to his father.

"So, what was up with that voicemail?" 

"Why don't you tell us what's been going on with you and your so-called girlfriend? Do you even care about yourself or what this could do to your career? You're so careless—"

"So what if I'm careless! You don't even know her so you don't have a right to do that!"

"Are you actually that stupid, San? Do you know how damaging this could be for you, for us?"

"What does this have to do with you?!" San's voice raises. 

"It has everything to do with us! Everyone thinks you either forced that girl into a relationship or she threw herself on you and you stupidly took the bait!"

"Even if I said it wasn't like that, you wouldn't listen anyway!"

"Are you serious about her?"

"What makes you think I'm not? We're two grown adults who are capable of making our own decisions and knew the consequences from the very beginning."

"And you think she'll stay? Someone that young and who is just getting started with her life, basically. You think she'll stay and be there for you when times get rough?"

"Absolutely." His dad scoffs.

"Is that so? Wishful thinking. You couldn't even keep Iseul and now you're downgrading to a st—"

"Hey!" San's mom cuts off his father's statement. "That is enough from you. Don't finish that sentence."

"You have no idea what Iseul put me through!" San's tone is louder to match his father's energy. "I found somebody who genuinely and truly cares about me and who I am. That isn't enough for you? Just because she's a student, but a grown adult at that?! You can't even be happy for a second? You still find a way to be on Iseul's side even though she cheated with my bestfriend!"

"Maybe it's time you realized you pushed Iseul away. That was your own doing. And this girl? Don't come to me and make me tell you 'I told you so' when she leaves after she's gotten everything she needs from you." San's dad is fuming in front of him. "How could you be so sure things will be smooth sailing with her, hm? What makes you think this can work?"

"This is fucking bullshit, I'm not explaining myself to you. If you don't wanna be happy for me and support me, then so be it."

—END

San thinks maybe his dad was right; maybe this wasn't meant to be, and was just supposed to be another fleeting moment, another lesson.

Even though deep down, he knows it's far from it.

As he sits in his home office, he scrolls through old pictures of you and him together— you, pictures you've sent him. He feels the rush of sadness hit him like bricks, his chest almost physically hurting from the ache. He has this sudden urge to text you and call you, tell you how much he misses you.

But, he stops himself.

What if you stopped caring? What if you were so mad at him that you hated him?

He couldn't bear with it.

If only he knew how much you cried and yearned for him every night, if only he knew how much your head hurt while you laid on your mom's lap while she ran her hands through your hair— gently cooing you and shushing you to help you get some sleep.

If only he knew.

"Mom, I'm sorry." You cry and cry, laying your head on her lap as you let everything out. "You were right, I messed everything up. This was all so stupid. I'm so stupid."

"Don't say that." She shushes you and tries to coo you. "Don't ever say that again." She looks at you. "What happened?" You gather the strength to tell her everything that's been going on. How deep your relationship went with San and how well he took care of you. How you weren't always the most careful but the only reason why things blew up was because of Hae-jin, Iseul and Yunho. How Iseul and Yunho just keep trying to get in between, how Jiung even went to Professor Kim about all of this.

How San broke this off claiming he wanted to protect you and put you first.

How utterly sad and betrayed you feel.

"I'm just so tired of feeling this way. I hate how alone I feel. I hate how much I miss him. I hate how this unfolded the way it did."

"I'm so sorry, honey. You need to let things be for now, okay? I know that's not what you wanna hear, but you need to. Especially for school and yourself."

"Why does anyone care? Why does it matter?"

"People have nothing better to do, and I'm sorry it had to be those two and Jiung."

"I'm so tired, mom. When will this pass? What did I do wrong? Why did he leave so quickly?"

"Lovey. You did nothing wrong. It wasn't you at all, and it wasn't San either. The circumstances are just tough. You didn't know it would play out this way and I'm sure he has his reasons."

"What if he's just using that as an excuse? What if he really doesn't want this anymore?"

"If he really cared about you, why would he lie, Y/N? I'm sure he was doing his best to protect you both, especially you. I know it hurts right now, hun. But, maybe this is for the best." You don't wanna hear it even though your mom might be right.

Maybe this is for the best. Maybe this was just telling you this could never work between you two.

No matter how hard you both tried.

San's urge to text or call doesn't lessen as the next few days go by, especially when he notices he hasn't seen any trace of you. He'll usually see you walking towards the biology building for Yunho's class or making your way to the dining hall with the girls.

If San hadn't overheard Sunwoo telling his lab mates that you were sick, he would've gone crazy.

It still doesn't help that you're feeling unwell and he can't do anything about it.

"Sunwoo." San pokes his head out of his door, causing Sunwoo to lift his head from his laptop and shift his attention towards him. "Can you meet really quickly?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Be right over!"

"Thanks." San heads back to his desk and lets out a breath, waiting for Sunwoo to come. It takes him less than 5 minutes to finally make his way into the office, rubbing his hands down his jeans. "Hey." San looks up at him. "Thanks for coming in on short notice."

"No prob! What's up, Professor Choi?"

"I wanted to talk to you really quickly because I wanted you to hear it from me directly. Starting next week, we'll be losing Y/N's support. She'll be heading to Professor Kim's lab."

"O-oh. Okay. Damn." Sunwoo ticks his head to the side. "Professor Kim with the steal." San chuckles a bit.

"Yeah." San can't even hide his sadness when he looks down at the papers beneath his hands that Sunwoo catches on and he feels bad. He still doesn't know the details and he never will, but if it's one thing he can gather right now, it's the fact that the room feels cold and empty.

It's the fact that San literally has to force himself to smile and deliver this news like all is okay and no big deal— when in fact, it fucking is.

Sunwoo feels so bad.

"So, I know she's out sick right now, but will I still get to see her before she goes? I wanna talk to her to wrap things up, too."

"When she returns, we'll make sure she has time to close loose ends with you and gather her things."

"Hm." Sunwoo nods slowly. "Okay."

"I'm sorry this came up so suddenly, but I had to make a few changes around here. We all thought she'd be a better fit with Professor Kim." 

"I see. She's super smart and incredibly great at what she does, I know she'll do well in whatever she does and wherever she goes." San nods.

"Yeah, she will." He sighs. "There's another rotation student that I might bring in next quarter that might be a good fit to work with you, too. His name is Baehyuk."

"Cool. Down to meet whenever the time is right."

"Thanks, Sunwoo."

"No, thank you for always giving me some help and pushing me forward." San gives him a small smile. "Everything will work out."

"Yeah." Is all he could say in response. Because he hopes it will. 

Right now, it seems like a far reach.

All San wants to do is love you, rather than hiding just how deeply in love he was with you.

—FLASHBACK

"Here, baby." He turns to hand you a plate with a smile on his face. "Think you can help me dry the last of these dishes and put 'em up?"

"Course, chef." He chuckles, watching as you tip-toe with nothing but his shirt on to reach over and place the dry dishes into the proper cabinet. You follow suit with the last three dishes, setting the towel aside while San wipes away the water droplets around the sink. "We did it, babe! All clean."

"Sure did." He laughs, caging you in against the counter to kiss you sweetly. "Thank you, baby."

"You're welcome." You giggle. "Thank you for making dinner."

"As long as you enjoyed." You nod.

"What do you wanna do for the rest of the evening?"

"Mm, we can watch a movie and fall asleep here on the couch without any worry."

"That's fun." You smile.

"Or, we can do other things that I have in mind." He brushes the hair away from your face while you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Ooh." You reply in a sing-song tone. "Care to indulge?"

"Absolutely." He says just as he swiftly carries you and wraps your legs around him. You squeal as he walks over to the couch and gently plops you down onto the soft cushions, wasting no time to attach his lips to every inch of skin he can. He slowly hovers over you, hands roaming up your shirt and tugging material along with it as he continues to move upward— exposing your cute pink panties from beneath. He sinks to his knees and pries your legs open after fixing your position to the edge of the couch. "Let me make you feel good, love."

"Yes please, Sannie. Please." You beg, watching as San slides down your panties and tosses them aside. His hands caress your thighs, giving them a good squeeze while laying open-mouth kisses along the surface. You continue to watch him, biting on your lip when he hovers over where you need him at most. He licks a stripe up your folds, causing your head to cock back against the cushion. He begins to gently kiss and suck at your heat— a satisfying, breathy moan leaving your lips as you let San relish being in between your thighs. He laps away at your clit, tonguing down your pussy as if he had been deprived of you for years.

You love/hate how good he is at this. "Babe—" You moan loudly, hips now working on their own terms against his mouth. He subtly nods as he continues to suck and lap away at your heat, tongue keeping you wet and filthy; just the way he likes it. "God, right there—" You whine, hips rolling upward and grinding against his mouth, his tongue. 

You used to be so shy.

Now, you're not afraid to tell him what you want and he fucking loves it. "Oh—San— gonna—" Your statement comes out broken as you continue to work against his mouth, orgasm crashing down like a harsh wave against the shore. You grip his hair, body twitching as San continues to latch on and groan against your pussy; incredibly hard while watching the way your body surrenders all. "Fuck." You whisper, still twitching due to the aftershocks from your first orgasm of the night. 

"That's my girl." He's back to kissing your thighs, hands gently rubbing up and down your leg as a way to soothe you. 

"Need you." You tug him by the shirt to plant a messy kiss against his lips— shirt soon to be discarded on the floor, along with his sweats.

Now you're on his lap, slowly riding his cock just the way he likes it— the couch's throw blanket resting against the small of your back and draped along San's lap.

It's his favorite position after all.

"Mm— just like that, baby." He whispers against your lips as you continue to ride him slowly on the couch. "Just like that." He repeats. "You're my good girl, right? Just mine?" He asks lowly and you nod, letting out a sweet moan as he pinches your nipple and watches your head tilt back in pleasure. "Oh, fuck— just like that." His head rests back against the couch, feeling your walls brush against him and drag against his rock hard cock. "All mine."

"Mm'fuck, Sannie." You keep your head back, intense pleasure bubbling at the pit of your stomach. You take him slowly, deeply; his cock hitting all the right spots every time you do a 'lil tug and pull— hips carefully rolling against him. 

"So fucking sexy." He groans. "God, you're everything." His lips drag against your skin, tongue swirling around your perky nipples as your hands tug on the ends of his soft, black hair. "Everything to me." He whispers as if your skin could hold all of the universe's secrets. The blanket is barely keeping up with your movements. San's hand comes up along the base of your neck, bringing you back down to envelope your lips with his. 

The kiss is full of hunger.

The kiss is slow and steady.

The kiss is messy.

You break the kiss first, body slowly crumbling in his grip when you feel your high approaching quick. You moan loudly, breath ragged as you pant; hips slightly picking up the pace to push yourself further and further until you reach the edge.

"Oh—" San matches your moans. "That's it, sweetheart. Cum for me." He praises you, voice deep— tone sending vibrations all the way down to your core. "Give it to me. Wanna feel you cum all over this dick, angel." Hearing San talk the way he's talking is enough to make your coil snap. He continues to coo you as you come undone on his lap; stuttering in your movements and trembling in his grip. He places his hands on your hips, fingers digging deep into the flesh while he fucks up into you— reaching his high shortly after you with a loud groan and hiss. "Fuck, that was so good, baby." You giggle, forehead against his while his hands gently caress and your back. You leave a tender kiss against his plump lips, and he chases with a few repeated kisses before bringing you down with him on the couch. The both of you lay underneath the throw blanket, now properly covering most of your bodies while San holds you from behind. He has his propped up by an arm while you both watch the show on TV, but San finds his thoughts wandering elsewhere at some point. He begins to look around the house and notices how different it feels since you've been around.

Good different.

A space that used to he so grey, so lifeless; now has remnants of you everywhere.

Your polaroids.

Pictures of you and San in frames.

Your little stuffed animal keychains and rings thrown onto the kitchen island, or the room. Or even his desk in the office.

Your little post-it notes. Your favorite chips and snacks littered around the pantry.

You were there everywhere he turned, and he finds it's one of his biggest blessings.

Especially when you lay here on the couch with him, completely not minding the idea San proposed of just falling asleep on the couch together while sorting through movies.

You agreed so quickly and so happily.

No matter how big or small, most ideas just seemed silly in his last relationship.

But, now he has you— someone who is happy to just be with him and spend time with him. No matter how big or small the idea, the plans.

San loves you.

And he'll never take it for granted.

—END

—taglist: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @vcutparis @chngbnwf @struggling101 @sanhwalvr @angelqueendom @barbielibra @brown88 @choisansplushie @yunhoswrldddd @hyukssunflower @vickykazuya @lucid-galaxys-world @jaytheatiny @pommelex @thechaotictheoryy @vixensss @santineez @nopension @domfikeluva @in-somnias-world @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @mountiiny @naoristerling @onmymymyway @thecutiepieme @wyrated

[wanologic]

college au prequel: what happened to danny during junior year - 2940 words

Viscous green liquid sludges through a dry river bed, whetting the cracked ground and seeping deep into the void. Soil softens, becoming fat with nutrient. In the most basic definition, still itself, but filled with new matter, ready and accepting of more. This is what it was made for, its purpose. It has been sitting, dry and untended for too long. In this symbiosis it is more than it dreamed to be. Complete in the sense that it has been starved.

--

Danny wakes up, the dream lingering.

He’s been feeling odd lately, despite the fact that he is more comfortable in his skin than ever. He has a goal, he has support. 

A bridge, he called himself.

Even if he’s only sixteen and his influence is contextually small, he has time. People are listening. Ghosts are listening. Small steps over a long period will get you where you need to go, and he’s still just a kid. 

A kid who has to get ready for school.

He goes through the familiar motions, snags a quick breakfast and lets his parents know he’s headed out, that he’ll see them later. He’s out the door and on his way before he knows it.

Danny’s grades have improved since his freshman year. The pressure to keep things secret has all but alleviated and his family is sticking close. The world might not know that Fenton and Phantom are the same, but the people who matter do.

He’s managing. Thriving, even.

His extracurriculars are atypical of a high school junior, but he plays his role well. The Ghost Investigation Ward meets Phantom and the Fentons on neutral ground that evening, working their way methodically through a tangle of red tape. Teaching, learning. There’s always danger in compromise, but both parties are being two faced. It’s civil for now.

He’ll do this from the opposite angle on another day, playing border guard for the dimensional tear nestled into the fabric of his basement. Walker would be proud of him. He’s enforcing the Rules.

And it’s all going well as far as he can tell. Things are so much less chaotic than they were, his brawls feel like bonding, his head is no longer on a swivel.

For now, it’s off to his room. A space for himself to decompress after a long day's work.

He spends a lot of time thinking about a prehistoric past. What the future might look like once his job is over. This solid physical reality fed that swirling and infinite realm of emotion directly, once. It didn’t last, but time has passed. 

Danny is more aware of this fractured nature than most. He’s sure it’s why he’s had so much success. Why the responsibility falls on him. He feels it every time he calls upon his second self. 

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Human first, ghost second. Humanity is the frame of reference he was born with. Everything new he experiences in this strange half-life is compared against it. Spectra once asked him what he was. But humanity is in his nature. He is a creepy boy with creepy powers. He’s sure of it. 

Going ghost.

Returning to humanity.

Not that he prefers one over the other. He’s made the choice. More than once. When his memories were erased or his powers short-circuited he always took them back. Felt the thrumming and euphoric energy pulsing through his being once again. His shape projected and unreal. Weightless. It feels incredible.

At some point, some late night discussion about feelings, whether it was with family or with friends, he realized his dual nature was more of a privilege than he could ever hope to fully comprehend. His human half feeds his ghost half everything. His ghost half is complete. No wonder he’s so determined, so strong. He has never once craved emotion the way the others have. He has intrinsic access to everything. Every failed test, every frustration, every joy, every thrill. He is comfortable and whole. Has no need to lash out. Two separate identities working together as two polar magnets, inseparable through the strength of their attraction, moving through the world as one.

He slips the familiar glowing rings across his body, the cool wash of ectoplasm coursing through his veins. Back again, blood pumps oxygen to his cells. Human. Ghost. Human. Ghost.

--

This time the dream is stranger.

The river craves the ocean. 

Danny feels the sand cake beneath his nails as he digs a trench, a violation of the river’s established bed. There’s a trickle as a thin and frothy stream flows out of sync with the current along the path he lays. It longs for the larger disconnected body ahead. A curious tendril seeking an easier path. He digs deeper, automatic, compelled by a force he doesn’t quite understand. 

Is this a bridge too?

He’s both excited and afraid to find out.

The liquid pools at his fingertips as fast as he can dig. Nudging. The sand is saturated and wet in front of him. He’s not sure how much further he has to go. But if he can claw his way through this dense barrier he’s sure it will pick up momentum even without him. The fluid mass can carve its own trench. Wider. Faster. Wider again.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. He somehow feels incorporeal. This isn’t right. He looks at his hands. His fingers in the dark. Clean. Spotless. He feels the sheets beneath his body, the press of the blanket above. So he’s still human then, wrong as it may seem. He clutches at his chest as he tries to calm his racing heart, quell the strength of an intense emotion that he cannot describe. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying.

He stops digging and fashions a dam, not yet ready for what the final connection could mean.

His head hurts.

Nausea tucks itself against his gut.

He takes a shower.

--

It’s Saturday and he has business in the Ghost Zone.

He shifts, expecting the weird feeling to subside. Instead it’s more of the same. Something is off. He ignores it. A thing to worry about later when he has less to do.

His work that day goes smoothly, another step in what he can only hope is the right direction. And it feels nice, giving in to the compulsion and focusing on what is in front of him, what is currently begging his attention, rather than the problems lurking beneath the surface. It is a learned behavior, one he falls back into easily.

Upon his return he feels like he is dragging a piece of the Infinite Realms back with him. The air seems to thicken, the cold steel walls of the portal are closing in on him. The exit is a pinpoint.  He’s being called back. He wants to move forward. He can feel silky fingers worm their way over his skin, hundreds of tendrils trying to pull him into their embrace. He stays strong. Moves with intent. The invisible hands can’t find enough purchase and he is finally welcomed back into the Physical World like the denizen he is. 

The caress stays with him much longer than he’s willing to admit.

--

Weeks go by and he only feels stranger and stranger. High. His attention slides off of everything so easily, his eyes blurring mid-conversation, a stuffy feeling, like a balloon that’s expanding well past the boundaries of his head. He loses time. Cancels appointments. He doesn’t feel well, sorry, he’s going to stay home today.

There is something Danny knows he needs to do. He can’t keep existing in limbo like this, his job only half-finished, pulled in two directions but choosing neither. His powers will wane once again in his indecision. His purpose sits unfulfilled.

He lays back and stares at the softly luminescent stars pasted to the ceiling of his room. Takes deep and even breaths as he struggles to remain present. His sister is worried for him, he’s sure. The best he can do for her is secretly practice what she has preached.

Danny eventually thinks back to that trickling stream. The slimy offshoot of the coursing river. He thinks of the dam he dreamed up all those weeks ago, sure it’s bigger now. His denial adds weight and height to the metaphor. Every day it feels less like a figment of his fucked up imagination and more like the worlds are trying to tell him something. What’s on the other side now, he wonders? Is the river still flowing? Are the fruits of his labor still there or has that little hand-clawed pathway dried up? How large is the reservoir pressing up against that sandy hill if it hasn’t?

He’s scared. 

He doesn’t want to know. 

But this isn’t what he promised himself.

A peek can’t hurt.

--

The dream comes easily, now that he lets it.

The funny thing about water is that it always finds a way. No matter what people do, how they try to tame it, erosion is inevitable. It starts as a dark wet splotch, the faint idea of a tiny breach in the all-but-permeable barrier between worlds—the river and the ocean. As the spot expands a dip forms on the horizon. The water moves. Under, through, over. Destructive. Alive. Danny shouldn’t have looked but he can’t stop what has already started. Equilibrium will be achieved one way or another. It was only ever a matter of time. He stands in the shallows, cowed as the wall comes down. Slowly first, then all at once.

The edges of panic are sharp and he realizes what is happening only a beat too late. 

The dam breaks.

He screams.

He was the dam, he is the trench, the rapid connection of energy flowing out of bounds and rushing along a new path. Lightning striking the rod to avoid burning down the house. The portal below him is a wound, a tear. He is something asked for, something natural. His mind can’t keep up as he struggles to regain ground and prevent being swept away by the violent current.

Dim awareness of his physical body comes back to him slowly as he writhes against the foreign dimension assaulting his senses. A second death. His double life was a conceptual marvel, a switch flipping from on to off, and back on again. He is the embodiment of two worlds, split, distinct. His quest to join them together requires this of him, doesn’t it? Whatever autonomy he has against the will of the universe cannot remain if he truly wants to serve his purpose. It’s a choice he has to make. One that he has been making. One that has been made.

He takes a deep and shuddering breath.

He tries to let go, and finds that he can’t. It’s like being electrocuted all over again, his nerves fried and his joints stuck rigid. It’s a feeling that is impossible to control, tense as he is.

His breath still comes ragged as colors around him saturate and the world warps. He can feel his fear, his desperation, feeding the momentum of whatever is happening. The exchange of emotion, osmosis through a rapidly deteriorating membrane. Thousands of overlapping inputs assault his mind as he feels the energy sliding around in the folds of his brain. He breathes through it. It’s not at all painful, but it is intense. His human points of reference aren’t working to help him conceptualize what is happening. His atoms are buzzing with newfound energy and the world is no longer solid. He tries once again to attempt the mindfulness ritual Jazz has been shoving down his throat, tries to name five things around him. The exercise fails him as he feels his brain liquefy in his skull. He gasps at the sloshing sensation, back arching. He’s going to be unmade.

Instead of loosening his grip, he tightens it. Remembering what it is to be human with all the force he can muster. His knuckles are white. Sweat slips down his brow. If he can’t let go, he has to hold on. He is gasping, thrashing. He’s hyperventilating, he’s sure, but no oxygen floods his system. He wants release, wants off this ride. The world outside of his perception ceases to exist. Flesh slips from his bones and it feels so, so good.

Then he sees it.

His eyes are blind, but he perceives it, somehow. The yawning void of the infinite realms is so much bigger, so much hungrier than he had ever thought. Reading that tablet, all that time ago, he thought his purpose was something simple. Easy in a way that a fourteen year old imagination could rationalize. The earth and the zone were two physical spaces that only needed to understand each other and hold hands to achieve that elusive harmony. 

He’d been wrong.

It’s not the earth that feeds the realms. Dimensions aren’t something that can be explained by an elementary understanding of mass and matter. They aren’t some static three dimensional points in time and space. They are universes of their own, expanding, interstitched in a nasty and sticky web of inexplicable physics folding over and back on themselves, forever too complicated to pry apart.

The realms are fed by the conscious universe perceiving itself, the soul, the spirit, whatever you want to call it. Emotions aren’t some grid of faces on a paper, they are infinite, they are cause and effect, the chicken and the egg, projecting forever in a möbius loop human understanding can never truly describe.

He’s going to go insane, he concludes. Here on his bed, on some random weekday, alone in his room. The magnetic pull of his two halves are phasing into each other, becoming imperceivable as the two separate forms he once knew. He’s not even sure that he really exists at this point. 

There is another choice to make.

He thinks back to what he knows about this buried history, Pariah Dark, The Ancients, wonders if they considered this connection, what they knew about how this should happen. Is there a way to do this that is objectively correct? If he knew more would it be easier? Or would it go down just the same? He has no desire to conquer. Only to be a bridge. A tether. An example. To show that this merging from two to one can be peaceful, a shift in perception rather than a violent overhaul. It is unavoidable now. His only wish is to remain recognizable as himself. 

He focuses not on his mind but on his body. He has to rebuild from the ground up or risk losing himself forever. Start small, a beating heart. Vascular systems. Skeletal. Muscular. Take a breath and pump blood into the empty cavern of his skull. Human is what he knows, though he’s never had to think about it quite this way before. His nerves lace through the structures he’s struggling to create, half intuition, half memory. It feels like being a ghost, all projection and thought, a deep and innate understanding. He knows this. He’s existed this way every moment of his short life and he can do it again. He’s alive, his blood is red, his flesh is tangible.

His brain slams back into his body and he promptly throws up.

--

The worlds are connected once again.

Danny’s hands shake as he tries to get a grip on himself. He’s been changed. He can feel it. The Infinite Realms has marked him as he has marked it. The world is flowing through and from him. Energy hums under his skin, and in it there is access to a well so deep he’s not sure it could ever run dry. 

He finally gets it. This is what being a bridge between worlds means for him.

He gets off his bed slowly. Half floating, half stumbling for balance. His instincts are scattered and his breath no longer sits in his body the same.

This change gives him the authority and the power, the perception and understanding to mend the bleeding fracture between dimensions. He will be listened to. He cannot be hurt. His appearance no longer matters, he is what he is, wholly and entirely. He exists as a linchpin. He is the keystone in the arch where one side is living and the other is dead.

Gravity feels so odd. Like someone changed the coefficient.

He sobs and grabs his dresser for support, woozy and unbalanced, a newborn deer walking on unfamiliar legs. He intends to make his way downstairs. Wants to fall into the embrace of his parents. Needs someone to hold him and tell him that everything will still be okay. He looks to the door.

And without moving, he is there.

Breath comes hard and fast as he steadies himself. His perception catching up to the new perspective. His hand is on the handle, he radiates a trail of semi-physical matter with every motion. It will take practice to appear normal again. He’s reminded of his freshman year.

When he finally opens the door, a swirling green wall is all that meets him. He stares at it, the cold vapor of the Realms slipping around and through him.

He knows the observants exist on the other side. He is sure of it as he is sure of anything. They are there to acknowledge the crown above his head. To observe what he has finally made of himself. 

He will tell him that he didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it.

They will tell him that he is lying.

He steps through the threshold.

[singto-prachaya]

I'm not sure if I should express this feeling. I've always thought that I don't want anyone to feel bad or receive negative energy from my messages, and deep down, I don't want to show that I'm weak.

But I think, as a human being, I should be able to share some of my feelings.

I just want to say that lately, I've been feeling tired from many things. Perhaps it's because a lot has been impacting my mind recently, both things I can control and things I can't. All I can do is smile through it, do my best every day, and live my life as well as any human being possibly can. I've come quite a long way in this career. I've lost some things along the way, but I've also gained many things in return, and of course, I'm still moving forward. I hope everyone has the strength to keep going and continue living their own lives together.

I don't like to force and will not try to force anyone to love and like me, and I know very well that there are many people who are more handsome than me, have better physiques than me, are more skilled than me, are more amiable than me, are more cheerful than me, are better at social media than me, have brighter eyes than me, and seem more like normal people than I do.

If you know all this and still like me, I am incredibly and truly grateful that you allow me to be myself. I will continue to develop myself in many areas so that I feel worthy of the love and admiration everyone has for me.

Thank you for loving Jimmy.

And

Thank you for loving Nong Ohm.

Thank you for the love. You desever it too.

I Love You

JIMMYOHM IS LOVED

Jimmy, I really wish you could see yourself through my eyes. You're one of the most lovely, warm, and kind-hearted people I've ever met in my life. I want to tell you that I love you so much, more than a colleague should ever think of loving. It's not just because you're handsome or taller than me or anything like that. It's because you're you, Jimmy. You've always been a wonderful person. I've told you before that I want you to be yourself to society without fearing anyone's disapproval, and even now, I still want you to be the person you want to be. You don't have to be as muscular as anyone else, or compare your handsomeness to others, or learn to use social media as much as I do. You don't have to be like anyone else, just be the Jimmy you're comfortable sharing with the world for others to admire. That's more than enough, seriously. I don't know what to do to make you love yourself the way I love you, and the way others love you, but I just want you to know that there are far more people in this world who love you and are ready to stand by you than you think. At least I'm one of them. You once said you don't like being comforted or coddled. Okay, I won't comfort you, and I won't tell you to be strong either. You can be as weak as you need to be. And I know you're already very strong and capable. You'll get through this period like the strong person who has always overcome challenges. Finally, I love you, Jimmy. I love you very much. When you wake up, please call me back or reply to my LINE message.

Over the past few days, we've had some tension, disagreed on things, and let various issues lead to misunderstandings. I'm sorry that I was part of what made things difficult recently. But please be assured, I definitely won't give up on us. And I know you won't give up on us either, Jimmy. Let's keep fighting for this, bit by bit. :-)