#Twelve Clouds of Joy

[jazzdailyblog]

Andy Kirk: The Innovator Who Bridged Jazz Eras

Introduction: Andy Kirk, a prominent figure in the jazz world, is often celebrated for his contributions as a bandleader and musician who helped shape the sound of jazz in the 1930s and 1940s. Leading the Twelve Clouds of Joy, Kirk navigated the transitions within the jazz genre, from the swing era to the dawn of bebop, leaving an indelible mark on the music industry. This blog post delves into…

[kookslastbutton]

take care of you ༓ myg (m)

✑ Summary: To keep your fiance from burning out you suggest a weekend getaway to Gapyeong, a charming town about an hour outside Seoul. You've specifically asked him to leave his work equipment at home but like a deep rooted habit, he still brings it with him. You're left with no choice but to find a way to get his attention back.

pairing: workaholic!yoongi x reader

genre/AU: fluff, tiny angst, smut, established relationship, vacation au, engaged couple

word count: 7,581

warnings: yoongi has a hard time relaxing so oc gets a little frustrated with him, oc and yoongi riding in a hot air balloon, yoongi gets a little shy with pictures, oc gets a tiny bit insecure, both very in love with each other, yoongi keeps calling oc Mrs even though they have not tied the knot yet, swearing, tiny misunderstanding (ik misunderstanding 😒 but its cute i swear!), sexual content

sexual warnings: switch!yoongi, switch!reader, lingerie, handj*b, oral (m. receiving), teasing, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, explicit sex (oc on birth control), f*cking from behind, missionary, f*cking on the floor, bigd*ck!yoongi, yoongi has a chain on, butt slapping (once), f*ngering, licking, biting, a tiny bit of breast play, slight begging kink, body worshipping, he calls oc sl*t once but it's tame, aftercare in bathtub

now playing: You Want to Make a Memory, With all My Heart, Perfect

a/n: I will not lie this pwp turning to a 7k fluff peice with smut. I am truly in love with this one and I miss yoongi 🥺 hope you enjoy 💞

There are two things your fiance’ considers most precious in this world–you and his industrial-grade music equipment. Trying to pry either from his soft, veiny hands is enough to earn a death wish. But when you come between his music producing or when his music comes between your relationship…oh it's a fight.

Over the last four years, you’ve grown quite an admiration for Yoongi’s relentless dedication to work and profound love for music production. It’s his lifeblood and you would never in a million years even think about taking something so beautiful away from him. And truthfully, one of your favorite moments to witness is when he finds the perfect beat for a new song after twelve long hours of mixing. Seeing his gummy smile break free on his handsome face never fails to send you over the edge of sanity.

Ever since the first time Yoongi let you into his studio, you’ve been sneaking in any chance you can get. Watching him work is a whole experience that leaves you feeling a combination of awe, respect, and utter joy. He likes you there too, his face always lighting up when he sees your faint shadow moving behind the glass door. There’s been a handful of times you’ve used his studio for more than music producing too…but that’s an entirely different matter altogether.

So no, it doesn’t bother you in the slightest that Yoongi is devoted to his music. And if it did, well, you wouldn’t have agreed to marry him last month when he asked you, would you? (You’re still on cloud nine about that one…)

What does bother you, however, is when your fiance' doesn’t allow himself to take a break despite how burned out he clearly is. Not that you’re one to point fingers, being one to stretch yourself thin for the sake of professional responsibilities too. But even so, you’d argue that you’re in better shape than your fiance’ who literally works 24/7.

Day or night Yoongi is always in his studio or bringing his equipment everywhere he goes. You get the logic, you really do. But you care about his health most of all; something he tends to put last.

That’s why this week you made one tiny request–that you take a weekend trip together and that he leave his equipment at home.

But like an itch that won’t go away, Yoongi is adamant about stuffing his equipment in the trunk of his car.

“I thought we agreed you’d leave all of this at home this time,” you sigh and gesture at his equipment stacked in the far corner of the trunk.

Yoongi takes your suitcase from your hand and tosses it next to his own. “It’s a safety measure,” he justifies. “You never know when you’ll need it or when the right idea will strike you.”

“Min Yoongi.” Your voice is sharp and earns your fiance’s full attention, which is no simple task when it’s typically the other way around. “You promised me.”

He steps forward and puts his hands around your stiff shoulders–an attempt to soothe you. “I won’t use it unless absolutely necessary okay? You know I like having my music with me at all times so if anything it’s just for my own comfort. It’ll stay in some odd corner of our rental and not be touched.”

“What counts as absolutely necessary?” You narrow your eyes at him, unwilling to let him off that easily. So what if he looks ridiculously handsome today in his open white button-down shirt with a white t-shirt and ripped jeans underneath?

“Baby,” he coos in a raspy voice.

Fuck–you swear to yourself. Stay strong, __.

“How’s this…I won’t use it unless something on our trip really inspires me. Or unless I’m bursting with an idea and I’ll run it by you first. I’ll wait until night too, when we aren’t doing anything.” He grabs your hand, the one with the ring on it, and kisses it softly–how evil of him. “Please?”

You glance at his hand in yours and then back into his deep chestnut eyes. “Kiss me again and I’ll allow it,” you say.

Yoongi smirks at your reply and leans forward to press his pillowy lips against yours. It only lasts a few seconds before he pulls back.

“Okay?” he waits for your go-ahead which, shamelessly, you give him.

“Fine, but just remember the only thing I want you touching this weekend is me and not your keyboard. So if I see you sneaking it around behind my back I will not hesitate to strip naked in front of you until you’re forced to give it up.” You gently pull your hand from his hold and walk to the passenger side door.

“Fucking hell.” You hear your fiance’ curse as you both hop in the car. “You're gonna make me drive an hour and half with that thought replaying in my head?"

You don't meet the question with a response, but rather smile sweetly at him and turn volume of the car stereo up a few notches.

What else is there to say? You simply want him to enjoy himself for three days without having to get stressed over work.

The place you and Yoongi are headed to is called Gapyeong, a small town about an hour away from Seoul. Its lush forests and clear streams give a sense of perfect serenity which is exactly why you chose the area. There are hot air balloon rides that'll provide you with an hours' worth of scenic views too, which is definitely at the top of the priority list.

The closer you get to Gapyeong the more you see the view out your windows changing. The bustling city with 60-story skyscrapers is now turning into majestic mountains, rivers, and vibrant greenery. You love Seoul but you miss nature sometimes.

"Yoongi look! " You point out the window when you spot a beautiful overlook up ahead It looks like the kind of spot many stop at due to a handful of other cars that are parked off the side of the road. "We should take a break and stretch our legs."

"Is that really necessary?" Yoongi asks with one hand gripping the steering wheel. "We're about twenty minutes from our rental and it's not even one o'clock yet. We have all day to look at sceneries and take pictures."

You toss him a slightly displeased look immediately. Little pit stops like these aren't your fiance's cup of tea as he'd much rather get from point A to point B. But if there's anything you want him to get out of this weekend, it's a break from routine.

"Come on Yoon, aren't you feeling a bit stiff from driving? We don't have to stay long," you do your best to plead with him. Yoongi glances at you and then at the empty space off the side of the road a few feet ahead. He sighs and signals over.

"Ten minutes," he says, putting the car in park. You grin excitedly and unbuckle your seatbelt.

"Let's go!" You lean over and surprise him with a quick kiss on his cheek. You want to point out the blush that creeps on his face but ultimately decide to keep that to yourself. Maybe you'll bring it up later. Yoongi tends to get more nervous when you point stuff like that out and besides, you like keeping little secrets from him sometimes.

"Alright, I'll admit it," he jumps out of the car and takes in the fresh air. "It's pretty nice out here. Reminds me of when I came here as a child with my parents." A light breeze blows a few strands of his pitch-black hair over his eyes but he cards it back with a few fingers.

"You came here as a child?" You move beside him to link onto one of his arms. Something about being this close to him makes you feel warm and safe.

Yoongi nods and walks both of you to the edge of the overlook to get the best view of the mountains surrounding the area. "When I was about ten years old my family and I took a trip up here. I'm not sure if this was the exact spot but it was an overlook similar to this. It was autumn too, the colors changing to shades of reds and oranges."

"Oh wow." You're embarrassed you didn't realize he'd been here before. Being this close to Seoul surely he would have but now it makes question coming here. Had he preferred to go elsewhere? And if he did, why wouldn't he have told you?

"I'm glad we came here together," he interrupts your thoughts as if knowing exactly what you're thinking. He then flashes you a tight-lipped smile. "I always thought I'd like to come here with someone special."

Your previous nerves are eased after this and you smile back, eyes piercing in his. He's so handsome with the way the natural light shines on his face. The thought comes from nowhere but you couldn't stop the next words even if you wanted to. "Can I take your picture?" you dig in your bag and grab your phone laying somewhere at the bottom.

Yoongi instantly breaks eye contact. "Uh–why? Don't you already have enough of me in there?" He chuckles, no short of shyness.

See. It's like you said before–he gets flustered at stuff like this.

You shrug casually at him and open the camera app on your cell. "I have hundreds of pictures of my boyfriend. But I still haven't gotten one of my fiance' yet." It's true, the last picture you took of him was before he proposed. You would have taken more since then but Yoongi is far less interested in them compared to you so you try not to overload him.

Yoongi shakes his head at your clever comeback. "We'll take it together." He reaches over to take your phone out of your hand but you move it further from his grasp.

"Just one of you first," you say. "Please?"

"Aigoo," he hits the railing of the overlook playfully. "I'll allow it this once, Mrs. Min. Where do you want me?"

"Yoon...." you flush hearing him refer to you as Mrs. You and Yoongi recently got engaged a month ago and the wedding won't be held until next spring. "Isn't it a little soon to be calling me that?" you ask with hot cheeks.

"Oh, I got ahead of myself." He scratches the back of his head and shifts his eyes towards the mountains again. "Let's take the picture okay?"

"Okay." You loop your arm out from his. "But Yoon?"

"Hm?"

"It's okay that you called me that. I like it even if it's a bit soon." You lift your phone camera and take a photo of him before he has time to respond. It's a cute shot with the breathtaking forest and mountains behind him. Your finace' has his signature gummy smile on as well, the one that makes you forget where you are entirely.

This one will go in the album you have dedicated to your memories with him for sure.

After stopping at the overlook you and Yoongi finally arrive at your quaint vacation rental. The size is just right for a three-day stay and is centrally located with nature enclosing the premises. To sum, it's private yet welcoming.

"This is the last of it," he says, setting his music equipment on the dining table. "What do you want to do now?"

"I'm kinda hungry for lunch. Maybe we can go to a local spot and then see if there are any balloon rides open?"

"You wanna do the balloon ride on the first day?"

"Why not?" We're only here for a limited time and tomorrow we're going to Nami Island so I thought we could do something leisurely tonight. And then I was thinking we could watch a movie."

The corner of Yoongi's mouth quirks into a half-smile. "You planned this out pretty thoroughly I see. Not a second to spare."

"Mhm," you say, shifting your stance when you see your finace' coming face to face with you.

"This wouldn't be you making sure I stay away from my computer would it?" He tests with interrogative eyes, knowing that it's exactly what you're doing. When you take longer to reply than he'd like, Yoongi continues speaking. "I don't mind by the way. I just think it's sweet so thank you."

You open your mouth to respond but a loud grumbling noise from your stomach stops you. Yoongi laughs and takes your hand to drag you out the door of your rental. "I think it's time I take care of you this time," he says. "I saw a pretty good place to eat a few blocks away."

Once you get in the car Yoongi reaches in his pocket for his phone but it's not there. "I think I left my phone in the kitchen when I was bringing stuff in. I'll be right back." He hops out of the car once you give a brief okay.

Namjoon: Hey man, hope you have a good time with __ this weekend! You both deserve some relaxing time. But I gotta ask, how's the new song going? Any progress?

Yoongi quickly taps on his phone's keyboard with a small sigh.

Yoongi: Not really. I've been working on it for weeks and I can't seem to get anything right. It's driving me crazy.

Namjoon: I get it and I don't have to tell you how challenging producing new music is. You still have time though so don't push yourself too much. Take in the weekend and maybe the inspiration will strike you.

Yoongi: I'll try. __ will likely kick my balls if I work this weekend. Namjoon: Ah just like __. Well, you left your equipment at home, right? So no worries! Yoongi: I mean I have it here but I promised not to use it unless necessary.

As soon as he sends the text everyone starts rapidly texting in the chat. Yoongi rolls his eyes at the sight of all the lurkers suddenly becoming vocal.

Seokjin: Yah! Tell me this is a joke! Jimin: Come on Yoongi you can't be serious! Hoseok: Ah Yoongi-hyung, always working! Be careful you still have a finace' after this! Taehyung: Hyung, I think you should focus on your future Mrs. She obviously wants to spend time with you this weekend, not fighting for your attention with your computer! Jungkook: Think about what you're doing hyung. Pick one: sex or no sex.

Namjoon: This isn't about sex Jungkook

Jungkook: It will be if Yoongi-hyung pisses off __! Yoongi: Everyone shut up, I didn't bring my music equipment to work okay? It's just a safety measure. Jimin: Wrong equipment to bring on a weekend away with your lovey hyung...why didn't you ask me about this first? Jungkook: At least someone is on the same page as me! Namjoon: For the last time this isn't about sex! Yoongi: I really don't have time for this right now. __'s in the car and we're about to go eat. See ya. Seokjin: What the hell are you doing? Making __ wait while you text your friends!

Yoongi turns his phone off and slips his cell back in his pocket. He'll deal with them later.

"Sorry, it took a bit." He gets back into the car and opens his maps app. "Let me just get the directions up."

Half an hour into lunch Yoongi's talking significantly less compared to earlier at the overlook. He doesn't seem tired but more disengaged.

"Everything alright?" You ask.

Yoongi looks up from his plate with a nonchalant expression. "Yeah why?"

"No reason," you lie. "Just wondering if you're feeling okay is all. Nothing happened while you went back inside the rental to get your phone right?" You let out a nervous giggle and it makes Yoongi soften his gaze. He drops his chopsticks and closes his hand over yours.

"I think I need to remember how to vacation," he says. This is true but the much bigger reason for his sudden disengagement is that getting the text from Namjoon reminds him of the new song he'd like to have finished sooner than later. He shouldn't be paying attention to it while on a vacation with you but it's a difficult habit to shake.

"Let work go for a bit Yoon," you reply. "I understand how much your music means to you but I want you to be able to unhinge a little too. The last thing I want to see is you overworking yourself."

"I guess you're right."

"Of course I am. Now try this." You clear the thick air by holding out your chopsticks with some of the best, richest kimchi stew you ever had. And that's saying a lot since you've basically been obsessed with it for years. The spice from the cabbage mixed with the hearty pork broth is to die for. "Isn't it good?"

Yoongi eats what you've offered him. "Wow, that's delicious. Here try mine." He does the same as you but with some barbecued pork. He makes sure to blow on it first to contrast the heat of the grill it was on.

"This is an excellent place to eat." You swallow the tasty pork and take a sip of your water. "We should leave a review, especially since it's a local restaurant."

"Sure, I can write one online before we leave."

And he kept to his word. Yoongi left a decent praise for the restaurant about fifteen minutes before finishing up your meal. You both signed the cute guest book at the front too.

'Great atmosphere, great food, great dinner date. We'll come back again after our honeymoon – Min Yoongi & __'

.

After lunch, Yoongi fulfills your wish of going on a hot air balloon. The pilot assists you into the basket and stays with you the entire time of the flight. Regardless of his presence, however, you and Yoongi are able to maintain a healthy level of intimacy. And besides, it's not like you both have a ridiculous need to make out all the time.

Your relationship was more subtle so to speak; everything was in the details. Gentle touches, small favors, remembering the more significant and least significant facts about each other. That's how you and Yoongi love and connect with each other.

Still, you like a good make-out session as much as the next guy but making out with the pilot only steps away? You and Yoongi prefer privacy–light kissing was okay though.

"The view is better than I expected," you say with your arms wrapped around your fiance's waist. "Thank you for doing this for us. It's unbelievable."

Yoongi holds onto you as well, his arms around your shoulders and back. "I wouldn't dream of coming here and not doing this with you. The weather is perfect for this sort of activity too."

While the balloon drifts over all of Gapyeong, its charming nature on full display, you snuggle yourself into Yoongi's chest. The moment is completely surreal and you can't imagine a life without him by your side. And what's more, is that he feels the exact same way.

"Yoon?" You lift your head to meet his face.

"Hm?" His eyes are set straight ahead, giving you a side profile.

"Can you kiss me while we're up here?" You whisper the words but he doesn't quite hear you evident by his lack of response. "I want you to kiss me," you repeat.

Yoongi looks at the pilot who shifts his eyes elsewhere as if on queue. A pair of warm lips capture your cooler ones milliseconds after and surprisingly it's firm.

"I love you."

"I love you too __."

You snuggle back into his chest as he points out several areas he finds interesting, comparing them to different songs it reminds him of.

You return to your rental around 7 p.m., right after dinner. Both you and Yoongi decided it is better to save the rest of the exciting activities tomorrow as originally planned and watch a movie. Dinner got you both stuffed to the high heavens too so you needed to turn in for the night.

"Hey baby?" he asks in the same raspy voice from earlier today while he was packing the car. Hearing it always makes your stomach do somersaults. Yoongi puts his hands on your waist and continues. "How would you feel if we watched the movie in an hour?"

You loop your arms around the back of his neck to draw him closer. "Okay. What do you have in mind?" You're sure you know where he's going with this until he starts hesitating his next words. And when you notice he's looking past you towards the dining table where all his equipment is stacked, you break from his hold.

"Min Yoongi, are you seriously trying to seduce me into letting you work tonight?" You throw your hands on your hips as most anyone in your situation would do.

"I'm not," he starts but pauses. "Okay I kinda was but I had such a wonderful time with you today that it gave me inspiration for one of my new songs. I'd kinda like to get a bit of it on my computer before I...forget it."

"Oh Yoon," you cross your arms.

"We can watch a movie right after. I don't even need an hour. How about half an hour. Twenty minutes?" He's must be onto something if he's trying to bargain with you this much. Well as much as it pains you, you're no she-devil. You'll let the man work but you're cutting him off at forty minutes only because if he gets to an hour, he won't stop for the rest of the night....or trip for that matter.

"Go ahead," you say.

Yoongi grins when you agree to your request, his eyes sparkle too. You're still borderline ticked about this but you said you'd let him work a little if necessary. And by the looks of it, he about to explode if you don't let him get his ideas out.

"Will you tell me what you're working on?"

"Top secret information. I can't tell you and risk exploiting the company." You slap his chest, feigning irritation. Yoongi chuckles and paces over to the dining table to unzip his laptop case. "I'll show you when it's done."

You take a seat at the table with him but find it extremely out of character when he gives you a displeased look.

"Uhm, wouldn't you be more comfortable on the couch baby?" he suggests, eyes darting towards the living room.

"Why? You don't want me being here or something?" you joke yet it rings true by the way he struggles to form an answer. Obviously he wants privacy this time. "Fine," you say and get up from your seat. "No more than forty minutes you hear? I'll lay down in the bedroom and nap or something."

"Mhm yeah," he replies and sits in one of the chairs with his earphones already over his ears. He looks cute actually...adorable even. You snap a quick photo and slip into the bedroom.

Well, you caved and let your fiance' work on his music for another forty minutes after the original forty minutes was over. So here you are, star-fished in your king-sized bed and jammies, waiting for Yoongi to be ready for your movie.

But wait a damn minute.

Just who are you __? You and Yoongi had a deal that he'd only be allowed a certain amount of time to work on his music and he pushed that limit with that stupidly handsome good looks of his. Plus he didn't even let you stay with him. Just tossed you to the curb. Isn't that a little sneaky of him?

Okay so maybe you're stretching it a little but you won't lie–you want our finace's attention back! And what better way to do it than to use your feminine prowess. It's sooner than you'd planned to use it but you have a sexy white lingerie set that you buried at the bottom of your suitcase. It's a lacy corset with matching panties you got only a week ago so he's not seen it yet.

You leap out of bed and start tossing your clothes off one by one–a giddy feeling settling in your gut. You swear to god if he even thinks about telling you to go back into the bedroom you will get on your knees and suck his dick.

Alright, maybe you're getting a little too wound up so to calm yourself down you go in the bathroom and splash some cold water on your face. After that, you dig in your bag until your fingers graze across something soft and lacy.

"Oh Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi," you hum to yourself in a sing-songy voice. "Two can play this game."

He doesn't notice your presence when you creak the bedroom door open. Your rental is all one level with the bedroom facing the dining room where your fiance' concentrates on his laptop.

You quickly body-check yourself one last time before strutting toward him. When you get close enough, you set your hands on the table and stare at him until he blinks his eyes up at you.

"__!" He tosses his earphones off his head when he sees a sliver of your cleavage above his laptop screen. "What are you doing dressed like that right now?" You'd tell him to look you in the eye when he talks to you but you enjoy his shocked expression too much–it's a mix between being caught off guard and getting extremely turned on.

"I wanted to get your opinion on this little number I bought a few weeks ago. I think it's pretty with the lace detailing throughout. And it fits really well too which is a rarity for me. Don't you think?"

Yoongi swallows hard and watches you stand straight to graze your hands down your sides. They move slowly, tracing every line and curve on your body. And he must admit this set you have on is accentuating you in the finest way possible.

"Yes, I think it's very nice __." He shifts his attention back to his laptop screen. "Is that...all?" he dares to ask.

"No," you shake your head, struggling to keep yourself controlled and seductive. Like how they show it in movies–seemingly effortless than in real life. You round the dining table until you're directly behind him. You place your hands on his muscular shoulders and start massaging them. "I'd like to know what you like about it Mr. Min."

Yoongi groans at the use of his surname and closes his eyes, basking in the feeling of your hands digging into his shoulder blades. "It's sexy yet elegant at the same time. Makes your body look like heaven with the way the fabric clings to your form. And the corset pushes up your breasts into two perfect globes whereas the panties accentuate your inner thighs, making it look like a sin that most can only dream of touching."

"Look at you becoming an expert in ladies' undergarments. Picking a few things up from Jimin huh? What else do you like about it?" You bring your lips to his smooth neck and graze your teeth ever so gently over the delicate skin. It's only a tease, barely touching, but you feel your finace' flinch at the action.

"Fuck–if you want me to go absolutely feral keep doing what you're doing." If it's meant to be a threat you're unscathed.

"Wanna see it Yoongi." You lick the side of his neck. "That's all I've been wanting this whole time. For you to let loose a little with me. But here you are with your computer for nearly two hours when you can be fucking me instead."

"Shit stop, " Yoongi orders stills one of your hands with his. "What are you doing __?" His voice is shaky yet trying so hard to remain firm.

"Isn't it obvious?" You move your body to one side of him to easily look him in the eye. Then you put a hand on the top of his laptop before closing it shut. Yoongi jolts forward when you do this but you grab his face with both hands and bring him into a kiss before he can sound a word.

You kiss him roughly, moving your lips fast against his. And what do you know, he opens his mouth just enough to let you slip your tongue inside. A hot sensation settles in your core upon realizing that you're taking the lead tonight. When it comes to you and Yoongi's sex life, it was never one of you who takes control. That was a shared venture ever since your first time together.

Yoongi lets out a couple of muffled groans when you move one of your hands to palm his bulge under the table. It's not fully hard yet but it will be soon. You then fiddle with the zipper of his jeans to which he stops with a free hand immediately.

You smirk when he pushes his chair back, to stand up. Yoongi then picks you up in sturdy arms, bridal style, and walks you both towards the bedroom.

"Not thinking about work now hm?" You tease and nibble at his neck. You're on the bed within moments, not so elegantly at that. "Yoon—" you start as he starts ripping his shirts off his body. He throws them on the ground before working on his jeans.

Your eyes wander across his smooth, tanned chest as you wait for him to say something. Starting at his collarbone where a thin silver chain hangs loosely around his neck and all the way down to his navel. You didn't know he was wearing a chain under his shirt until now.

"Yoongi?" You shift uncomfortably on the bed as you watch him push his jeans and underwear down his legs, breath hitching at the sight of his hardened length. But not a word comes out and it's making you crazy. When Yoongi chooses to give you the silent treatment in settings like these it typically means he's incredibly turned on.

He looks at you then at the ground between his feet.

You know what he's asking for.

And like his peachy sweetheart you stay put, biting down a smirk that he'd like to wipe off your face.

Yoongi cocks his head to the side and wets his lips at you. A long, impatient sigh leaves his lips. And when he grips his length in his hand you bolt off the bed and fall on your knees in front of him.

"Don't want to watch me get myself off do you?" He sneers and you reach to bat his hand off his length. You then spit in your palms and wrap your hands around the base of his cock. "Shit," he curses when you begin pumping him slowly.

"Let me do it," you say. You absolutely hate when he tries getting himself off in front of you. After all, that's your job, is it not? Eager to please you continue gliding your hands up and down his hardened member. You lean forward to lick the mushroom tip, just enough to have him shuddering.

"Fuck, put your mouth on me, baby. Show me how good you can suck." It's a plea for relief and you are happy to oblige. So with your hands still gripped firmly around his length you wrap your lips over the head of his cock. You let your tongue roll over the slit then underneath where all men are guaranteed to go weak on their knees. You then hollow out your cheeks and take him further until you can't anymore.

"Oh fuck me," he swears, immersed in the feeling of your mouth and hands working on him simultaneously. Your fiance' is pretty big so your hands needs to make up for where your mouth can't.

"Mph!" You moan a little when he thrusts into your mouth unexpectedly. He makes sure to get easy first, light gentle thrusts that make your panties stickier with arousal.

Yoongi watches as your cheeks get more hallowed out, eyes watering as his cock disappears between your lips. His own eyes are struggling to stay open as he wants to toss his head back in pleasure yet the temptation to see you taking him so well wins out in the end. "This feels so good baby. No one sucks cock like you can, goddamn it."

The thrusting gets rougher and faster with each push and pull. Your fiance' is evidently getting close to his release and you blink back any tears threatening to spill from the corner of your eyes. You love seeing him like this—letting go of all inhibitions.

"Yoon!" You yelp when he suddenly pulls himself out of your mouth and hands. You're sure he was seconds from releasing on your tongue. Yoongi chuckles at your half-offended face. He gets down on his knees himself and pulls you into a passionate kiss with a hand behind your back.

This time it's his tongue in your mouth, licking as many places as he can. His hands trace up and down the lacy fabric of your lingerie at the same time.

"I love this on you," he says when he finally breaks from your lips. "I'd like to see you in it more often if I can." He then tugs at the laced-up ribbon on the back that's holding it together until it's loose enough to take off your body.

"God you're so gorgeous," he praises and tosses the corset on the ground beside you both. Yoongi cups both your bare breasts and circles his thumbs over the hardening peaks.

"Yoon," you moan as his lips find their way to the side of your neck. He leaves open-mouth kisses from the sweet spot behind your ear and down to your shoulder. "That feels so–shit I don't even have words."

" Good," he hums and lowers his head to your breasts and mouths at one gently. He's careful to lick the nub and suck it firmly. While he does this his fingers play with the hem of your lace panties. When you feel them slip underneath the thin string band you raise your knees for him to slowly push the material over your ass and down your legs.

Yoongi lets your breasts go to allow you to sit back down and kick the panties off your legs. You go back in for another kiss once they're off but he stops you by gripping your jaw with a firm hand.

"Uh not so fast," he says. "I want you on your hands and knees slut."

You're stomach flips from the degrading name. It's not something you and him do often but the coolness in his voice tells you he isn't taking no for an answer. And to be quite honest, you're a little turned on by the change.

"You want to fuck me here on this carpeted floor?" You ask once your ass is propped in front of him. You just know he's staring at it. Your fingers claw the ground as you wait for his response.

"You're still on birth control right?" He falls to his knees behind you and guides the tip of his cock over your folds teasingly.

"Y-yes," you say. The feeling on his head rubbing against you already has your core twisting in pleasure.

"Then we'll do it here. Your cunt is already dripping with your cum. Got my dick wet already." He brings a finger up to trace up your folds and you clench at the subtle touch.

"No more teasing Yoon," you beg. "Need you to fuck me."

He chuckles lowly and eases his finger in you, pushing until it sinks all the way in. "You're forgetting something..." he then moves forward to graze his lips near your ear. "Right now I own your orgasms which means I can easily edge you with my fingers all night and not give you any kind of release. So if I were you I'd try asking again, nicer."

You bite your lip and maul over his icy words. As you do Yoongi curls his finger to stimulate your G-spot. The moan that comes out of you in response has him groaning into your ear. "Please—," you say in a near whisper. "Fuck me Yoongi."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you." He knows it drives you mad to do this; begging for his cock with such desperation. Still, he likes making you do it once in a while and this happens to be one of those times. Keeps you humble, he thinks.

"Please fuck me Yoongi," your repeat louder. "I can't wait any longer, please."

Yoongi gives you a quick peck on your jaw in satisfaction and sits back up on his knees. He removes his finger from your cunt and positions his length at your entrance. Both hands come out to firmly grip the sides of your hips as he pushes him in, all at once.

"Fuck—" You moan when he bottoms out. Everything inside you screams with you in arousal. Yoongi gives you a moment to adjust to the size; he knows how big he is, and then he pulls himself all the way out to slam back into you. Your body jolts forward with the push, hands gripping as much of the carpet as they can. "Yoongi!" You moan and he clamps down on your hips harder.

"Screaming so soon baby? We're just getting started fuck," he rasps and thrusts into you again, harder than the last. It doesn't take long before he gets into a steady rhythm and your moaning over and over again. "This what you like? Interrupting my work to get fucked on your hands and knees?"

"You were taking so-fuck-long. Had to do something to get you to pay attention to me again." You can hear the chain around his neck jangling louder as he fucks into you. And if you could, you'd peer over your shoulder to take in the sight but he's snapping his hips so fast and hard in you that your only option is to stare in front of you at the blank wall or down at your hands.

"My attention? You thought I wasn't paying attention to you—fucking hell this pussy is so wet and tight it's making me even harder." He picks up his pace, thrusting into you with determination and pure lust. Each time his cock sinks into your pussy he feels a spark of electric pleasure surge through him, going straight to his cock. "I promise, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Do you wanna know what I was working on? I'll tell you if you want to know."

"I thought that was classified and I'd exploit your company if you told me." You mimic his voice from earlier.

Yoongi gives your butt a slap instantly and you moan at the contact. "Don't be a smart ass when I'm balls deep in you. Now as I was saying, do you want to know what I was working on?"

"A new song? Oh shit, right there!" Your eyes roll up when all the thrusting starts making your walls clench, nearing your high. "Fuck, fuck Yoongi, harder, please! So close."

"We're gonna need to go a second time if you're coming this fast baby," Yoongi says, beating into your pussy. The sound of skin slapping skin echoes off the four walls of the bedroom. "Want this cock Mrs. Min? Want it to make you come all over me?"

"Yes, yes I do Yoongi. Make me come with your big cock. Fuck!" You pant as he continues to move inside you. "But you did it again Yoon. Calling me Mrs."

"Just-fuck-go with it!"

"Oh god I'm gonna come. Any time now," you whine, the cord inside you so, so close to breaking. Yoongi gives you a few more full thrusts and with that, you have your first orgasm.

"You soaked me baby," he groans. "Fuck." He pulls himself out of you to your surprise and you whip your head around your shoulder.

"You didn't come," you say.

"I know, but as hot as your ass is I want to see the face of the woman I'm going to be marrying when I come. So how about rolling on your back for me while I'm still hard?"

"Okay," you nearly grin with sheer happiness when you hear how sentimental your finance' sounds. Yoongi can be a tough man but his he's got a heart of pure gold.

"I love you," you say before he wraps your legs around his waist and puts himself back into you.

"I love you too." Yoongi puts himself back into you and starts chasing his release with so much passion that it stirs another spark of arousal inside you. "Oh my god baby, feels so good. And your eyes are so beautiful, lips perfect for kissing, and wanna hold you like this forever. I love it when you cling onto my arm when we're out in public too and when you fall asleep on my chest when it's just us. Fuck, fuck gonna come soon."

Your mouth gapes open at how much is flooding from his lips right now. The combination of his length working you up to a second orgasm and his words making you on the verge of tears is too much to handle. "Come in me Yoon, I love you. Only you."

He finally releases at your word and you come for the second time that night. Yoongi gently places your legs on the ground and pulls himself out of you. "Are you okay?" He asks. "We should've done this on the bed. I'm sorry, I got carried away and wasn't thinking—"

"I liked it," you reassure. "Do you...uh do you want to take a bath now?" Yoongi smiles and nods.

"I'll run the water in a few minutes."

"No I can do it," you move to get up but he stops you with a hand on your arm.

"I'll do it baby. Stay with me a moment longer." You lay back down as he crawls next to you on his back.

.

"Uhm Yoon," you ask, leaning your head back on his chest. You're both in the tub now with the hot water soothing your muscles. "Did You mean everything you said a few minutes ago? All the stuff about my eyes and...stuff."

Yoongi hears the faintest insecurity in your voice and wraps his arms around your waist from under the water. "I meant every word of it. And you want to know something?"

"What?"

"We never got to finish this thought earlier. But the reason I've been so preoccupied with my music lately is because I've been trying to make a song to surprise you with at our wedding. I've been struggling to find the right beats and lyrics because, well it's you. And anything I've come up with isn't doing the trick." He pauses and you're lost for words. You had no idea his "new song" was for you the whole time. "I'm sorry I insisted I bring my equipment this weekend," he says.

"I don't even know what to say Yoongi. You wrote a song for our wedding. I feel so dumb for being mad about it." You wipe a few tears from your eyes, just small ones that manages to fall from your eyes.

"Hey, don't cry baby," he coos. "And don't call yourself dumb. You didn't know and I was more preoccupied than I should have been about it. It's not finished though since you know, we had sex in the middle of it all."

"I—I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing? I love having sex with you. In fact, if you wanted to have sex in this tub right now you wouldn't hear me complaining at all."

"Yoongi-"

"I'm serious __ so if this is you getting shy then there's only one way to cure it. I'll start listing everything I enjoy about being with you. Let's start with when I sink my fingers into your wet pussy. Your moans are so pretty, begging for me to add an—"

"Ah stop, stop stop stop!" It shouldn't embarrass you but it does. Yoongi laughs at your change of character and kisses the side of your head.

"I'm just saying you don't have to apologize for anything alright? I'm the one that should be doing that."

"No, I understand why you brought it with you. But from now on can you try leaving it at home more? At least when we go on our honeymoon?"

"I promise you I will not bring it on our honeymoon. That is a line I will not cross."

"You better not," you say, closing your eyes. "I'll really not have it with you then."

"I expect nothing less as my wife. I know we've said it a hundred times already but I do love you __. More than anything. Even my music."

You tell him that you love him too, complete calmness showering over you. To the happy couple, you hum to yourself.

a/n: Hoping you enjoyed as much as I did writing this. TY for reading and LMK your thoughts 💞

masterlist

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[devildomwriter]

A Glimpse at the Future | Lucifer x Reader

.7K Words | GN! Reader | CW: Children

Lucifer sighed as he saw the smoke slip into his room from beneath his door. Now what had his brothers done? Enough of these pranks already he was tired.

Lucifer walked through the black clouds of smoke unbothered and shielded himself with magic, prepared to open the door to mayhem.

Lucifer swung the door open, glaring, but to his surprise, nothing was there. No brothers, no smoke, no surprise trap.

Lucifer looked puzzled and looked behind him, the room he only just left had changed drastically and he heard a small cough in front of him.

Lucifer looked down and saw a young boy with black hair, parted just like his.

“What’s this,” he asked himself and the boy looked sheepish and held up papers.

Lucifer took them, hoping it may offer some explanation, and read them over carefully.

They did explain things but not everything. The date on the paper was twelve years from his present, and the name at the top was neatly written as Lucious Morningstar.

Lucious looked at him nervously and Lucifer relaxed and smiled.

He smiled at whom he understood was his son and ruffled his hair. Lucious looked surprised but beamed in joy when his father grinned and praised his score.

“Excellent job, Lucious,” he said warmly and handed the papers back.

Lucious cheered to himself and ran towards the dining room.

Lucifer followed cautiously. He wasn’t sure how he got to the future or if this was some grand illusion of his desires but he wanted to explore it either way.

He walked in hand over his chest in surprise to see you setting the table for five.

The House of Lamentation was much quieter, it seemed none of his brothers still lived there. He wasn’t sure if that was his greatest dream or if it was the fact you were there still.

You locked eyes with him and smiled, welcoming him home early.

Lucifer grinned and decided he would play along.

You walked up to him and kissed his cheek, Lucifer wrapped his arms around you and held you in a hug for a long time.

“Aww, did you miss me?” You asked him, chuckling,

Lucifer nodded, “more than you know.”

You looked concerned for a moment, “was work rough today?”

“You could say that…” Lucifer said. This was half true as in the present he’d been doing paperwork to make up for Diavolo wasting time on a grand prank.

Lucifer looked around the room and you led him to his chair. He shook his head and pulled out the chair for you. You blushed and sat down as he scooted you back into the table and took his own seat.

“So…how was everyone’s day?” He asked you and the three children.

“Good!” Lucious exclaimed.

“It was fine,” the girl chimed in quietly and the youngest boy nodded.

The girl had long black hair with a white streak and the youngest boy had fully black hair and his eyes resembled yours.

Lucifer grinned and together the five of you ate the soup you’d made.

You watched Lucifer and smiled. Something was different about him but you decided you’d ask him later.

After he was finished eating, Lucifer saw smoke in the corner of his eyes and frowned. He looked at you one last time and promised, “I’ll see you again soon.”

“Lucifer?” You asked, worried, and stood up abruptly. Suddenly your husband disappeared and the door to the dining room opened.

Lucifer looked puzzled as he looked at his partner and children, all surprised and anxious.

“D-daddy!” Lucian exclaimed and ran to him, hugging him tightly.

“Lucifer what just happened?” You asked, frightened.

He blinked, befuddled, and then began to laugh, “Ah, it was today was it?”

You gave him a confused expression and he sat down to explain.

“Twelve years ago a prank pulled by Satan and Belphie backfired and sent me to the future…the Lucifer you just spoke with was me from many years ago.”

You gasped and your children were equally shocked.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Lucille commented and Lucifer nodded.

“Of course not, if I grew old I’d leave you behind and I don’t intend to do that.” He explained calmly.

You nodded and sighed in relief and in wonder. So all this time Lucifer knew you’d be together with children. Perhaps that’s why he suddenly had more confidence than usual. You checked the calendar and grinned. Twelve years ago exactly had been the day he asked you to marry him. Unlike how he usually behaved it was out of the blue, simple, and a little rushed. You hadn’t minded though, because it meant you’d spend eternity with him.

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

Good Luck, Babe! (4)- Good Luck

Wanda Maximoff X Reader 18+

Inspired by the song 'Good Luck, Babe!' by Chappell Roan

Summary: Returning to Westview after twelve years away causes you to look back on your secret love affair with Wanda, to remember the intimate moments you shared together before her refusal to accept her true self drove the two of you apart, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken heart alone.

What happens when you reunite with the woman you've been trying so hard to forget, forced to watch her suffer in an unhappy marriage that was slowly drowning her, still too scared to confront her true feelings?

Chapter 4- 4k Words

Good Luck, Babe! Masterlist

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 5

The deafening silence of your apartment suffocated you as soon as you shut the door, your fingers twitching subconsciously by your side as you felt anxiety and panic clawing its way up your throat, your gaze hurriedly looking around the apartment to find something focus on besides the feelings you’d be bottling up on the way home. It tore you in half to act as though nothing was wrong for the rest of the night, to smile at her in that loving and adoring way knowing it would be the last time as you waved her goodnight, to kiss her a final time, to kiss her goodbye. It broke you, but you refused to acknowledge it, too scared of drowning in your sorrows. You didn’t want to feel this way, you didn’t want to feel the overwhelming sense of pain and loneliness, to listen to your screaming thoughts in the silent room, the claustrophobic doubts clouding your mind at the decision you made. You couldn’t handle having to face everything, to face the fact it was over, the fact that the one person who made you feel free was never yours. She was never yours.

You could feel your chest tightening at the relentless thoughts, your mind begging you to do as you always did and push everything away, to just pretend you were fine and put a smile on your face as if nothing was wrong. You tried to get the corner of your lips to tug up, to put a brave face on as your empty stare took in your apartment, but your lower lip inevitably trembled, struggling to fight the anguish coursing through you. You couldn’t do this.

Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as your crushed form made its way through the hallway to your room, looking longingly at May’s room as you passed it, desperately needing her comfort right now. You needed her to tell you everything was going to be ok, to hug you and soothe your worries but she wasn’t there. You were alone once again. You always ended up alone, it wasn’t fair.

You shut your door a little harder than you intended as you reached your room, your legs giving way as everything crashed down on you at once, a broken sob painfully being torn out of you. Why? Why did it have to end like this? Why did you have to love her? Your hands clutched at your head as you curled up into a small ball, knees pressed against your chest as your back rested against your door, body shaking with cries as the damn that was keeping your emotions in check burst. Your chest felt hollow, an agonising emptiness settling there as your palms pressed against your eyes, trying to stop the floods of tears escaping them whilst the joy and love that was once consumed your heart was replaced by a gnawing ache. Why couldn’t she just love you?

The question tormented your thoughts, your cruel brain dragging you down a despondent and painful trail of thoughts as you tried to control your ragged breathing, the panic and anxiety of feeling so out of control still burdening you.

Why was she so scared? Did she not think you were worth loving? Were you worth loving at all? Was it just casual? Were you an experiment? Why her? Why did you have to love her? Why does it hurt so much? You didn’t even do anything wrong. All you did was fall in love.

You drifted down the spiral of these thoughts, unable to stop yourself as they plagued your mind for what felt like hours, your body exhausted with the overwhelming feeling of heartbreak whilst you wiped your eyes once more carelessly, trying to get a grip of yourself.

The weight in your chest remained constant as you stared off at your bed feeling numb, your body drained as you slumped against the frame of the door, fingers brushing back your locks in a stressed manner as your thoughts continued to race, only pausing when your eyes caught a glimpse of something peeking under your bed, a ripple of unease stirring within you.

Gradually, you pushed yourself off the floor, making your way to your feet as you stood unsteady, limbs feeling numb and heavy as you took a reluctant step closer to the box, another stab of agony directed at your heart as you realised what it was.

Polaroids and various mementos of your secret times together with Wanda filled the small wooden box, leaving you powerless to another onslaught of tears brimming at your eyes as you stared at the item, conflicted on what to do with it. Part of you was tempted to open it, to recall the memories of every single photo you took, to remember the way you felt when she kissed your cheek before snapping a picture, the way your heart fluttered when she would look at you with mirth in her eyes when you would point the camera at her, offering you a loving smile as she waited for the click every single time. The other part of you wanted to throw the items away in anger, to hate her for tainting the memories but you couldn’t. They meant too much to you, she still meant too much to you.

A deep sigh left you as you used your foot to push it out of sight, hiding it further under your bed like a dirty secret because that’s what it was, that’s what you were. You could feel the irritation bubbling inside you at the thought, your jaw clenching in annoyance as you stared at where the box was, another wave of hurt washing through you as more memories and thoughts tormented you, reminding you of the gaping wound in your chest.

Why weren’t you enough?

***

The corridors of the college campus were filled with students smiling and grinning at one another, cheers erupting from the back of people's throats as everyone exited their last exam, finally free for the summer. Your expression contrasted the elated people pushing past you in a rush to leave, your defeated gaze searching for a certain locker as you planned to talk to Wanda today, to confess everything before telling her you were leaving, having accepted MI 13’s offer in England, needing a change of scenery. It was all too suffocating here, the reminder of her, what happened to your parents, you needed a change, no matter how hard it would be to leave everyone behind.

You eventually made your way to her locker, looking around to see if people would notice as you slipped the post it note through the small slits, asking her to meet you at the carpark behind your work. You lingered at the metal cupboards, a sense of dread filling you at what would inevitably happen later, the idea of heartbreak and tears causing a wave of nausea to take over you, your gaze lifting from the structure to stop your thoughts drifting down that path but accidentally making contact with her enchanting green as they gazed at you from across the hall, time seeming to slow down around you.

The people around you faded away as you felt that familiar tug on your heart, your smile not reaching your ears as you offered her one last fake one, desperately trying your best to keep it together whilst the corner of her lips tugged up at your actions, excitement evident on her face as she was eager to see you tonight.

Wanda had known you had been busy recently wanting to study for your exams, the two of you not meeting up for a while, but she couldn't wait to spend the summer with you, to laugh all night long and be herself with you. Her heart longed to be with you again like that one, tender night, the memory of that kiss haunting her mind in all the right ways, her body aching for you in such an affectionate way again. She wanted to feel loved by you, to be seen and truly appreciated in private before letting reality and the expectations of her drown her again. She needed the escape you offered her.

The brunette took a step forwards, hoping to talk to you but the sight of a familiar blonde stopped her, Vision’s smile soft as he distracted her, the sight of the two of them cracking your heart once more. You kept your face stoic as he brushed back a strand of her hair, her lips stretching into a loving smile as she peered up at him, kissing his lips briefly in an attempt to keep up the appearance with him, to you, the sight an interaction between a couple of lovers. A wave of bitterness washed through you at the fact he could be with her, he could show his love for her in public, your mind swiftly pushing the thoughts away as you knew there was no use in going down that spiral again, simply trying to stop the pain radiating in your chest by turning around, refusing to look anymore. You couldn’t watch her live her life a lie.

Unbeknown to you, when she could, her eyes flickered away from his piercing blue and the blush painting his cheeks, her smile soft as she forced herself to enjoy his company as he wrapped an arm around her waist, talking nonsense to her as her green frantically searched for you. She had to try and hide the way her brows furrowed at your tense posture as you pushed past people to leave, a glimmer of disappointment appearing in her eyes as she had hoped to talk to you and congratulate you on finishing your exams. The expression swiftly faded when he asked her something, her answer pleasing to him as she tried to keep the appearance up, ignoring the ache in her chest at the way you walked away, leaving her feeling alone.

***

Exhaling a final puff of smoke, you savoured the last of your cigarette before dropping it to the floor, using the heel of your boot to crush it into the ground when the sound of those familiar footsteps grew closer, your heart pounding anxiously in your chest, dreading what was about to happen. Your mind was tormented by the anticipation of what was about to occur, images in your head flashing by at the different ways this could end, unsure of what the best scenario would be. Would you want her to shout at you, to scream at you for breaking it off? To have her tell you she hated you so it would make things feel a little easier? Or would you rather her stay quiet and suffer in silence? Letting you watch helplessly as you carved a hole in her heart, unable to comfort her as you were the reason she was hurting. God, you didn’t want to hurt her.

A deflated sigh escaped as you couldn’t decide what reaction would be the best, but you knew deep down a part of you hoped she would do neither and ask you to stay, that she’d confess her feelings to you and learn that she didn’t have to be ashamed of you, that being with you wasn’t abnormal or something that made her a ‘freak’. You only ever wished she could accept herself.

Before your mind could repeat any more thoughts like a broken record, you watched in the corner of your eyes as she approached you, her smile practically reaching her ears making the chain on your heart tug forcefully. She looked so happy, you didn’t want to take that away from her.

“Hey,” she murmured out softly, her tone conveying her excitement as she leaned against your truck, biting her lower lip in that adorable manner as she tried to contain her enthusiasm, the expression dropping at the conflicted expression engraved on your face. “What’s wrong?” Her tone was tender as her mesmerising green peered up at you, every swirl of green containing care as she gauged your reaction to her words, the way pain flashed in your eyes before your mouth opened and closed, hesitating on your words.

At the glimmer of distress in your eyes, Wanda couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease crawl down her spine, a lump forming in her throat at the way you avoided her gaze, fingers pinching the bridge of your nose as you tried to compose yourself, trying to stop the doubts in your mind as you had to do this. You couldn’t let this drag on anymore, you couldn’t.

“Wanda, I…” you trail off, building the courage to say what you felt but struggling to put it into words, a gnawing thought at the back of your mind begging you to tell her nothing was wrong, to carry on pretending.

Her intense green observed you with concern and apprehension at your vulnerable state, her heart rate increasing with every passing second as you tried to find the right words, the excitement and joy swiftly draining from her face as you finally continued, the words slicing straight through her chest.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you manage out, not hiding the pain in your voice as you spoke in such a raw tone, the worry that was brewing within her now flooding through her veins, her body almost flinching away from you at your words, moving to stand opposite you with anguish clear in her expressive gaze.

“What?” She whispered out, refusing to truly comprehend your words as you looked at her, your usually bright and playful eyes staring back at her despondently, acting as though the world around you had lost all its colour.

“I can’t do this anymore, I can’t be a dirty secret, I want to call it off,” your words cut deep and you know they do, your face showing your sorrow for hurting her as she lets out a breathless laugh, trying to stop the tears threatening to spill down her cheeks, her lower lip trembling at the pain radiating in her chest, her heart bleeding anguish into her veins.

Her head turns away from you, desperately trying to keep her emotions in check, the sight of you only further cracking her heart as her eyes glossed over completely, the tears flowing down her cheeks as she couldn’t stop herself, it hurt too much.

“Why?” she croaks out, hesitantly letting her gaze meet yours, an overwhelming feeling of despair drowning her as she looks into your equally broken eyes.

“You know why,” you murmur out, trying to keep your voice soft as you still wanted to comfort her, to soothe her pain. You were desperate to pull her into your arms, to hold her close and let her face seek safety at the crook of your neck, to press your lips to the top of her head and whisper tender words to her but you couldn’t. You were the reason she was crying and it tore you apart. It wasn’t fair, none of this was fair.

“I…” Wanda couldn’t find the words to argue back, to say she didn’t know because she did. She knew that you had changed after you lied to her, she knew that you loved her but she refused to accept it. You couldn’t truly love her, it was wrong. She couldn’t let herself be loved by you, by a woman. She refused to make this real, she was unable to let the bubble the two of you created burst and let reality crash down on her. Why couldn’t you just continue to pretend? She wanted everything to go back to the way it was, she didn’t want this. She didn’t want to lose you, but she couldn’t admit the truth.

“I love you Wanda, I always have,” you whisper, your words laced with honesty and all the emotions you felt towards her, your tone so soft and tender that it causes a stray tear to slip from her eyes at how she wished she could let herself be loved by you, that she wasn’t taught this was shameful all her life. The hope and desire was brutally clawed away as soon as it came, the brunette powerless to the merciless grip her traditional mindset had on her, teachings from her childhood ringing around in her head as she forced herself to stop the feeling.

“No, you can’t, you can’t love me,” she chokes out, struggling to stop the lump in her throat from affecting her voice, desperate to sound composed and not as though anxiety and insecurities gnawed away at her sanity. “It’s wrong,” she sighs out, nausea bubbling inside her at the way your face drops at her words, the way you can tell she’s trying her best to use her denial to shield her pain.

“It’s not wrong,” you sigh out, taking a step closer to her, hands naturally reaching out to hold hers, letting your thumb brush over the back of hers tenderly before she pulls away from you, using her hands to wipe away the tears lingering on her cheeks. “It’s not, I promise you it’s not,” your words only further torment her, the ache in her chest constant as she wants to believe you, she really does but she can't. She won’t. “I know it’s hard to accept that you’re-” You try, but she cuts you off.

“Don’t,” she grits out, tone raising, a sudden harshness lacing her words as you furrow your brows at her, shocked at the disgust corrupting her green. “Don’t say it, don't make me say it, I’m not like that,” she mutters, pain underlying her words as your face grows sympathetic, unsure of how to help her. You just wanted her to stop running away from the feeling, to keep making excuses or giving stupid reasons as to why she couldn’t accept herself. There was nothing to be ashamed of. Why couldn’t she see that?

“Wanda-”

“No,” she doesn’t even let you disagree, leaving no room for argument as you sigh, lowering your gaze to the floor, trying to collect your thoughts. You knew she wasn’t going to admit to herself she was into women, and you weren’t going to force her to accept herself, but you needed to know if she ever loved you back or if this was really just casual. It couldn’t have been, couldit?

“I won’t make you say it,” you murmur out, keeping your gaze locked on hers, losing yourself in her green whilst you build the courage to ask her. You were scared of the answer, none of the possibilities your mind could come up with were good, but you had to know. Your mind would drive you insane if you didn’t. “But Wanda, I need to know, did you ever feel the same?” Your voice wavers as you ask her, a cold fear underlying your words as it spreads throughout your body, anxious thoughts trapping your mind as you were terrified to know how she felt.

Hesitation is evident on her face as she looks at you, clearly conflicted on what to say as you longingly look at her, heart pounding wildly against your chest as you wait for her to speak, the silence deafening as her mouth opens and closes, lost for words.

“Please be honest,” you murmur out in a pleading tone, not hiding the fear that consumed your body, “Did you love me?”

“No,” she croaks out, meeting your gaze before looking away, nausea making her head spin as she utters the word, her trembling hands moving up to her face to stop the sob that wanted to force its way out of her.

The pain that you had felt previously felt like a mere prick to your heart compared to the sheer agony that ripped its way through your body, her words leaving a scar on your heart that you’d forever carry with you. It hurt, fuck, it hurt so much, but not because she said she didn’t love you, no, her words destroyed you because she looked you right in the eyes and lied to your face. You could see it in the green you loved so much, you’d spent enough time with her to know how to read her, to tell when she was telling you the truth and she wasn’t.

A scoff left you at what she managed out, the sound turning into a breathless laugh to stop yourself from breaking down, your hands roughly wiping your cheeks as you avoided her gaze, an onslaught of anger gripping your heart. You wanted to scream at her with everything you could, to confront her and call her out but you didn’t have it in you. You wanted to hate her, to resent her and tell her here how you never wanted to see her again, but the words refused to leave your mouth. Despite everything, you didn’t want her to hate you. You didn’t want to lash out at her and make her think of you like that. You weren’t like that.

Pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing deeply, you tried your best to compose yourself before saying anything, your gaze catching a glimpse of her distraught green and only reminding you of the pain that slashed through you moments ago, your eyes squeezing shut in hopes that the pain would simply vanish and let you collect your thoughts.

“Good luck, Wanda,” you manage out of a few more deep breaths, your tone attempting to be soft but still containing a hint of sarcasm and irritation as you look at her, gaze softening as you take in her watery green.

Wanda’s brows furrowed at your words, at the tenderness she could sense in your voice, her mind lost to a sea of confusion. Why weren’t you shouting at her? Why didn’t you hate her? You should hate her. Her mind begged you to stop being kind to her now, your always caring self emerging when it shouldn’t. She didn’t want you to be loving and caring now, she needed you to hate her to make things easier, she needed you to stop.

“I hope he makes you happy, I really do,” you continue, each word pushing the knife further and further into her heart as well as yours, the fact that there was a hint of truth in your words twisting the blade as you partly meant them. You only ever wanted her to be happy, even if it meant she was with someone else.

“Y/n…” She tries but nothing follows the whisper of your name, your trembling lips pulling up into a soft smile as best you could.

“Don’t,” you murmur softly, stopping her from trying to prevent you from saying what you needed to. “I just hope you know you can’t run away from…this forever,” you whisper, stepping closer to her as you build up the courage to say goodbye to her, your hand hesitantly moving to cup her cheek, the brunette naturally leaning into your touch, trying to savour the little comfort it offered.

When your eyes met, a whirlwind of emotions crashed through you both as you got lost in each other's eyes, trying to prolong the impending farewell as you didn’t want to lose one another. You tried to memorise each swirl of green that you fell for, her eyes searching yours to let the comfort you provided engrave itself in her mind, knowing she’d need an escape from reality.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to her forehead, a kiss goodbye as you lingered there, a shaky breath falling from your lips before you whisper one last thing to her.

“I’m sorry for loving you,” you apologise softly, never having wanted to hurt her with your feelings, your words the tipping point for her as the sob finally leaves her lips, her hands reaching out for your body subconsciously, needing your comfort but stopping as you pull away from her, her body paralyzed by the heartbreak consuming her. “Goodbye Wanda,” your voice is barely above a whisper as the words escape you, your eyes refusing to look at her, not needing a painful memory to haunt your mind as you step away from her body.

Wanda could only watch through her blurred vision as you walked away from her, the ache in her chest increasing with every step you took, amplifying the loneliness she felt as you left her alone to pick up the pieces of her broken heart. 

[hunnylagoon]

Birthday Girl

A/N This is my first tumblr fic. I’m a retired Wattpad warrior, I only wrote this bc the Ellie tag is over diluted by smut, we need some angst and fluff to balance it out. My credentials are that I used to write Game of Thrones fanfic and I was blocked by Noah Beck on Twitter. Apologies in advance for any spelling errors or confusing sentences, bc I was high off my ass when I wrote this.

Summary

Jackson’s resident Baker works herself tirelessly to take care of everyone on their birthday and ensure they get something nice to brighten their special day but who is there to take care of her?

Birthdays are like brilliant gems in the kaleidoscope of time; they are the times when life's symphony crescendos into a celebration of its children. As the sun circles the earth once a year, we are given a day to celebrate our own journey, a day that whispers stories of victories, laughter, and the sweet notes of resiliency. You had always loved birthdays, who didn't? The look of joy on someone's face when they open a  gift you spent weeks looking for, the uncontrollable smile and pure serotonin that took over even the grumpiest of people. Everyone had a special day designated to them, of course, it was a cause to celebrate. 

You worked in the town bakery with very few other people, from five am to twelve pm on Monday to Friday every single week you were hustling around in a humid bakery, hell, you ran it like the navy.  Every morning, walking into the bakery is like stepping into a fragrant paradise where time seems to slow down to the sound of ovens buzzing to life. The first two hours were just for you before you let anyone in, The comforting routine of donning a flour-dusted apron and tying back unruly hair precedes the artistry of crafting pastries and breads. The almost therapeutic rhythm of kneading, rolling, and shaping becomes second nature: the soft crack of eggs, the calculated pour of sugar, and the clouds of flour hovering in midair. 

There wasn't much creative freedom while working in the Jackson bakery, it really just consisted of making dozens of bread loaves daily and then carting them over to the 'Barbecue Place' Which was once a restaurant though it had been refashioned into Jackson's mess hall.  However, you were able to dabble in some fun and were able to make cupcakes daily and a large batch of miscellaneous pastries every Friday. The cupcakes were very dear to you, you had to beg Maria when you were thirteen to approve the idea and eventually, you were green-lit.

As you step into the bakery you are greeted by the creek of wooden planks which are a testament to decades of busy activity; the dance of innumerable bakers has worn away at their shiny surfaces. The aroma of baked goods still hovers in the air from the previous day and all the days that came before, taking you to a more peaceful time. Sunlight streams through old lace curtains, illuminating worn, mismatched tables and chairs that have served eager clients for centuries though they no longer serve guests in the bakery. Deeply patinated wooden shelves support a variety of ceramic jars, each containing a treasure trove of hidden ingredients. Fading photos and yellowed newspaper clippings decorate the walls, telling the story of the bakery's illustrious past. There are copper pots and pans strung like time capsules on strong hooks, and an old-fashioned cash register sits on the end of the counter past the empty glass displays, it no longer serves a purpose but you have fought bravely to keep it around as it makes you think of what life had been like before the world fell apart. 

You look at a beat-up calendar on the walls, sitting in the place of an old picture frame that had been knocked down and shattered by none other than yourself when you were fourteen and had the bright idea of having you and your friend toss a bag of flour at each other to see who was strong enough to last longer in the odd game of catch. Surely, Ellie threw the five-pound bag a little too hard, you ducked to save yourself but it smashed into the framed photo of the family who ran the bakery before the apocalypse. It not only was smashed into little fragments but the bag of flour exploded and covered the dining room of the bakery as well as yourself in white powder, it looked like it had snowed inside. The calendar you were checking held the birthday of every person in Jackson, it was messy and hard to read as you usually had to cram several birthdays into a single day which was only a small square, it was hardly legible, there was almost no one else who could read it. Every day when you walked into the bakery, the first thing you did was check the calendar to find out whose birthday it was, then you began your bread dough or carried on with the sourdough started the day before, while the dough rose, you made cake batter, adjusting the recipe according to how many you had to make. After finishing work for the day or sometimes when you were midway through it, you would give each person a cupcake to celebrate their special day.

Even if no one else remembered their birthday, you were always there to make it a little bit better.

Today there were two birthdays on the calendar, Sean Casey, a man who was turning sixty. The second birthday marked down in the little square was yours. 

That's what made that day so special, you were ecstatic to see what your friends had planned for you later. Last year Ellie promised that she would go above and beyond for your next birthday and you were going to hold her to that. There was already a nice start to your morning by having your dad wake you up with breakfast in bed which you found truly impressive as he usually slept in till at least ten, on top of that he had scavenged a stand mixer for the home. You grabbed your apron off of the hook putting it over your neck and tying it tight around your waist. Everyone had a couple of designated aprons to rotate through throughout the week, yours consisted of two plain white ones, a red gingham pattern, one of forest green, and another made of a fabric covered in hyacinth flowers, their colours diluted like paint. Today you wore the apron your father gave you last year on your birthday, it was your favourite colour and the neckline was embroidered to say '(y/n)s kitchen'. You could tell your dad did the embroidery himself, the stitches were loose and uneven in some areas while being extremely tight in others, that's why you loved it so much, it was the thought and care behind it.

With a gentle hand, you pulled each of your necessary ingredients along with equipment out to begin your day. You preheat the ovens and in the quiet pre-dawn hours, the bakery comes alive with the hushed sounds of industrial mixers. The heady scent of freshly milled flour dances in the air as you measure the precise alchemy of ingredients, your hands moving with practiced grace. Kneading the dough becomes repetitive, muscles working in harmony to transform a mound of humble ingredients into a soft elastic texture. As the dough rests and rises, the anticipation builds—the promise of crusty loaves and soft, pillowy interiors. You slipped the pans of dough into the industrial ovens, the heat attacking you the second you opened the door; making sure to place the pumpernickel, rye, sourdough, brioche and wheat loaves all sorted on different racks in the respective ovens.

By the time you put the loaves in ovens it had been two hours from when you began, even with preparation the day before and dough starters, it was a process. You quickly washed your hands before unlocking the door for Juno as well as anyone who wanted to come in to visit. 

The clock read '7:09', because of the passthrough you were still able to look outside via the glass storefront, you could see people walking along the streets heading to whatever job they worked to contribute to the community, no one got paid, it was a commune after all, you couldn't imagine a world where everyone was so dependent on money and so obsessed with over-consumption. Part of you was waiting for one of those people to come in and wish you a happy birthday, but you shook the thoughts from your head.

You began to make the small portion for two of cupcake batter, remembering distinctly how four years ago you sat next to Sean at the Fourth of July party and he went on and on about how much he hated vanilla, it seemed like one of those crazy old man rants but you found delight in it. Never had you seen a man so passionate about cake flavouring. He said vanilla was nothing special, flavourless; you had come to learn that he was a chocolate man, every holiday event filling his pot belly with chocolate, when you had brought assorted sweets for a Christmas party he dove straight for the brownies. So it was easy for you to make up your mind on what flavour of cupcake to make.

After years of this cupcake tradition you had memorized each ratio to make, a double serving of chocolate batter consisting of 1/4 cup of flour, 2 1/2 tablespoons of white sugar, 1 tablespoon of unsweetened cocoa powder, 1/4 tablespoon of baking soda, a dash of salt, 2 tablespoons milk, two tablespoons canola oil, 1/4 tablespoon vanilla extract. You treated baking like it was a science and recipes were your formulas.

As for the frosting, you had a stockpile of plain buttercream that you took small servings from and flavoured according to said person's preference. All you had to do was whip it up and add some cocoa powder to make it fluffy and creamy again.

The bell above the doorway rang, signalling the arrival of someone, you looked up to see Maria. "Hey, there," You smiled, turning off the stand mixer so you could hear her.

"Hi, (y/n)," She greeted and you quickly wiped whatever was on your hands onto your apron before coming around to the service counter to speak with her. "I have something to ask of you."

"Yes?"

"I know you already do your little cupcake thing but we are throwing a surprise party tonight for Sean and I was hoping you could make a cake for him?"

You nod with a smile "Anything for the town chief."

"Great, then how about a simple vanilla cake?"

"Sean doesn't like vanilla," You answered quickly.

"Okay, well I trust you with it, his party starts at eight tonight in the town square and he's turning sixty so it's a big one, I'll see you there around then?" 

"Definitely," You grinned at Maria, waiting for her to wish you a happy birthday and reveal that she was only pretending to forget but she didn't. She thanked you and walked out, leaving you in a flour-covered apron with a tinge of hurt in your heart. It wasn't like you weren't close with Maria, you had Thanksgiving at her house every year.

Nonetheless, it was only a blip in your soon-to-be perfect day. Just as you had frosted the two cupcakes, putting chocolate chips on Sean's and breaking half of a double fudge cookie and sticking it into the thick icing. Rainbow sprinkles cascade like confetti, adding a whimsical touch to the miniature confection. The bell rang again calling for your attention, this time you didn't leave the kitchen instead just moved to look at whoever it was by the passthrough.

"Hey, kiddo!" Tommy greeted, clad in a red flannel tucked into blue jeans. He walked into the bakery as comfortably as he would his home.

"Howdy, Tommy," You said, moving out of his sight for a quick moment to put the two cupcakes in the fridge to prevent the buttercream from prematurely melting. 

"So, it's Sean's birthday today and I was wondering if you could bake a cake for his party-

"Maria was already in," You answered "Don't worry, I'm on it."

He smiled "Of course, you're always so on top of it," He leaned over the counter slightly, trying to get a look inside the kitchen via the passthrough "Say, have you got anything back there for me?" You opened the box of double fudge cookies you made the day before and scooted around the passthrough to hand him one, boots clattering on the ground. Tommy loved to visit the bakery as you always had a sweet treat for him and he would never get sick of the aromatic embrace of fresh bread. "Thanks, kiddo, I'll see you around." 

This was the moment you were almost convinced that they were planning a surprise party for you, sure Maria could forget about your birthday, she was a busy lady but there was no way Tommy would. He was good buddies with your dad and was over at your place for beers a minimum of once a week. You always baked for him when he came over and he constantly joked about you trying to fatten him up. 

The bell sounded again though you didn't bother to look up, you knew who it was by the time of the clock, Juno was starting her shift. As usual, she tied her mousy brown hair into a sleek ponytail then grabbed her apron and stuck a baseball cap on over her head so there was no chance of her hair coming loose. "Good morning," She walked into the kitchen, heading over to the sink to wash her hands.

"Mornin'," You answer.

She looks you up and down with a slight smile "You're wearing your favourite apron, must be a special day."

“Sure doesn't feel like it."

♡

Your birthday wasn’t panning out great but you didn't want to lose hope.

You had walked over to the greenhouses after your shift to find Sean, he loved the cupcake, he even hugged you which was nice albeit a little odd. You walked through town a bit after you had stopped and talked to everyone on the street for not a single one to say the words you've been pleading to hear all day. Taking it as defeat, you grabbed a sandwich for lunch from the mess hall and began the desolate walk home.

Nestled at the end of a peaceful, tree-lined street, the charming but battered house had a certain charm that cut through its worn yellow exterior. Tentacles of ivy wrapped about the crumbling outside walls, their green tones infusing the dilapidated building with a hint of the natural world's tenacity. The worn-out yet friendly doormat and weathered rocking chair on the porch told of years spent taking in the changing of the seasons. The wooden frames of the windows, adorned with faded drapes that seen innumerable sunsets, spoke tales of laughter and time passed.

The house's coziness unfolded inside like a time capsule, with worn-out rugs covering creaky floorboards and a fireplace in the living room that was adorned with vintage tiles that were mismatched and provided warmth in more ways than one. The rooms had a lived-in comfort despite the peeling wallpaper and chipped paint, and each mismatched piece of furniture seemed to tell a story of its own. Despite being tatty and ragged around the edges, the house exuded a calmness that invited guests to enjoy the beauty concealed in the flaws of a place that had aged gracefully and with character like most homes in Jackson. The living room was always your favourite, there was a spruce bookshelf pushed behind the gray, L-shaped couch, and the rug was once a maroon colour though it's clear that it's been well-loved over the years. Pillows and throw blankets were carelessly scattered over the couch from when you and your dad had watched '21 Jumpstreet' the night before, he kept saying it was a shame the outbreak happened before they got to make a second one, though many of the jokes didn't land with you, you loved to see your dad laugh so hard he snorted. The room was illuminated by a warm glow from the fairy lights overhead that your dad scavenged years prior, a small stack of books piled up on the coffee table which had been hand-crafted by Joel.

You popped 'Mean Girls' into the DVD player, just to have some background noise and went to the kitchen and started on Sean's cake. As much as you loved the bakery, you wanted to be somewhere a little more close to comfort. 

As you measured each ingredient with care, you couldn't shake the bittersweet feeling that lingered in the air. Sifting the ingredients into the bowl, you had wished your father was home from patrol duty, all you really wanted was a hug but instead, you slaved away at a black forest complete with layers of moist sponge, decadent frosting, and a profusion of vibrant decorations.

As you delicately frosted the cake, your mind flitted between thoughts of the celebration and the poignant fact that everyone seemed to have overlooked your own special day. The kitchen, usually a sanctuary for you to escape to, now harboured the weight of unspoken emotions. Your heart, though excited for Sean to get a nice surprise on his Birthday, held an unnoticed longing for acknowledgment.

The aroma of the baking cake filled the kitchen, mingling with the scent of disappointment that you couldn't quite shake.

As the cake took shape, you couldn't help but think back to the calendar at the bakery, where the date circled in red seemed to mock you. Your own birthday, usually a day filled with surprises and the warmth of laughter, had slipped through the cracks of everyone's awareness. Though the night was still young and Ellie had said that she was planning something incredible.

Finally, nine was about to roll around, you changed into some clean clothes that hadn't yet carried the memories of your disappointing day, just a white top and some jeans. The sun had set, and your dad wouldn't be home for a good while so you walked over to the town square alone. 

There was a table full of food and a long banner that read 'Happy Birthday Sean!' strung between two street lamps. There were twinkling fairy lights illuminating what would have otherwise been a dark night. 

"There she is!" Tommy smiled, doing that awkward little dad jog over you. "Wow, that cake looks incredible, mind if I take it off your hands?"

"Go ahead," You held out the cakeboard. Tommy gingerly took it away from your grasp, his forearm underneath to support and his other hand held the side of the board for balance.

"I owe ya' kiddo," He winked before taking the cake away to show a group of adults.

You stood around awkwardly for a moment, unsure of what to do with yourself.  You turned your attention to the moon, wanting to believe that it shined so very bright just for you, because the moon, unlike everyone else recalled how important this day was to you-

"SURPRISE!" Everyone erupted in cheers as Sean walked up to his party, his daughter had her arm linked with his. He had the biggest smile on his face it almost made you forgive everyone for forgetting because at least Sean got something thoughtful.

"Lord, I was thinking everyone forgot my birthday!" Sean laughed, pulling Tommy in for a hug.

"(y/n)!" Dina yelled, you turned your head to follow her voice. She was sitting at a long picnic table beneath an awning with some friends "Over here," She motioned for you to sit down and you obliged, taking a spot between Ellie and Laila. "What have you been up to? I feel like I haven't seen you all day."

"That's because you haven't," You said with an awkward smile. "I've just been baking, like always."

"You're always working so hard, I swear you live in that bakery and when you aren't in there your busy busting your ass around town to make sure everyone gets something on their birthday," Dina sat across from you and put a hand onto yours "You look out for everyone, but who's looking out for you?"

"My dad?" You glance at Ellie who isn't tuned into the conversation in the slightest, she has her arms crossed in front of her on the table and her head resting on them. 

"Aw, that's sweet-" Kayla moves to look at you but in doing so, she spills a glass of juice onto you. "I'm so sorry," She slaps one hand over her mouth, her eyebrows furrowing. Kayla stood up from the table, her ginger curls rustling with the breeze "I'll get a cloth or something-

"Don't worry about it," I wave her off "It's just clothes, I'll grab some napkins." You push yourself away from the table, walking over to the table adorned with food, you see a small stack of Christmas themed napkins (it must've been hard for them to come by regular ones) and grab a handful, bunching them up in your hand in an attempt to soak up some of the juice that had already indefinitely stained your clothes. 

You feel some eyes on you from the other side of the table, to look up and see Joel, he doesn't say anything though his lips are pressed together tight.

"You're back," You say, a spark of happiness rekindling inside of you "So my dad's back from patrol too?"

Joel nods "Too tuckered to come out, said he was just heading home," He uses tongs to put a couple cuts of chicken onto his plate "Oh and happy birthday, you've probably heard that a whole bunch already, lord, it's all your old man would talk about on our last couple of patrols."

"What did you say?" You look at him with furrowed eyebrows, unsure if he said what you really thought.

"I said happy birthday, shame you've stained your clothes on your birthday," He absentmindedly added some mashed potatoes onto his plate. The words hung in the air, a moment that transcended the boundaries of their usual exchanges. You, momentarily taken aback, met Joel's gaze. It was a simple, earnest wish, uttered with the spontaneity of someone who had remembered a small yet significant detail in the whirlwind of festivity.

"Thank you, Joel," You replied, your voice carrying a mix of surprise and gratitude. In that fleeting instant, the isolation that had surrounded her seemed to dissipate. A connection, however tenuous, had been forged in the acknowledgment of her existence amidst the collective celebration.

"No problem, kid, I'll see you around," He left with his plate leaving you to stand alone at the table. You continued to dab at the juice on your white top, and though you knew it wouldn't come out you proceeded to rub it; the best exchange of your day, no more than eight sentences suddenly turned from joy to frustration. The only two people who remembered your birthday were your dad and a fiftey-eight-year-old man who practically raised the girl you had spent years crushing on, not the girl herself, but her father figure. However, you thought, maybe if Joel remembered, Ellie had aswell and she actually did have something planned.

Amidst the lively chatter and laughter that reverberated through the night, you stood in the midst of flickering candles and colourful decorations, your eyes cast down to the ground. The atmosphere of celebration enveloped her, but a palpable sense of solitude hung in the air like a heavy mist settling upon your shoulders. It was a birthday party, yes, but not your own. Forgotten and overlooked, your heart echoed with a quiet ache, the irony of your situation casting a shadow over the festive scene.

The square was adorned with streamers and balloons, a tapestry of colours that seemed to dance in rhythm with the joyful voices around her. The community gathered, their faces lit by the warm glow of the fairy lights and street lamps, each one caught up in the merriment of the moment. Yet, for you, the celebration felt like a distant spectacle, a scene from which you were detached.

It was your birthday too—a fact that no one cared enough to recall. As Darla (Sean's daughter)  calls guests toward a decadent cake adorned with candles, which you had made, you couldn't escape the bitter irony of the situation. You watched as the room erupted into a chorus of "Happy Birthday," the song meant for another soul, another moment of joy. You joined in, lips forming the familiar words, your voice harmonizing with the collective melody. But within the depths of your being, the celebration rang hollow, a stark contrast to the cheer that echoed around you.

Throughout the evening, you navigated the party with a forced smile, concealing the invisible weight of your emotions. Conversations buzzed like bees in your ears, no- it grated like a fork in a blender, but you found yourself on the outskirts—a silent observer amidst the numerous connections. The laughter that erupted like fireworks, the clinking of glasses, the embraces of old friends—it all seemed distant, an echo from another realm where she once belonged.

The party unfolded as a series of snapshots: a group photo with smiling faces, a toast to Sean, and the opening of gifts that weren't meant for you. Each moment, though vibrant and filled with the warmth of shared camaraderie, magnified the silence that enveloped your own celebration, forgotten and left to dissolve into the shadows.

As the night carried out, seeming like the celebration would never cease, you cut yourself a slice of cake, grabbing one of the half-melted candles that Sean had already blown out, they sat in a frosting-covered pile next to the cake. You took your favourite colour out of the rainbow assortment of candles and stuck it into the piece of black forest cake.

With your cake you sat back down by Ellie at the picnic table where she still returned to after conversing, everyone else had gotten up to dance. You reached for the lighter in your pocket and struck it to ignite, sparks flickered around the end of it, you struck it again and a flame arose, you carefully brought it to the wick of the partially melted candle.

The flickering flame cast a subtle glow as you made a silent wish for understanding, for the beauty found in selflessness, and for the recognition that sometimes the most meaningful celebrations are the ones we craft for others, even in the quiet echoes of our own unacknowledged birthdays. Ellie turned to look at you as the candle's flame danced in the darkness, before you could blow out the candle to solidify your wish a little girl climbed up onto the bench and blew it out, you looked at her and all she did was smile up at you, the gap in her teeth prominent, her deep chocolate hair braided so intricately you had to believe that it must've taken her mother hours.

As much as you wanted to deck that little girl in the face for ruining your moment, you didn't because it would be wildly inappropriate. "Do you want this?" You sighed, holding out the plate to the girl, she smiled and nodded enthusiastically, taking the cake and scattering away "Hey, Ellie," You pushed back tears in your eyes, forcing a smile on your face "Got any plans later?"

“Yeah," She said, short

"Oh, what are they?"

"Not to sound like a cunt but I'm not really in the mood to talk, I had a shit patrol and all I want to do is go home, smoke a joint, watch a movie, maybe read a comic, and pass out on my couch, the only reason I'm here is that Dina dragged me out and Joel said I need to be more involved in the community."

Your smile dropped, you couldn't hold it in anymore, realizing that this wasn't the elaborate setup of a surprise party but Ellie genuinely forgot it was your birthday. "Are you serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Do you know what day it is?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you remember what's happening today?"

"It's Sean's birthday," She gestured to the party around her.

"You're fucking serious," Any amusement that had been in your tone was gone, replaced by a subtle anger boiling up inside of you

"Are you going to cry?" Ellie gave you a weird look "What are you so mad about?"

"I can't believe you," You laugh bitterly "Actually I can, this is so like you, I need to stop building it up in my head that you're going to surprise me with something great. But hey, at least you never fail to let me down."

"Jesus," She scoffed "There's always something going on with you, can you go one day without finding some irrational reason to be upset?"

"Irrational?"

"Yeah, irrational," She reiterated "You always come to me when something sets you off in the slightest then your problem becomes everyone else's. You're so fucking draining and I'm sick of it."

"Fuck you, I hope your comic catches fire from your joint and you burn your place down." You stand up from the bench, wiping tears away from your eyes. Your boots clattered against the cobblestone. You stormed past the dancers, some stopping to look at one another with concern. Dina leaves Jesse to ask Ellie what happened.

The walk home might've been the loneliest you had felt in your life, the harsh wind of the night bit at your nose. The feeling of the sticky juice soaking through your clothing was borderline unbearable, were just about ready to scream. There wasn't a single person out and about as everyone was either at the party or cozied up in their own homes.

Arriving at your doorstep, you fumbled with the handle, the metallic clink resonating in the quietude that enveloped the house. The door swung open, revealing the dimly lit foyer, still no surprise. Why do you still think there is going to be a party? No one is coming.

You wandered into the living room, the TV was lit with the options screen for 'Mean Girls' that you had put on hours earlier.

Sinking into the worn-out couch, You let the weight of the day wash over you. A single tear welled in your eye, and as it escaped, a floodgate of unshed sorrow burst open. The first teardrop traced a silent path down your cheek, leaving a glistening trail of heartache in its wake.

The tears you cried weren't silent and dainty but violent sobs that burned your throat each time you cried out. As you wept, it felt like someone had stabbed your gut with a thousand needles, you cried and cried, to no one in particular, maybe the moon glistening outside the window though the moon seemed to absorb your tears, offering no solace in return.

The soft tick of the clock on the wall echoed in the quiet room, marking the strike of midnight, your birthday had ended. There was no secret party or a prank where everyone was only playing an act, only the emptiness of the house echoed the howls soaked in your tears.

The oak staircase creaked, and your dad turned the corner, peering into the living room. "What's wrong, honey,?" He shook the sleep from his mind, focusing on what was important, he sat next to you on the sofa. "I thought you said you were going to be out all night with your friends?"

You shook your head, breathing shaky breaths alone, hardly able to get a word out "They forgot," You felt the harsh sting of desolation hit you all over again "Everyone forgot," You grabbed his grey t-shirt burying your face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling you gently like you were a child who had just scraped her knee not someone who had just turned nineteen, "Except for Joel, so be nice to him, please."

"I'm sorry, baby, it was probably just a mix-up," He rubbed one hand on your back to comfort you. "I should've been there with you, I'm so sorry."

You couldn't get the words out of your mouth, all you could manage was to shake in your father's arms with sobs until you cried yourself to sleep.

♡

"Happy birthday, Jasmine!" You smile brightly, presenting a lemon-raspberry cupcake to the woman. She was serving breakfast in the mess hall, the early morning light streaming through the many windows, blinding those trying to enjoy their meals.

"Aw, thank you, love" She took the cupcake "That's real sweet," She wore a hairnet, despite having short cropped hair. "I just realized I don't even know when your birthday is."

"It was yesterday, actually."

"Aww, how was it?" Jasmine smiled, her white teeth contrasting with her dark skin.

"It was nice, it was quiet too, I just spent it by myself."

A frown replaced Jasmine's smile and she lowered her tone "Did your friends drop the ball?"

You wave off her question "Oh no, loads of people remembered, I just wanted some time to myself, it was nice."

You could tell Jasmine didn't wholeheartedly believe you, she was at Sean's party last night and saw you rush out with tears building in your eyes "If you say so," She shrugged, taking a bite of her cupcake "This is really good."

"Thanks," A small smile plays on your lips.

"God bless you, sweetheart, you deserve the best." She said, every bit of truth behind her words. She took another bite of the cupcake, savouring the sweet and sour taste "And I mean that."

You were too caught up in conversation to notice Jesse ahead of you in the service line right away, he grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser, trying to play cool and not have your attention drawn to him. With a shaky hand, he put the glass on his tray and hurried over to the table where Ellie was eating with Dina. "Guys, something not that great just happened."

Ellie furrowed her eyebrows looking from Dina to Jesse "What?" She asked through a mouthful of scrambled eggs, she swallowed them down and spoke back up "Please tell us what terrible thing has happened in the time it took you to walk to the service line, get your food and come back?" Sarcasm dripped from her voice.

"We forgot (y/n)'s birthday," He said quickly, Ellie and Dina looked at each other with wide eyes, thinking back to the night before and the way they had both behaved. Dina was extremely ignorant and Ellie got into an argument with you, though Jesse didn't speak to you at all.

"We're awful friends," Dina says quietly, scraping her mind for any way they could salvage the situation and play it off like they hadn't forgotten. "We could change all of the calendars in town and make it seem like her birthday is actually today."

"Be serious, Dina," Jesse said, though he was considering her idea. "I think the only way we can fix this is by making it up to her."

"How would we do that? We can't make it up to her, she remembers every single person's birthday in this town and gives them a cupcake, even people she doesn't like, do you remember how she planned all of our birthday parties for the last four years and has never let us down?" Dina and Jesse nodded "And how we always scramble something together last minute? Like last year, we only remembered two days before and we threw her a subpar movie night, we watched Star Wars and she doesn't even like Star Wars."

Dina sucked air through her teeth "Yeah, not our best moment."

"You think?" Jesse asked, sarcastically. "And Ellie didn't make it any better by yelling at her yesterday!"

"You yelled at her? You told me you didn't yell at her,"  Dina whipped her head to look at Ellie, the smallest glimpse of judgment in her eyes. "Shh, she's coming!"

You were making your way to the exit lugging the cart that had held loaves of bread on it before you dropped them off to the kitchen, still in your flour-covered apron, hair pinned up messy, baby hairs flying away. Clad in jeans, a green T-shirt and beaten-up boots, clacking against the hardwood floor, you still looked beautiful to Ellie with red eyes and a puffy face from crying all night. "Watch this," Jesse murmured to the group before turning around and flagging you down. "Hey (y/n)!" He smiled brightly, his words catching your attention "Did you enjoy your birthday, yesterday?"

"Jesse, I know you heard me talking to Jasmine." You said and Ellie couldn't bear the disappointed look on your face. At that moment, the guilt hit her all at once. You had been the first kid her age that she warmed up to when she arrived in Jackson, trying your best to include her in everything. You invited her to hang out with your friends even though she didn't particularly get along with them, she went anyway because she just wanted to see you. On her birthday the previous year, you had scoped out an old comic store hours away just to bring her there for one day.

Jesse's smile fell and you had walked out the door before he had the chance to push a lie through his teeth. Last night's conversation echoed through Ellie's head over and over again, she cringed at the memory, god, why did she even say that?

Dina reached over the table and gave Ellie a harsh smack on the arm "Why did you even say that?!" 

"Ow," She flinched, rubbing the spot that had been assaulted by Dina "What are you talking about?"

Dina looked at Ellie like she was just about ready to scream "What you said to her last night, what was going through your head?"

"Not much, apparently," Jesse answered for her, earning a death glare from the Auburn girl.

"I'll just apologize and it'll be water under the bridge," Ellie said, leaning back.

"That's not going to work," Dina replied quickly.

It, in fact, did not work. Ellie had shown up at the bakery where you promptly ignored her. "(y/n), I'm really sorry I forgot your birthday and said those things to you." Nothing Ellie said could get you to even look at her.

She had later stopped by your house, it was your dad who answered the door and Ellie sheepishly asked if you were home. He called for you to come down, the moment you saw Ellie, you shut the door in her face. There was no way she could defend herself, she couldn't say that she said those things because she had a bad day (even though she did), and that would just make her seem pathetic. She really wanted to say that she was scared of how much she liked you, she didn't want to ruin a good thing, you both had spent years playing the role of each other's best friend until Ellie started to distance herself from you and you ended up enwrapping yourself with work to distract yourself from the fact that she was drifting away.

Ellie didn't know what to do, if she didn't act fast, it would be too late and she was going to lose you.

♡

One week later

The sun was just beginning to set as you were already preparing to settle into bed and read a book, just about to change out of your floor-length sundress and into one of your dad's old shirts. However, your plans were interrupted when you heard your dad screaming downstairs, it was blood-curdling. You dropped everything, pulling your bedroom door open and rushing down the stairs, tripping on a step and stumbling before quickly regaining balance and moving with haste "Dad?" You called out, worry running through your head. 

"SURPRISE!" People practically screeched, the volume so loud that you jolted back in fear. The chatter only grew as you looked around you and realized what was happening, this was your belated birthday party. 

You were pulled in suddenly for a hug, squeezing you so tight you thought your eyes would pop out of your skull was Tommy "I'm so sorry, kiddo, I was being a real shithead on your birthday."

"It's okay," You choked out, nearly gasping for air. Much to your relief, he released you and you took a deep breath.

"Happy belated birthday!" Dina sang, placing a fat box in your arms. Many people followed after her, piling gifts on top of the initial one, you were quickly losing balance, so you stumbled into the living room and put the gifts onto the coffee table. There was so much life in the living room it was almost hard to believe that just a week before you had been crying alone, bathed in moonlight. 

There were streamers strung throughout your house and odd dangly decorations that hung from the ceiling. Some balloons were taped to the walls while others bounced around the ground.

The lively hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the melodic strains of birthday wishes filled the room as the party pulsated with energy. Colourful decorations adorned the walls, and the air was charged with the festive spirit.

 You had the biggest smile on your face while everyone joked and jeered. Shoving their gifts into your face, trying to get you to open them first. It had made you forget about how awful your real birthday was, though you did try to dodge awkward apologies of people fumbling over their own words to make up excuses as to why they missed your real birthday.

"Happy birthday to you-" A voice began singing, and soon enough the entire crowd joined in, harmonizing into an off-key rendition of the birthday song. They made way for the person carrying the cake which had been none other than Ellie herself. The song ended off and Ellie placed the cake in front of you on the coffee table. "Make a wish."

You blew out all of the candles, and no punchable little girl around to steal your thunder, the room erupted into applause. The celebration continued with the living room becoming a dance floor, laughter echoing through the corridors, and conversations flowing freely. The cake itself reminded you of the embroidery your dad had done on your apron, it was sloppy and imperfect but you could tell it was made with love, the icing had been put on prematurely and had partially melted off the cake. It read 'Happy birthday' with 'Sorry for being a dick' written smaller beneath the first bit of text.

"Thank you, Ellie," You smiled softly up at her.

No one else was paying attention to you anymore, aside from those who wanted a slice of cake. Ellie nervously fumbled around with her hands "Do you want to dance?"

Ellie invited you to dance as the opening notes of the song floated through the air and she held out her hand. With a gentle smile, you accepted and you moved into the middle of the living room to form a makeshift dance floor. The soft aroma of fresh flowers blended with the scent of vanilla candles created an ambiance that enhanced the moment's sensory magic.

To the gentle beat of the song, your bodies moved in unison. Your hand settled comfortably on Ellie's shoulder, and her hand wrapped around your waist. Your bond transcended the material in the living room dance, an unspoken language of mutual feelings and unknown depths.

You both danced, recklessly, so much so that you were nearly a hazard for the swaying couples drifting around you, moving faster and not hurriedly as the tempo picked up. With each step, the living room's walls became silent witnesses to a romance that was developing on the plush carpet under their feet. The muted rustle of your clothing and the melodic notes of the music were all that could be heard to your ears.

The two of you took great pleasure in the dance's exuberance, laughing at the imperfect nature of it. In the noise of the living room, your eyes, locked in a dance of their own, spoke volumes. You were embraced by the dim lighting's vulnerability, which freed you from the burdens of the outside world to fully enjoy the moment. 

Ellie guided you in a soft spin as the song went on, your moves were not fluid and elegant but Ellie could've sworn that looking into your eyes made it feel like there was liquid sunlight coursing through your veins

You and Ellie drew closer in the song's last moments, your bodies pressed together in an embrace that went beyond the material. As the last notes of the music faded, they held each other for an extra moment, relishing the warmth that they shared and the unspoken promises that danced between them. You wished that you could've stayed in Ellie's strong embrace for centuries.

You let go of Ellie, taking a step back with a smile, "Why didn't you tell me you were such a good dancer?" You tease, almost out of breath.

"I didn't know I was," She grinned, taking the sight of you in. Your cheeks were flushed and your hair had become messy, she thought you to be beautiful all the same, if not more. Her eyes raked over your body, your floor-length sundress and mismatched socks "And here I was thinking it was too late for sundresses."

"It's never too late, Ellie."

[yaut-jaknowit]

So just finished the wonderful work that is Baby sister and I am here to request a part two of sorts

Was thinking that perhaps before the reader could choose to do a natural birth or not, the readers body chooses for her (probs early) Unfortunately when this process starts while Gawtin is away and by the time she gets there, the pup isnearly born. Gawtin helps deliver the pup and at the end of it all it turns out fine, maybe a few close calls but the both of them get to enjoy this new bundle of joy

- 🥤

Baby Sister Part 2

Pairing: Gawtin x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: semi-descriptive birth (I think that's all...)

Word Count: 6807 (Twevle. Fucking. Pages)

Summary: The pregnancy conitnues one like normal. Or as normal as it can be when it comes to be pregnant with a hybrid. Worries and concerns of the future cloud your vision. While relaxing, you beg for Gawtin to get some of your favorite fruit you were. Oh, how you were going to regret sending her away. Only Qui'oky was at your side.

Author Note: People may wonder why it takes me so long to get to an ask or wrist something... It's because I don't know when to stop. Clearly, I hate myself when I write so damn much. Towards the end, I did slightly rush. Sorry about that but after twelve pages, I just wanted it done. ;(

Part 1

Masterlist

Ao3

Months go on by with little trouble. One you’re more than thankful for. This pregnancy was your first and your last. Nothing could go wrong. Not with a hybrid that no one knew was possible let alone to safe to carry all the way to term. Yet, you believed this was on last gift from Bgwil. One last parting gift before he had joined Cetanu. Paya allowed for this miracle to form.

When Gawtin had helped you with… your problem, that had opened up a pandora’s box. The steady ground you once stood upon cracked underneath your feet. You didn’t know where you stood with Gawtin. Whether this was mutual between two people grieving or if this was true. Did she actually want you?

Surely that night, it felt like it. Since then, you’ve allowed her access to whenever your breasts. They’ve never once felt sore afterwards.

Fourta was a little confused you were producing such a quantity earlier than usual than a human would. Her research had brought nothing to a conclusion officially. Of course, the head medic had theories and ideas. Mainly the fact your belly has grown bigger than the average human. She swore there had to be two babies but the ultrasound brought up nothing. Only one large baby who sat very low. A baby girl.

Her best guess was your body knew the baby was large needed more nutrients. A good sign. Fourta was happy to see this. She had created a serum to boost any nutrients or vitamins you needed. Despite your rocky start with her, you were warming up to the medic. Her main goal was to keep both you and your safe all the way through your pregnancy and even past birth.

This type of kindness you weren’t used to amongst other Yautjas. They are brutal as a species. Hunters, through and through. Fourta was meant to be a medic.

Your hand subconsciously rubbed at your belly was sitting out on the porch. The thatch overhang protected you from the harsh suns that beat down upon Yautja Prime. Added protection against the harsh rays were needed if you stepped out of the house. With the baby, you only seemed to grow more sensitive against their suns.

Gawtin had to buy you UV protective clothing with the use of sun screen. Even then, you still stay under the protection of a tree or awning. Or else, you’ll come home with redden skin. Yet, your body craved to be outside and enjoy the constant fresh air that their wild jungles brought. An open window wasn’t enough. No matter what Gawtin attempted to argue you with about.

Today was no different. The shiny, reflective cream had been slathered head to toe all over your skin. A floppy hat sat upon your head, adding an extra cover. The heat was at an all time today. That left you with a pair of shorts and a tank top. Well, it was more of a crop top since you hadn’t expected your stomach to grow so large. The hem barely even touch the middle of your belly.

A book was in your hand. One that Bgiwl had gotten you a while ago. You’ve read from front to cover plenty of times, over and over again. To the point the spine was barely holding the pages together. It wasn’t from mistreatment but a statement of a well-loved book. You are going to frame it after this last read to forever preserve this gift from him. Hopefully, your child will be able to read it herself.

Besides this book, you’ve read your fair share of Yautja pregnancy norms and the culture around it. They carry for about a month and half longer than humans do. A slow grow to ensure strong, capable babies to survive.

That lead you down a rabbit hole of hybrids. On this side of the jungle biome, the clans and tribes are more lax. They aren’t oppose to hybrids but they aren’t the most accepting. They are consider unpure, not a true Yautja. Which means your daughter will have to fight for her place ten times harder than the average Yautja. Her life will be a struggle, yes. As her mother, you will be at her side till the end.

You shook your head to get rid of the dark thoughts attempting to crawl into your mind. It was hard to deny the fear creeping up inside of you. The fact someone could kill her for just being different. This difference doesn’t harm anyone. But, even before she is born, you know she is strong. She has both you and Bgiwl’s blood running through her. Her heart is mighty.

A presences was sensed. Your head whipped around to find Gawtin leaving through the front door. The giant female lumbered over to you. A wide smile spread across your face as you titled your head back. “Good afternoon, Gawtin,” you greeted and set your book off to the side to give her your full attention.

Gawtin chuffed with a short purr and blinked slowly at you. “How are you feeling? Enjoying the outdoors?” That last part was to tease you about fighting her. She should know not to deny a pregnancy person what they want.

One of your brows quirked up but there was a smile on your face. You filled your lungs with the fresh air. “Actually, yes. I am. It’s wonderful to be out here and relax in the heat.” You stuck your tongue out at her.

The Yautja chuckled deeply. “You’re not going to relent, are you?”

Only one of the corners of your smile quirked up higher. “Never.” Your arms crossed. She sighed and let her shoulders drop. “It was a good try though.” She growled with no intentions at that.

An idea hit you though. For how big your belly has gotten, getting out of chairs or bed had become a hassle. That’s why you looked at Gawtin with a pleading look. She grunted at you to spill it. “Well, you know those fruits I’ve fell in love with. Plus the dipping sauce too.”  Gawtin just nodded her head. “I’m out. Could you go to town and get some for me?”

It was yesterday when the last one was consumed by your hunger. That left you in a teary mood that Gawtin attempted to soothe with other snacks. You thought there was a chance to survive a few days without them, but your mind made it impossible.

Her purple eyes narrowed then flickered down to you expanded belly. The Yautja disliked leaving your side for very long. This trip would take up to a day to head into the neighboring town to get what you desired. That was far longer than Gawtin would ever leave you this close to your estimated due date. Her displeased face was something to go by.

“No,” she firmly denied. Your face twisted into a glare. You struggled to sit up higher but succussed in doing so.

“Excuse me? What do you mean no? I need those. I’m not asking much. I’ll be fine too. I can watch over Qui-oky for you as payment.” Not like you had much to your name let alone coins to pay her back for what she spends on you. You craved for those little fruits that you’re about to go out yourself and get some. A very bad idea, specially for you being pregnant.

The other animals that roam this planet aren’t as civil compared to the Yautjas. You being pregnant would only attract danger straight to you. Your scent a beacon that you were easy prey.

“If you don’t want to go, I’ll go myself,” you threatened and acted like you were going to wiggle your way onto your feet. Gawtin stepped closer and crowded you back into the chair.

She bristled, mandibles clicking against one another. “You are to stay here. Where it is safe for you.” She used a hand to keep you pinned to the chair. Then, a sigh escaped her. Her head bowed with defeat. “I relent. I will go get the aqiual and vix for you.”

A massive smile broke across your features. “Yes! Thank you so much,” you cheered and thrusted both of your arms high above your head. “Thank you.” Finally, your craving could be fulfilled after all this time.

Gawtin huffed and stood back up to her full height then pointed directly at the door. “Inside, now,” she demanded and left no room for an argument to build. Not that you could complain. Not while she was going out to the neighboring town to retrieve what you desired. You looked up at the tall female and extended both of your arms out to her. Only one of her arms were required to lift you up and back to your feet. “Inside.” You kept smiling and waddled into the house.

“I cannot believe you have talked me into this. I should not even leave the house let alone our village for this, this quest,” the green Yautja muttered and grumbled to herself. She stomped around while gathering what she needed for the trip. “Not with you so close to your due date. But you look so helpless when you look at me like that. I cannot say no.”

Deep down, a hidden part of yourself felt slightly guilty for pulling the pregnancy card hard. Yet, it had worked in your favor considerably. You were getting those fruits and dipping. Those mixed together were similar to pickles and peanut butter. Not normal to the average person but pregnancy cravings were hitting you hard. You barely keeping it together at the thought of tasting those again.

“I do greatly appreciate this, Gawtin. A lot. I thought I could last until afterwards but alas, I’m only human after all.” You shrugged then rested a hand on your extremely bloated belly. “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I’ll have Qui’oky to watch over me. Such a sweet boy.” Since he wasn’t running a muck through the house, you speculated he was down for a nap.

A pouch was slipped over her head. The green Yautja spun on her heel and marched up to you. Despite a nagging thought in the back of your head demanding you run, you stayed put. There wasn’t not even a chance she would or could harm you.

Her hand cupped your chin. “If anything and I mean anything happens, even the littlest of pains, you call me immediately. Then, call Fourta. I will be back as soon as possible.” Her palm slid down to your neck, coarse finger tips leaving behind a trail of goosebumps. You shuttered when her limb left your skin. “I will be back.”

The repeat of her words felt more for herself than you. You weren’t nervous. All you wanted was those stupid fruits and dipping. That would make your day better tenfold. Then, you would be happy as a clam.

The last thing Gawtin wanted to do was leave your side for more than was deemed safe. Under her mindset. To leave you while towards the end of your term was dangerous. But your demand for a specific craving forced her hand. Gawtin would make this trip the fastest ever known Yautja.

When Gawtin left you to your own devices, you headed back inside. As promised, you made your way into Gawtin’s room where little Qui’oky napped. His small form set upon a small nest of blankets and pelts his mother gotten him. His chest rising and falling in slow breathes. You smiled and leaned against the door. Your ankles were constantly swollen at this point. There was no break from the ache.

This was to be your life soon. Your hand rested on your belly. A little one just around the corner. You were nervous, of course. But, the excitement bubbling inside of you was hard to deny.

After some research, naming the suckling before its birth is bad. You should wait ten days for the name to form. That’s what this side of the jungle does. To name them before their birth or those ten days can mean the child isn’t meant to survive its chiva. Though, as a human, you didn’t fully believe these… ideas or myths, but you aired on the side of caution. You wanted your child to survive. She was all you had left of Bgiwl. Her death may break you.

Since Oky was still napping away, you waddled your way into the kitchen to feast on something to subdue your hunger. At least until Gawtin get’s back. Your mouth salivated at the thought of those delicious fruits and dipping. Call yourself crazy but that combination was the best thing to walk into your life. The looks you get from other Yautja may say other wise. Though, it’s mostly the males. The females understand a pregnancy craving.

You wanted to go back outside but with it being the hottest part of the day, you feel like you’ve sweated enough. Instead, you lumbered back into the bedroom and mindfully lowered yourself into the bed. The nest of pelts was carefully avoided as you maneuvered yourself to curl towards said pile.

The weight of your belly was mostly off of your spine and aching feet. You could mostly breath normal and took in a deep inhale. Gawtin’s overpowering, intoxicating scent filled your scenes. Your eyes closed on themselves.

Similar to a baby, you needed to take a short nap in the middle of the day. Yautja Prime’s hours were longer than earth’s. If you wanted to be up with Gawtin, a short hour nap was all you needed to survive.

When Oky was down for his nap as well, you would come and join him. He slept longer than you. A short time to have cuddle time with him. Thankfully, he wasn’t a fussy kid when he slept. He knocks out and is out for about two hours. Depends on how hard he’s been playing for the day.

The bowl of dried fruit left at the edge of the concave bed. You pulled the lightest blanket over your legs then finally found the perfect position. Then, you were out like a light.

A gasp tore at your throat. You jolted awake and tried to sit up when lightning struck you deep in the belly. A hoarse cry surpassed your lips. You flopped on your back again and clutched the pelts underneath you tightly.

Movement at your side caught your attention. You turned your head to find Qui’oky stirring awake. He squirmed and whined. You whimpered and struggled to sit up again. The pain tried to knock you flat on your back once more but you powered through.

Wetness between your legs had your jaw dropping. No… You lugged up to your knees and looked between them to find the pelts and your pants darkened. Terror seized your feeble heart. Your head spun around to find where the tablet had been left. Gawtin. Needed to call her. Get her back as soon as possible! You couldn’t do this alone. You didn’t want to birth your child alone!

Qui’oky blinked awake and rolled to sit up. Tears streamed down your face as you looked at him. He chirped happily then tilted his head. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake, Oky. I need you to grab the tablet, please.” Your hands lifted to make a writing motion but a strong cramp in your belly had you back on all four. “Fuck!”

It didn’t help your breathing began immediately picking up. Your body shaking.

The small green child wobbled over to you and squeezed your cheeks between his hands. Unfamiliar and baby talk chittered from the toddler. You reached up and held his tiny hand against your cheek harder. “Please, I need the tablet to call your mommy, your bearer.” You prayed to Paya that he understood just a lick of what you wanted from him. “Tablet. Tablet.”

He gave a squeak then clambered out of the concave bed. Hope filled your pounding heart. You used an arm to hug your hurting belly.

Painful cramps worked up the base of your spine. Your toes curling with each one. The sight of the child was lost when you bowed your head and braced for what had to be a contraction. You moved the arm not holding your upper body up to run through the ruins of your bedridden hair. Knots caught on your digits and only frustrated you more.

This… why did this have to be your luck?! The one time you wanted something nice, your plans are ruined by, by your child. Fuck, your child was coming. She was going to make her way into the world today. If she doesn’t kill you on the way out.

Impatience and concern swirled deep in your belly. There wasn’t a second to be wasted. You did your best to ignore the pain and started to crawl out of the bed. Every movement was an uphill battle. Each step forward took a lot out of you. But, you mustered up the strength to get out and crawling towards the open bedroom door.

The pitter-patter of feet stomping their way through the dwelling caught your attention. Your head whipped up to find the stumbling form of Qui’oky making his way towards you. If you weren’t in the amount of pain you were in already, you would’ve cheered outwardly. He came up to and offered the tablet to you with lots of chitters.

“Yes, yes, thank you. God, I love you so much, Oky. I’ll-ow… I’ll tell your mom how much of a good helper you are for me.” You sat down on your calves and took the tablet. The screen lit up, telling the time and day it was. It was quickly dismissed. You moved onto the contacts and instantly tapped on Gawtin’s.

Not even two second later was the call answered. “I’m coming back.” Her voice was airy as she panted.

“Please,” you begged. She instantly knew by the call what it had meant. “Does birthing a child always hurt this much?”

Crunching of leaves and whistling wind sounded from her end. “The first time is always the worst. I will be there. Call Fourta. Let her know I will be there in thirty minutes,” she ordered but left the call open. You silently nodded to yourself, preparing to end the call.

“Okay,” you sniffled and hesitantly ended it. When the quiet of the room flooded back in, you swiftly scrolled through your contacts. Fourta’s was easy to find. You pressed on her contact and listened as it rung.

A couple of rings filled the tense air. “Gawtin,” Fourta’s voice filtered through the speaker. Your hands were shaking badly, trying to hold onto the tablet. Another cramp sent lightning bolts down to your hips. Your gasp echoed back at you. Your name was spoken through the speakers. “Where’s Gawtin? How far along are the contractions?”

“She… she was going to get some food,” you sputtered and had to set down the tablet on the ground. Oky whined and sat down on his haunches to look you in the eye. “I don’t know. It… it hurts a lot. She’s coming back. In thirty minutes.” The green child raised a hand to cup your cheek again. You leaned into the comfort and closed your eyes for a short moment.

On the other end, Fourta cursed with growl. “I told her not to leave you!” You winced and shook your head.

“No, no. It’s my fault. Really. I was in need. Pregnancy cravings. I really, really wanted them.” Stupidly, it was your fault for begging her for those snacks. Or else you wouldn’t be kneeling on the ground, panting and crying from the pain. A pain you’ve never felt before.

A sigh came from the sea green Yautja. “I shall be over in less than five.” The call ended. You whimpered at new silence of room. Oky just watching you. You picked your head up and gnawed on your bottom lip.

“Everything’s going to be fine. It’s okay, Qui’oky,” you soothed him but tried to help yourself through the process. You bowed your head, his hand slipping off. He reached down and tapped on Gawtin’s contact again.

The call didn’t even ring again before she answered. “Did you get to Fourta?” she instantly asks, panting as she pushed her body to the limits. You squeaked out an affirmative. “Good, good.” It seemed like a great weight was lifted off of her shoulders.

Qui’oky squeaked in baby talk. Your face broke with the hint of a smile. “Qui’oky, are you watching over them? Taking care of them?” Gawtin panted then landed down from a great height by the sounds of it.

He chittered to his mother and clapped his hands together. Despite it being baby talk, Gawtin understood what he meant. “That’s such a good boy. Dam’s proud of you.”

“Yeah, he’s been helping. Grabbed the tablet for me,” you groaned and bowed down to press your forehead on the ground besides the device. “Fuck, Gawtin. I don’t know if I can do this. It hurts so much. I-I’m so scared right now. I love the kid… but I need you, please.” You were kicking yourself over and over about the fact you had sent Gawtin away. It was like the world was punishing for such a stupid move. Not that you blamed it. It was your fault she wasn’t here.

Gawtin growled. “Fourta will help. I will be there. Just breath. Take deep breaths in, hold for three seconds, and exhale. It helps with the pain. Are you laying down?” You began to follow her instructions of breathing. It brought down your heartrate and started to ease up the pain cramping in your belly.

“No. Hands and knees.” You got back onto one of your hands while the other tried to soothe the cramp pulling in your right hip. Lying on your back was the worse position to be, that you’ve heard. Squatting or the position you were currently in was the best. But, you didn’t want to give birth yet. Not without Gawtin. You needed her here.

“Good, good position. Stay like that. That will help too,” Gawtin grunted, wood creaked underneath her form. “How far out is Fourta?”

More lightning struck you in your pelvis. You gasped and reared your head back. Qui’oky whined and squished your cheeks between his hands again. It took a moment to gather your thoughts again let alone an answer for Gawtin. “About… about five minutes. Probably less. Hopefully less.” You prayed it was less. You couldn’t bare to be alone with just Qui’oky. There was nothing he could do to relieve your pain.

A hum sounded through the speaker. “I am twenty minutes out,” she said. Had it been ten minutes already? Or was she pushing herself beyond to get to you? No matter what was the answer, you were thankful she was getting here.

You nodded and groaned, eyes slipping shut. Oky chirped and poked one of your cheeks. “Just stay where you are. Fourta will help set up the bath when she gets there.” A squeaked ‘okay’ left your chapped lips.

Gods, this was really happening. If it wasn’t for the pain, you would’ve pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

The front door slid back. Your head whipped to face the sound. Fourta was in the door before it had fully opened. At the sight of the healer, you felt a good portion of the cumbersome weight lift off of your shoulders. She was instantly at your side. Qui’oky chittered to her and patted your head. The healer only hummed to entertain him as she tugged on your wrist.

“Fourta’s here,” you spoke up with relief pooling in your voice.

“Fourta, tell me everything,” Gawtin demanded in voice that left no room for arguing.

Soft fingertips pressed against your pulse point for about thirty seconds. “Heartrate is high. I will need to figure out how far apart the contractions are. Then, I will set up the bathtub. They are in good hands, Gawtin.” Her words helped a little to ease your thundering heart. Your wrist is let go. She stays kneeled at your side though.

“Tell me when you feel a contraction or cramp,” she firmly states. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and timidly nodded. Despite being thankful she was here and you weren’t alone anymore, you desperately wanted Gawtin. She would be much nicer about this than the way Fourta was acting.

As if on cue, your pelvis cramped up and caused you to cry out. “Now!” you shouted. Fourta began to count out loud while her eyes were trained on you. Your hands were curled into fists. You had to bow down and press your forehead against the cool wooden floor. Oky’s palms left your skin.

Another one hit you. Your nails bite harshly into the soft padding of your hands. “Fuck, another,” you cursed and panted heavily. Was the birthing process this painful? Could it be just the fact your baby was massive for your body? The way your belly was incredibly bloated was a great answer to that.

“Five minutes,” Fourta announced then stood up. “I’m going to fill the bath.” You watched as the healer left you on the floor. New tears prickled the corner of your eyes. Fourta was gone from your sight.

“Gawtin?” you croaked and hoped she hadn’t left you to.

“Yes?” she asked, voice airy and light compared to her normal grumble. “I am halfway there. I just passed the pond I have taken to you before.”

Memories flood your mind at the mental image. You’ve nor only been there countless times with her but Bgiwl has taken you there before. Many times. Your last time was three months ago. Before you scent had doubled and could bring in predators for miles. Gawtin deemed it too dangerous for you to go out that far anymore. Not when you already looked nine months pregnant at that point. Running was impossible and you were just waddling around. Sometimes Gawtin would carry around, specially when your feet ached.

“Think she’ll be as strong as Bgiwl?” you whimpered. An added painful pressure forced your legs wider. You needed something to distract you. Even if it was just a little.

“Of course. She will have your courage and bravery as well. An combination of the best of two worlds.” The corners of your mouth quirked up in a short smile.

With your child being a hybrid, you wondered what she would look like. What features of both worlds would make her up? The mandibles? Incredible scent? Hair or tresses? Would she be smaller like a human? That could be an advantage; to fit in smaller places than the average Yautja could.

As a hybrid, there will be difficulties. “She’s not going to be accepted easily,” you muttered with worry full in your voice. That was truth.

“Yes, you are correct. She will have to work twice as hard to prove herself. But, she is of your blood and of Bgiwl’s. You have endured a pregnancy that was likely to fail. That endurance will be passed down to her,” she spoke truthfully.

A few tears dripped down your cheeks. The sweet words making you cry more than the mess you already are.

Two small hands patted the top of your head. You smiled and peered up at Oky. The child was doing his best while not completely understanding the whole the situation with you in pain. But, you were thankful you weren’t entirely by yourself. You couldn’t even fathom the thought being alone while dealing with this.

A pained cry left your lips. Lightning shot through your pelvis. Your forehead was against the floor once more. The cool wood was a comfort.

Once it passed, you asked, “can you tell me abo-ow… about your first pregnancy?” Anything to distract you from the pain and discomfort with Fourta readying the bath. Qui’oky could only do so much in the moment.

“My first pregnancy?” she hummed as if it was a distance memory. That only made you question internally how old was she. She didn’t seem incredibly old compared to some of the elders you’ve seen. “You’re making me go back four hundred and fifty years in memories.” Your jaw slackened. Four hundred and fifty. Four hundred and fifty?!

“It something I won’t forget. Though, she is gone. Cetanu rest her spirt. Her father was the biggest male anyone had seen. A large male from the mountains.” From there, she goes on about her first pregnancy and childbirth. She, too, struggled like you were currently. The pain, something she hadn’t experienced before. Neither was she prepared to feel like she was being ripped into two.

The contractions went on. You suffered through the next three when the front door was nearly bursted through. In came crushing through Gawtin in all of her panting, sweating glory. A thick sheen of moisture stuck to her scales. It dripped off of her. She knelt down at your side in a blink of an eye.

One of her hands lightly rested on your lower, pained back. The other grasped your shoulder. She leaned into frame. A hoarse, crackly purr poured from her throat in a fast pace. Her purple eyes scanned over your sweaty, teary features before straightening back up. “Fourta!” she growled through the small dwelling.

A blue head peered around from the bedroom. “Good, you made it. The bath is almost full. I’ve added some herbs to the water. That will help ease some discomforts,” she explained then walked around the corner, folding her medical pouch back into place.

During the last twenty minutes, she’s only checked up you on twice. For your contractions and heartrate. Then, she would be back in the bathroom.

Gawtin nodded her head then helped you to stand. Rather than letting you stumble your way to the bathroom, she carefully scooped you up into her arms. You could care less about the moisture she just rubbed onto you. You were beyond thankful she had finally made it.

The sight of the massive bathtub filled with semi-purple water was relief. To wash off the horrible mess that had been created when you first woke up from your nap and even to now. You could feel more wetness between your legs not from the fact your water had broken.

With Gawtin’s help, she gently sets you on your own two feet. Your hands are gripping her shoulders tightly. She grasps the hem of your shirt then stops, eyes peering into yours. All you do is give her a slight nod. The green Yautja softly removes both pairs of clothing adorning your form until you’re naked like the day you were born.

Even with Fourta still in the room, you didn’t care she was seeing you naked. There was something worse she’ll see in the upcoming day or hours. Now, it was only a waiting game that your child decides to make an appearance. Gods, it really was happening. You had to remind yourself this was the real deal.

Her large hands guided you to the edge of the warm water. Gawtin slipped in first and stood in front of you, shorter than you now. Both of her hands were held in front of you, palms offered to you. You took a deep breath then carefully used her arms to first sit down then slide into the bath.

The temperature of the water was perfect for your thinner skin. The Yautjas could take on the harsher heat, but Fourta knew exactly what you could and couldn’t handle. Despite her cold exterior at first, she seemed to actually care about your health in the end. You smiled softly at the thought.

A deep, primal groan left your lips as the weight of your pregnant body was eased off tired, strained muscles. Baths were your favorite. There wasn’t much to get you out of a bath later in your pregnancy.

Green arms drew you close to a form you’ve grown familiar with. You tilted your head back to find Gawtin already looking down at you. Another smile graced your features as you nuzzled against her chest. She begun to purr again and rubbed one of her hands up and down your side.

The purring was soothing. The tense, tight muscles that lined your back were the first to relax. Then, you sunk against Gawtin. Letting both the water and her hold you in a softly, comforting embrace.

Your half hooded eyes watched as little Oky waddled in the bathroom with a couple of his toys. Fourta cleared her throat. “I shall be back. They will need a fruy. It will curve the pain some and help relax them for the pushing process.” Fourta gave a nod to the two of you before spinning on her heel and leaving the two of in the tub. You were thankful she had left.

Now, it was just you and your small adoptive family you weaseled your way into. This was going to be the long haul.

Worst of all, your nap had been interrupted. That left you with less energy dealing with giving birth to your child. You were slowly starting to feel the effects seeping into your veins. It dragged you down like molasses. Your head rested against her chest, eyes closing just. For the moment, you just focused on your breathing and Gawtin’s heartbeat strong in your ear.

You weren’t alone. Gawtin was here. Qui’oky was here. Fourta helped you. You had your family here for you. For the first time in a while, you were able to take a deep breath of relief. All you had to do was give birth to a massive child.

A green hand softly caressed your belly. You groaned, toes curling when more cramps fluttered to lift. “Fuck, Gawtin. I don’t know how you’ve done this countless times,” you said and doubled down on focusing on her heartbeat. It thundered in your ears. A powerful war drum.

Laughter bubbled up inside of her, causing her purr to become choppy. “After a point, they practically slip out. Qui’oky was out in two minutes,” she answered and let you float on your back with a little aid. “The water helps wonderfully.” You hummed in agreement and nodded. “Have you thought of names?”

This time, you shook your head. “No, I’m going the traditional route. I’m going to wait the ten days then name her. I may not believe in your gods, but I do respect your culture. I want her to have the best chance at survival. No matter what.” Since living on Yautja Prime, the one-eighty of cultural differences had shocked you. Yes, Yautjas and humans do have similarities, but they also have some things completely wild. Nudeness was a huge change for you. Clothes are worn but they were very… lacking.

Until you found out why when the heat and humidity struck you in the face. The jungle wasn’t even the hottest place on this planet.

She hummed and soothed down your wet hair. “Then, you will have to present her in front of Baroness Ma’tan-Aih.” You tensed. Gawtin’s mother. A force to be reckoned with. You steered far away from the green Yautja as much as possible. She was not nice, not polite, and didn’t take any crap from anyone. She was a brick wall to either talk to or run into. She ran the village you currently stay in and was heavily disgruntled when Bgiwl brought you here, into her home. At that moment you saw her, you thought you were going to die. Either from a heart attack or her snapping your neck.

In the end, she let Bgiwl have you as his mate.

Fear ate at your heart, seeping cold water into your veins. “I-I don’t know. Your mother… she already doesn’t like me. Won’t she… kill my child for being a hybrid?” That hurt to say, pained you worse than the contractions. Yet, it was an honest fear.

Baroness Ma’tan-Aih was the leader of the village. Plus, she was massive. Bigger than Gawtin herself. She commanded. If she didn’t want the child to live simply being a hybrid, she could make the decision. And you… would be unable to stop it. Not even a mother’s strength could fend off a hoard of Yautjas at the baroness’s beck and call.

Clicking growls erupted from Gawtin’s throat. She pulled you in close to her with a gentle but firm hold around your chest. “No, she will not.” The Yautja stopped her growling and released a deep breath. “I see you have done your research about the matter.”

You solemnly nodded. You were one of the lucky humans who has ever met a Yautja and lived let alone to live on their planet. To meet Bgiwl, from this side of jungle, you had to count your lucky stars. Because, if it had been someone say from the mountain region, you would’ve been most likely watch as they killed your child. It is against their code to kill something harmless and defenseless but to let an abomination continue life was worse.

It's considered ‘impure’ to the Yautja bloodline. It could be a threat to all Yautjas. So, to rectify this issue, to put down the newborn. The action is seen as mercy.

“I have. I want to be prepared fully for… today. I’m just really scared,” you whimpered and curled your arms close to your chest. Another contraction ran its course. Gawtin used a hand to pet down your back.

“That is completely understandable,” she rumbled then leaned in close to your ear. “Did you know I was scared the first time I gave birth? It is a natural process, yes. But to birth life is something no one can prepare you for.” Gawtin, the giant goddess looking alien behind you, had been scared when she gave birth the first time?!

With one of her hands splayed just above your breasts, you wiggled your digits between hers. Despite the large size difference, you hold onto the back of her hand. A smile graced your features while looking at your connected hands. “You were probably more prepared than I am. It seems… a more covered subject here than back on earth.” Man, it sounded weird talking like. You never expected to leave the atmosphere of your planet, let alone be so far from it.

Hours pass with only little hiccups. The contractions only grow closer and closer together, signaling the inevitable. Then, you felt the need to push with a pain that had worsen.

Your free hand reaches up behind you to grasp at the back of Gawtin’s neck and hold on. “Gawtin… I-I think it’s time. I feel a need to push,” you whimpered, toes curling while you held back the need. Not until you were told it was okay.

A course palm ran over your belly. “Listen to your body. Let it tell you what to do. It knows what its doing. Just remember to breath as steadily as possible.” Breath. Got that. You can do that.

One more glance over your should up at the green goddess, you closed your eyes focused on tensing your muscles. The pain wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. It was on a different level, a different scale that sent fire burning in your pelvis and vagina. You screamed out, back arching. Your nails dug into the thick palm of Gawtin’s hand. She acted no different.

Tears stained your cheeks with each push. Your lungs attempted a steady breathing cycle but you would hold your breath before baring down.

“You are doing great,” Gawtin’s whispers into your ear. She was the perfect anchor to the real world. She kept you from floating away into the blazing pain.

There was a sudden pop before you felt the rest slide right out. You gave another hoarse cry, head rolling back for only a moment. Your eyes opened and found a dark red blob floating on its back. Instantly, you scooped the crying child from the water and held her securely to your chest. “Shush, shush. It’s okay, sweetie,” you soothed the sobbing child now in your arms.

Once she quieted down to only a few hiccups, you carefully held her up for Gawtin to see. The giant female purred before it was cut short. Paranoia seized your heart. Your eyes shot to your child, worried Gawtin saw something you couldn’t in your daze, exhausted state.

Gawtin reached behind the child and pulled something into view. A tail?!

[mingtinys]

A Thorn in the Side

pairing : joshua hong x gn!reader

light angst , fluff , humor

warnings : language , jealous joshy

word count : 1.0 k

requested? no

a/n : can't tell if i like this one or not yet , but i really wanted to get something seventeen related put out !!

Joshua has never liked to think of himself as a jealous person.

In fact, in his own humble opinion, Joshua finds he's secure enough to not let most things bother him.

Some guy wants to buy you a drink at the bar? You're very attractive, it's bound to happen. His members compliment how you look that day? Good, they should, you look amazing. Your coworker is leaving secret love notes on your desk? That's fine, you'll still be clocking out and coming home to Joshua at the end of the day.

For all the attention you receive in a day, it's only ever Joshua who has the privilege of receiving yours. So no, he really doesn't have much need to worry over trivial things.

That being said, every so often, he gets a teeny, little, thorn in his side. The thorn in question being no other than Kim Mingyu and his abnormally large muscles. More specifically, Kim Mingyu's abnormally large muscles in regards to how uncomfortably close they are to you.

You were supposed to be bringing Joshua his gym bag he left at home. Something that would have taken less than a minute to do. Unfortunately, Joshua forgot to take into account the other twelve boys who accompanied him to the gym and had a knack for making his life a living Hell. 

Mingyu stopped you the moment you walked in the door. Engulfing you in a bone-crushing hug and radiating a puppy-like joy he always seems to have when greeting you. But that's not even what did Joshua in. Not by a long shot.

It wasn't until you started giggling about how gross and sweaty he was that Joshua felt something indignant crawl under his skin. Your palms flat against his chest as you tried to push away while Mingyu only held you tighter. Also, why on God's green earth does he feel the need to be shirtless right now!?

And judging from the smug glances Mingyu keeps shooting his way, the boy knows exactly what he's doing. Joshua Hong is a patient man. But the urge to throttle Mingyu is incredibly tempting at the moment.

He doesn't even realize just how long he's been just standing there seething until Jeonghan pokes his head out from behind a machine. "Hey, ‘Shua!" He whispers and it snaps Joshua back down to Earth like a brick to the head. He's twirling a singular earbud in his fingers. "I can hear you grinding your teeth over my music. How much longer are you gonna stand there sulking?"

"I'm not grinding my teeth." He grumbles, a pout set on his lips. Though his jaw is rather sore and he has to actually make an effort to unclench it.

Behind him, Seungkwan snorts. "There's actually visible clouds of steam shooting out of your ears."

Joshua whips his head around and gives the younger boy a look nothing short of homicidal. It only encourages him. "What? Worried Y/N might see something they like?"

"No." He grits out. "I just . . . really need my gym bag."

"Ohhh, okay okay." Seungkwan nods, that same smirk never leaving his face. "Well, it looks like someone might have beaten you to it." Another fit of middle-school-girl giggles erupts between Seungkwan and Jeonghan.

And sure enough, when Joshua returns his attention back to you, a second “thorn” has somehow also found its way over. Lee Chan. "Here, that looks heavy, let me help you," he says, taking the bag from your shoulder, chest puffed and smile toothy. He curls it the way one would a kettlebell, toned and sweaty arms glistening in all their nauseating glory. Seriously, who even flexes like that when picking up a bag? It's just tacky.

That's about all Joshua can stomach for much longer. He can feel the once tiny thorns morphing into jagged claws. Some awful green-eyed beast tearing at his stomach from the inside out. And while he knows he really shouldn't take the bait, he just can’t help it.

He beelines it across the room, walking to where you and his victims members are at a lightning-fast speed. Joshua musters up a sickeningly sweet smile and clears his throat. Mingyu and Chan look at him like they know they're in trouble.

But then your eyes light up at the mere sight of him, and all thoughts he had of ripping Mingyu and Chan a new one fizzle out all too easily. You push past the two boys without another glance in their direction, and a smile only he's capable of evoking plays at your lips.

"Hey, you." You greet him with a peck and the exaggerated gags that fill the room make his chest fill moreso with pride than embarrassment. Your hand slips just under the hem of his shirt, letting your palm lay against his stomach. There it is. That feeling of security. Of trust. Warmth. You lean back slightly and Joshua lets his impulsivity win when he chases your lips for one last reassuring kiss.

"Thank you for bringing my bag."

You hum, threading your fingers through his damp hair, combing it back. "I don't mind. I actually think you need to forget your bag more often."

Joshua tilts his head innocently. He's thrown off guard when you lean in, palm pressing harder against his stomach, and your lips ghost the shell of his ear. Voice low enough so that his members won't hear, which he's thankful for. "You're really hot when you're all sweaty and jealous."

Joshua cringes. "Was it that obvious?"

"Seungkwan's voice carries."

He feels a little stupid now for ever getting so worked up in the first place. His head drops with embarrassment, causing you to giggle. "Hey," you poke at his forehead so he'll look at you. "You know I only have eyes for you, right?" You sound a little more serious this time.

"Yeah, I know."

"Good."

"Hey, hyung," Chan calls, still behind you. "Can you take your bag now? It's actually kind of heavy."

[flowerandblood]

Glass Cuts Deepest (3)

[ professor! • Aemond x student! • female ]

[ warnings: angst, trauma, mention of sexual harassment, violence, swearing, self-destructive behavior ]

[ description: A female painting student is finally able to choose the specialisation she has dreamt of - stained glass. She wants to become a student of the best specialist in this field, but he, for some reason, refuses to accept female students into his workshop. She finds out that he once slapped a female student of one of the other professors. Nevertheless, she makes an attempt to find out what happened then and to convince him to teach her. Slow burn, sexual tension, dark, agressive Aemond, great childhood traumas. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

What she had done echoed hugely throughout the university. Some looked at her in awe, some in horror wondering why she had done it, whether she really thought he was so good to put up with his awful behaviour.

"What if he keeps humiliating you? Or if he hits you?" Lysa asked as they walked together to their joint Renaissance art history class. She shrugged her shoulders, feeling light and happy.

"I'm only there for a trial, for a month. If I find I don't like it there, I'll go to another workshop. And if he does something to me, I'll report it to the police straight away." She replied briefly, taking it for granted.

If he violated her personal space in such a way she wasn't going to stand idly by, but for some reason she felt that if she respected his boundaries he wouldn't do anything to her.

She hopped up on her bed with joy when she saw an email on her inbox from Cregan informing her of a task for everyone to complete, covered by the competition Professor Targaryen had mentioned at their first meeting.

Good morning, congratulations to you once again and I am sending below the details of the project you need to complete. The first overview sketches are to be made at a scale of 1:5, only the one selected will be made at a scale of 1:1. The project includes 3 windows, each with 8 rectangular quarters. The dimension of the entire window is 10x2 m, the gaps between the quarters are 10 cm on each side. The Bishop would like these three quarters to include a representation of the Mother of God with the Child with a white dove above her, surrounded by the Twelve Aspotols. If you have any questions, I remain at your disposal Cregan

She immediately got to work, calculating the size of each of the quarters on A3 sheets of paper, thinking about how she would like to arrange it, how to show it.

She first thought of a baroque representation, with figures in motion, Our Lady in the centre, the apostles surrounding her as if they were floating towards the sky in clouds together with her.

When she had refined this design sufficiently she decided to take the opportunity that her professor was working on the other side of the room, standing, as always, with his back to her.

She approached him, stopping at an appropriate distance, and grunted quietly, wanting to let him know of her presence.

He glanced at her coolly out of the corner of his eye without ceasing his work, cutting a piece of glass in a confident, fluid motion with the loud swish of a diamond blade.

He picked it up and tapped the back of the handle with the special rounded end against the part of the glass he didn't need, and it broke at the point of cut to form exactly the shape he wanted.

"Lay it down here." He said indifferently, pointing with his chin to an empty spot on the illuminated table next to the glass he was working on.

She placed the piece of paper in front of him and stepped back, waiting anxiously for his opinion, feeling her heart pounding fast as she saw her year mate glance in their direction.

Professor Targaryen cast a quick look at what she had been preparing for the past two days, his face expressing absolutely nothing.

"Overdone and tacky. This is not a competition for the most pompous baroque stained glass. Don't show me things like that again." He said briefly, turning back to his work, and she nodded, tightening her lips and returned to her table, trying to swallow his words and not cry.

She looked at her project again and thought with regret that he was probably right.

It was contrived, as if she wanted to prove to everyone that she could create the most surprising and complicated design.

And after all, it was supposed to be simply the best.

She started to look through more classical stained glass representations from France, Germany, Spain and the UK at home. She noticed with interest that static figures depicted with just the right cuts of glass were suddenly gaining a lot of expression and she thought this was the way out.

She took inspiration for her pose of the Mother of God with the Child from Raphael's Sistine Madonna, but gave her face and hands a softer, more slender expression, her robes arranged in a Gothic manner, with strong creases and folds.

Our Lady stood in the rays of the colour of the setting sun, as if emerging from among the clouds, from the left, through the bottom of the composition, to the right the apostles emerged from behind the window frames, looking at her in silent awe, the whole thing seemed to her calm and solemn, warm.

She made another attempt to approach him. She settled on the opposite side of his table, looking at him expectantly, and he lifted his impatient gaze to her, his lips tightening.

"Are you sure you want to show me this?" He asked warningly, as if he wanted to make sure that if he saw something similar to what he had seen last time again, he would lose patience with her.

She nodded, swallowing quietly.

She really liked this project.

She laid it in front of him − the lead outline and the linear layer were painted with a pen using black ink, the colours of the glass painted with watercolours.

He stopped in mid-motion, looking at what she had drawn − she could see that he was thinking strenuously, his gaze roaming over the entire composition.

"Were you inspired by someone?" He asked coolly, and she nodded quickly.

"Yes, Raphael's Sistine Madonna." She said quickly, and he hummed under his breath, his hand involuntarily escaping to his mouth and chin, looking intensely at her drawing.

"On the left and right the composition is too filled in. You need to leave those four apostles lower, give more space to the background. Let them form an arc under the figure of Our Lady, not half a circle." He began to speak quickly, pointing his finger at the areas of the work he had in mind, and she nodded, visualising his changes, recognising with joy that, indeed, with his corrections it would look much better.

"Yes. You're right, Professor, I will." She said excitedly, looking at him with her eyes wide open, she had the feeling that happiness was literally beaming from her.

He liked it.

He looked at her for a moment, biting his bottom lip, and then lowered his gaze, returning to his work.

"That's all." He said dryly, and she nodded quickly, took her sheet of paper and applied all the corrections he had mentioned, painting and drawing the whole thing again.

Thus approved and prepared, she handed her design to Cregan, who smiled warmly at her.

"Congratulations." He said calmly, and she reciprocated his smile.

Seeing the impatient gaze of their professor looking at them from across the table she moved away from him, picked up her things and left, saying a polite goodbye, wanting to go get something to eat.

She breathed a sigh of relief as she changed into her usual clothes in the toilet − it was getting warmer outside and she was sitting in her workshop in a black t-shirt tucked into long black trousers and dying of heat.

Being already in her summer dress and trainers, she left putting her backpack on her back, heading to the canteen to buy something warm to eat and go to her wall painting class in a completely different building.

She stopped in mid-step and started to take a step back when she saw her professor standing by the coffee machine right in front of her, but she didn't make it − he took his coffee cup and bumped into her, his gaze quickly going from her top to bottom, as if he didn't recognise her for a moment.

She swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze, wanting to disappear, to hide, though she didn't actually know why.

There was something awkward about the situation, as if he had caught her in the act.

He merely hummed under his breath, taking a sip from his cup, and walked past her without a word. She looked back over her shoulder at him, swallowing loudly, wondering if he was frustrated by what he had seen, or if he would be more judgmental and unpleasant to her than usual.

He, however, remained just as indifferent to her presence, acting exactly the same as before. She figured he wasn't cruel enough to expect her to dress that way all the time in case she ran into him.

When it was time for the results of the competition to be announced, everyone gathered in the room he read out the attendance list for the first time. She took her seat at the very end, just as she had done then, waiting impatiently to hear what their professor would say.

"I presented the bishop with the projects which, in my opinion, were the best of those you gave me. He made his choice, announcing that he wanted our workshop to prepare Miss Wright's design for him. I made no objection to that decision." He said dryly, standing in front of them with his hands folded behind him, looking to the side, his voice expressing some kind of weariness, as did his gaze.

They were all silent for a moment and then her colleagues began to congratulate her loudly, Royce sitting next to her embraced her and said that she deserved it.

She looked into her professor's eyes and somehow saw a kind of discomfort and frustration at the sight of such familiarity, so she pulled away politely, covering her mouth in disbelief, unable to believe that he hadn't objected, that he had allowed her to win.

She heard him grunt loudly, shifting from foot to foot, everyone turned their gazes towards him again.

"As I mentioned, the whole workshop will split the work on this big project. Myself and Cregan will take care of the faces and hands, the third year and fourth year students will take care of the robes. The second year students will take care of the backgrounds." He said coolly and she felt a squeeze in her heart, even the other students looked at him surprised, though no one dared to speak up.

Despite the fact that her project had won, she was only supposed to deal with the background?

She lowered her gaze, feeling a squeeze in her throat, Cregan moved restlessly.

"I think if Miss Wright won, let her stay more involved and help cut the robes." He said lightly, intending to sound casual, but Professor Targaryen did not even look at him.

"No. Everyone will perform the work according to their skills. Miss Wright will prepare a 1:1 design in colour and line within a week, numbering each of the templates, and then cut them out herself. That's all, get back to work." He said lowly and left, leaving them alone.

Although she tried to keep a smile, she felt tear after tear run down her face, wiping them away quickly with her hands as her colleagues approached her, trying to comfort her.

"Don't worry. The fact that the professor wants to paint faces for your project means that he really likes it. He doesn't get involved in work that doesn't interest him." Said one of the fourth year boys.

"It's true, be happy that you won and will have an input. It will be our collective success, of the whole workshop, but remember it's your composition and your idea." Said Ned, her yearmate, and she smiled with gratitude.

Despite how their professor behaved, her colleagues showed her great support and understanding, for which she was grateful.

She decided to go along with her professor's decision and spent the next week creating a huge design, cutting a template for each piece of glass with special double-blade scissors that reduced the volume of the card by the thickness of the lead surrounds into which the glass would be embedded.

One day they were even visited by Professor Lannister himself, and hearing of her success and taking advantage of the fact that she was alone in the room, he approached her, smiling in a way she didn't know what to think of.

He was a tall man, with light hair pulled back and an elegantly trimmed beard in a pressed light-coloured shirt and smart trousers − he looked at her large project hanging on the wall behind her with a form of admiration, raising his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you did to Professor Targaryen, but apparently it works. You certainly must have made a great effort." He said and looked at her curiously − she blinked, swallowing loudly, feeling subconsciously uncomfortable at the thought that he was trying to imply something.

"Please don't measure everyone by your standards, Professor." She said lightly so that for a moment he didn't understand what she meant. He glanced at her frowning his eyebrows as soon as the meaning of her words reached him, outraged.

"Are you insinuating something?" He asked roughly and she glared at him, cutting out the template with two intense, firm cuts of her scissors.

"And you, Professor?" She asked, raising her eyebrows and shrugged her shoulders, seeing that he swallowed loudly, embarrassed.

She looked away and saw her professor standing in the entrance, measuring Lannister with an anxious, watchful gaze. When the man saw him he became tense, as if caught in the act, and grunted.

"In any case, congratulations again and I wish you well in your future work." He said, forcing a smile, and she reciprocated his gesture, beaming with satisfaction and contentment.

When Professor Lannister left she immediately returned to her work.

She looked up surprised when she saw that for the first time her professor had approached her of his own free will, standing on the opposite side of her table, looking at the templates she had cut so far.

"What did he want?" He asked drily, and she sighed quietly, cutting open the next sheets of paper, numbering them one by one.

"To learn the secret of my success." She replied softly and glanced up at him, his intense gaze fixed on her. She swallowed loudly, feeling shivers from the way he looked at her.

"What did you tell him?" He asked expectantly, coolly, menacingly, clasping his hands on the edge of the table.

She grabbed another piece of paper, unimpressed.

"That he shouldn't measure everyone by his standards. His attitude towards his female students was one of the reasons I didn't want him to teach me." She said quietly, truthfully, wondering if she was crossing the line by saying such things about one professor to another.

She felt that he was still looking at her, although he had always avoided any eye contact, now she felt that his gaze was burning her.

"And you came to ask for a place with a professor who hit his student?" He asked seriously, lowly, and she lifted her gaze to him, feeling her heart pounding hard, sensing that this was her chance to find out what had happened.

"And did you hit her, Professor?" She asked in a trembling voice, feeling that her hands were shaking and she had to concentrate very hard to cut straight.

He was silent for a long moment.

"Yes." He said emotionlessly, indifferently, with a kind of weariness.

She pressed her lips together and swallowed loudly, for some reason afraid to look at him.

"Why did you do that?" She asked quietly, and he chuckled under his breath.

"Does it matter?" He asked, as if the answer was obvious.

"It matters if you did it for no reason or if you were trying to defend yourself against her, sir." She replied wearily, still not looking at him, feeling the atmosphere between them becoming increasingly tense. She heard him snort at her words, surprised.

"In what way could she harm me? Hit me?" He asked mockingly, but there was something in his voice that troubled her, some kind of frustration through which she knew she had hit the target, that something more had really happened there.

"Women can hurt men in all sorts of ways. It's just that they are hardly believed." She whispered and heard him swallow loudly, his chest rising and falling in anxious breaths. She looked at him uncertainly, his healthy eye was wide open.

He was silent for a long moment, she could feel that something was happening to him, his lower lip trembling slightly.

"You prefer to defend the abuser instead of the victim?" He asked in disbelief at last, the corner of his mouth twitching in what she might have called a smile if not for the look in his eyes.

"No. I just know her version of events. I wanted to hear yours before I decided what I thought of you, Professor. I thought it was only fair." She said in a trembling voice, feeling that at that moment she was truly afraid of him.

He did not answer anything for a while, looking at her with a clenched jaw and licked his lips.

"There is no excuse for me. But I don't regret what I did. What do you think about it, Miss Wright?" He asked tauntingly and she looked at him in pain, tightening her lips.

"That I feel sorry for you, Professor. Just like I feel sorry for that girl. I hope you find the decency to apologise to her one day. Excuse me, but I would like to focus on my work." She said quietly, swallowing loudly, feeling regret and disappointment.

She wanted to believe that he wasn't such a bad person, that something had happened that would give him a reason to behave like that.

However, she now knew that she could only count on him in artistic matters, and that in others he could be no authority for her.

She lowered her gaze, returning to her cutting, her hands trembling, feeling that he was still standing in the same place, that he was looking at her, she could hear his accelerated breathing.

After a moment he was gone, she heard him take his leather jacket from the back of his chair and just leave.

From then on it was she who didn't look at him and avoided him even though she saw that he glanced at her occasionally. She knew he was working on detailed sketches for the figure's faces; he was sitting at one of the desks with a sketchbook and pencil, absorbed in his thoughts.

Their gazes met suddenly and she turned away quickly, swallowing loudly.

She knew there was only one day left until the end of the month, after which he was to decide what to do next, whether he would let her stay or kick her out.

She had lost any remnants of a good opinion of him privately, however, he organised their work well and was very dedicated to it − she felt that with him and her colleagues she had learnt more about the subject of stained glass in these few weeks than she had in her entire life so far.

When the day came, however, he was sitting locked in the second room, reserved for him to paint his already-cut glass. This required a lot of concentration and it was easy to make a mistake, so no one disturbed him.

She reasoned that if he had wanted to tell her he was throwing her out, he would have done so immediately.

On her way out of class and walking down the corridor, she saw that the door to the room he was working in was ajar and she looked inside uncertainly. Whatever she thought of him, he was an outstanding painter and she was dying of curiosity as to how he depicted her figures.

Noticing that he had to leave for a moment and that the room was empty, she walked slowly inside, leaning over the illuminated table on which lay the cut, painted and patinated faces of various saints.

Looking at the faces of the apostles, she involuntarily marvelled, noticing the incredible accuracy in the proportions and the lightness with which he had given their faces expression; they seemed both emotional and calm, their faces showing excited anticipation.

Around the glasses were sketches made with pencil that he had prepared beforehand, which accurately represented what he wanted to portray.

She moved on to the face of the Virgin Mary and froze, feeling her heart pounding hard. She looked at the sketch next to it to be sure and swallowed loudly.

Mother of God had her facial features.

Then, when their gazes met, he didn't glance at her casually.

He was portraying her.

She didn't know what to make of it, at once horrified, excited, concerned, shocked. She shuddered when she heard someone's voice behind her.

"Get out." He said lowly, coldly, his gaze menacing, dark, warning. He stood in the entrance with his hands clenched into fists and she wondered how long he had been watching her.

"I'm sorry. I −"

"Get. Out." He repeated in a tone that suggested he wasn't going to say it a third time.

She lowered her head, swallowing loudly, and moved to leave on trembling legs, he, however, caught her firmly by her shoulder as she passed him and stopped her without looking at her.

"Don't ever come in here again without permission. Your painting room is next door. This is my private studio. Do you understand?" He asked in a razor-sharp tone, and she nodded quickly, unable to get anything out.

He let her go and she almost ran out, only drawing in a loud breath in the corridor, she felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest.

His Virgin Mary, the central figure of the whole composition, would have her face.

_____

Taglist 1

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[sundew199]

Do I deserve this?

What it would be like with Reiner Post-Rumbling,

Tags: angst, slight mention of suicide, trauma, healing. No specific p/n’s used.

A/N: can't get post-rumbling Reiner out of my head, I miss him :(

Immediately after the rumbling it would take a while for him to grasp that he's alive, stuck in limbo while also trying to help everyone else get somewhat adjusted.

Reiner wouldn't understand why he feels empty, why he can't cry even though he wants to.

You would be his grounding force, holding him when he'd jump awake from a nightmare, later learning he they were variations of his most traumatic days. He wouldn't sleep after waking up, burying his face in his hands and muttering about how unworthy he still felt, questioning why he lived when he swore death was all he deserved.

in the mornings, after an intense nightmare, Reiner would be numb. Forcing himself to get through the day, taking on the ambassador duties even though it only added more to his internal turmoil.

Nothing felt real, even when he held you back at night. Your warmth wouldn't penetrate like he wished it would, he couldn't find comfort in the heat of your body when you rested your head on his chest, like he used to before all of this.

His thoughts would calm when you'd talk about anything, your day at the market, the walks you'd take down by the water. Knowing you were finding little joys in the day helped him remove the blinders from his eyes, slowly. Though it wouldn’t last like either of you hoped.

A year post-rumbling is when everything came crashing down at once. You came home from doing a quick market run to find him collapsed by the small kitchen, crying and breaking down in the temporary housing you and him shared.

Panicked and afraid, you ran to his side none the less, taking him in your arms and letting him cry until he could speak.

But even then the words were drowning in his sobs, incoherent and blubbering. His once sun colored eyes were so clouded with sorrow and guilt, pleading for understanding of everything that led him to here.

Reiner confessed he didn't want to live, he couldn't stand the pain of knowing all the lives lost in the rumbling, how he caused all of this when breaking wall Maria. How the other warriors would be alive; Bertholdt, Colt, Porco and Marcel would be here if he wasn't born.

At a loss for words at his confession, you could only hold him and repeat to him how that wasn't true, that it wasn't his fault he was born, nor the actions of a brainwashed twelve year old couldn't have been helped in the end.

You feared even more for his well-being, seeking out the deserpate advice of the other five. You hated asking them what to do to help Reiner like they weren't suffering as well, but you couldn't bare the thought losing him.

Armin and Jean informed you Eren spoke with everyone individually through his titan, everyone gaining their memories back when he was defeated. Reiner would've gotten one as well, prompting you to ask and see if it were true.

Eren did speak with Reiner, promised him that all of this, breaking through the wall and everything after was all intended, all put into motion by him and Ymir. But Reiner didn't believe it, refused to believe it as he tearfully told you.

Never before had you felt so useless, so out of arm's length from the man who held your heart from the very beginning.

Two years post-rumbling and Reiner's emotional and mental state were a rollercoaster that never stopped.

After the floodgates opened, Reiner opened up in a way you never wished to see again.

The nightmares were worse, the breakdowns were frequent and the desire to grant himself an early death was strong.

Night and day you remained by his side, even as he tried to preform his duties as an ambassador of peace. Holding him and wishing the resources he had when he was a warrior were still available. Reiner desperately needed someone more adept to wrangle the emotions of a traumatized man, who suffered from his own regretful actions.

Everything took a turn when Reiner found a proper outlet for the guilt. He journaled every word that entered his mind, channeling it into paper and burning the journal when all the pages were full. Pieck had made the suggestion one day and you couldn’t be more thankful to her.

Five journals were filled and burned and that's when you could see the cocoon breaking to give birth to the man who deserved the life he fought for in the very end.

The progression of his metamorphosis was slow, almost agonizing but you and everyone else could see the changes. Light in his beautiful golden eyes were returning as the days went on and the will to heal from the past flowed through him.

Three years post-rumbling and Reiner was a man in the process being reborn.

Sleeping through most nights now but not escaping the nightmares all together. Healing would never be linear, but at least now it were on an upward streak.

Reiner took a real passion to his work as an ambassador of peace, turning the tragedy of the world into an opportunity to mold it into something everyone at one point dreamt of.

Paradis was still a fear that lived in the back of his head, unable to escape the fear of a possible retaliation, ruining the progression him and the other five had made so far.

His self pity and guilt turned into devotion when it came to you, making promises to further become the man that deserved your love. After all you had done for him, this was the least he could do for you.

It was hard not to walk on eggshells with him at times, knowing how easily triggered he still was but at least now Reiner had developed better coping mechanisms to deal with the stress and trauma that came from surviving the rumbling and saving whoever survived the destruction.

Coming to terms that the events leading to that fateful day would always live with him, even if he wished there were a way to erase them from memory. But he learned that what he endured provided the melding to who he was today.

Reiner Braun would probably never fully heal from his life as a warrior or saving the world from Eren, but if it weren’t for you and sticking beside even on the hardest of days he wouldn’t be able to appreciate the new world he was building. A world he felt safe and at ease at, one where he experienced the desire to raise a family with you, safe enough to live a boring simple life when he could.

-----

“Are you sure this is something I deserve?” He would ask randomly one evening, sitting beside you in a bench he built for the back porch, watching the sun set below the horizon.

“Yes, every part of you deserves this. You're worthy of a life free of pain and guilt, to live through your second chance, I can't think of anyone more deserving than you Reiner.” Responding back soothingly, interlocking your hand with his and pressing it to your cheek. Reiner slightly turned to look at you, expression blank then turning soft at the sweet reassure he would never grow tired of hearing.

“Thank you for showing me that I do, I don’t know where I would be with you.”

[blarefordaglare]

Fan Joy July day 23

This one’s by @chatter-cow

Link: https://www.tumblr.com/chatter-crow/756643689225437185/for-the-art-requests-legend-wild-fluff?source=share

I think this is so sweet-Legend teaching a non-musical (I mean we have Kass and the stable trotters-but they don’t really count as LINK isn’t playing the music) Link music. The art style is also very pretty and I loved how you included lighting. I hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed making it!

__

“So you never learned music?” The veteran leaned an ear in closer, as if trying to convince himself he was hearing wrong, “Not even a flute?” He felt music was the key to a soul. The thing that adds color to gray lines.

The champion swayed from foot to foot-a nervous habit, “I mean, I can hum,” he offered, “but I only really do that when I cook.” 

Legend let out an exasperated sigh, “better late than never,” he breathed, “I’m going to give you something-just this once-and you’ll give it back after we’re done with it, no damage whatsoever, promise?” It was less of a question and more of a command, as he didn’t even bother to acknowledge the boy’s vigorous nod, instead pulling two instruments from his pouch. One was a white that held the mix of fluffy clouds and fresh buttercream in its color, the other a bright pink, an energetic color that held a sense of elegant power.

“This is an ocarina,” he stated slowly, making sure to have Wild’s full attention. He carefully placed the pink instrument in his scarred palms, making sure to curl the champion’s fingers around the ceramic to prevent dropping, “it’s a standard twelve hole one, but it’s capable of making a wide range of music. From upbeat to-“ for a split second, his gaze shifted to the sky above, as if searching it, before he laid his eyes back down to the instrument, “melancholy.” 

“What about that one,” his finger bluntly pointed towards the other ocarina in the veteran’s hand, causing him to fuss over the fact that the pink ceramic was carelessly held up with a few fingertips, “it’s more… hole-y.” 

“Yeah, because of that it’s a bit harder to maneuver,” he gently applied force to the other’s hands, therefore putting back a firm grip on the ocarina, all while trying to ignore the ringing pleasedontbreakitpleasedontbreakitpleasedontbreakit in his head, “but they still work pretty much the same.” 

“Can you teach me?” His eyes held that curious spark, the spark that got Legend out of bed that one night.

“You know, it’s just like humming… but with blowing, and fingers- wait- Wild not like that!” Legend scrambled to catch the falling ocarina, narrowly missing the ground. He could have sworn he broken a rib in the process, but that would be a later thing to deal with. 

“Okay, I’m going to let go of it now. Remember-No. Dropping.” Right as his hands slipped away from the ocarina, leaving the champion to hold it, or at least he was supposed to. Instead the clay managed to squirm its way out of his hands, “Wild, I swear, I will tape your fingers to that thing!”

“Now how about we start playing a G? Here I’ll show-“

FWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET.

By the time the ‘lesson’ was over, Legend could have sworn he had a year’s worth of headaches in one sitting, but it also felt worth it. He could feel the mood in the forest improve, the tree leaves falling down with rhythm.

“Here you go,” Wild’s lips curled slightly as he carefully placed the instrument into the veteran’s palms, removing the small, sticky, pieces of tape on his fingers, “You told me to return it.” 

Legend’s eyes met the champion, a quick glance, yet he could see the swirl of emotions. Excitement for this new discovery, yet a hint of lament of having to give up the skill so soon.

“Keep it.” 

“Really?” Legend bounced on the balls of his feet. Would he break it? Would this mess with the timeline once we return to our respective lands? 

“Of course. Now shoo-I’m busy.” The veteran’s hand waved for emphasis. 

Maybe sometimes Legend would need to block his ears-or at least invest in 8 pairs of earplugs. Maybe sometimes Legend would precariously place the pink ocarina, teetering  on a small rock, back into Wild’s bag. Maybe sometimes Legend would need to invest in glue to repair broken pieces of ceramic together.

But it was all worth it. 

[jazzdailyblog]

Earl Bostic: The Jazz Virtuoso Who Redefined Music

Introduction: Earl Bostic, born in Tulsa, Oklahoma, one hundred and eleven years ago today on April 25, 1913, was a musical prodigy who left an indelible mark on jazz. His innovative approach to music and electrifying performances continue to inspire musicians and listeners worldwide. Early Life and Musical Beginnings: In his youth, Earl Bostic honed his musical talents, playing the clarinet…

[mystic-writings]

remember the nights | chapter twelve — o, atlas, pt. ii

WORD COUNT — 2,304

WARNINGS — reader's family celebrates christmas, slight angst

NOTES — i can’t believe there’s like 2 chapters left already what happened

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

In a blur, Christmas day had finally arrived. And, almost miraculously, it was one of the first days over the past month that you were able to feel some sort of joy. Through the ache in your chest and the cloud of loneliness that had been following you around for over a month, you woke up feeling almost… happy.

Almost. 

Every year since you could remember — including this year — you woke up before anyone else in the house. The sun was barely creeping over the horizon, the glow creeping over the white walls of your bedroom, illuminating it brilliantly. The clock on your phone read 6:47am. You’d never understood how your body managed to wake up so early no matter what time you went to bed on Christmas Eve. It was like it knew what was awaiting you the next morning. 

At 7:15am, after scrolling on your phone became too boring and you could no longer wait for the rest of the house to wake up, you began to tiptoe downstairs as quietly as you could manage. It was mostly light outside, but the hallway was still dark, and you had to use your phone to light the path to the living room. 

The sunlight mixed with the light from the decorations outside and the lights glimmering on the tree as you moved to sit on the far right side of the couch. Gifts were piled underneath the tree, almost overflowing into the rest of the room, all perfectly wrapped or bagged — certainly Maggie’s doing, as you knew your dad was never able to wrap gifts properly. 

The door down the hall creaked open as you made your way into the living room, and you backtracked to find Chuck, bleary-eyed and mostly-asleep, making his way to the living room. With every step, his feet landed on the hems of his too-big pajama pants, and he rubbed his eyes as he made his way to you. 

He jumped slightly when he saw you, before heading to the couch and sitting to your left. “G’morning,” he greeted with a yawn, sleep coating his words. 

“Morning,” you whispered back before getting back up upon realizing how hungry you were. You headed to the kitchen, grabbing a box of cereal to bring back for you and Chuck to take turns eating handfuls of as you waited silently for everyone to get up. 

It had taken everyone else almost an hour to get up and make their way to the living room, and from there it was an almost perfect Christmas morning. A light snowfall had begun almost as soon as your parents sat on the couch, and everyone joked around as you all unwrapped your gifts. 

And while you may not have talked directly to Thomas that morning, it seemed that you were both on the same page. No ill will on Christmas. 

Maggie made breakfast afterward, and you helped your dad with cleaning up the ocean of wrapping paper as she did so. Once the food was ready, everyone sat down to eat together like you used to, as a family. You talked and laughed like before, like nothing had even happened between you and Thomas, before everyone inevitably went their own ways to do whatever they needed to. 

Thomas took his presents upstairs to put them away and get ready to see Teresa later on in the day, your dad went upstairs to get dressed for the day, and Chuck and Maggie immediately set off to start building the Lego Death Star he got from her and your dad. You decided that putting away everything you were given now would be easiest, so you went to do exactly that. 

When you got to your room, you set aside the clothes you got from your uncle to be washed, and put the books Amina and Fernanda sent you on top of your dresser before sending them excited ‘thank you’ texts. Finally, you set up the new laptop you’d gotten from your dad and Maggie. Thomas had received one, too, and their main explanation was that you would need them for college. It was one of those fancy ones, too, that was somehow both a laptop and a tablet.

After taking everything out of the packaging, you brought the box over to your closet to shelve it in case you’d need it later. But you made the simple mistake of glancing down — at the bins in your closet, filled with things from your childhood, where the piece of clothing you’d been avoiding for a month sat. 

Perfectly folded, resting on top of the bins. Newt’s jacket.

The ache in your heart came back, and your breath stuttered in your lungs as your eyes locked onto the canvas jacket. You didn’t move an inch as you stared, thinking, long and hard, about what to do with it. Finally, with a determined shut of your closet doors, you came to a decision and got dressed for the day. 

You weren’t sure if you’d chosen to give it back because it was Christmas, or if you were tired of the constant reminders and feeling the way you did for so long, or if you just wanted an excuse to finally try to talk things out with Newt. 

After you were dressed, you grabbed the jacket from the closet and put it into one of your old backpacks before heading downstairs. You found your dad sitting with Chuck and Maggie, still piecing together the Death Star in the living room. 

Sliding on your coat, you asked, “Dad, can I take the car for a sec? I have to give something to Brenda really quick.”

He looked up, considering it for a moment. It didn’t seem like anything out of the ordinary, but you felt as though telling him that you were going to see Brenda instead of breaking your own heart by trying to talk to Newt was a safer option.

“Sure thing, kiddo. The keys should be on my desk in the office.” He smiled, nodding at you when you smiled back. “Just try to be back by 3, okay? Maggie’s gonna need our help with dinner.” 

“No problem, dad,” you told him, already crossing the hallway to head to his office, which was directly across from Chuck’s room. “I’ll be back before you know it.” 

Heading into the office, the first thing you noticed was that the room was flooded with gray-toned natural light from the window across from your dad’s desk. The sky outside was cloudy, large snowflakes tumbling to the ground. You made your way to the desk, where you found the keys tucked under your dad’s large, highly expensive, Mac monitor. Considering he designed company logos and other types of things for a living, it wasn’t surprising that he had one to work on. After all, it was what allowed him to work from home and to do so flexibly. 

After grabbing the keys and heading back into the hallway, you rushed out of the house, barely stopping to say your goodbyes to everyone. The second you’d gotten in the car, you felt the anxiety building high in your chest like Jenga blocks, stacking higher and higher, becoming more unstable with every passing second, waiting for the right moment to crash to the ground and suffocate you under their unbearable weight.

But you refused to let that happen. Instead, you pushed it all aside, starting the car and allowing the ease of driving to take over until you were parked along the curb of the familiar barn-style house. Shutting off the car, you took as deep a breath as your lungs would allow, closing your eyes and trying your best to mentally prepare yourself for what could happen. 

After you gave yourself a moment or two, you decided that just getting it over with would be easiest. Shaking the thoughts from your head, you grabbed the strap of the bag from the passenger seat and stepped out of the car, walking up the driveway. The cold breached your jacket within seconds, and you could only think about how you wouldn’t have been cold if you were wearing Newt’s jacket instead. 

The tower of anxiety within you built itself higher and higher, growing into a skyscraper by the time you reached the front door. With another deep breath, you raised your shaking hand and formed a fist to knock on the door. Before you had the chance to do so, the white-painted wood door swung open. 

You quickly stepped back as an older woman began to step out, shouting over her shoulder. 

“Don’t forget about the chicken, please! I’ll be back at 9!” She looked like she was in a rush, jacket pulled over one arm, a purse resting in the crook of her elbow, and keys jangling in her palm as she tried to pull the door shut. She wore a set of light blue scrubs, little black doodled flowers covering them, and her hair — the same sandy blond color as both of her kids — seemed to be haphazardly thrown into a ponytail. She jumped when she realized she almost ran right into you. “Oh! Sorry, darling! I didn’t see you there.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it.”

She huffed and smiled tiredly at you. “You must be one of my kid’s friends,” she deduced. “I’m sorry to have met you like this, but I’m going to be late for work—” 

You smiled warmly at her. “No worries. I’m just here to talk to— to Newt, actually. I, uhm, I have something to give to him.” 

“Oh,” she nodded, pushing some hair from her face. It was nice to see how much Newt was like his mom. “Well, he’s inside.” For a second, she seemed to contemplate what she wanted to say next. “And if you can, would you try to cheer him up a bit? The poor boy, he’s been so… down lately. Won’t talk to me about it, either.” 

Your throat dried in an instant, but you nodded, anyway. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

A relieved smile brightened her features. “Thank you so much, love. Oh, and merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” you smiled, waving at the woman as she squeezed your arm before heading to her car. 

You took a few more minutes to pull yourself back together again before finally knocking on the door. In moments, it creaked open again, and your heart cracked. You were almost expecting Sonya to open the door. Why, you weren’t sure, but when you suddenly came face to face with Newt, that skyscraper in your chest came crashing down. You could handle it every other time, because you had space. You could walk away. Here, you could see him, reach out and touch him, if you wanted to. 

Shaking out of your stupor, you opened your mouth to speak. 

But Newt beat you to it. 

“Go away.” And with that, the door slammed shut. 

He couldn’t handle seeing you like that. Not now. The space he’d put between the two of you and the door that he knew needed to remain closed was the only thing keeping him sane. Over the past month, the space he put between himself and the rest of the group was the only thing that kept him from exploding entirely. From kicking Thomas’ ass for ruining everything, from walking up to you and kissing you like you were the only thing keeping him alive. 

And then you knocked again. Newt ignored it, making his way to the stairs. 

Sonya stepped out of the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?”

“No one,” he snapped, stomping up the stairs. 

Sonya glared at her brother as he turned the corner. The stairs creaked as he went, filling the silence that seemed to be in their house more often than not these days. Then there was another knock at the door, and Sonya’s eyes darted between it and where her brother’s figure just was. With a sigh, Sonya approached the door, pulling it open again. Her eyes widened with surprise upon seeing you. “Y/n! What are you doing here?”

You smiled, hesitantly and slightly sad, as you picked at the strap on your backpack. “I wanted to, uh, to see Newt, actually. I still have his jacket, from the…” you paused, taking a deep breath. “I just thought I should give it back to him. It’s been a month now, so…” 

Sonya only nodded as the mood turned somber. 

Taking another breath, you slipped the backpack from your shoulder and began unzipping it. “Anyway, I have it here. Could you give it to him for me?” 

“Of course,” Sonya nodded as you pulled the perfectly folded jacket from the bag, handing it to her. 

Quietly, you thanked her and turned around. But there was something you had to ask of her, so you turned back around right before she closed the door. “Sonya,” you called out, and she opened the door again. “Could you tell him I miss him, at least? I know he probably doesn’t want to hear it, and maybe it doesn’t even matter anymore, but I need him to at least know that. Even if he doesn’t care anymore.” 

“I will.” She promised. “If he’s willing to listen to me, I’ll tell him.” 

It wasn’t much, but the crack in the dam was enough for the relief to start trickling in. You nodded once more at the girl, waving goodbye as she smiled at you, closing the door behind her. Making your way back to the car, you pulled the keys from your pocket, sliding them into the ignition and making your way home. 

You could only hope that things would start to get better for everyone soon.

series taglist: @heliads @ghostofscarley @badbatch-simp24 @virginia-peters @third-broparcelicito @lamolaine @yes-fangirl-things (open!)

[schismusic]

Joy Division, or: how I learned to stop worrying and love New Order, too

Spring is weird as hell because one time you have this glaring sun that powers you up like being plugged into a wall outlet, then not five minutes later clouds begin to gather and you feel like you're going to die if anything goes south. So the most obvious combination to represent two sides of this same coin, emotional and meteorological, is Joy Division and New Order.

Sometimes you need Transmission or Shadowplay for the sunny days — impassioned jolts, sparks flying everywhere. Sometimes The Perfect Kiss hits harder on a cloudy afternoon, coming back home and in need of that extra push to not fall asleep in the train. It's surprising to realize the versatility displayed by both bands, or the same band in two different iterations according to whomever you ask. Peter Hook says, as late as 1993, that the laziest member of New Order is Ian Curtis. Or again this other person, in the comments under the Atmosphere official video on YouTube, who went to see New Order (Hooky-less New Order, which might be a relevant distinction) at the O2 Arena a couple of years ago and they gave an encore, says "Those of us who stayed got the privilege of watching Joy Division perform three of their songs". Interesting outlook on the matter. I personally saw Peter Hook and the Light play both Joy Division records and, I'm pretty sure, an encore comprised of just Love Will Tear Us Apart at the Arti Vive Festival in Soliera, back when it was still free to attend some of the events. I remember being pretty mad that Hooky had stopped to take pics with basically everyone and then left exactly as I was approaching. In retrospect I don't exactly blame the man, it was like midnight anyway. I remember nothing of the back trip home.

My first contact with Joy Division happened when I was thirteen and very much in my prog era. I was in Rome staying at an aunt of mine's place for my fourteenth birthday and she told me I could get a CD, since I had gotten some money saved up over time. Some Facebook page dedicated to Pink Floyd I'd liked (yeah, Facebook at age thirteen — I literally just wanted to play a fucking Flash game, back when Facebook allowed them, and I ended up getting to be terminally online. Crazy how things turn out) used to share a lot of memes and fanart relating to the Unknown Pleasures album cover, and me being a massive Pink Floyd head at the time I thought "I mean, if these guys are pushing this band so hard, that's gotta mean something". The album cover was pretty striking, admittedly: a far cry from the paisley ass paintings that I had grown to accept as the gold standard for the music I liked, but its simplicity struck a chord closer to The Dark Side of the Moon, or perhaps The Wall. Those were records I liked a lot, probably called them "the best records ever made" to more than one person, not like they aren't but that's a very bold statement to make when your listening experience consists exactly of

Madonna's Confessions on a Dance Floor when I was six;

Daft Punk's complete discography (minus Random Access Memories, which wasn't out yet) when I was twelve;

Pink Floyd's complete discography, courtesy of a CD collection coming out with some Italian newspaper, that same year;

a couple random classic rock records recommended to me by older friends and relatives usually well into their fifties or sixties at the time, random people on Internet forums — which, for clarification, I did not actively attend, preferring to just lurk from time to time — and the OndaRock "milestones" page.

So browsing through the surprisingly expansive CDs section of this electronics shop in Rome, and being mesmerized by a vinyl rack in the days when Music on Vinyl was the final frontier of pretending you could re-analogue the digital ("you mean to tell me these are like CDs, but bigger? Whoever designed these truly lived in the future"), I came across that very same album art that had stricken me so hard. I had listened to the first seconds of the album on YouTube, but that weird drum sound — so echoey, so distant, ultimately not particularly powerful, meaning it didn't really sound like Bonzo: it sounded more like my own band, which at the time didn't even exist yet — I didn't really know what to make of. This store I was in had one of those preview listening machines that would scan the barcode on the CDs and give you a small snippet of the song. I pull the CD up to the scanner, the scanner lights up green, I put on the headphones and the solo from this comes up:

Clearly they had to be kidding me. I had come to know, sneaking into infinitely many rehearsals with the band from my mother's town, what it sounded like when someone tried to play lead without something else filling up the arrangement (even though I didn't really know all that, or at least lacked the vocabulary to properly express it) and, for Christ's sake, didn't these guys notice rehearsing? It sounded empty, weirdly so, and it wasn't my thing, I thought. I put that CD away and picked up a band I knew I'd like — Genesis, specifically. So Nursery Cryme became the first CD I've ever paid with my own money, the very day I turned fourteen. Not a bad pickup. I remember being very impressed with the fast blurring lead guitar on The Musical Box and digging the sweet pastoral atmospheres of For Absent Friends and Harlequin. I still think of that record more often than one would probably assume looking at this blog, or my most played on Spotify. At the time, that was the best move I could take, really: why beat my head against a record that, as your average prog nerd ballbreaker, simply wasn't speaking to me?

Then all of a sudden in August of the same year my friend's dad hands me a 16 gigabyte USB drive, full of random music from all eras of rock. A lot of it remains inscrutable to me for a really long time, most notably Tom Waits (see related post), but I spent the whole month reading random folder names, seeing if something catches my eyes, and at one point I come across the Mars Volta. Open the folder up, read the names of their first three records, and my first thought is "Christ, these guys look incomprehensible. I'm about to have some fun". Long story short: I end up having a lot of fun, the Mars Volta turns into my favourite band at the time and finding out that they had previously been called At the Drive-In makes me gain some measure of respect for punk rockers: if they tried hard enough, I must've thought, they could prog as hard as anyone. In the meantime the ghost of Joy Division remains at the back of my head. I feel like I'm missing something, for the first time in my life: it's not them, it's me. Too bad that same realization didn't occur to me when it came to the people in my life until much, much later, but that's being fourteen for you I suppose. Early King Crimson and the Mars Volta were the pinnacle of violence to me, and not even the very few Metallica songs I'd downloaded just to see what would happen scratched that itch. It felt a bit too cauterized for some reason (I would later find out I had been looking in the wrong direction the whole time: the Black Album "sucked", according to my favourite metalhead of the time, who somehow catalyzed my interest from the very second I saw him in the school's courtyard. Hard to imagine why I would imprint on people like puppies do, but what the fuck, not like I've ever outgrown that anyway, I've just gotten better at managing it). But I felt there was more than violence to this, or different forms of violence. When Christmas came around and my relatives tried to get me presents, my mother asked if there was anything specific I was interested in, and I basically told her "look, if they can get me some CDs off of this list, I'm golden". It had some bangers on it, namely Noctourniquet by the Mars Volta — it's one of their best and I will die on this hill, be warned — and The Downward Spiral, which might as well warrant its own post in an ideal world. But the best of them all I think came from a random purchase, once again with the little money I had lying around at the time.

Closer appears to be, right away, a bit more concrete, and if there's something inexperienced music fans like is a pretty packaging that conjures a strong emotional response before they've even played the record. Compare a color-inverted graph of pulsar emissions to a literal funerary monument. Opening up the booklet I was shocked to see that Genesis was used as a negative point of comparison (bad omen, I thought) by people close to the band, and I came across much more detailed information about Ian Curtis's untimely demise — at that time, something far too removed from my experience to be faced with the delicacy and attention it deserves. Atrocity Exhibition hits like a ten-ton truck, a reference which at the time I wouldn't have been able to make for obvious reasons, and Isolation exposes all the nerve tissue under the skin. Passover comes in and strips everything even barer, and then A Means to an End turns… danceable, for some reason? Big emotional moment with The Eternal and Decades, which I thought actually took them closer to my usual tastes. And yet at the same time I kept looking at Colony, Heart and Soul and Twenty Four Hours as the most compelling cuts. Geometric assault sounding like sheet metal if it were music; rhythmically driven emptiness that serves as a minimal backdrop for depressed poetry, and finally a rocking ebb-and-flow that would probably inform a lot of my interest in GY!BE-like post-rock in the coming years. Very interesting to think that the same guys who'd done Unknown Pleasures could think of this. To this day, when asked, I still do think that Closer is the best Joy Division record, but what does it even mean when the records are exactly two, compilations notwithstanding?

It was around this time that it came to my attention that both Joy Division and another band called New Order had a record called Substance out, both published by the same recording company, both coming out within a year of each other. Looking it up, it turns out it's fully intentional, because New Order is simply Joy Division minus Ian Curtis. It would turn out to be a tad bit more complex than that. Anyway, I look New Order up and kind of have to do a double-take. Synthpop? In my Joy Division? More likely than you'd think, considering Isolation exists. But yeah, that sort of seals it — I wouldn't care about this New Order for a million years. Until all of a sudden a couple of years later David Sylvian bursts like a comet in my face, which of course leads me straight to Japan, the same year as I'd come across Berlin-era Bowie, and you can probably guess where this is going, right?

Well, you'd be wrong. I still don't check out New Order. There's a whole new world open to me — vaporwave and therefore R Plus Seven come to my attention, which leads me to dissect that record like an alien tool of unclear purposes. This of course leads me onto an ambient tangent, taking me back to my Tim Hecker listens of that same year, which has the effect of renewing my interest in "pure" electronic music and the then-rising post-dubstep movement. The sheer experience of sound, the dazzling modernity and innovation, is what's in at the time. I have no time for nostalgia-pandering dimwits: the future awaits. Then all that jazz from the first Godflesh post hits, then God pulls the funniest gag in the history of viral infections to my memory, and I have some time to actually look back, a bit less prejudiced. As it turns out, synthpop is not the devil, as some of you might have surmised by now, and as I relisten to Blue Monday I realized I have never listened to either of the Substance record. I do know some, most perhaps?, of the tracks on the Joy Division one, and I do think the New Order one has the more striking cover art — not to mention I knew, by this time, that this was the one to give Metal Gear Solid 2: Substance its name, and that Your Silent Face soundtracked one of the most memorable moments in Nicolas Winding Refn's Bronson. As the ultimate Hideo Kojima stan, I couldn't let this slide, so I pop the record on and get hit with this:

Way to go, guys. Holy shit. I knew that Ceremony was a Joy Division cut before they could record it, but what the hell — Bernard got it, too. It wasn't a matter of singing ability with songs like these, it's just getting it, finding the right energy. They had that right energy. And then it hit me just as many times these dudes have made Blue Monday over and over again before actually getting it right, and everytime I look into it it's funnier and funnier to realize just how many different attempts it took them to finally be Kraftwerk, but augmented — with the stellar results we all know. Everything's Gone Green, 5 8 6, Temptation potentially, all lead up to this one moment in the history of dance music where somehow three dudes and a girl hailing from Manchester managed to out-gay the Pet Shop Boys (by their own admission, apparently), to shake the whole world's collective booty, to do whatever it is they were supposed to do in this last comparison that would ideally make the previous one a bit less obnoxious but whatever, it's 3am as usual, you know how it goes by now don't you? But then after Blue Monday the record keeps going, and thank god it does, because it's banger after banger. How do these guys keep doing it?

So I spend some time with that record, then it fades down, then it comes back up last month, when the weather calls for it and its parent company. Which is when I find myself watching the Control movie for the first time, surprisingly enough seeing as I already enjoyed the work of Anton Corbijn as a photographer. Looking at all that, it is revealed to me that Joy Division never really having died is not a bug, it's a feature. Everyone is gasping, I get it, but please pick your jaws up and check this out: the band has never learned how to play their respective instruments. One might go so far as to argue they play their own stuff their own way, and that's basically it. Nothing could be further from the truth. These guys jammed, a lot; that's how Joy Division wrote songs, that's how New Order wrote songs, even going as far as having Bernard Sumner fucked up on acid so he could find the chorus to Temptation or the whole band bombed out of their minds on X in Ibiza clubs to write, basically, the entirety of Technique — and even then, not really, there's a couple jangly tracks that the X would most likely render unlistenable but what do I really know? Point being: it might now have been sparked by a music teacher or instructor, it might not have been the product of a process comparable to that within Television, which led them to organically seek out better, more "by the book" musicianship, but New Order were incredibly familiar with their instruments, had formed an element of comfort and understanding that counterbalanced the alien-ness to music terminology.

Peter Hook recently uploaded a Yamaha-sponsored video to his Instagram, which I am pretty sure has a say in running, where he jams on a Yamaha bass and, you know, it sounds like Hooky alright, but it's never a discernible bassline until he kicks into the A major strumming that opens Love Will Tear Us Apart. Before that, he just strolls around the neck, leisurely strumming away at power chords imbued with that thick chorus and reverb combo he became renowned for. I would never, in my wildest dreams, have imagined I'd find myself thinking "okay, awesome, stop talking — I want to hear you jam a bit more" referring to one of the musicians who were part of possibly two of the craziest storiest in the history of contemporary rock'n'roll, also notorious for playing the rockstar whilst carrying the minimum possible baggage of technical knowledge he could. Once again, this is nowhere near a knock to the man — quite the opposite. Ian Curtis asked "persistence, well, what does it matter?", and Hooky (and, of course, the other members of New Order) found a way to constructively answer that question. Moments before Coil, but a bit later than Israel Regardie, they said "persistence is all" and built a brand on finding a way to consistently sound like splendid, eternal, golden children: "like crystal", impassionate, tightly-knit performers with the purity of a child's heart. Ian Curtis had, in certain ways (at least artistically), the purity of a child in his heart, which some might even argue was a distinguishing feature of most of his literary idols — if you think about it, William Burroughs could be your dirty-minded classmate who walked in on his parents sharing an intimate moment in the bedroom (had his parents been gay men, the metaphor would probably fly better, but that most definitely wasn't the case). So the heart of Joy Division remains untouched, if a bit more naked. Heroes of post-punk, sons of the silent age, you can sleep soundly tonight.

[roninishere]

Strong.

Part 2 of Half of my heart!

Obanai Iguro x Female Reader

Warnings: horrible grammar? Haha

Summary: things finally were coming together.

||

‘My hands, your hands
Tied up like two ships
Drifting, weightless
Waves trying to break it
I'd do anything to save it
Why is it so hard to say it?’

‘I’m so sorry Y/N, I can’t come home yet. The only way I can come home is if I kill Muzan, and finally purify my blood.’

It was time.

Demon Slayer Corps successful took down Muzan and the rest of the upper moons with no casualties. It was a miracle.

Y/N started to get worried when a week had passed after the final battle, where was he?

He promised.

After asking Tengen and his wives to pick your up after school and watch over him, you had rushed home to pack a small bag. Just enough for a day trip.

He promised though.

Swinging the door open, nearly rushing out, a familiar black and white stripped hoari caught your eyes, bringing you to a full halt. Your eyes shot up, and you swore you thought you were gunna faint. You locked eyes with those familiar yellow and turquoise eyes; and your knees buckled. Before they gave out, you leaned your hip and body weight on the side of the door frame.

He kept his promise.

You got some overwhelmed with emotions, you started crying as you regained your posture. Was this real? Or were you dreaming?

You weren’t emotional often, but fuck you were a fool for the serpent Hashira. This is four YEARS into the making, for this very moment. Subconsciously, you closed the gap between the two of you, bringing your hands up to his face. You thought your heart was going to burst out of you chest. Your palms were embarrassing sweaty as you cupped his cheeks, letting out the softest joy of laugh ‘He’s really here…’

Obanai had always been hesitant and awkward with affection, so when he didn’t go to touch or embrace you, it didn’t bother you. Though the instant you set your hands on his face over his bandages, he dropped his luggage bag, he instantly leaned into your touch as his beautiful unique eyes were locked on yours. Your eyes were so breathtaking and beautiful as he remembered.

The unfamiliar feeling of warm and fuzziness ran through his body when you moved in close, pressing your lips on his bandages, where his lips would be, for a couple seconds before pulling back with the biggest smile he’s ever seen “Welcome home baby.”

Welcome home baby. Between those words and the fact that you were so loving towards him, even with the new scars nasty on his face, he felt he was on cloud nine.

“I’m so sorry that it took this long,” he started with that look of disappointment and shame in his eyes that unfortunately was common to you. “Even though Muzan is gone, a part of me still feels like I shouldn’t be here, that I don’t deserve this. Not with everything I’ve put you through. I feel like I’m still a disgrace.” The feelings he had about his past still very much existed for the now former Hashira, and it continues to break your heart.

He had been through so much not only the first twelve years of his life, but in general. He was a man of insecurities, self doubt, and self hate. You wanted to help change that.

“I understand baby, I promised that I’d wait a hundred years for you if that’s how long it took. As for you still have those feelings, over time they’ll go away,” your gentle words brought him to tears, and you never saw him shed a tear. “But it’ll take time, and for you to forgive yourself. It starts with you. I’ve forgiven you the moment our little boy was born,” you gently brushed your thumbs across the bandages and whispered “You were never a disgrace, and you still will never be one. You’ve saved hundreds of lives! Probably even thousands! If you’re anything, you’re a hero baby.

“You deserve to be happy again, to be with the ones that you love, to finally live your life. How you want.”

Your words gave him strength to finally touch you, he engulfed you into his arms, hugging you so tight that it was slightly difficult to breathe.

‘My heart, your heart
Sit tight like bookends
Pages between us
Written with no end
So many words we're not saying
Don't wanna wait till it's gone
You make me strong’

“Do you trust me?” Your question had him taken him by surprise but he didn’t hesitate to answer “With my life.”

Your brain went a little mushy thinking that was super cute of him to say, you blushed before picking up his luggage bag with one hand as you tugged for him to follow you into your home. You brought him to you-now your guys bedroom, set his luggage down in front of your-now his as well drawers before you closed the sliding doors.

“Wait, where’s Kaburamaru?” You couldn’t believe you almost forgot.

A soft muffled chuckle left Obanais lips at your concern “He’s in the trees in front, he wanted to give us…privacy.”

“Oh how considerate!”

‘I'm sorry if I say I need you
But I don't care, I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker
Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?
That you make me strong’

Four years. Fours years since the two of you were this close. You lead him to the edge of the bed, your fingers running through his hair, brushing it the stains out of his face. You nudged his legs to open so you placed yourself in the middle of them, securing all space between the two of you as you bent down, kissing all his scars.

His hands flumbed with your kimono as his eyes were glued onto your face. Your kisses were so soft, lingering, and tiniest bit wet as you kissed what seemed like ever inch of his face. Untying your kimono, he pushed the fabric off your shoulders, and with a soft thud, you were half naked in front him. Unable to break away from your gaze, his hands find your waist, giving the soft skin squeezes here and there.

Your fingers found their way behind his head, slowly untying his bandages, unwrapping the rest of his face. You pecked the top of his nose saying “So handsome,” as you gently tossed the bandages behind him, continuing on with your attack with kisses.

Feeling you kissing the corner of his lips, Obanai felt like he was gunna faint from such affection. It wasn’t the first time that you kissed his scars or called him handsome, but he felt his face get hot and flustered as his hands grip your hips. Once you’ve layered so many kisses on his face, you pull back, your hands trailing down to unbutton his top.

The way your hair fell over your shoulders, surrounding you and the Serpents Hashiras, made it that more easier for him to look at your pumped lip that you currently had dragged underneath your teeth. Oh god he was always weak when you bit your lip like that, got him so turned on. Your clumsy fingers were struggling to undress him, though it’s not like you always were undressing someone. He was the last person you had been with.

You were just as breathtaking as the last time you two were intimate.

Feeling his eyes glued to your face, you nervous chuckled as you looked into his eyes for a moment before getting the last button undone. “There…” you breathed as you pushed off his top along with haori, and your expression never changed. Never once to the battle scars he had endured. Scars never once bothered you, you told him they were simply art, and behind all art, there was always a story.

Of course you had your own fair share of them, but Obanais scars didn’t scare or make you disgusted. If they made you feel anything, just a feeling of unease that he had endured so much pain at a young age.

She smiled so brightly at him saying “I’m sorry if I say that I need you Obanai.”

‘Think of how much
Love that's been wasted
People always
Trying to escape it
Move on to stop their heart breaking
But there's nothing I'm running from
You make me strong’

The both of you crash on the bed, catching your breaths after the two of you were coming down from your climaxes. You sat up on your elbow, leaning over to lay kisses back on his face with the cutest giggles. You were so happy to have him home, it was like a part of you came back. Whatever doubts you ever had, immediately disappeared with Obanai.

“Y/N?” His whisper was so soft as his hand cupped your cheek, “Hmmmm?”

Oh, the way your eyes lit up as you gave him your undivided attention, and that same bright smile of yours that made him fall in love with you when he first met you. Wow, how he’s missed this. Just when he couldn’t fall harder, he did.

“I love you so much,” your eyes turned ever to loving, finally hearing those words leave his word rather written in a letter than his crow delivered to you. “Marry me, so I can finally be the man you deserve. I promise I will make up my absence for the rest of our lives.”

Lost for words, you were cheesing as you nodded as the words came back to you “Oh baby I love you too, and of course I’ll marry you and make you the happiest man ever!”

“I already am,” he admitted gently against her lips as he combed back her hair.

oh shit this was really happening. Things finally working out for you and your son.

“Alright,” you sat up, stretching out a bit before giving him the softest and loving kiss, “come, I’m going to start a bath for us, there’s someone important you have to meet.”

Someone important you have to meet, those words echoed in his head which brought him both joy and a nerve racking feeling. Obanai was scared that his own son would reject him, tell him to stay away, cry and say he hated him.

Even though he deserved it, but his true obstacle wasn’t getting forgiveness for you, but from the spilt image of him.

‘I'm sorry if I say I need you
But I don't care, I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you I'm weaker
Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?’

The more you told him that he had nothing to worry about, it leveled out his nerves. He also felt like you made him stronger, not afraid of being himself, of taking chances. A leap of faith. He brought your hand up to his face, kissing your hand through his bandages before you knocked on the door of the Uzui’s home.

‘So, baby, hold on to my heart, ooh
Need you to keep me from falling apart
I'll always hold on
'Cause you make me strong’

“You have eyes like mine! Are you my father? Momma said you were away fighting to protect us from the monsters! Are all the monsters gone?!” The former Hashiras eyes flickered to you, which you have him a cheeky smile. Well, she wasn’t wrong now was she?

Bending down to his son level, he brushed back his sons hair with such love in his eyes, “I am, and yes all the monsters are gone. I can finally be with you two.”

“Momma! Is this true?” He turned back with so much excitement as his mother nodded with a smile “It is my love!”

Before he could say anything, the little boy jumped into his fathers arm, hugging him so tightly saying how much he had been looking for this moment. To meet his father. How happy he was.

‘ I'm sorry if I say I need you
But I don't care, I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker
Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?’

Love. Obanai Iguro had never felt so much love in his entire life until he could come

home. Until he could be with his family, to be with his son who didn’t fear or hate him.

“You’re not scared?” The little boy brought his hand up, touching all of his fathers scars, especially tracing his fingers in the ones at the corner of his lips.

The little boy shook his head “No, momma said scars are like art! A story behind each one!”

If his heart hadn’t melt before, it definitely didn’t right there in that moment. There wasn’t an ounce of fear or disgust in your sons eyes. Just amazed and intrigued by them. The same exact way his sons mother looked at him. With so much love.

‘I'm sorry if I say I need you
But I don't care, I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker
Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?
That you make me strong’

“Hey,” Obanai nudged his nose against your cheek as his hand caress across your round belly. It was spring time, and you guys watched Obanais minion with Kaburamaru up on his shoulder. You couldn’t help yourself get comfortable and drift off when your husband was calling for your attention. When you turned your head, he thought your droopy sleepy eyes were so adorable “I just wanted to remind you, you two make me so happy, that because if you, you make strong.”

‘I'm sorry if I say I need you
But I don't care, I'm not scared of love
'Cause when I'm not with you, I'm weaker
Is that so wrong? Is it so wrong?
That you make me strong’

Nothing made you more happy than finally being Obanai’s wife, and have a chance to have another baby, but with him along your side this time around. However, for Obanai, love and happiness surrounded for rest of his life…fulfilling those promises he made to you many years ago.

||

😭 I can’t, so much cuteness overload! Special shout-out to @unofficialmuilover for assisting me with the whole thing, song and plot and everything! I hope you all enjoyed!

[littlestarlost]

eve, in the garden (an avatrice ficlet)

Ava is generally fascinated by all the things Beatrice does, but it’s all the fruit that finally sends her over the edge. 

Beatrice, who slices her apples into perfect sixteenths and peels mandarins while keeping the skin in one piece. 

Beatrice, who always rests the strawberry against her lips before taking a bite, as if in reverent prayer. 

(It’s a look Ava has only seen when they're in the throes of passion, and when Bea eats strawberries.)

Beatrice, who eats green grapes by peeling the skin off first, using only her teeth and tongue. 

(Ava makes herself come just by grinding her thighs together, panting hot into the corner of the pillow so Beatrice won’t wake up.)

Beatrice only buys things when they’re in season, so it isn’t until the first nip of October that she brings home a pomegranate. She actually brings home five—only one of which is going into the chutney she wants to try, but they were on sale—and as Ava helps put away the groceries she can’t help but drift towards them. Spending twelve years unable to feel has made her a glutton for novelty, even to this day; the chance to feel something new is still a shining golden treasure. Her sensory-hungry hands are immediately drawn to the pomegranate’s taut flesh, the healthy weight of it in her palm, the way something gives just a little under the surface when she applies the slightest pressure. 

“How do you eat these?” Ava asks, her mouth already watering for some reason. “Is the skin good? Can I just go full apple, or this another rambutan situation?” 

Beatrice laughs, her joy like pealing bells on a Saint’s day. “Not quite, but there is kind of a trick to them. Would you like me to show you?” 

Ava nods. “Yes, please,” she says, voice low. She can’t help herself when Beatrice shows her things. 

They have to finish putting the groceries away first—Beatrice, as always, is an edging queen—and then Ava has to do the dishes she left in the sink from this morning. But eventually things are to Beatrice’s liking (Ava would do a million dishes just to see that specific calm smile), and they stand together by the sink: Beatrice filling a bowl with lukewarm water, and Ava with her chin planted on her hands like a brat. 

“Watch this,” Beatrice flashes the tiniest smirk, twirling a paring knife between her fingers before stabbing it into the top of the pomegranate, cutting a neat circle around the calyx and removing it as casually as she might kill a man with her bare hands. “Now, do you see the white pith inside, in between the seeds? You have to peel that off, and it’s often easiest to do in water, like so.” She slices a few straight lines down the pomegranate before submerging it in the bowl and cracking it open like a spine, which sends a delightful shiver down Ava’s own back. 

In Beatrice’s hands, everything becomes holy. The water bath is a baptism, the squirt of juice blooming blood-red like a temple crowned with thorns; the pith floats to the surface like clouds as the arils sink to the bottom of the bowl. They don’t pop out of the pomegranate easily; Beatrice has to coax them off the pith, her thumb stroking the seeds until they submit. She pulls up a handful—tiny seeds, once held in bondage and now freed, pearly pink and nearly translucent around the edges. The water runs through her fingers in rivulets. 

“Here,” Beatrice breathes, as if speaking too loud might shatter the moment. She takes an aril from her cupped palm and raises it to Ava’s lips, her fingers lingering as Ava’s tongue darts out to receive it. “Close your eyes.” 

Ava obeys, eyelashes fluttering as she bites down on the tiny seed. There’s a burst of tart-sweet juice on her tongue, a gentle crunch—refreshing and intriguing and gone far too soon. 

“Delicious,” she groans with pleasure.

[virginiaoflykos]

After brooding over this question for years, I have finally collected the names of all twelve Olympic Knights:

Cloud knight

Morning knight

Fear knight

Wind knight

Hearth knight

Storm knight

Death knight

Protean knight

Rage knight

Truth knight

Joy knight

Love knight

Took me only 6 years to complete it!