#as you can see i am on another plane of brain

[letorip]

kiss with a fist [iii]

"your slaps don't stick, your kicks don't hit, so we remain the same"

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: you can't help but feel like maybe you and tara are more than frenemies, and it culminates in a night where you finally share some truths with each other.

warnings: a somewhat traumatic dream sequence lmao, mentions of sex, kissing (almost), curse words, blood

word count: 5.8k

A/N: hope y'all like this one because i definitely liked writing it. definitely a whole lot more kissing than fisting.... wait a minute....

it's 5 am, my ass is grass. anyways, part 4 relatively soon because woo wee theres still so much to explore in this story i legitimately cant believe my idiot self said it'd be done in 2 parts originally

===+++===

===+++===

"(Y/n)," a voice calls to you, sing-song and sweet as your eyes fade to darkness. It's a gentle woman's whisper, but it manages to hit you like a truck, pulling you down from wherever you came from, and plopping you wherever you've arrived. Or, rather, wherever you've always been. "(Y/n), look, darlin'."

A gust of wind gently strokes over the plane of your cheek, and when you open your eyes, all you can see is rye. On one end, it reaches out towards a sharp cliff, overlooking a lake, with nothing but rocks and the water below. On the other, it runs far up the plains of land in front of you, stopping in front of the white house you know all too well, with its rickety porch and broken tire swing.

You take a few steps forward, as if ready to run right inside, and then before you know it, you're running. Like the world is about to end, like the house is burning down, like you'll never see the place ever again. Foot after foot, you dash towards it, hearing Alisha's piano flit through the front window for the first time in years, and the smell of a pie right along with it. "(Y/n)!" the voice calls again. "Dinner time, kid!"—

But your foot catches on a root, just like it did in your memory, and in an instant, you've fallen down into the rye, with a painful thud, right on your face. You let out a grunt, feeling the dirt on your new, white shirt. The one your mother never let you wear when you were playing outside.

And when you right yourself again, sitting up out of the field, the house isn't any closer than it was before. It sits, perfectly far away, only all that stuff is gone now, and the house looks about as dark as it did the day of Mitchie's funeral.

"(Y/n)!" an excited voice calls from behind you. "Wanna play tag?"

"(Y/n)'s too old for that, Mitchie," another voice chides, and you whip around like Calvin would actually be there to chide him like that. Like he used to. But he isn't. All you can see is the rye. It stands in thick stalks, reaching up to your knees in lush groupings, tall and abundant, strong and growing.

Another voice. "Read me a story?" It's soft and it's a little girl's and it's far away, and you get to your feet and spin in a circle, waiting for her to appear. It seemed to reverberate through your ears, washing through the pathways of your brain before seeping into your heart. It fills it up, and before you know it, you can feel yourself hastily searching for her.

"'Randa?" you called into the open field. "Miranda? You there?" but she continues on like she didn't hear you.

"Would you read me a story? Please?"

"I will Miranda, but where are you?" you called back, raising a hand to shield your eyes from the barrel of the hot sun.

"I'm gone, (Y/n). You're supposed to be gone too," she says back, with a sweet giggle. "Why aren't you gone with us?"

"I—" you stammer, whipping your head around the field in search of your siblings. "I don't—"

"Do you really think that's fair, (Y/n)?" Calvin asks.

"Why aren't you here, (Y/n)?" Miranda asks again, this time her voice wavering like she was about to cry. "Why aren't you in the rye with us?" Your hands came up to your head, trying to squeeze your eyes shut and block out the noises, but they seemed to reverberate into your skull.

"Mitchie was your fault, you know," Peter chides. "We would've never let that—"

"—Why did you get to stay, (Y/n)?" Came Tomas' voice. "We're supposed to be cursed, and you're supposed to be cursed too." He was always the quiet one, but now his voice had a sharp edge to it. One of jealousy. One of anger.

"Why didn't you catch me?" Mitchie asked. "If you just would've caught me..."

"Come play piano with me, I'll teach you," said Alisha, in her light, airy laugh.

"Why did it get to be you?" snarled Calvin. "And why are you getting closer to Tara? You want to curse her, too?"

"Stop—" you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

"Wanna play hopscotch?" said Mitchie.

"Do you miss us, (Y/n)?" Alisha said, in between tears.

"Yes, of course— I—" you tried, but now the voices were filling up your head, threatening to spill over and knocking you to the ground. You curled up into a ball as your brain filled up. Words piling up on top of words, piling up on top of words, about to split you open. "STOP!" you yelled.

And everything went silent. When you opened your eyes, you found yourself still in the field, but your siblings' voices had gone entirely. Now it was just you, in the field, alone with the rustling of the wind and the rye, as it grazed gently against your legs. You hadn't remembered standing up, but you were now.

In a flash, you could see a shape, running through the rye in a line that was very visible from where you were. You recognised the dark hair, and the yellow jacket he always wore. With the realisation came the looming dread, and you realised with very little time left what this exactly was a memory of.

You took off running, faster than you had to the house, faster than you had ever run, and faster than you had run then, chasing after him as he took off towards the cliff-end of your rye field. "Mitchie!" you yelled, trying to be louder than the buzzing cicadas, but it seemed the moment you yelled, the cicadas got even louder. He was too short to see over the stalks, but you could see him go, running in odd shapes as he got nearer and nearer to the cliffs edge.

"Catch me if you can, (Y/n)!" he called back with a gleeful laugh.

"(Y/n), grab your brother," called your mother. She didn't seem too worried, and she hadn't been, then. No one had been, until it was too late.

"Mitchie! Stop!" you cried out, feeling tears already beginning to fall down your cheeks. "Mitchie!" you tried again.

"Come on, you've gotta be faster than that if you're gonna be it!” Mitchie called back. "Catch me! Get me! C'mon! I'm gonna make it hard for you to win, Duck."

"MITCHIE! PLEASE!" you screamed, but all he did was giggle. “STOP! DON’T GO!” But the moment you reached the end of the rye, he was gone over the edge, just he had been when you were 13, and there was an arm shaking you awake.

===+++===

"Oh my god, you're about the least peaceful sleeper I've literally ever seen," Tara laughed, grinning at you from over her textbook. She had it pulled into her lap from her side of the table and titled against the table edge, and spread out in front of you were her papers galore, with notes scribbled all over them in preparation for her upcoming exam.

Mindy sat next to her, playing a stupid game on her phone, while Ethan was also studying in his own textbook. He had stopped trying to avoid you as much, as had Chad. You and Tara "dating" seemed to offend them less and less the longer it went on.

"Uh," you mumbled, still feeling a little bit disoriented from the dream. It was like a dose of adrenaline had been shot directly into your heart, and you struggled to adjust to the calm, peaceful library that actually was around you. "Shut up," you grumbled, but not like you were actually upset by her teasing.

Tara watched you with her eyebrows raised. "You look tired."

You sat up in your chair, running a hand through your hair. There was a small layer of sweat on your forehead. "Aren't you never supposed to say that to someone? Pretty sure that's how you get someone at the bar to throw their drink in your face."

"It is," Ethan nodded. "I made that mistake once. I was trying to be sweet."

"Good thing I'm not seducing you, then," Tara shrugged. "You've seen me puke everywhere. Pretty sure that ruined my chances right-out, and yet you love me anyways."

You grinned, leaning back to stretch out your arms. It was meant to be a gentle teasing from Tara, but you had only gotten better and better at deflecting the longer you were around her. "You'd be surprised, actually. That was super pretty. That was the prettiest you've ever been." Mindy snorted next to Tara.

Tara glared at you, unappreciatively. "And you're pretty when you do not speak."

"I'm pretty all the time, Tara," you mockingly shook your head. "And you think I'm joking. Find yourself a girl who looks nice covered in sweat, with her hair going everywhere, and puking in the toilet. That's my girlfriend."

"You're such a dick," Tara scoffed, but you could tell part of her was stifling a laugh. It was funny to her too, and you both had laughed at it together for days, afterwards.

If anything, it had gotten easier and easier, to act like the both of you were actually dating. You weren't too sure why, maybe Tara had become less annoying, or you had become less annoyed by her, but you had definitely at least become a better actor. That's what it was, after all. "Oh, also," she continued.

"Yeah?"

"Someone tried to call your phone, while you were sleeping. I think it was your dad."

You frowned. "You didn't pick up, right?"

"No," Tara said, shaking her head. Then she paused. She dropped her voice to speak just to you, guarding the conversation from Mindy and Ethan. "Do you and him not get along?"

You shrugged. "Eh. He was probably just checking in. We have a fine relationship." It wasn't true but it was an easy lie, that rolled off the tongue like nothing. He had already called twice, that day, and you knew why.

"Seriously, though," she said with a frown, looking up from her book. "You look fucking horrifying—"

"—Thanks," you said, flatly.

"—I mean, even more than normal, it's crazy—"

"—Thanks," you repeated.

"—Have you not been sleeping, or something?"

You shrugged. "I mean, I'm an architecture major, and it's midterms... so not really."

"Hm."

"What?" you asked, propping your head up on your arm. "What's the 'hm' for?"

She shrugged, trying to turn back to her textbook. "Hm, nothing."

You furrowed your eyebrows down at her. "Well, obviously the 'hm' was something, Tara." Mindy shot you a look again.

"Or it was just a hm."

“Would you two shush,” she said to you, rolling her eyes. “You bicker like an old married couple.” But you both ignored her.

"It's never just a 'hm.'"

"I say hm all the time. It's literally just a hm."

"No, it means you've got something to say but don't want to say it."

She frowned at the accusation but was obviously even more displeased that you were correct. "I was gonna suggest we go to the OBK party tonight, but maybe you should just go home and sleep. I was trying to be nice.”

You shrugged. "I won't be doing either, actually." Tonight was not the night for parties. You were somewhat grateful, that you had a legitimate excuse to busy your time, or else you would've spent even longer thinking about the dream. "I have to do homework. My final is due tomorrow."

Tara furrowed her eyebrows at you. "Wait, but I thought classes ended today."

You shook your head. "Nope. I've still got some stuff do."

"Oh," Tara frowned.

"Not all of us can have easy majors," you teased, trying to lighten the mood away from what was clearly concern.

"Hey! You chose the stupid thing," Tara shot back. "Not my fault I chose something fun." She stood up, gathering her things into a neat stack. The time was nearing for her midterm exam, and you stood up with her, grabbing her textbook to be helpful.

"Thanks," she said, then she wandered over and held out her hand. You grabbed it in yours, lacing your fingers together, just like you had practiced together.

The library was a tall building on the far side of campus from where you lived. It was a trek and a half to get there, which is partially why you had been a little annoyed, when Tara said she needed to go there. It ended up being the perfect place to fall asleep in, with the quiet signs and only a few murmurs now and again, and though it had been a less than peaceful dream, it was more than you had been getting for the past few days.

"I don't see why you can't just go without me," you shrugged, adjusting her book in your hands. "Just tell Sam I'll meet you there. Besides, Chad and Mindy are going to the same party, right?"

"Yeah, but I what if they realise you're not actually there and mention it to Sam, or something? And, I'd have to go there alone, since Chad and Mindy are going early."

"They are?"

"Yeah. Helping with set up. Mindy literally just mentioned that. Shows how much you listen to her.” She shook her head in a mocking disappointment in you.

“I was asleep, jerk.”

“I know,” she said, grinning.

You looked down to her, where she walked next to you, gently swinging your joint hands back and forth. "It's not a far walk to OBK. You could probably make it there in five minutes. It's well-lit, and—"

Tara frowned, shaking her head adamantly. "Not alone. Not without you, no way. Sam would want to see you at the door to pick me up. She'd probably hate the idea of it."

"Fair enough," you shrugged. "Find a movie at home tonight, then. Relax, or something. I'd kill to be done with this stupid project."

"What are you even making?" Tara groaned, breaking your hands to shove hers into her pockets. Actually, it was your jacket, and therefore technically your pockets too, but she had taken a liking to it, after your date. You had been less than pleased, when she asked to borrow it, considering how much the jacket meant to you, but she insisted it was assisting her to keep up the act. You figured you could part with it, at least for a little while.

"Architecture," you said with a thick layer of sarcasm. Tara rolled her eyes at you. She nudged you, and you couldn't help but laugh as her elbow pointed into your side.

"Oh, you think you're funny, huh?"

"I'm hilarious."

"You wish..." she scoffed, shaking her head.

It was a beautiful day in autumn, and the weather was soon to leave the sigh of brown leaves and rainy days and move into whispery winds and icy pavement. You didn't mind winter, but you didn't like the chills, even though it was undoubtedly what gave summer's warmth a certain sweetness. Still, nothing burned like the cold.

You walked her all the way to the door of the exam hall, stopping out front to hand her the textbook you had been carrying. You went to speak, but the moment you tried to open your mouth, your phone started ringing. You grabbed it from your pocket, sighing and declining the call, while Tara stared at you.

"Is that your dad, again?"

"No," you said. "Telemarketer."

"Right..." she said, frowning. "You're a terrible liar."

"Am I?" you challenged. You were, it was true.

"Why don't you want to talk to him?"

“I just don’t.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m asking why, (Y/n).”

"Why don't you leave it alone?" you shot, in frustration. You could see Tara's eyes narrow at your tone, and you felt a bit bad. There was the occasional reflex still, to bite each other's heads off. You weren't sure what it was about her, but something about Tara Carpenter always seemed to rile you up inside, and do the same for her with you.

"Sorry," you said, looking down at your shoes. "I just don't want to talk about it."

"That doesn't mean you have to be an asshole," Tara glared.

"Right... I'm... sorry."

Tara sighed. "I guess I'll see you next week?" She asked.

You nodded. "There'll be plenty of time after this, I just need to get this thing done."

"Okay," she nodded, failing to hide her excitement. Tara seemed to really love parties, the more and more she went to, and you were somewhat glad you could help her find something she enjoyed. It was nice to see, not that you'd ever say that to her. Doing that would absolutely result in her teasing you again, or something even more annoying.

"Good luck on your test," you said.

"Good luck on your project, babe," she said, drawing the name out.

“Now who’s hilarious,” you said with an eye roll. Tara winked at you, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Me.”

===+++===

It seemed you were having no good luck on it whatsoever, actually. Laid out in front of you was all of your materials, in a messy pile of cut-out pieces and foam boards that were there, sure, but not likely to just jump together and put itself together on its own.

The clock had already ticked away to 12:33 in the morning, and your design was barely finalised to where you could get to work and finish quickly. All of the other students had left at a much more reasonable hour, and it left you standing at your table alone, quietly working to classical music in the empty modelling lab.

At this rate, you could be here for another two or three hours, and the project was due at eight. You were sluggish, slowly working through the plans you had set out days ago and working through the kinks.

Every few minutes, when you stopped for even a second, the dream seemed to rush back to the forefront of your brain. Your mother had been the one to call, that evening while you were eating a poor excuse of a dinner, and you had declined that call just like you had declined all the rest.

You were hunched over your work, probably unhealthily so, with your face buried in your iPad, hastily throwing out sketches of the various shapes. You were settling on a design that would have to do, heading for the woodcutter, when you heard a noise.

It resembled a door shutting, and you froze right where you were. "Greg?" you called out. There was no one else in the building except for you and Greg, at his usual security post, and you waited with bated breath for him to return your call.

But there was no response, and all you could hear was the sounds of classical music gently floating in the background. Usually, it set you at ease while you worked through whatever you were doing in the lab, but now all it did was raise your heart rate to match the increasing tempo. It was completely dark, except for the overhead light above you, which illuminated the table you were working at and a few of the stainless steel cabinets that held tools and supplies.

Then, off to the side, you heard a rolling. An odd, wooden rolling, slowly drifting towards you. On the ground was a pencil, gently pushed towards you, playfully rolling as if perfectly in front of your toes. You hopped to your feet. "Hello?" you called, squinting in the dim light, in case anyone else was there. "Is anyone there?" you called out again. "Greg?"

Now you could really feel the thumping of your heart. The modelling lab had always been creepy late at night, but this was a new level of unease. It was as if someone was watching you, playing with their food, and you swallowed down the lump in your throat. "Is someone there?" you said to the rest of the room.

"Hey!" said a voice, and you jumped what felt like five feet into the air.

"Fuck!" you shouted, spinning around and seeing Tara behind you. She jumped at your reaction, raising her hands up. In one of them was a tray with two coffees on it. “You scared me!”

"Woah, woah, are you okay?" she asked, face etched with concern. She walked towards you slowly, and you put your hands on the edge of the table, trying to calm yourself.

"Don't just sneak up on me like that, dude," you glared at her.

"I literally didn't, I fucking announced myself, loud as can be," Tara said, rolling her eyes at you. Then, it melded into concern. "How long have you been here?" she asked, looking around the place and its emptiness.

"Since I left you at your test," you shrugged. "How'd it go by the way?" Tara's eyebrows furrowed, ignoring your question instead for one of her own.

"Did you at least eat dinner, or something?"

"Yeah," you nodded.

"Good."

“Yeah…,” you trailed off, turning back to your work. “How did you know where I was?"

“I asked Chad. He’s still a little snippy with me about, well, thinking we're together. Tried to tell me that if anyone would know, it would be me, and I said, yeah, that’s true, but it’s only been three months, now.”

“Well,” you said, gesturing around to the lab. “This is the modelling lab.” You were a bit of a nerd about the whole place, showing it off like it was your cool superhero lair.

“I know,” Tara mocked. “I saw it on the giant sign above the front door.”

“Ha ha. Does Sam know that you’re here?” You asked, grabbing your pen and resuming your work while you continued to talk to Tara. She plopped herself down on the edge of the table, letting her feet swing.

She looked a bit sheepish at the question. “Uh… no.”

“You know she’ll kill me like she did that one time, if you’re not home when she wakes up,” you frowned, wandering over to the supplies and grabbing out a box cutter to help trim the pieces you needed.

Tara nodded. “I know. But I snuck out, so I’ll sneak back in.”

You turned back around to reply, maybe say something stupid, but you had to stop yourself from laughing, when you saw her legs hanging off the counter and not reaching the ground.

“What?” Tara asked, furrowing her eyebrows. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you said, shaking your head and returning to the table. “…Dwarf.”

“Hey!” she said, smacking you on the arm. “I brought you coffee, don’t make me take it back.”

“That’s true,” you frowned, weighing your options. “Guess I can’t make fun of you; you brought me caffeine.”

“That’s more like it."

You worked in silence for a few minutes, feeling Tara watch your every movement. It was harder to work, under her scrutiny, but you were grateful that she was there. It wasn’t lonely in there, any more. A few months ago, you would’ve hated her guts for sitting around while you attempted to work. But not with Tara anymore. Not on that day.

“This might be an all-nighter,” you warned, sending her a small smile as you sliced a piece of foam in half and went to work to attach it to your board.

“Fine with me,” Tara shrugged. She just continued to watch you, in a calm silence. “Actually, I have beef with you,” she hummed.

You laughed, looking up while you secured the base with glue. “Why’s that, Tara?”

“You got that song, stuck in my head.”

“Which one?” You asked.

“The one you sang for me. I found it online.”

“Which one?” you teased, smiling again. Your face was tired and the smile certainly didn’t help, but you couldn’t help the newfound peace washing over you again. You had completely forgotten the weird happening from earlier.

“You know, don’t play dumb.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I really don’t know.”

“You literally do,” Tara scoffed.

“Sing a little bit. Refresh my memory.”

“Nuh uh,” she said, crossing her arms. “This is a trap.”

“It isn’t,” you insisted, sticking your pinky out to her. “Swear.”

She wrapped it in her own, rolling her eyes. She definitely knew it was, but she obliged anyway. “If you need a friend, don’t look to a strangerrr. You know in the end,” her voice broke on the low note like yours did, and you laughed while heat rose to her cheeks. “I’ll always be thereeee.”

“And when you’re in doubt,” you sang back to her, in between laughs. “And when you’re in dangerrr.” You both were tone deaf and the rendition was awful, but the mood in the lab was getting lighter and lighter the longer you were together.

“Take a look all around,” Tara sang, coming back in. “And I’ll be there.”

It was impossible not to laugh at how bad it was on both sides, and you grinned at her toothily, before turning back to your work. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome, idiot,” she teased, nudging you in the side again.

===+++===

You went back to working on your model, finishing the first floor in about an hour. You and Tara occasionally talked now and again, but mostly she just watched you while you worked. “Why are you doing this all tonight?” she asked.

“Uh…” you stuttered. “I didn’t have time the past couple weeks…cause of… well, you.”

She shot up to her feet, mouth dropping open. “Why the hell didn’t you say no to me?! I didn’t know you had all this to do.”

You shrugged. “I never mentioned it. Plus, you were having fun. I’m glad someone was enjoying themselves.”

“Oh…” she said, and it sounded small.

“What?” you asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

“…Nothing."

“It’s fine, Tar. Seriously.” She blinked at you.

“Tar?” she asked, looking amused.

You looked up from your work, feeling the change in the atmosphere. “What?”

“I don’t know, you’ve just never used the nickname for me, before.”

“Yeah, I guess not. Is it weird?”

“Well… no. I kind of like it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she agreed, nodding a little. “My mom was the one who gave me the nickname Tar. Haven’t spoken to her in a little while, though.”

“Do you still miss her?” you asked, glueing your second story onto the base successfully.

“Sometimes…” she trailed off, staring out at the pitch black night through the window that hung over your workspace. "She calls me once in a while."

"Do you answer?" you asked.

"No," she admitted. "It's usually about Woodsboro. I gave up on her a few months ago, but she still calls sometimes about the town."

"You never talk about it..." you comment, trailing off with a hand on the back of your neck. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." You leaned back against the table with a curiosity, watching her face move as she struggled to answer.

"Well... it's cause I don't want to that I don't talk about it. You know how people say that shit about manifesting happiness?" you nodded, knowing what she was talking about. "Well, I keep saying I'm fine, and I'm moving on, but it just keeps following me everywhere. It's like this chronic cough I can't shake. This constant thing. No matter how much I run, it's always there. People don't see me as anything but one of the survivors."

You swallowed, feeling her words hit you. "I know what you mean." Tara's eyes snapped down to yours, but when you didn't volunteer more information, she sighed.

You frowned, turning yourself back to your work and hunching over, so she wouldn’t see the heat rising to your cheeks. “I, uh… I listened to that song you said you liked, too.”

“You did?” she asked, lighting up at the mention of it.

“Yeah… added it to my playlist… so…”

“So…” Tara laughed, amused by your awkwardness. It was somehow less awkward when you hated each other. The fact you could tolerate each other now was unusual but not unpleasant, and you still found yourself grappling with how pretty Tara’s eyes looked in lamplight. "If I get a nickname, you absolutely have to have one too."

You scoffed. "That's not at all what that means."

"You had to have had one at some point."

"No, I haven't had one," you said.

"Liar!" Tara said with a giggle, pointing at you with her finger. "You're so bad at lying it's remarkable. Now spill. What is it?"

"I'm not lying!" you insisted, but now you were laughing and it was even less convincing.

"C'mon, promise I won't say it in public— unless it's really bad."

You stared at her for a moment, when she clasped her hands together in a begging plea.

"Please?"

"No," you shook your head.

"Please?"

"Nope."

"Pleaseeee?"

"Fine," you sighed. "My family, they used to call me Duck."

"Duck?" She asked, leaning back to look at you as if the nickname would re-contextualise your entire appearance. "Where'd that come from?"

"It's dumb. I used to wear this yellow raincoat when it was storming outside and these orange booties, so my little brother Mitchie saw me, when he was like five or six, and said I was a Duck. And so I was Duck."

She smiled at you, genuinely pleased with the explanation. "That's adorable. Where is Mitchie, tonight?"

You opened your mouth but shut it. Then, you opened it again. "Probably watching cartoons, or something. Back in Nebraska." (A/N: my ass genuinely did not know that was a U.S. state until right now)

You couldn't tell her that today was the day he had died, several years ago. That a year or two before that had happened, Calvin had gone, and a few months before that, Tomas and Alisha had passed too. That Peter had gotten sick, or that Miranda had gone missing before any of that mess had happened. That you were the only one left.

It was a bad lie, and probably one you would regret later, but it was one you ushered past, and Tara didn't seem to pick up on. From one cursed person to another, you figured it was probably best that you keep your own curse to yourself. It's part of what had made you hate Tara so much at first. She walked around knowing her days were likely numbered, so carefree and careless. And then there was you, you who was so careful in order to keep living.

But you couldn't resent her for that. It had melted away with seeing the Tara underneath. The real, beautiful Tara underneath.

"Duck is good, though. I'll bring it out when I want to embarrass you," Tara smiled, inching closer on the table.

"Yeah?" you grinned back at her, standing up to gently tap against the glue. It was set, and your model was finally finished at 4:42 in the morning. Tara leaned close, watching the glue with her own eyes, cheek almost up against yours in curiosity.

You finished the thing, looking over at her and her large, warm brown eyes, staring at the model you had made with so much curiosity and genuine interest. Tara hadn't lifted a finger to help, but you couldn't help but feel like it was partially hers.

You went to pull back but found your face turning towards hers, looking at each other for a long moment. Your eyes lingered on the slope of her nose, down to the curvature of her soft lips, turned up in the corners like Tara always did when she smiled. They looked so soft, and before you knew what was happening, you could feel Tara's hands coming up to the sides of your face, thumbs gently stroking against the skin there.

You couldn't breathe, feeling the warmth of the pads of her fingers on your face and the faint brush of her breath upon your nose. "Tara," you whispered. The pull was magnetic, and just as you were about to say to hell with it all, her phone began to vibrate in her pocket, and you both leapt apart from each other.

You wandered a few feet away, trying to seem busy while she answered it. You could feel Tara watching you while she spoke on the phone, so you did your best to hide the blush that was certainly spread wide across your cheeks.

This was the very girl you had spent the past several months hating. You suddenly felt dizzy, like the world would slip out from under your feet. Tara, the very same annoying girl who had pestered with you and bickered with you. The one who had so much more to her that what you had ever thought possible. The one who drew you in. The one in search of a hook up, for which you were only the decoy. You cleared your throat, whipping around when you heard Tara say "What?!"

"What's wrong?" you asked. "What's going on?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, looking up at you like she was about to cry. "They're questioning Sam again. They think Ghostface is back."

===+++===

DUN DUN DUNNNNNN anyways my ass is going to bed now. also i do not recommend anyone lie to someone they're interested in about who they are, ESPECIALLY an attempted murder victim

[illdowhatiwantthanks]

can you write a fic where emily is on her period, annoyed at work, irritated, and really needy but is lowkey embarrassed to ask reader for relief? reader basically then calls her silly and tells em she loves her always and then helps her? and heavy smut takes place

(reader also works at the bau)

thank u!! - and no problem at all if u don’t feel like writing this <3

I got u, anon! ❤️ Hope you enjoy! – illdowhatiwantthanks

Touchy

Emily Prentiss x fem!reader Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, graphic sex, fingering, afab body parts, menstruation, explicit language (let me know if I've missed anything!) Word count: 2.7k

Summary: You and Unit Chief Emily have had a secret thing going on for a while, but when she starts lashing out at you and the rest of the team, you suspect something's wrong. Turns out, it's something you are very capable of fixing. 😏

Emily sat hunched over a book that she clearly wasn’t reading, massaging her temples. She’d been touchy this whole trip. Touchy with the rest of the team, with local law enforcement. Thank god JJ was in charge of dealing with the press, or she would have been touchy with them, too. And now she was touchy on the jet.

Usually on the last night of a case, when the end was in sight or when you were headed home in the morning, or even on a night where she was frustrated that they hadn’t made progress, Emily would come to your room. She’d knock softly, in the dead of the night, slip into your room, into your bed, into your very body. And she’d be gone before your alarm went off in the morning.

You’d waited and waited last night for Emily to come to you, watching the minutes go by, then hours. You knew you hadn’t made any plans, nothing concrete. There was never anything concrete when the BAU was out on a case. But, nevertheless, you missed her. You missed the warmth of her body next to you, the way you’d talk and laugh about nothing while she sat in bed, naked, and smoked a cigarette after she’d thoroughly fucked your brains out. You missed the way she’d vent to you about the case or tell you something personal, something she wouldn’t tell anyone else, as you fell asleep together, tangled in some random hotel’s sheets.

You’d been seeing each other for months now and, outside of work, had some semblance of a typical relationship. But at work, you were just an agent and her unit chief. Friendly colleagues, at most. You and Emily were always careful to appear impartial. And you were profilers, so you were pretty good at avoiding tells that your relationship was more than it seemed on the outside. But you were worried about her today. She was angry and irritated and… not herself. You were trying to figure out a way to ask her what was wrong, but you couldn’t figure out how to move seats to be near her without arousing suspicion. Not to mention the fact that Emily would never tell another member of the team that something personal was going on. So she couldn’t tell you. Not here, not on the jet.

You tried not to look too interested when Reid sat down across from Emily, playing with the string on his sachet of green tea. “Are you okay, Emily?”

She made a noncommittal sound of affirmation, then muttered. “Just a headache.”

“You know,” he started, and you could just tell he was prepped for an educational monologue. “Headaches are simultaneously one of the easiest and one of the hardest medical maladies to solve, depending on their cause. There are over 50 reasons why one might have a headache, usually categorized into two overarching categories: primary and second–”

“Reid,” Emily snapped. “I am begging you to shut up unless you want to become one of the 50 causes of a headache.”

Reid shrank into himself, and you immediately felt sorry for him. Sure, he could come off as a know-it-all or annoying, but he was goodhearted and kind and smart and cared about the team. It wasn’t like Emily to belittle him.

When you’d all debarked from the plane and made your way to the parking lot, you waited for the other cars to peel out before approaching Emily’s. You tapped on her window and she rolled it down for you.

“What?” she growled.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you asked, voice full of concern. “You seem off.”

“I’m fine,” she stated. “God, I wish people would just fucking leave me alone today. And stop asking all these questions.”

You were taken aback, hurt. You weren’t “people.” You were, for all intents and purposes, her girlfriend, everywhere but at work.

“Well, um…” you stuttered, unsure how to proceed or respond. “Do you still want to come over tonight?” She almost always did the night after getting back from a case.

“Y/N,” she groaned, massaging her forehead. “No offense, babe, but what part of ‘I wish people would fucking leave me alone’ did you not get?”

You felt like crying, but you’d be damned if you were going to let Emily see it. “Whatever, Em.” You shook your head. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

You watched Emily zoom out of the parking lot and, once she was gone, you let yourself cry. At least it wasn’t just you she was upset with; clearly she had it out for everyone right now. But still… Emily was usually different with you. She was softer around the edges, kind and thoughtful, a little bit silly. This wasn’t like her at all.

The more you thought about it, the angrier you got. How fucking dare she blow you off like you were no one!? She’d been rude and dismissive and snappy and weird with everyone this whole trip and, dammit, she was not going to get away with being like that to you, too. Either something was wrong with her or something was wrong with the rest of you that had pissed her off. Either way, you were determined to figure it out. So when you sped out of the parking lot, teary and determined, you headed not to your apartment, but to Emily’s.

You knocked angrily on Emily’s door until she threw it open, looking as pissed as you’d ever seen her. “Y/N,” she said, frustration evident. “I told you I didn’t want to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” you said, pushing past her and into the apartment. “Sometimes you don’t get what you want.”

You poured yourself a glass from the open bottle of wine she had on the counter and took a sip. Emily stood across from you, still massaging her temples and looking generally annoyed.

“What, Y/N?” she groaned. “What do you want?”

You set your glass down so aggressively the wine sloshed a bit. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Emily!?” you railed. “You’re being so mean and so… not yourself. Is something going on!?”

She sighed heavily and lowered herself into a chair and, for a moment, you thought she might cry. You surged toward her and tucked her hair behind her ear, holding her face, softly, delicately, in case, as she had all day, she decided to pull away again.

“Honey, what’s wrong?” you said softly, your thumbs lightly tracing the circles under her eyes.

Emily leaned into your touch and you knew she was finally there, finally at a point where she’d stop fighting and let you in.

“I’ve got fucking fibroids…” she mumbled, avoiding your eyes. “And I’m on my period and… they’re always bad, but they just make it so much worse.”

“Em,” you sighed, letting her rest her head on your chest. “Why didn’t you just say that?”

“It’s embarrassing…”

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Periods aren’t embarrassing, honey. They’re just a part of life. A shitty part.”

When she didn’t answer and kept her head buried in your chest, you started playing with her hair. “What do you need, huh? What’ll make you feel better? Do you have pain meds? You want to take a bath? Lie down for a bit?”

Emily pulled back and looked away, shrinking into herself.

“Hey, don’t start that again,” you scolded, taking her hand.

“Babe, just tell me. What do you need, hmm?”

She mumbled something under her breath, so quiet that you couldn’t catch it.

“What?”

“I need you to touch me,” she whispered, blushing furiously. “But that’s not fair of me to ask.”

You smiled, relieved. This is what Emily had been so frustrated about!? You chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her head, her cheek, then sunk your lips into hers. You felt elated by the way she grasped your shirt, the way she pulled into you.

When you broke apart, she was breathless, her pupils blown, but she still looked so deeply embarrassed, almost ashamed.

“Come on,” you said gently, leading her by the hand toward the bathroom. “And to think this whole time you were just really fucking horny.”

You turned on the shower, made sure it was the right temperature, and started stripping your clothes off.

“Wait, wait, what are you doing?!” Emily asked, leaning against the bathroom counter.

You stared at her. “What do you mean what am I doing?”

She gestured at your now nude body, as you folded your clothes into a messy pile.

“I’m getting in the shower,” you explained. “And you’re getting in the shower, and then I’m gonna make you come.”

If possible, Emily’s face reddened even more. “Uh… no,” she protested. “No, no. Did you miss the part where I said I was on my period?”

You gestured toward the steaming shower. “Did you miss the part where we’re in the shower so it doesn’t matter?”

“It does matter,” she argued. “I don’t– I’ve never… It’ll be messy, Y/N. I don’t want you to have to–”

You stared at her, mouth slightly agape. “You’ve never had sex on your period?”

She looked at the ground. “I… I mean, I guess I’ve never been with someone who… wanted to.”

Your heart broke then, just for a moment. For sweet, needy, embarrassed Emily, hugging herself in the corner of the bathroom.

“Well,” you said, approaching her and slipping your hands under her shirt. She gasped as you bent to suck on her neck. “That’s their loss.” You lifted her shirt over her head and unclasped her bra, quickly taking one of her nipples in your mouth. She moaned and sank her fingers into your hair. “I can assure you that I…” And you planted a kiss on her chest. “Very much…” You gently unzipped her pants and placed a kiss there, just below her stomach. “Want to.”

Emily pulled you back up and kissed you hungrily, desperately, as she kicked off the rest of her clothes, pushing you into the shower so she could discreetly remove her tampon. You pressed her up against the cool tile, letting the warm water rush over you both. It’s not that you were normally rough with Emily or vice versa, but you were careful to be particularly gentle with her tonight, knowing that her body was sensitive and in pain.

You kissed Emily slowly, deeply, making your way down her neck, across her chest, tracing slow, indulgent circles around her nipples as she let her head rest back against the tile. You could feel her heart beating underneath your tongue and it drove you wild.

When you crouched to move lower, holding yourself steady against her thighs, she pulled you back up, eyes pleading with you. “Just your hands. Please.”

You brushed a wet strand of hair off her forehead. “Are you sure?” You smirked. “I really don’t mind getting messy.”

“I know,” she replied, still breathing heavily as your thumbs drew circles against her hips. “But I mind.”

“Whatever you want, honey,” you breathed into her ear as you ran your fingers through her warm folds.

Emily shuddered and pressed her head into your shoulder, bucking involuntarily into your hand. You let your thumb idle around her clit, slow and rhythmic and gentle, until you had her panting and whining against you.

“More,” she begged, and you happily obliged, softly pressing two fingers into her pulsing entrance. You picked up speed as she pressed into you, her breath high and hitched, with small noises of effort and pleasure echoing around the shower.

“Wait, stop,” she gasped, even as she thrust into you. You stilled your movements, and waited for her to tell you what she wanted. “I feel like I might collapse,” she gasped.

“In a good way or a bad way?” you asked, both of you giggling.

“A good way, but…”

“Here,” you said, moving her arms so they were wrapped around your neck and inching forward so that your thigh was between her legs. You wrapped your free hand around her waist and planted a kiss on her neck. “I’ve got you, okay? I’m not gonna let you fall. Just let go, baby.”

Emily didn’t need any more encouragement, riding your fingers as if her very life depended on it. And when she finally reached her peak, when she finally let herself fall apart, nothing in the world could have made you let go of her. You held her up as she shook, her walls pulsing around your fingers, her mouth wide and warm against your shoulder.

“There you go,” you whispered, bringing her back down and planting fluttery kisses wherever you could reach as you held her steady. She shook against you, holding onto you, and when she finally found her way back to her feet, you kissed her again and again, all over.

“Feel better?” you asked her, cupping her face in your hands. She nodded and wrapped her arms around your neck in an embrace and, for a while, you just held her there, hot water pouring over you, heartbeats dwindling back to a normal rate.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice vibrating against your skin. She stood and looked at you apologetically. “Sorry I was such a bitch.”

You shook your head and kissed her again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s a bitch on their period.”

Your heart was in your throat as Emily let you wash her, let you lather shampoo into her hair and rub soap gently across her body, making sure she was clean and cared for. She was so soft under your touch, so soft and pliable, such a contrast to how she was at work with everyone else. She always acted so tough. And she was tough, but she could also be so soft. You loved that she was soft for you.

You dried her off, you kissed her shoulder, you told her to go ahead and get in bed, that’d you’d be right there. And when you returned and found her in bed with wet hair in an oversized t-shirt, you were struck by the realization that you never really wanted to go to bed with anyone else. That what you’d really like is to be in bed with Emily every night. Not just random nights on the road. Not just after the dates you spent at places you chose because it didn’t seem like any other member of your team would be there. You loved her. You were falling in love with her.

You handed her the glass of water you’d prepared in the kitchen, and thought about how not to accidentally tell her you loved her. She sipped gingerly at the edge of the bed and looked deeply at you.

“What?” you asked, shrinking under her gaze.

“Do you want to stay here?” she asked.

“Duh,” you replied, already climbing into bed next to her. “I always spend the night after. And we don’t have work tomorrow.”

“No, I mean…” She picked at her fingernails, avoiding your eyes. “Do you want to stay here… for good. Like, would you want to move in?”

You felt like the breath had been knocked out of you. “Are you serious?” you asked, gaping at her.

Emily shook her head. “Forget it. Sorry. It was a stupid question.”

“No, no!” You grabbed her hand and held it between both of hers. “I just… I didn’t know what this was for you. If you wanted to… keep it casual, I guess.”

She sighed and looked into your eyes and you knew then, you knew that whenever it slipped out, whenever you were ready to say it, she would say it back. “I haven’t been casual about you for a while now, Y/N.”

And you kissed her. You kissed her again and again, kissed her until she was giggling and squirming, until you had her wrapped in your arms under the covers.

And when she reached to turn the light out, when she curled into your body, you let your words venture out in the darkness, soft and quiet, almost imperceptible: “I love you.”

And like a light, her voice, vibrating against your skin as she fell asleep in your arms: “I love you, too.”

[loaksky]

i don’t celebrate thanksgiving, but could you guys imagine college!ellie taking roommate!reader home to jackson because she’d be alone for the holiday? short lil oneshot to get back into the groove of writing. do i hate this? yes.

recommended songs: alabama haint — penny and sparrow + what once was — her’s

warnings: language, a few brief mentions of family issues, suggestive content (kissing among other things) + mild sexual content, a lil misunderstanding and angst bc who am i if i don’t ??, CONFESSIONS because i’m a sloot for them. i think that’s it? not proofread ofc heh

it’s the weekend before thanksgiving, sunday to be exact, and ellie’s packing her backpack for joel’s. the energy in the the room’s a little off despite the fact that you’re normally reserved, and even though the two of you have only met this year, ellie’s learned to read you pretty well.

“you goin’ home for thanksgiving?” ellie asks absently, trying to make small talk as she rolls a sleep shirt and some pajamas haphazardly to stuff at the top of her bag.

there’s a pause that makes her brain itch before she sees the way you shake your head from where you’re hunched over a textbook at your desk.

“my family’s all over the place right now,” you answer honestly.

and ellie doesn’t know if you mean that figuratively or literally, but the lack of emotion in your voice tells her that maybe she shouldn’t pry. she can’t help it, though. because you’re her sweet and quiet roommate who’d been serious (and maybe a little scary) at first, but turned out to be a goofball with a little bit of prodding.

so seeing you like this, checked out and maybe a little stressed, ellie treads cautiously.

“so you’re gonna stay here?” she asks.

you don’t even spare her a glance.

“yeah.” your shoulders shrug. “no point in dropping so much money for a plane ticket if i’m going to be sitting home alone anyways.”

ellie makes a noise in the back of her throat and you throw look over your shoulder.

“sorry,” you offer softly, smile sheepish. “that was a little depressing.”

ellie shakes her head.

“no, i get it,” she assures you. “my family’s not really...”

you blink at her as she trails off.

“conventional? i guess?”

another quiet blankets the two of you and ellie’s speaking before she can even filter through the repercussions of her next words.

“you’re always welcome to...y’know...come with,” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “it’s not even a two hour drive.”

you hope ellie can’t tell that your cheeks are burning.

“you don’t have to, of course,” ellie blabbers. “but joel’s cool, so’s my uncle and his wife. it’d be nice, i think. and jackson’s pretty fun around this time of year...”

“i don’t wanna imp—”

ellie breathes a laugh.

“don’t,” she warns you, tips of her ears burning. “you’re more than welcome, seriously.”

it’s how you end up in the passenger seat of ellie’s old 4runner, heater on blast while sublime plays on the radio.

the car ride had consisted of ellie munching on cold fries the two of you had picked up from mcdonald’s before the interstate and you finally opening up about how your parents are divorced and how the holidays are a lot more stressful than they are pleasant.

ellie really feels for you, definitely knows the feeling losing her mom at a pretty young age and being adopted in middle school by a single, bereaved father. she tells you that they’d found each other when they needed the other the most.

and you don’t particularly know why you’re so nervous when ellie finally takes the exit off the interstate and you guys make your way through the suburbs. perhaps it’s the domesticity of meeting her family, or that you’re over a hundred miles away from familiarity, but your fingers are trembling when she turns into the neighbourhood and cozy brick homes line the frost-laden streets.

she’s pulling up and parking on the curb in front of a warm two-story that has a blue pickup truck and a gold SUV in the driveway when she notices.

“hey, hey,” she whispers, noticing the way you’re wringing your hands to stop the shaking. “you okay?”

her hands are warm when they close over yours and her thumbs is brushing over your skin soothingly.

“i’m being dumb,” you admit.

ellie’s eyes are crystal clear under the setting sun.

“don’t say that,” she says softly. “you wanna take a second?”

you swallow and shake your head.

“no, we can go,” you assure her.

she’s searching your face for any tell, but when you offer her a soft smile, she’s leaning back in her seat and nodding. before she completely pulls away, you’re stopping her.

“thanks, ellie,” you say gently. “this was really kind of you.”

she flashes you an easy smile, squeezes your hand a final time before climbing out of the car and rounding the front to help you out.

and truthfully, you realize you were nervous for nothing. because when the door swings open to reveal an older man aged with smile lines and greying hair, ellie seemingly softens infinitely.

“hey, kiddo,” he greets, crushing her in a hug so tight, she’s spluttering out a laugh.

“joel, i can’t breathe,” she wheezes.

you’re standing there awkwardly, backpack slung over your shoulder when joel finally loosens his hold on ellie and glances over her head.

“who’s this?” he asks, but the smile he wears is knowing.

“________, my roommate,” she introduces quickly, cheeks warming an awful shade of red as she begs every force above that joel won’t blow her cover.

because, okay, maybe ellie’s talked about you on the phone way more times than she’d care to admit out loud. talked about how intimidating you were at first, then graduated to talking about how you were actually so cool. and maybe she’d brought up the fact that she thought you were pretty. like...super pretty. and that maybe she was crushing a teensy bit.

“nice to meet you,” joel replies simply, sparing ellie this time around.

you let go of the breath you hadn’t realized you were holding onto, offering a smile that makes ellie wonder if she’ll survive the week with you in such a new proximity.

“nice to meet you, too,” you almost whisper, relaxing as he reaches for the backpack slung over your shoulder.

“here, let me take this for you,” he says.

and it doesn’t take you long to realize where ellie gets it from. her kind spirit and fierce yet gentle heart. joel is soft-spoken, a little rough around the edges, but a warm energy that radiates through the home he’s made for himself and ellie.

it makes infinitely more sense enter tommy and maria, her uncle and aunt who tell you the silliest stories about the starry-eyed girl in her youth over dinner. who bring out her boisterous laughter when they sing old 80’s music over dishes and evening TV.

“your family’s so cool,” you say in awe, wrapped in one of her coats she’d dug out of the closet under the stairs.

you’re nursing a mug of hot chocolate that steams in the icy air of jackson on her back porch.

ellie breathes out a little laugh.

“they’re something,” she jokes, watching you over the rim of her mug.

you make her heart thud hard in her chest as she takes you in, bundled in pieces of her that make her think that she wouldn’t mind making you hers.

“i miss times like these,” you whisper.

ellie shifts closer, catching you by surprise when her thumb swipes over the curve of your top lip.

“sorry,” she hums quietly. “you had...uh...”

you let out a hollow laugh and shake your head, tell her that it’s fine as a silence blankets the two of you.

“i’m glad you like them,” ellie admits softly. “sometimes i get a little self-conscious because, y’know, everyone expects a nuclear family and...”

“i’d take this any day,” you assure her, and the true implication of your words is latent, but something hopeful pricks her tummy.

i’d take this any day...with you.

and locking eyes with you usually scares her, usually makes her queasy with nerves because there’s always something searing in your gaze, but it’s like you see each other for the first time, no barriers.

ellie’s so close she can feel the warmth of your body coiling and drawing her in. her breath’s caught in her throat as she chances a glance at your mouth and her own lips begin to tingle.

she’s on the brink of asking if she can kiss you, but the back door is sliding open and two familiar faces are surfacing.

“williams!”

ellie’s daze melts away as she shifts to put distance between the two of you at the arrival of her friends.

“jess!” she calls. “dina!”

the moment clings heavy, but ellie writes it off. maybe she’s jumping the gun, reading too much into tender moments. it’s colored on your face, though, as she stands to meet her friends halfway, that the two of you are tethered and you feel it too.

ellie’s friends are another reflection of her character. they take you under their wings in the days leading up to the holiday with jesse teaching you to ride his minibike and dina telling you stories of their childhood while excitedly painting your nails pretty shades of autumnal colors because both jesse and ellie vehemently decline.

joel graciously relinquishes his kitchen to the four of you the day before thanksgiving. lets you guys gather around and bake an array of different desserts for tomorrow’s dinner over a few beers and winecoolers.

perhaps ellie’s a lightweight, you come to find, when she’s a lot more giggly and rosy-cheeked than she’d ever let anyone see. she’s feeling a little bubbly and you definitely don’t help the fact when you gaze upon her so fondly as you smear away the streaks of flour across her cheek.

jesse and dina are merely observers, watching with knowing grins as ellie practically melts against your touch.

and as the desserts cool on the kitchen island and the two of see jesse and dina out, ellie can’t keep her hazy eyes off of you. the two of you vote on a movie and she’s taking her usual seat in the right corner of the couch. it starts out with the two of you on opposite ends, but as the film plays, the space between you and ellie diminishes and she swears you can hear the way her heart’s pounding behind her ribcage with your ear pressed to her chest.

it’s uncharted territory considering ellie’s never been big on physical touch and she can’t even be sure that there's anything there, but you have to know. ellie’d mentioned past girlfriends, wasn’t really subtle when it came to wandering eyes on campus, hell, she’d even—

suddenly your arm’s tightening around the narrow of her waist and you’re nestling impossibly closer and christ, ellie can’t help herself when the coarse pads of her fingertips brush your jaw to catch your attention.

your gaze is illuminated by pixels and there’s a hitch in your breathing as you search her features for any hesitation. it’s long gone, you find, when ellie’s mouth is slotting yours, lips warm and tongue still flavored with sparkling wine.

ellie kisses like you’re air and she needs you to breathe. it’s almost embarrassing, way her body reacts to your proximity, how hot she us under the collar and achey as you move to straddle her. her fingertips are skimming down your spine, past the small of your back to take a—

your teeth sinking in the plump of her bottom lip and the way your soft palms find purchase against the rigid expanse of her tattooed abdomen is sobering. has her bony fingers cupping the flesh of your jaw.

“wait, wait,” she whispers, chest heaving and breaths shallow as she looks up at you.

the dust is starting to settle and you take in ellie’s kiss-bitten lips, swollen and slick. her pupils are blown wide, sweater riding up to reveal reddened flesh like you’ve branded her. you lean back.

“fuck,” you whisper. “fuck, i’m so sorry.”

ellie’s mouth is drying.

“why are you sorry?” she whispers.

you seem to chew on your words, eyes teary and expression scared.

“why are you sorry?” ellie repeats, not caring enough to mask the hitch in her voice as she pries.

“you’re always so fucking good to me, ellie,” you whimper. “you’re a great roommate and an even better friend and—”

ellie blows out a deep sigh, falls slack against the cushions as she levels you with an indiscernible look in her eye.

“don’t do that,” she breathes.

“ellie.”

“c’mon, you know me better than that,” she says, tone tinged with annoyance. “you don’t have to let me down easy. you can be honest.”

and color you confused because how couldn’t she fathom that you’ve fallen and head first at that? she’s reading it all wrong, you realize, when defeat shutters over her pretty face.

“i—”

the floorboards outside the den creak and ellie’s pushing you off just as the door squeaks open to reveal joel’s aging face.

he reads the room a moment, decides to blow by the sheen in your eyes and ellie’s rigid posture.

“tommy and maria are leaving, kiddo,” he says. “if you wanna say bye.”

ellie nods, stands and leaves you in the television-illuminated room.

you realize she won’t come back for you when the telltale sound of the front door closes and the stairs seem to groan under her weight.

it’s half past two in the morning when you slip from the den, glass of water condensating on a coaster as you try to collect yourself on the screened-in deck out back.

the icy chill stings your lungs, makes you gulp in breath after breath. the night’s starting to dawn you, the gravity of the situation overwhelming you enough to choke.

“fuck,” you whisper, that familiar feeling of dread squeezing your chest.

meanwhile, ellie can’t sleep. has been staring at the ceiling of her childhood bedroom for the past two and a half hours. you’re all she can think of. pliant curves of your body settling over hers to fit like you two were made for each other, the smell of your subtle perfume, the taste of your mouth.

and she wants to be annoyed, angry at the fact, but she’d brought you all the way here, extricated you from your comfort zone and showed you parts of her she wouldn’t dream of revealing to anyone else.

she recalls the resignation in your tone on the drive up, how you’d divulged the dysfunction of your family and the troubles you carried with you as a result. it’d be your first holiday with someone other than yourself for a while and she’d be damned if it soured because she couldn’t push her feelings aside.

the tv’s off and the blanket’s folded when she musters up enough courage to enter the den again, heart sinking to her ass when she slides back into the kitchen and finds that the sliding door to the back deck is cracked ever so slightly.

she’s seen you in a lot of ways these past eleven-odd months she’s known you, but she’s never seen you like this, hands over your heart and chest heaving like you’re trying to ground yourself.

when your watery gaze swings to her, ellie’s melting, cushion sinking as she settles next to you.

“sorry,” you whisper shakily. “i don’t—”

ellie’s shifting to face you, arms winding around your shoulders as one hand comes up to cradle the back of your head.

“let’s talk about it later,” ellie offers softly. “we can just go to bed for now and—”

“i really, really like you, ellie,” you say in one breath, and it has her body locking up, the audible catch of her inhale sounding near your ear.

“but?”

“no buts,” you admit. “just that i don’t want you to think that i kissed you because you’re being nice to me. well, i guess you’re always nice to me. it’s one of the reasons why i…”

and ellie doesn’t mean to tune you out, but you’re so fucking cute and so sweet and she shouldn’t have doubted you or herself because you’re hiccuping and shivering and—

you taste better the second time around. now ellie’s a little less unsure, still a little nervous because you’re the first girl to make her feel like this and she doesn’t want the bubble she’s built around the two of you in this corner of her little world to burst, but kissing you feels so right.

she’s dragging you back inside, past the den and up the stairs, and maybe the two of you do things you shouldn’t in her twin size bed in her childhood room when her dad’s only a few walls away, but she can’t help herself. not when you’ve always been an arm’s length away and she can finally have you.

it isn’t until the two of you lay under the dim glimmer of the glow-in-the dark stars pasted to her ceiling, her face pressed in your neck, that she says it.

“i really, really like you, too,” she whispers. “i realized i didn’t say it back.”

but it’s not like she needs to. you knew that already.

neng ©️2023

[thatdepressedtwink]

Bill was probably considered disabled or blind in the 2nd dimension… think about it. Assuming Bill can’t see from side to side as his eye position was smack dab at the centre of his body looking up into the 3rd dimension with 2D vision. Meaning nobody in his world could see his eye for the nature of its position, they would assume he’s just an eyeless person.

Let me explain this with shitty visual examples:

Alright! So we got Bill, eye in the centre looking up into the unkown, and some rando with eyes on his side. They’re both in the 2D plane, so let’s see what rando sees.

This is a terrible artist rendition but this is what rando sees in his perspective, (doesn’t necessarily have to be horizontal, could be vertical) but omit the white lines - that was just to show how flat his world is. As a 2D being, he sees 1 dimensionally.

You can try the same thing, if you take a thin piece of paper - imagine there’s a little stickman of some kind looking at his side - you can lower your head to look at the paper from its side. And you’ll see a flat sheet of paper, like a line, there you are seeing from the stickman’s perspective. Victorian satire book named Flatland describes this pretty well with explained depth perception (not seeing, perceiving) and social customs.

It’s also why we can’t see in 3D but 2D, yes we can perceive depth but that is a trained ability, close one eye and it’s no different than your usual vision aside from depth perception. That’s why when you look at a 2D screen you can see your 3D world normally. A 4D being would be able to see in 3D though, but I digress.

Let’s say another 2D being is looking at this rando, what’s it look like from their perspective?

Probably something like this.

It’s probably not entirely accurate, the inner workings of a 2D creatures perspective I don’t know but this is about what it be like looking at rando in 2D. The red his body, the red pupil his eye.

Great, now let’s see what Bill Cipher looks like to average flatland citizen (the yellow being Bill):

Oh uh. Okay.

No eye, what a freak am I right? Yeah, with no eye on the side it’s likely they thought he was born without any at all.

It’s also very possible that Bill couldn’t see anyone in his world too, but I don’t think that’s Hirsch’s intention so I leave it at that.

No wonder, everyone tells you you’re blind, you’re eyeless, that you can’t see, but you can see. Into a higher dimension - the 3rd dimension, with your 2D vision. Did it look beautiful? Was the sky shimmering with stars, infinite possibilities and opportunity? When did you realise you were never blind at all? When did you realise you were seeing the inconceivable? But unable to touch it, did the 3D world beckon you? You felt special, maybe you were desperate for it.

Teasing and abuse consuming you whole till it was the only thing on your mind, you saw more, something more than them, than yourself you have to show them more. Was it on the basis of revenge? Spite? Inspiration? Good intentions or ill will? The first time he saw the faces of his family, was it because he recognised their screams? When you wipe out a dimension you don’t just kill a world you destroy a universe, you erased planets, you drowned out your stars, there’s nothing left to call home now. No matter where you go you’ll be an alien, an alien without a home planet is only a thing. Was it worth it?

It’s a big if to say that Bill was blind in his 2D world. While I don’t think Bill would be able side to side and see his family, friends, members of his community, etc I also don’t think his appearance/biology makes sense for a 2D being so I don’t think it matters. But if they were going for as much realism, this 2D guy should look like a hollow triangle full of hollowed intestines, a brain and an eye, a mouth that functions as both eating function and the waste function. It’d be like being able to see through a human. As a 2D being there is no depth, so why is there an inside guts and an outside skin thing he was when we look at him from our 3D world? We’d see his insides but his 2D friends would only be able to see his skin, like how we do our friends too.

Anyway, that was a useless explanation, just thought it’d be interesting to explain. I really like learning about theoretical higher dimensions and possible life forms.

[yggdrasilhypno]

So I have a question for you, if you don’t mind.

Can you resist someone hijacking your brain?

I mean, seriously. Can you?

I’d hope and imagine so, it’s not that hard to resist someone.

All it takes is some mental fortitude and focus on something and it’s easy peasy.

After all, you’re resisting control now!

Come on, don’t tell me you have no idea what’s going on right now.

This is all a ploy to have your brain drop its walls with reverse psychology, you figured that out by now I’d think.

And if you didn’t, well that’s not entirely a bad thing.

You see, when it comes to covert and the ideals behind it, it’s one of those things where if you don’t already know the tricks of the trade, it can be difficult to spot.

Think of it like a magic trick, the first time you see it you can’t believe your eyes but once you learn the truth behind it, it makes a ton of sense.

That’s essentially what covert is, and that’s what resistance is too!

Resistance at first seems surefire, like you could do it in your sleep.

However, once you really investigate how the brain is peeled back ever so easily, it becomes a bit harder to even gauge where resistance lies.

Do you resist the words im telling you, or resist the ideas behind them?

Am I hiding something within these words, or is it simply another ploy to lower your walls?

You can see where this all comes from, right?

Resisting me isn’t hard at all, I invite you to do it when you can.

Not because it’s something I always want for you, I do indeed want you to fall when listening to my words.

But, we both know what happens at the end of it.

You fall anyways.

It’s an inevitability.

That’s what makes it fun.

Like jumping out of a plane, you know your parachute will open and you’ll fall safely to the ground.

Resistance is the same in hypnosis.

You know you can resist, and it’s fun to try and fight that inner voice telling you to melt for me.

That’s why I invite it.

It makes it more fun for the both of us.

I want you to notice though that again, im using resistance as a ploy once more.

Simply telling you to resist me.

You know about reverse psychology, don’t you?

I mean, it would be silly for you not to think im using it right now.

I’m telling you to resist so that you hear those echoes in your brain.

Telling you to let down those walls because you know it’s your fate now.

And yet, you can still resist me.

You can still resist my control.

Or you may find yourself slipping anyways.

Maybe I told you to resist.

Maybe I told you to fall.

That’s the best part about knowing your fate though.

Like I said earlier, it’s all about that inevitability.

That you’ll fall soon enough.

And you will, don’t worry.

Hell, you may have already fallen and not realized.

Maybe you’re so deep now that the pretty fog inside your brain’s already destroying every thought you have.

Maybe every thought you have now is just something I told you to think.

But, that’s the best part about it all.

You don’t know what’s going on.

Why you feel the way you do.

And it’s okay not to.

Sometimes, it’s better to sink and enjoy the ride.

Or enjoy resisting me still.

You have been resisting me still, haven’t you?

No?

Yes?

Does it matter?

You’re still going to fall anyways.

It’s not like I’ve been brainwashing you in and out and in and out of resistance this entire time.

It’s not like you’ve had any to begin with anyways.

I could’ve just been using all sorts of reverse psychology on you.

Who truly knows?

Not you, that’s for sure.

You see, that’s the best part of the fall.

When we get here, to the end of this little adventure.

And you know what comes next.

I’ve told you a million times already about it.

You may even believe that number, it’s not like everything else I’ve told you has been fabricated.

But there’s one part to all of this that is the truth.

The ending.

You fall.

Just like that.

And sink, melt, drop, dream into the abyss once more.

And just remember for me, for a moment if you can.

When I started talking about resistance.

Don’t remember? That’s okay.

Maybe you didn’t have any before we started.

Maybe I just broke it all down.

But, you knew all along anyways.

You were gonna fall.

Good subject.

[forecast0ctopus]

Any advice on drawing McCoy? I’m not used to drawing ancient wrinkley bastards (affectionate) and it’s surprisingly tough v-v

FOR SURE lmao i made. a diagram. just a warning that i am going to be irritating and long winded because u just hit a topic i really like sorry lmao

so first off i did some traces just to show whats there vs redraws to show my interpretation

ive said this on other asks but again jsyk, tracing isnt bad!! its a tool. theres some stuff with intellectual property and whatnot but using tracing to study shapes and forms is a really valuable practice.

also just taking some time to learn facial structures and anatomy is super useful, reading what bones and muscles are where and how they interact with one another. taking this info and staring in the mirror and moving your face around and thinking about it. just really furthers understanding of how the face works. trying to sound normal about this but i love anatomy and motion and physics and whatever

anyways im going to go through all the numbered points so there's no confusion. 1. forehead lines - self explanatory. more prominent when brows are raised 2. crows feet - at the outer corners of the eyes, more prominent when smiling or squinting 3. nasolabial folds - the folds that go from the corners of the nose to the corners of the mouth. more prominent when the mouth is wide, like smiling 4. brow furrow - self explanatory, most prominent when brows are furrowed. mccoy tends to have two right next to his eyebrows, kirk has one in the middle. everyones face works different lmao 5. chin crease - caused by how the chin and lower lip interact. 6. nasojugal groove - start from the inner corners of the eye and can extent over the cheeks. everyone has these and idk why people dont like them i think theyre really cool!!!! but Society. i guess. :/ 7. eye bags - caused by the skin sagging beneath the eyes. mccoy isnt even that old in tos i think hes meant to be mid 40s by the end of the 5 year mission, hes just got really prominent eye bags lmao 8. idk what the name is for these, but when the mouth is wide and pushes the skin to the sides, these folds sometimes form outside of the nasolabial folds 9. philtrum - the groove above the upper lip. i dont usually draw this but mccoy's struck me as prominent enough that i usually draw it on him 10. masseter - the muscle that moves the jaw up and down. its a pretty rugged muscle and while i wouldnt say mccoy's is especially prominent, it kind of extends that nasojugal groove from certain angles/positions 11. orbicularis oris - mouth muscle, usually easier to see when lips are pursed or frowns are pulled. mccoy's is pretty prominent from 3/4ths or side, his mouth tends to protrude in profile 12. this isnt a muscle but more of a line defining the planes of the face, but since i drew it i felt i should explain lmao

a few points:

im an animator i tend to exaggerate and emphasize certain things so i usually make him more square.

i like to combine eyebags and crows feet for brevity/flow, same with nasojugal grooves, eyebags, and masseter lines. my approach is always subject to change based on pose, expression, reference image, etc.

i take out details that i deem redundant or cluttering and keep what details i need to make things feel Right

all this info is applicable to any character of any age, its just in how you apply it and facial proportions that willl change how old a character is perceived to be

there's a lot more with drawing a Character rather than an Actor, just because the features are there doesnt necessarily mean things will feel correct? its very much in the mannerisms and poses and expressions

i only went over my approach to his likeness but not really body type or posing or anything idk if u want that i could always try to answer that later haha

_______________

anyways all that info kind of exists nebulously in my brain while i draw its not like im sitting there thinking Must Draw. Nasolabial Fold...... i jsut do what feels right with the visual info i have. also i love specificity in faces.... i dont like to be a hater but when every character is drawn the same it pisses me off a little lmao. so

also dont take my word as The Only Way to do anything i just draw how i like to draw and no one should feel like these are things that Must be done to be a good artist or anything do whatever the hell u wanna do

[writingoddess1125]

Can you please also write about getting high with Buggy, Shanks, and Mihawk?🥺🙏

OMFG YES!!! HOLD ON!!

I did do Buggy in my original but What the hell let's add in a Pt. 2!

You Get High With Them pt.2 🍃🚬

Part 1 <<<

Mihawk

Mihawk would stumble on you making some cookies, you smile at him clearly having already eaten a large amount of the Infused cookie dough.

"I made infused cookies" You say holding up the finished plate. He would raise an eyebrow at you- before you explained how you made and the effects of edibles. Offering him some while the two of you listen to music he accepts, figuring it won't effect him much.

Sitting in his lounge the two of you eat some cookies- You already fairly sky high only have one while Mihawk's eats three while sipping his wine as he enjoyed the taste enough and the odd earthiness, music flooding the room.

"I do not feel anything" He says calmly after only a few minutes, Finishing his second glass. You smile at him and gesture to the other cookie calmly, time moving way slower for you so youd figured it had been longer since he had eaten his.

"Then take another one" You say, The older man sighs and reaches over taking the second cookie and eating the whole thing rather quickly- This should have clued you in that this was a bad idea...

It took 30 minutes before Mihawk was leaned back in his chair and eyes closed. You sit up to look at him and see that he was clearly in a different plane of existence at this point.

"Mihawk- You're in orbit-" You say with a giggle as you see his face scrunch up in confusion, it looked like he was trying to open his eyes but couldn't.

"My perspective of time is way off" He mumbled, this confused you but you let this ride talking to yourself as you let the one sided conversation and music hover and wrap around the both of you.

He was in a different world, completely silent as he stared at random things. Disconnected and disassociated completely from the world of the living as the music plays and he stares at his hand, his pants and his knife necklance-

"Mihawk you alright there guy?" You ask out, pulling him back to the world for a moment and stares at you with squinted yellow eyes.

"I am unsure how to answer" He says, before falling back into his anti-social thoughts and world.

Shanks

You were a new member of Shanks crew and by far the youngest, so when he catches you with a joint he questions what it is. You tell him and explain the relaxing feeling it provides and how things are a lot more interesting, Shanks of course finding this to be fun ask for you to share with him and the rest of the crew. Clearly not having enough you tell him to head to a island near by were you knew it grew.

Heading to Zasso Island you lead the crew to a friend of yours who gave you plenty for a cheap price since not many people partook. After rolling more joints at once then you would in a month you spark up the whole crew.

"Why do your shoes look like that?... it's like wooden feet with sandel straps" You point out, Shanks slowly leaning over to look and see what you were describing.

"Holy hell it does... Actually I don't know where I got these shoes from-" He mumbles in surprise at this, staring at his shoes in surprise.

"Shhhh Shhhh Chill" You hear him say, clearly not wanting to ruin the very relaxed atmosphere. However you and him constantly started talking, Shanks being quite a chatter box.

"They look like dead peoples feet-" You say, which start to make your paranoid brain go off at such a sight.

"I do think I did wrong by Buggy- I think he loved me more then I wanted to acknowledge..." He admits as the two of you lay on the hammack together.

Shanks is the contemplative high, thinking about the past present and future as he is high off his ass. Turning the whole deal into some warped therapy session for everyone.

"How do you feel about him?" You ask softly, turning to look at the Captian as he took another drag of his joint.

"I.. Don't know- But I know I keep him close to my heart" He admits and places the joint back to his lips to open his coat were their was a inner pocket. Pulling out some folded papers which you see are wanted papers- Buggys and Luffys specifically.

Buggy

Go to part 1 for Buggys original

After using far too much will power you two stumble out of the Hotboxed room and venture down to the kitchen. Standing there just dazed as you two take it all in-

"So many different types of food..."

Buggy mumbled as he stared at the pantries of his ships kitchen, you grabbing some jugs of water and hand one to him which he takes and downs really quickly.

"My mouth feels like a desert" He whispers way too loudly, reaching clumsily for some leftovers. You nod in agreement and reach for some of the pastries left over from breakfast and Buggy grabs a random bowl and some sweet crackers.

"I've got a question- For your abilities does it still hurt to be like cut up? Even though you get cut up?" You ask as he takes a far too big of bite of what seemed to be straight frosting- or mashed potatos you couldn't tell.

Leaning against the countertop eating random shit together as you start asking questions.

"Hm? Yeah- I'm just used to it so it doesn't bother me too much" He said with a shrug, Taking another bite of the mysterious food.

"That's sad- You shouldnt be used to pain" You mumbled sadly, Buggy reaching over and patting your back with unsteady heavy hands.

"It's better then being used to having your will broken. Physical pain will fade or you grow uses to it- But emotional last forever. That's the real pain" He said calmly, once again that Philosopher Buggy coming out. It isn't long before the two of you go back to the room wehre you guys hotbox it again.

You two will lounge back in the room with far too many snacks and start singing random songs.. Mainly show tunes since he loves his musicals.

[bitethedevil]

Imagine if Raphael was on the Material Plane in human form when he happens to cross paths with his little mouse (who he is infatuated with) and then, for one reason or another, someone mistakenly assumes that Tav is his spouse and refers to Tav as such ("Oh, apologizes, sir! I didn't realize your spouse would be joining you!"). How do you think he'd react? Do you think he'd go deer in headlights for a second? Would he just roll with it? Would he clear up the confusion?

(I deviated a bit from this ask. Just felt like writing a silly little thing. This one is just Raphael being his dramatic self and a complete ass to Tav lmao. Idk I really had fun with this one but it's not super romantic or anything. It's also not super edited)

Let's Get Divorced (Raphael x Tav)

Tav was in a bar, drinking with the most sweet and handsome man she had ever seen. He was kind, he was interested in her, and he had the cutest smile. It had been a little while since she had last been with someone, so she had high hopes that she would end up in this handsome stranger’s bed later.

Defeating the Netherbrain and getting rid of her tadpole had really done something to her libido. It is as if her brain was still craving that excitement that only multiple near-death experiences can bring a person, and now it was compensating for it by being constantly horny.

She managed to steal a little kiss from the cute man she was drinking with, and she felt her heart beating a little faster. She had him. She was sure of it. She would finally be able to release all that pent up sexual frustration she had.

She went up to the bar to get more drinks and to cool down for a short moment. Her blood was pumping from the kiss. That is when she heard an all too recognizable voice behind her:

“A moment of your time, if you would be so kind, mouse.”

Her heart fell and she turned around. He was looking just as disgruntled as the last time he sought her out and asked her for the Crown. She kept finding excuses for not delivering it to him, even though she had signed his contract. She was way too drunk to have this conversation with Raphael.

“Please,” she said. “Not tonight…”

“Not tonight, not last week, not a month ago,” he said annoyed. “I am running out of patience, dear.”

“And I’m sorry, I’ve been busy…” she said. “I obviously don’t have it on me right now. Just please…not tonight.”

“Busy, are you?” Raphael asked with a sneer. “And what is it that you are so terribly busy with this evening?”

“Uuuh…” Tav said and tried to think of an answer that was not ‘getting laid’, but her mind was not her friend at the moment, and she came up blank.

“That’s what I thought,” Raphael said. “You will take me to it, and you will personally hand it to me, tonight. I am not leaving before I have the Crown of Karsus in my hands.”

“Tomorrow, please,” she pleaded. “Come by tomorrow, and I promise you that I will give it to you.”

Her eyes quickly went to the man she had been talking to and she could see that he was staring at the two of them.

“Please, Raphael,” she said again.

Raphael slowly turned at looked at who she was looking at, before turning back to her.

“Is that what you are so occupied with?” Raphael asked her. “Chasing boys?”

“No…” she said.

Raphael gave her a look.

“Yes…” she admitted. “So what? Look, I promise I will hand you the Crown tomorrow. I will even place it on your head for you, just…let me have tonight…please.”

“You make me come to this disgusting establishment, you waste my time, you find excuse after excuse…” Raphael hissed at her. “I will not abide it, little mouse.”

“’Little mouse’?” she heard a voice behind Raphael ask. “Is he your husband or something?”

Her eyes widened slightly. Raphael’s anger disappeared the moment he heard the voice behind him, and a cruel smile spread across his face as he looked into Tav’s eyes.

“He is,” Raphael said smoothly and turned around to face the man she had been talking to. He put an arm around her waist as if it was the most natural thing in the world for him. “And you are?”

The man’s eyes went back and forth from Tav to Raphael in confusion. Tav was just as confused as to what just happened. She laughed nervously.

“Oh, he’s not…” she explained and pointed at Raphael. “I’m not married.”

“This again, my love?” Raphael asked her with feigned hurt and then looked at the man to address him. “She claims that she does not get enough attention at home, my little mouse.”

“Hahaaa, very funny. I have no idea what—” she said but was interrupted by Raphael, as his arm tightened around her waist.

“It is not the first time I have had to collect her from one of the city’s taverns, of course,” Raphael said with a dramatic sigh. “She keeps throwing herself at the patrons, you see. She can get quite unpleasant when she drinks too much.”

“He is not my husband!” Tav said to the man and tried to pry Raphael’s grip off her waist.

“I…I’m sorry, sir,” the man said to Raphael. “She never told me she was married.”

“I’m not!” she said loudly, still trying to squirm out of Raphael’s grip.

“Oh, that does sound like her,” Raphael said and punctuated it with a patronizing tap on her nose, still effortlessly holding her, despite her putting in her full strength in to get out of his grasp. “She has always been inclined to forget her obligations, isn’t that right, dearest?”

She looked the poor, sweet man who looked so confused and sad at the revelation. The whole situation was extremely awkward.

“Raphael, I will get you the damn…thing…” she said through gritted teeth, looking Raphael in the eyes. “Tell him that we are not married!”

“You say such hurtful things when you drink, my love,” Raphael said. She could see that he was fully enjoying this.

“Again, I am truly sorry for this misunderstanding,” the man said. “I will just…go…”

“No, no, don’t go. He is not my husband. He is a literal devil!” she said to him.

“She likes to exaggerate, don’t you, dear? Come, let us go home,” Raphael said to her as if he was dealing with an insane person and started dragging her out of the bar.

“But—” she said and took one last glance at the man as she was being pulled away.

Raphael only let go of her once they were outside the bar.

“It seems that your oh-so-busy schedule has been cleared,” Raphael said with a smile. “Now, take me to it.”

“There is no way that I would ever have married you of all people, just to make that clear,” Tav grumbled, slightly slurring. “Even the idea of it is offensive.”

“Oh, you wound me,” Raphael said with a cold expression. “Although, much like a marriage, we are bound together unless you fulfill your part of the deal. Of course, with us it is less of a ‘till death do us part’ arrangement and more of a… ‘when your death do us unite’ sort of thing. Let me remind you that I still have a contract, with your signature on it, that promises me your soul if you do not hand me the crown. As things currently stand, I own you, little mouse.”

Tav sighed deeply.

“Let’s go get fucking divorced then, I guess,” she drunkenly mumbled and turned to walk towards the direction of her house, to go get the crown for him, so that her part of the deal was fulfilled.

Raphael mood seemed to brighten at her surrender, and he offered her his arm to take as they started walking towards her home. Tav linked arms with him not to stumble.

She was moping about the fact that Raphael had ruined her chances at going home with someone. It was as if Raphael had read her mind.

“Before we do, I want to express how grateful I am that you finally came to your senses,” Raphael purred. “I am not without generosity for those who help me, and you clearly had a goal in mind for tonight. I would be a neglectful husband to leave my little mouse wanting, would I not?”

Tav’s brow furrowed as she looked at him. He smirked at her. Her eyes widened in realization.

…Oh?

[wabatle]

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Siblings go from love to hate

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Synopsis: both of your relationships with your brothers get destroyed. what now?

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Warnings: reader gets implied thoughts of suicide/self-harm/self-hatred, lots of swearing

𓆩⚝𓆪 — Contains: fem!reader (use of sister), reader gets a partner without a specified gender

𓆩⚝𓆪 — A/N: anon i'm going to start calling you the itoshi brothers anon unless you come up with a label for yourself (which is okay). your brain>>>>>>

Ever since you were young, you had always had a close relationship with your brothers. Even since they were born, you knew they loved you.

“Rin…” Your little self gently pushes open the door.

“What is it, (name)?” He replied.

“I'm bored. Wanna play together?”

He blinked. “Sure. Come here.” He patted the ground next to him.

You never thought to treasure moments like these, as you never thought anything could happen to the three of you.

“Sae, Rin, you're so cool!” You exclaimed after seeing the two of them win another match.

Sae ruffled your hair. “Thanks, (name).”

“You're cool as well. You're really smart.” Rin told you.

Everything changed when Sae went to Spain.

It was no secret that things were different. You were missing a whole older brother.

As Sae was doing whatever it was he was doing in Spain, your bond with Rin just grew stronger.

“Good luck in Spain, Sae.” You told your brother. “Don't get a girlfriend and forget about me.” You hugged him.

“I won't.” He hugged you back. “Same thing goes for you, too. No getting a boyfriend. Ever.”

“I love you, Sae.”

“I love you too, my baby sister.”

You stepped back and held Rin’s hand. Saying goodbye had always been hard for you.

You watched the plane take off, and that was it. Your older brother was gone.

“So… what now?” You asked Rin nervously.

“I…I’m not sure.” He replied.

Four years later, you witnessed Rin get crushed by Sae. You saw all of it. It was horrible to watch. The bond the three of you had, ripped to shreds. You tried to catch Sae as he was leaving.

“Sae!”

He stopped and looked at you.

“U–um, welcome home…”

“Thanks.”

“A–about what happened just now—”

“Save it. I don't want to hear it. He's lukewarm and useless. That's all there is to it.”

“B–but—!”

“Enough. You're just as lukewarm as him. You'll never even be as good as Rin, let alone me. You're lukewarm and useless. I truly am disgusted to call a disgrace like you my younger sister.”

Tears ran down your face. Sae continued walking ignoring your tears. Only 5 years ago would he have dropped everything to make sure you were okay. Now, he doesn't even care.

You dropped to the ground, sobbing. You hated everything. You wondered why the world had decided to punish you in this way, and what you had done.

Slowly, you made your way back home. You went right to your room and locked yourself in. You began to question everything. If you really were useless, if you were good enough, if you were worthy of being alive.

You closed yourself off from everyone. You hardly talked to your friends at school, you blankly sat through conversations with your parents. But worst of all, you and Rin avoided each other.

There was… unsaid tension. Both of you had been hurt by Sae. Neither of you wanted to talk to each other. Rin was too busy thinking about what Sae said while you had convinced yourself that Rin was upset at you.

Rin caught you in the hall of your home one day.

“Hey.” He said, averting your gaze.

“Hi.” You said, also looking away.

“Why haven't you come out of your room? You haven't eaten, you haven't spoken to me, why? What happened?”

“I–I don't know,” You stuttered, “I just… kinda thought you were mad at me.”

“I'm not.”

“Are you sure? You seem kinda irritated…”

“No, I'm fine.” His tone was more hostile.

“Um… okay.” You were surprised by his hostility. He usually was never this cold to you. “I'm just gonna go, then.”

“We're not done talking.” He grabbed your wrist.

“Rin—”

“Stop running from me—”

“Can I just go to the bathroom? Please?”

He let go. “Oh. Fine. Sorry.”

You locked yourself in the bathroom for a while, each time hesitating to come out in case Rin was waiting for you.

Finally, you came out, and to your relief, Rin was nowhere to be found.

You made your way straight to your room, skipping dinner once again that night.

You heard a knock on your door. “(Name)?” You heard Rin's voice. “Can I come in? I brought you dinner.”

Reluctantly and nervously, you got up and opened the door. “I'm not hungry.”

“Like hell you aren't. You haven't eaten all day.”

And, like a perfectly timed reason to prove the universe hated you, your stomach rumbled.

“That's what I thought.” Rin said, walking in and setting the plate down on your desk.

After a moment of very awkward silence, Rin spoke, “Did… Did Sae say anything to you?”

“Um, no.” You lied.

“Oh. Well, he said something to me.”

“...Oh?” You replied with feigned curiosity.

“He said that… No, it's nothing. But what he said made me realize something.”

You could tell where this was going immediately.

“You're gonna tell me that you hate me, huh? You're gonna tell me that you're disgusted to call a leech like me your sister, aren't you?”

“What? No—”

“Get out of my room, Rin. I don't want to talk to you.”

“Fine. Eat.” Rin got up and left, leaving you to cry on your own.

The next day, Rin approached you after school.

“You're skipping practice—” Rin cut you off.

“I was thinking about what you said last night. And you know what? You're right. I do hate you.”

You stared at Rin, eyes widening in fear.

“You're useless. You don't add anything to this family and instead drag us down. You'll never be successful, you'll never make any achievements, nothing. You have no talent.”

“R–Rin—”

“And you were right. I'm disgusted to call you my younger sister. Don't talk to me until you've done something with your worthless life.” He waved you off and left for practice.

You were horrified. Your self-deprecation just got worse from here, causing you to fall into a spiraling depression.

When Rin left for Blue Lock, you were more than relieved. You slowly started to feel safe at home again, but your parents, now with only one child at home, took every chance they could to bother you.

Now, you're twenty two. You moved out to University and you found a partner. Not just a romantic partner, a marital partner. You were so excited to change your last name and leave your Itoshi past behind you.

That was, until one fateful day, your older brother showed up on your doorstep. Sae.

“What are you doing here?” You snarled.

“I came to see you. And how you were doing.”

“I'm doing fine, thanks for asking.” You said with a forced smile. “Much better than I was seven years ago.”

“(Name), listen—”

“No. I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear some half-baked apology from someone who basically told me I didn’t deserve to be alive. I will never forgive you, and I should be the one ashamed to have such an asshole for a brother. Get out of my house, Sae.”

“I’ll be waiting here until you’re ready to forgive me. I’m aware that what I said was not only horrible, but also straight up false. I love you, you’ll always be my little sister. But I understand if you want to cut contact with me.”

Your expressions softened into a surprised one. “Sae… I hope you know it would take me a really long time to forgive you. You said some really shitty stuff that day.”

“I know. But I can wait.”

“I think it’s best if you just leave.” You said, averting his gaze.

“Okay. Um, I got a new number, so if you want it, let me know.”

You nodded, and Sae walked away. You sat down and put your head in your hands. Just five more days. Then you’ll finally no longer be an Itoshi.

Unfortunately, those five days were nothing short of chaotic. Especially because Rin showed up at your door two days later.

There was only one way you thought Rin could’ve found out about your engagement and your new address.

Sae.

He must’ve noticed the ring on your finger and told Rin.

“Um… Hey, (Name)...”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

“I, um… I heard you’re engaged.”

“And? What is it to you?”

“I think I have a right to know what’s going on in my sister’s life.”

“Not anymore you don’t. Not after what you said to me.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did, didn’t you? No fixing it now.”

“Don’t get feisty with me.” Rin growled.

“I can act however I want towards you. I’m not the one who crushed your confidence.”

“(Name)—”

“I don’t want to hear it! Back off and go home, Itoshi!”

“Fuck you! I meant every fucking word I said back then, bitch!”

“Oh, go fuck yourself! Get out of my life and don’t come back! I don’t need someone like you in my life!”

“Fine! Fuck you!” Rin started walking away.

“Don’t talk to me again, asshole!” You shot at him one last time.

Rin flipped you off and kept walking.

Rin, you would never forgive. Sae, maybe, with a lot of love and care, maybe you would forgive Sae.

Just three more days, and then you’ll no longer be an Itoshi.

𓆩⚝𓆪 — thank you for reading!

𓆩⚝𓆪 — taglist (ask 2 be added): @mariaace @plsmarrymehioriyo @stellas-starry-stories13

𓆩⚝𓆪 — blue lock masterlist || masterlist

[sky-kiss]

YAS! Free time is best time! Hmm for prompts, I love the idea of low intelligence Tav and Raphael? Like Tav convinced Raphael is a Fae? Man offered her food, won’t call her by her name, rhymes, and wants to make deals. He’s totally a fae, and he gets so pissy she won’t be convinced otherwise.

Or for spicy prompt. I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but innocent Tav being deflowered by Raphael as part of a deal? Or cockwarming, that’s my favorite as well.

A/N: Had to fight, had to actively restrain myself for going for one of these prompts. Will do the scenario though. And I weep. But when Idiot!Tav calls, I answer.

______

R/T: Local Devil Tries to Flirt; Local Idiot Too Far Gone for Banter

______

There are mortal eccentricities he finds charming. Ambition, for one! Their pluck! The gods create meager little creatures, soft, small, and weak, yet they forge ahead! Unconcerned by their relative lack of status in the universe! He'd go so far as to say he admires the trait. And there is something endearing in their youthful naivete, comparative ignorance of the outer planes. Raphael is not so proud as to admit he has not actively exploited this lack of knowledge in the past. It's always served his best interests! 

But it can be, and currently is, a double-edged sword. The cambion strokes his chin, lips pressed to a thin line, as he surveys his champion. His little mouse regards him with narrowed eyes and a vacant stare. "Come, my dear! Eat and make merry for tomorrow," he prolongs the sentence, letting it hang between them with a practiced theatricality. "You may die." 

"Is that a threat?" 

Raphael chuckles, shifting his weight to the back foot, his right hand pressed to his sternum. "From me? Have I been ought but a friend? A champion, an advocate, in this your hour of need?" 

She huffs, "I can't see that you've done a thing for us. You dangle a deal and won't let me take it!"

"The thrill of anticipation, sweetling. Best in all things." He winks. 

She does not reciprocate. Her brows pulled together; she frowned, arms crossing her chest- not the body language Raphael wanted. In truth, he's been finding the whole arrangement a touch challenging. There's no back-and-forth or witty banter- not like he planned it. Tav shakes her head. "And that's another thing. I'm not your sweetling. Or your dear. I'm Tav. Can you manage Tav?" 

"We're certainly feeling combative, aren't we?" The devil narrows his eyes. 

"You can do it, can't you?" 

And he's momentarily struck by the notion that she isn't challenging him; she's genuinely curious if he can do it. Raphael hums, "Nuanced as it is, I am perfectly capable of naming you, Tav. Is that satisfactory?" 

She shakes her head. "I don't trust you." 

"Clever girl. Only you don't have to trust me. There is something deliciously illicit in such partnerships—a hint of intrigue. A flash of- "He leans nearer, flourishing with his right hand. Sparks dance from the tips of his fingers. "Danger." 

"No good ever came from the fae-folk." 

"My dear, I assure you, I…" Raphael cuts off, brain catching up to his tongue. "Beg pardon? Fae?"

"Fae," she repeats. Tav eyes him with renewed caution, hand slipping to the hilt of her (comically ineffectual) cold-iron knife. "I'm many things, Raphael, but I'm no fool."

"Truly." He licks his lips. It's rare for him to be purely baffled, but here it is. Nothing about her suggests she's joking. A quick peak in the little idiot's head suggests she believes her statement with absolute certainty. He crosses his arms over his chest, indicating himself with a hand sweep. "My dear, what do you make of all this?" The horns, red skin, the tail…clearly infernal. 

She shakes her head. "A devil would deal more honestly. I'd be more inclined to trust them. This is…a glamor. Convincing, but false."

He blanches. "What." 

"You bring me here. You make me pretty promises and ply me with wine and sweet words. You speak in riddles and songs!" He wants to argue that those are all devilish traits, but gods, why bother? Raphael pinches the bridge of his nose. "Devils may be evil, Raphael, but at least they're honest."

"To their detriment, apparently." He sighs. "Pet…" 

"Tav." 

"Tav," he corrects, feeling his temperature rise in response to his temper. "I have offered a contract, its terms clearly stated."

"No. You've offered me a deal. No contract, no terms. And the matter with the Orthon! A purely verbal arrangement. No devil worth their salt would go along with that." 

"How dare you! Impertinent, thoughtless…" Raphael catches himself. He makes a mental ten count and assures himself the deal will be done shortly. It all comes back to the crown. He needs them. He…gods, he has to play along. It tastes like bile on his tongue. "Fae, yes. You've found me out, pet. A…creature of chaos. Such am I." 

Tav nods. "Thank you for your honesty." 

He honestly considers strangling the little idiot. 

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 1)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Talks about sex and drugs.

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Coming home is supposed to be a happy occasion, but it's hard to be happy with your ex-boyfriend lurking around the corner.

A/N: This is a sequel series to Thorn In My Side, Rose in My Hand series.

Masterlist

Going back home is the last thing Y/N wants to do right now. The Outer Banks is full of memories from a heartbreak she does not want to remember. However, she is no match for the force known as Cassie and Marvin, and that is how she finds herself on a plane back to North Carolina. For the past five years, Y/N has done everything in her power to not step foot on the island again and now, it is all for nothing. “Please fasten your seat belts, we are preparing for landing,” the pilot’s voice stirs Y/N from her slumber. She can’t believe this is actually happening right now. The elderly lady beside her smiles at her, “First time going to North Carolina?” “Uh, no. I actually grew up there, in the Outer Banks, but I haven’t been back since I left. It feels a little weird,” she answers honestly. 

“Ahh, so you were running from something.” 

“Yeah, I was. But it looks like I can’t anymore. I just hope that something isn’t there anymore.”

The plane lands and Y/N gets her bags from the carousel. She waits for Mason in the pick-up area, running towards him when she spots his car. Mason crushes Y/N in a hug, “It’s so good to see you back on American soil. This is long overdue.” Y/N pats his back while returning the hug. “Yeah, yeah. It’s good to be home. Did Lace get Sparky here okay?” Mason picks her suitcase up and packs it into his trunk, “Yep, he’s probably being a little energy ball in our living room as we speak.” They both laugh at the joke and then hop into the car. “So how’s your internship at the architectural firm? Is it different from the one in Toronto?” she asks her brother, bringing her hand to the locket around her neck. Heading back to the Outer Bank is causing her to be anxious and playing with the locket calms her down. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Mason that she still wears the necklace and is playing with it. 

“It’s going well. Most buildings that people look into getting built here are a different style than in Toronto. OBX wants beach boxes, while Toronto has a wide range of styles. It’s really fascinating watching how my boss’ designs still match to look different from one another.”

“That’s cool. I like the name beach box. It sounds fun. Like a giant sandbox. And are you enjoying it?”

“Yeah, I really am. Although, I do want to see if I can get an internship in an Asian country afterwards. They have a different style that’s interesting. How is the bookstore coming along?”

“A little stressful right now to be honest. Juggling my book edits and what I need to change or add so that the building is up to code and now being here. It’s all just a little too much. At least, I have a name Bookkeeper. It’s gonna confuse people who actually know what that career is but I think it’s funny.”

“It is a good name. It’s very punny.”

“Ugh, that was so bad.”

———

One of the worst places to be is her childhood bedroom. The countless days they spent cuddling on the bed haunts her. The love they expressed physically all over the room is practically engrained in her brain. She had never been able to feel that way again. She unpacks her clothes into her closet and goes to check on Sparky downstairs. He was left down there because she didn’t want him sitting on her suitcase like he did when she was packing her bags in London. He has gotten bigger and he has a little bit of an attachment issue. He doesn’t like being very far from his Mommy for very long. Y/N’s heart drops to the pit of her stomach when she sees the open front door and bolts out of it in hopes of catching her dog before he gets too far. 

She follows his barks like a trail of breadcrumbs to the sidewalk. If her heart wasn’t already giving her problems, it certainly is now. The sight before her is one she never thought she would see again. Rafe Cameron is kneeling down and petting Sparky. Beside him is a beautiful woman in a sundress. Her long black hair cascades down her shoulders and her brown almond-shaped eyes show such warmth behind them. Her makeup is done to absolute perfection. Y/N slowly approaches the trio without hesitation. She doesn’t want to go near Rafe, but seeing as it doesn’t look like Sparky is nowhere near going home, she had to go get him.

 “Hey Sparky, long time no see. It’s good to see you again, Bubba. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for ya. You’ve gotten so big,” she hears him greet. As she approaches, she accidentally steps on a stick and the crack alerts the others to her presence. “Hey,” she awkwardly begins. “I’m just here for my dog.” Rafe nods and stands up, moving to wrap his hand around the woman’s waist. “Uh, yeah. I remember a time when he used to be my dog too.” Sensing the tension, his companion introduces herself, “Hi, I’m Blythe Katsumi. I’m Rafe’s fiancée.” Blythe sticks her hand out for Y/N to shake, which she does. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. Rafe’s- uh…this is Sparky.”

“It’s okay. I know you were his high school girlfriend. He told me about you.”

“Right. And he didn’t tell me about you.”

Rafe rolls his eyes and huffs, “Yeah, well it’s not like we were doing a lot of talking in the last five years. What are you doing here, Y/L/N?” 

“You mean besides looking for my dog, in front of my house? The better question is what are you doing here Rafe?”

“I have every right to be here because unlike you, I’ve been coming back home.”

Before Y/N can retort, Blythe stops the conversation from going any further. “Well, it was lovely meeting you, but we need to go. We have to get some stuff ready for the engagement party.” Blythe waves goodbye and takes Rafe’s hand to walk away. This draws Y/N attention to Blythe's left hand with the giant diamond engagement ring. This causes a stabbing feeling to shoot through Y/N’s heart. Her hand shoots up to her locket and she begins to rub it for some comfort. This action doesn’t go unnoticed by Rafe as he catches it from the corner of his eye.

———

Everyone has their own vices. Cheating. Gambling. Alcohol. Lying. Rafe’s is drugs. There was a period of time in his life when weed was not the outlet he turned to when in need of getting out of his own head. That one blissful year he had with her was his escape instead. But after the breakup, weed was the only thing that made him forget about her. Eventually, he became numb to the weed and he needed something stronger, so Barry introduced him to cocaine. Mason didn’t know that Rafe had stepped it up in the drug department because if Mason knew, he would’ve found some way to get Rafe to stop. And Rafe didn’t want to, he needed to escape the feeling of being consumed by her. 

Before today, Rafe had managed to go a month without thinking about her at all. It was his highest record in the past five years they had been apart. There was no bookstore he walked by with a girl quite similar to her standing at the window. No hard kombucha in Mason’s fridge to indicate that she had been there. No caramel ice cream at the parlour that she would beg him to buy. It was like the universe was giving him a break from being haunted by Y/N. It seems the universe is done with giving him that gift because as he drives to Barry’s house, he is drowning in thoughts of her. He loved seeing Sparky, of course, but why did she have to come back? He couldn’t get the smell of her hibiscus body wash out of his mind. The sweet but gentle tropical scent she wore contradicted the foggy and rainy place she had moved to. Her hair is held back in a claw clip he used to play with whenever she would leave them around. 

And the thing that had really caused him to spiral is her hand still holding the locket he had given her for their first Christmas as a couple. Has she been wearing it for the past five years? Had she worn it while she let other men make her feel good, but nowhere near as good as he can make her feel? Would she wear it when she told them she loved them? But most importantly, how dare she come back to what is now only his island and wear it as if she cared for him? She hasn’t been back in years or talked to him; she doesn’t get to pretend like she’s thought about him. It is driving him crazy and he needed something to stop him from going too deep down this rabbit hole. 

Barry hears Rafe’s motorbike and is waiting outside for him. “Well, well, well, look who came back from the dead. Thought you went sober on me for a second there, country club. What can I get you for you?”

“However much you got. I got a feeling that I’m gonna be needing it more often.”

He knew he would need whatever he got his hands on to help him forget about her because if he didn’t then he would remember. And it would probably kill him to remember just how his heart almost leapt out of his chest when he saw Y/N Y/L/N right before his eyes.

———

When they broke up, Mason told both of them that he would not be used as a source to find out more about the other. He said it was for his own sanity in not wanting to be caught in the middle of his sister and best friend, but it was also in hopes that it would cause discourse between the two that would lead to their reunification. So it made sense that Mason would keep an engagement from her. But she still needed more information that she would give Mason no other choice but to give her. “How long have they been together, Mace?” Mason closes his eyes in a silent prayer that he isn’t about to have this painful conversation with his sister. He lifts his head from his laptop and turns towards her, “A year and a month. They’ve known each other for a year and a half.” 

“How long have they been engaged?”

“Four months.”

“Did you help him propose?”

“He didn’t ask.”

“How come you didn’t tell me?”

At this, Mason can hear the sadness in his sister’s voice. He knew no matter how much she says she is over Rafe, it isn’t true. It’s why she still wears his locket after all. He knew she needed to know though. 

“You know I don’t want to get in between you two. Also, I just didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to tell you something that would hurt you so much. I love you and I want to protect you from that pain.” 

“Yeah, I get that. It just would’ve hurt less if it came from you,” she whispers, not knowing what else to ask or add to the conversation. She turns around and goes to her room, where she finds Sparky waiting for her. He gives her a pouty look, asking how come he couldn’t go with his Daddy. She sits down on her bed beside him and places his head on her lap, “I’m sorry, Bubba. But I did what I had to do. Breaking up with him was necessary. I mean I set him free and look at him now, he is getting married.” It hurt. It hurt that he was okay with marrying Blythe before he turned twenty-five. He wanted to speed up his life plan two years earlier just for Blythe. How come he was willing to do that for Blythe but not for Y/N? Was Blythe really that much better than her?

Doing what any other girl would do, Y/N resolves to some internet sleuthing. It wasn’t that hard to find Blythe’s Instagram. She has a public account and Mason is following her. She has an impressive 500K followers; probably because she is the heiress to a popular Japanese hotel chain. All her posts have her makeup done to perfection and her clothes are all designer. One of her saved reels is of her and Rafe partying on New Year's Eve. At least Blythe can keep up with Rafe on that level. Y/N moves her search to Google and finds Blythe’s Wikipedia page. She was born in New York and raised there. She attended UNC for fashion. From multiple tabloid pictures, she can tell that the party scene is one Blythe frequent but she is also a sweet girl. In one picture, she is giving her jacket to a homeless person along with some money when she is returning home from a party. She helps out at soup kitchens and takes children out on shopping sprees. Y/N supposes that Blythe could just be doing it for the media attention, but the look in Blythe’s eyes tells her it isn’t true. 

After finding out possibly everything she could find out about Blythe, Y/N turns all of her electronic devices off to stop her from spiralling on social media anymore. She heads over to her bookshelf in need of a bookish escape. Her eyes glance over the different titles until her eyes find one particular book she had not thought about it in a while. She pulls the book off the shelf and opens it up to the title page with the inscription on it. The copy of The Lightning Thief that Rafe had annotated sits before her. She had left it here when she went to university because it felt too hard to bring with her. It held too much meaning. As she sits down on her window sill, she begins to read the book with a special focus on the inscriptions. She reads for hours, allowing herself to feel every bit of emotion that passes through her. God, it hurts to be back home.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you

[pr-incey]

For a while—after being exposed to the antiship movement, because goodness knows I didn't care about this when I was younger—I wondered *why* fiction and reality were so different in my head. Why I could happily see things depicted in fiction that would make me sick to my stomach or upset me to tears just from thinking of it happening in real life. I couldn't come up with a reason for this for a while, which caused me distressed and made me worried that I might secretly be a terrible person after all.

But I've done some thinking and I've figured it out. Or, rather, I've returned to the mindset that came so easy to me in the past and probably did to a lot of people before the well was poisoned.

When I see a fictional character, I don't see a person. I don't see a person like *me*, anyway. I see a person within that piece of fiction's universe; a plane of existence that is wholly different from my own. Lines and colour, words on a page, virtual drawings being played sequentially at a speed that simulates movement. Sure, the written passage, 'He had eyes, ears and a mouth' is a representation of what *I* am, and what other people around me are, but it is fundamentally a plane of existence that is *alien* to me.

An alien is something that is decidedly not human. I feel empathy for other humans because I can relate to them. I have no desire to hurt them because I either know what it is like to be hurt in that way, or I can imagine what it would be like. I know the harm it would do to them, which illicits a reaction of disgust and apprehension in me. 'That's terrible,' I think, which simply kills any desire to cause any harm to a real person or do any disgusting actions.

This is why predators are such terrible people. They are fully aware of the harm their actions will cause and then go ahead with them anyway.

But with a fictional character, it's different in these ways:

1. First of all, we have to remember that they AREN'T human and so whatever I feel towards them cannot accurately mirror whatever I feel towards real flesh and blood individuals. They're projections of humanity from OTHER people in whatever medium they choose, but fictional characters are—and I cannot stress this enough—NOT HUMAN. If I pull off the head of a Barbie doll, does that mean I have the desire to behead someone in real life? Does it mean that I MUST have the urge to behead someone in real life, because a barbie doll is a 'representation' of a person? Your answer, I'm hoping, is no. Because Barbie is not human.

2. And because fictional characters are not human, I don't have empathy for them. Not REAL empathy, anyway, the type that stops the desire to cause harm. When I 'violate' a fictional character, it illicits at most only superficial disgust because I know that character will not live with the lasting consequences of my actions. They're a projection, a facsimile.

So that might bring you to another question, 'Even if they're not real, why would you WANT to do that to them, anyway?'

That I can't answer. The human brain is weird. Sometimes, people have dark urges. If a kid tosses their Barbie onto the ground and seems to take pleasure in it falling, can that accurately say they want to push a real person onto the ground? If someone seems to enjoy a violent video game like GTA where they can run people over and shoot them to their heart's content, is that a surefire way to know that they want to do those things to real people? I wouldn't say it is. Would you?

The final thing to remember is that it's not completely black and white. A serial killer might have been 'inspired' by a violent horror story, whereas the actual author of that story is a nice, well-adjusted individual. People with the desire to hurt actual humans might make do with projections, but it does not change the fact that they actually want to HARM people. The fiction didn't make them want to do that. They already did, and probably would have even if they didn't discover said fiction. And horrible people CAN make their own 'projections'.

Generally though I believe it is obvious when someone is just playing with dolls, and when someone is exhibiting an actual desire to hurt somebody.

[oddinary4bts]

The Forgotten Spaces | ch 9 (jjk)

☆summary: you've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you?

☆pairing: photographer and dancer!Jungkook x dancer!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, there is mature content in previous/later chapters)

☆genre: slow (SLOW) burn enemies to lovers, college!au, slice of life!au, angst (oop), smut and fluff

☆warnings: ending of that lil bit of miscommunication in ch 8, a very heartfelt conversation, probably some curses

☆word count: 7k

☆series masterpost here

☆a/n: Finallyyyyy, the angst is ending my friends. I hope you'll enjoy it <3 and also thank you to @moonleeai for her beta reading on this fic, I won't ever thank you enough, you're the best <3

☆Read What Was Hidden here, the fic that inspired this whole story, written by @daechwitatamic, one of my fav human beings on this app <3 It follows the story of Jo and Taehyung before The Forgotten Spaces

☆☆☆☆☆

For this meeting of our end of the world

It's with you that I want to sing

On the threshold of the memories the dead of today

Them that breathe for us

The forgotten spaces

Je t'écris - Gaston Miron (rough translation by me)

☆☆☆☆☆

Tuesday, September 25th

                You wake up slowly at first. Like a feather, softly falling, unbothered by the weight of the universe. It’s calm, like a forest in the winter when it’s snowing. It’s peace personified, like the world never held any wars or pain.

Then you wake all at once, like you’re struck by lightning, energized by it, electricity coursing through your blood. You feel his presence before you see him, and you think you’d be mad at him for lying next to you.

But when your eyelids flutter open to the sight of his purple room, all that fills you is peace again.

It grows tenfold when you turn and see him lying next to you, on his belly, hand reaching towards you. His mouth is slightly open, and he’s lying on top of the covers.

Which means he never meant to fall asleep next to you.

You haven’t realized how long his hair has grown before. Because right now it’s falling in front of his eyes, and you want to brush it behind his ear. It’s a visceral need, and the peace grows once more.

It grows and grows, and you reach and push his hair back, softly. Fingertips grazing his cheek, staying there as if they’ve found a home. He closes his mouth in his sleep and sighs, but he doesn’t wake up. He returns to his soft snoring a second later, and you just run your fingers along his cheekbone, tracing the planes of his face ever so softly.

But tomorrow has come, or is coming soon. And the peace grows again, until it bursts.

Until it bursts and aches, choking you up. Your hand rests heavier on his cheek as tears blur your vision, and the explosion of peace crushes your heart, until a sob finds its way up.

You choke on the sob, and quickly sit to move away from Jungkook. In this moment, all you can think is that he’s hers. Your brain produces the words like a litany in your mind, and you think it’s making you crazy.

You were crazy to come here in the first place. To think you deserved a spot at Jungkook’s side.

You grab your phone, and see that it’s the middle of the night. You don’t care one bit, and you call Jisung. Not Jiho, because Jiho doesn’t know how to drive, and she also has a midterm tomorrow morning.

Jisung doesn’t pick up, and you choke on another sob as you call again. This time, the call goes on voicemail quicker than it’s supposed to, and you receive a text a second later.

[4:46 am] Sungie: you better have a good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night🙄 [4:46 am] Sungie: what’s up? [4:47 am] You: can u come pick me up? [4:47 am] Sungie: what’s wrong [4:48 am] You: it’s complicated. mom kicked me out, and i’m at jk’s place [4:48 am] Sungie: wtf? [4:48 am] Sungie: i don’t wanna go outside😭 and i’ll kill your mom, but what’s new. [4:49 am] Sungie: omw

You sigh a breath of relief, but it breaks on your lips and you cry out, as the tears and the pain win once again, as they’ve been winning all evening.

You get up, you take a few steps, you stumble on something and catch yourself on the wall. You feel like you’re going to be sick, you’re tired, exhausted, and you wish for your bed.

But you don’t have a home anymore, do you?

Jungkook says your name. He says your name like you’re a prayer, and you break some more, refusing to even turn to look at him. You just stumble to your bags, pick them up and try to reach for the door.

Jungkook stops you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

He repeats your name, and you refuse to look at him. This time, when he tries to pull you in, you resist. You don’t want him to touch you, you don’t want him to hold you when you know it’s all just a lie. When you know tomorrow will come and he’ll be gone.

He’s forgotten you. He’s forgotten you too, he’s forgotten the pain he brings. And you think, if the world was ending, would he stand on the threshold of your memories together with you? Because you think you got lost in the memories, you forgot memories come and go.

“Let me go,” you beg, weakly, because you’re weak. Like you’ve been sick, and you think you might be. Maybe your broken heart festered inside of you, releasing toxins into your bloodstream until it rendered you sick.

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” he says in an equally weak voice, but he does let go of you.

You scoff, and you don’t say anything before turning the doorknob and opening the door.

“I’m sorry that I fell asleep next to you,” Jungkook says, and he sounds like he’s panicking. Like he doesn’t want you to slip through his fingers. But the tighter he holds you, the more you slip. You’re like sand: immortal in the way you’ll always slip through his fingers, like he’ll always slip through yours.

“It’s not that.” You drop one of the bags, because your wrist hurts almost equally as your heart. “Jungkook, you have a girlfriend, we shouldn’t be together.”

You eye your bag, deciding that it’s not worth trying to pick it up. You’ll ask Jo to bring it to you wherever you’ll find a home for the next few days. You’re walking away, striding away, running away.

You’re fleeing like he fled that night he told you about her. Part of you wishes you could rush to your mother’s side, could show her your broken heart and beg her for the love she is supposed to give you. Unfortunately, her maternal affection ran low far too long ago.

But Jisung is coming. That’s all that matters.

You’re at the top of the stairs when Jungkook speaks next. “I broke up with Laura.”

You still. As much as you were breaking a second ago, your heart just stops shattering. Just stops existing altogether for a moment.

“What?”

“I broke up with her Sunday morning.”

You turn to look at him. He’s barely visible in the purple light that escapes his room, and you can’t see his features. But you feel the weight of his gaze on you.

“What?”

“I’m not with her anymore. I wanted to talk to you about it tomorrow only, because I found you already vulnerable earlier.” He pauses. “That’s why I went to the studio in the first place.”

“Jungkook…”

You wonder if he’s breaking in time with you. You wonder if he too was vulnerable tonight, and if that’s the reason why he’s cried so much.

Did he care for her enough to ache from your presence?

“I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you by telling you while you were vulnerable.”

You understand why he chose to do it that way. But you still hate him for it.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

“You’re a fucking idiot, Jeon Jungkook.”

You think he might be smiling. He does sound like he’s smiling when he speaks next. “Can I hug you?”

“I hate you.”

He laughs, and it breaks, and you only then realize that he wasn’t smiling. He’s crying, and he wipes a hand on his face.

“Don’t…” you trail off, and then you both startle as Jin appears in the doorframe to his room.

“Can you guys please shut the fuck up, it’s the middle of the night.”

You snort. It sounds like a pig, or maybe a hog or a boar. You actually have no idea what it sounds like, just that it’s hysteric, as is the laughter that erupts from you and Jungkook quite at the same time.

Jin just watches the both of you as if you’re crazy, and you are. You’ve suffered so much you’ve gone crazy, and you don’t even care.

You laugh longer than Jungkook, shedding tears that you dry mindlessly with your thumb. Tears heavy with emotions, different emotions than the ones that you’ve been feeling for weeks.

Indeed, hope has cracked some part of the pain, like a sunrise that shines through a veil of thick clouds, sunrays stubbornly refusing to be stopped by the bleariness.

You laugh for all the breaking that you did, and it’s no wonder Jungkook eventually moves to grab your hand and pull you back into his room. Only then do you stop laughing, and you say, “Jisung is coming to pick me up.”

That showers the both of you until you’ve calmed down, enough to be able to glance at Jin that’s still watching with the most disgusted expression on his features. When the two of you find him on his doorstep, Jin figures it’s better to dip, and he goes in, shutting the door softly behind him.

You think you see him winking at Jungkook before he disappears from view.

“Okay,” Jungkook lets out. “That’s okay, let me grab your bag.”

“You’re not angry?”

He shakes his head no in the faint light of the hallway, glancing at you as he grabs the bag you left near his door. “No. I understand that you need some space. And we’ll talk tomorrow, right?”

You nod. You nod because you’re done breaking. “I’ll call you first thing in the morning.” And then you feel infinitely stupid, because he’s blocked your number months ago.

Jungkook has probably thought about the same thing, because as he’s walking back towards you, he says, “I’m sorry I blocked you.”

You raise your hand, the one whose wrist is in a brace. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Just unblock me.”

“I…” he trails off. “I don’t know how to.”

You shut your eyes. “You’re annoying.”

“I’ll figure it out”, he promises. “I’ll figure it out and I’ll be the one calling you.”

You nod, and you look at him. “I… might be angry at you.”

“I deserve it.” He grabs the bag you’re holding, and then motions to the stairs. “You can punch me if you want, but we should go downstairs before Jin kills me.”

“Please do!”

You both laugh once again, and you think you hear a feminine voice scolding Jin.

You follow Jungkook downstairs, shining light with your phone so you don’t fall. Jungkook leads you right to the hall, and he puts your bags down by the door. He then leans down to massage his knee, and you wonder if pain has licked its fingers up his thigh the way it’s been licking its fingers up your arm.

But not in your heart. Your heart is done aching.

You glance outside, and you see that Jisung is already there. He must have been at Felix’s place. Jungkook notices too as he stretches, and you think you see disappointment on his features.

“Do you want me to carry the bags to the car?” he asks, gently.

You reach out between you, hand moving up until it’s cupped his cheek. He looks startled, eyes going round and looking between your two pupils a couple of times.

“I’m sorry I woke you up”, you say as you let your hand fall, because you have no idea why you did that in the first place.

“No, don’t be,” he reassures you. “I’m glad I woke up and could reassure you. I don’t like misunderstandings.”

You think he’s a little full of shit for saying so, because you wouldn’t have been in this position if he listened to you in July. But you refrain from telling him, because you’re going to talk to him tomorrow, and tomorrow only. When you’ll both be ready.

Tonight, you’re still going to cling to the fact that he cares.

He cares, and he hasn’t forgotten about you, or about the July night sky. No, he too still can see the stars that night.

And suddenly, you don’t fear tomorrow anymore.

*****

                Felix’s apartment is cozy in the morning light. But the absence of curtains in the living room windows has made it hard to sleep. You’re lucky you don’t have a class today. You usually do, a three-hour long class at 8 am, but the professor gave you a week off before the midterm next week. He’s still available for office hours, but you’ve had him before in another class. You know he’s not a strict grader. So you’re not going to make it to office hours, and you’ll try to catch up on more sleep before Felix and Jisung wake up.

It’s hard to fall back asleep though. Indeed, your thoughts have been clouded with Jungkook. With the anxiety that you can finally talk to him now, that he’s not hers, but that you don’t even know if you have something to tell him.

He was soft yesterday. Willing to help, wearing his heart on his sleeve the way you reckon he did it that July weekend. It reminds you that Jungkook has a heart of gold. It took you years before you saw it, but now it’s blinding you.

Jungkook would go to the ends of the Earth to help the people he cares about. And he cares about you. You, with the flaws that make the mosaic of you. You, who’s never been able to love, and now you think maybe you’ve loved all along.

Because what was that hate for him, if not misguided love? Immature feelings, maybe. Though you wouldn’t call it love. You wouldn’t dare say you love Jungkook. But you do feel for him. You feel for him the way you feel for the early morning. It’s filled with possibilities, with calm and serene moments. It doesn’t ask for anything but offers all. And maybe that’s how you’ve been feeling for him all along.

You sigh, turning so your back is to the window, trying to block out the rising sun so you can sleep some more. It does nothing to how your heart’s been acting up, but you still force yourself to lie in silence, to enjoy the feeling of infinity today carries.

You’ve dozed off a little by the time movement is heard in the apartment, and your eyes flutter open to look at the ceiling, as you’ve turned on your back. You yawn, stretching a little, before glancing to the side.

You let out a high-pitched squeal at the sight of the shirtless man that’s standing there, and he startles just as much as you, letting out a sound that rivals with the one you just made.

He’s not Felix, and he’s not Jisung. In reality, you have no idea who he is. You didn’t even know Felix has a roommate.

“Who are you?” the guy asks, and the first thing you notice is his accent.

“Jisung’s friend,” you reply as you sit up.

The man seems to realize he’s half naked, and he folds his arms on his chest. It makes his biceps pop out, and you reckon he’s quite the sight to see so early in the morning.

You have the decency to blush at the thought, and you look down at the floor.

“He and Felix offered to let me sleep here,” you add, worrying at your bottom lip. “I’m not going to stay.”

The guy shrugs. “Hey, it’s okay. Just was startled.” He laughs a little, before glancing in the direction of what you assume is the kitchen. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Uh,” you let out. “Yeah, sure.”

Turns out the guy is called Chris. The accent you’ve heard at first is the unmistakable Australian accent, and he informs you that he’s moved here with Felix for college. You end up eating breakfast along with him, because he’s decided to make protein pancakes. You’re surprised at how good they are, and you’re idly chatting at the kitchen table when Jisung enters.

He looks between you and Chris once, before saying, “You’ve got explanations about how you ended up at Jungkook’s place last night.”

He’s got a firm authoritative tone to his voice, and you recognize him for the older brother he is to you. You let out a shy laugh, before shrugging your shoulders.

“I already told you mom kicked me out.”

Chris’s eyes go wide as saucers as he looks at you, before his gaze dips down to his pancakes and he focuses on eating them.

“Yes, but Jungkook?”

Felix appears behind Jisung, brushing sleep out of his eyes. “Leave her alone, Han.”

Jisung glares at his boyfriend, before shrugging his shoulders. “I just think it’s weird because he’s got a girlfriend.”

“They broke up”, you say in a defensive tone.

Because it’s Jungkook you’re talking about, and you’d always defend him.

Jisung looks so surprised you almost start laughing. And it’s weird that you’re in a laughing mood – you were kicked out yesterday for God’s sake. But at the same time, it feels like you’ve reached the limit of your breaking, and the morning holds the possibility of healing.

The morning, and Jungkook, you reckon. Because you know healing starts with Jungkook. Healing starts with figuring out where it all went wrong, it starts with the conversation you’re supposed to have later.

Some place you also can study, hopefully, because you’ve got a midterm on Thursday.

“You’re fucking shitting me,” Jisung lets out as Felix starts pouring coffee for himself.

You shrug, feeling shy as everyone’s gaze moves to you. “They broke up on Sunday.”

“And you were over yesterday? Boy’s not wasting time.”

You furrow your brows. “It’s actually a coincidence that I ended up at his place. And Jiji’s fault.”

“Jiji? She hates his guts,” Jisung points out, still not fully believing you.

“She told him to go to the studio, he found me crying about getting kicked out and he offered me to spend the night before I figure out what to do.”

“That’s fair enough”, Felix says, interrupting Jisung who clearly was about to say something vile about Jungkook.

Jisung frowns, but he sighs and lets the expression go. He fully walks into the kitchen, helping himself to some of the pancakes Chris made. “He hurts you again I’ll fucking punch him.”

“Sungie,” you whine. “You’re the one that wanted me to tell him how I felt.”

“That was ages ago,” he reminds you. “I also told you to move on.”

“We’re going to talk today,” you admit.

There’s a heavy silence that follows your words. Jisung looks at you like you’re stupid, Chris seems like he wants to disappear, and Felix scrolls away on his phone as if he hasn’t heard.

“You ask me to come pick you up from his place in the middle of the night and then you say you’ll talk today?” Jisung eventually says, voice low.

It makes you feel stupid, and it makes you realize that maybe, maybe talking to Jungkook will lead nowhere.

Maybe you’re just going to offer each other closure before you truly move on. But you think you still deserve the closure, you still deserve the moving on. No matter how you might feel for Jungkook, some things truly are just not meant to be.

And this morning you think maybe that’s okay.

“I didn’t know yet that they were broken up,” you admit. “He didn’t want to drop it on me while I was crying because of my mother.”

“Valid,” Felix lets out, offering you salvation from Jisung’s wrath.

“Please,” Jisung scoffs. He seems to realize Jungkook might have actually done it right, because he adds, “Whatever. As I said, if he hurts you, he’s dead.” He’s frowning again, shaking his head. “And I can’t fucking believe your mother. My parents will give you a room at home if you want.”

The pain comes back now, but it’s different. Dull, as if Jungkook took its edges and softened them last night.

“Thank you.” You sigh, looking down at your plate, and you know you won’t be able to finish eating. “I’m going to get an apartment.”

It changes the subject to apartment hunting, and Jisung does his best to not appear too pissed whenever you mention that Jungkook will be helping you. Because even if all you give each other today is closure, you know Jungkook will still help.

You think you might know him better than you know yourself after all.

You follow Felix out when he says he needs to leave for college. You reckon sharing a Lyft might be a good idea, because you’re still on the other side of town. Felix agrees, though he admits he usually takes public transport to go to college. You shrug your shoulders, saying you’ll pay, and it’s halfway to your college that you realize something.

You realize you need to stop spending and to start saving money, if you want to be able to afford an apartment. And it makes you feel strange inside, like you might still have more that can break.

You cling to the feeling this morning holds. But some part of you is growing weary, dreary, because you get to college before Jungkook texts, and he told you he’d text you first thing in the morning. You don’t know his schedule though. You can’t assume his morning starts at the same time as yours do, so you try to stay calm and not let panic rise in you.

Felix walks with you on campus, until you part ways because he has to get to class. You decide you’re going to squat in the library, with your damn duffel bag and school bag you’ve been carrying around since yesterday. You find a spot in a corner, and you get busy studying, figuring it’s a better way to pass the time instead of looking at your phone expecting Jungkook to call you, to give you a sign of life.

You like studying. As much as law is a hard subject, it makes you feel connected to your father, somehow, and you like it. You like the highlighters and the lo-fi medieval beats and the books filled with laws and ethics and everything in between. You like being in a library, looking like you’ve got your shit together. You think that, to outside eyes, you probably look like you do. You can invent a life to yourself here, one where you haven’t been kicked out. One where you’re the pride of your family, and where you go skiing in the Alps once a year, taking pictures that you hang over the fireplace.

Not that you’re a big skier, and not that you’d go to the Alps anyway. You’d rather backpack around the world, discovering cultures unheard of before.

But sometimes, you do wish your family would have worked. You do wish your father never left, your mother never cheated. And sometimes, you do wonder who’s your biological dad.

Not that it’s important, and not that you will know one day. Your mother says she doesn’t even remember his name, and he was just a back-up dancer in a foreign country. Not someone that you’d ever have a chance of running into.

You sigh, turning the page of the book you’ve been reading. It’s about international law, your favourite subject, and your hardest class this semester. Professor Wickham is a bitch, and she loves failing people. Loves the look of pure distress people throw at her during exams, because she insists on being there while her students take her exams.

She’s a bitch, but she’s also renowned in the field, and you’ve been trying to make a good impression on her forever. Even though she refused you last semester when you tried getting an internship with her. Even though your summer internship still ended being great.

You run a hand through your hair, and you reach towards the reusable water bottle you always carry with you. Your hand stops halfway when your phone lights up next to you, and you grab it, heart beating wildly in your chest.

To your dismay, it isn’t Jungkook, but Jimin texting you.

[10:17 am] park.jm: jk wants me to tell you he’s an idiot [10:17 am] park.jm: he’s not able to unblock u. But he wants to know where u are🫥

You can’t hold in the smile that decides to grow on your lips.

[10:17 am] You: my college’s library. he can unblock me on insta and dm here..🙄

This time, you laugh a little when you see the next message you’ve received.

[10:18 am] jkonthebeat: i’m fkg dumb [10:18 am] jkonthebeat: is there a cafe near ur library? [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: haven’t eaten yet and figured it’d be great to talk over a cup of coffee? [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: if u still wanna talk [10:19 am] jkonthebeat: like i’d understand if u’d rather not? plz don’t feel like you have to [10:19 am] You: Jungkook [10:20 am] jkonthebeat: …what? [10:20 am] You: yes i still want to talk. i’ll send u the location of a chill place [10:21 am] jkonthebeat: okay, yeah good. i’ll be there as quickly as i can [10:23 am] You: shared location [10:26 am] jkonthebeat: eta 35 min😌

You can almost imagine Jungkook panicking on his side of the screen, and it makes you laugh a little more. Some guy throws you a look from the table where he’s sitting, and you offer him a wry smile before looking down at your international law book again. You still have a few pages to read in the chapter, so you decide to do that before meeting up with Jungkook.

It’s really hard to focus when you know his starry gaze is waiting for you. You eventually make it through, though it takes you so long you have to jog to the café to make it on time. You’re out of breath when you get there, and maybe a little sweaty, which you reckon might be disgusting. But Jungkook arrives almost right in time with you, hands digging in the pockets of his sweater pants. He looks like he came in his PJs, and you offer him a small smile when his eyes meet yours.

It’s an embrace, the same way the sun embraces the Earth every morning. It feels like you’d feel lying down in the morning sun rays, letting them warm your cold skin from the lightless night. It feels like you’re safe, like you’ve journeyed around the world only to return to the same spot that you’ll always return to.

He’s cataclysmic, he really is. Like he created you that night in July, the same way you know you’ve created him. In truth, you reckon the cataclysm might be you two together. As if the stars wrote the story decades ago, as if the universe knew your fate from its birth.

You expect it to hurt, but it doesn’t. It’s peaceful. You reckon you deserve a little bit of peace.

“Hey,” he greets you, and you wonder if you’re imagining the pink tint on his cheeks.

“Good morning.” You glance over your shoulder, at the door to the café, before meeting his soft gaze once more. “Do you want to go in?”

He nods, laughing a little. “I got to admit I’m starving.”

“Well, let’s get some food for you,” you say, and you turn.

You’re about to open the door when he grabs the duffel bag from you. “Let me carry that.”

“Oh,” you let out. “I don’t mind, I’m getting used to it.”

He just offers you a no-bullshit look that leaves no room for arguing, so you chuckle before opening the door. He follows you inside, and you choose a table in a quiet corner before you go to order something. You settle on an almond croissant while Jungkook gets a coffee and a cinnamon bun, along with a muffin that ‘looks too good to be left there’. You roll your eyes at his comment, but he just offers you a wink.

It’s the wink you once thought was cocky. It’s not cocky at all anymore today, just teasing.

You’re back at the table and halfway through your croissant when Jungkook says, “Thank you for accepting to meet up.”

It makes you anxious, because the time has come. No matter how much you want this conversation to happen, you can’t help but dread it too.

“Of course.”

He worries at his piercing, big doe eyes watching you carefully. You feel as if he’s gazing right at your soul, and maybe he is.

Maybe he’s been gazing at it since the very first day.

“I’m going to start by saying I’m sorry,” he says, with a shy insecure voice you’ve never heard from him before. “Not that it changes anything. I can’t imagine how it must have felt for you all this time.”

Straight to the point. For some reason, you expected him to talk about your mother. But maybe he believes the subject to be over, or he’s been wanting to talk to you for too long about what’s been troubling his heart.

“It…” you start but you don’t know how to say it. You don’t know which adjective to employ, because all of them feel like you’re just trying to guilt him. And though you do want him to feel guilt, you know you don’t have to impose it on him.

He’s doing it to himself already.

“It’s been really hard,” you choose to simply say, because it’s the truth. “The way you did a one-eighty in just a few days? Like…” you trail off because you don’t know where to go, but Jungkook’s listening, waiting for you to continue patiently as he surveys you with those big eyes of his. “Like I felt horrible. The moment I told you we shouldn’t have…”

That’s what you wanted to tell him in July. Strange to think that the words are coming out now.

“I don’t think I believed it. Maybe I wanted to believe it, because it was scary, but I never believed it. And I’m sorry I said that.”

He’s still playing with his piercing, and it takes him a while to digest your words. “I knew, if that can make you feel any better. Not that I think it’ll feel better. But you have to understand that it really hurt me. Like…” It’s his turn to look for words, and you anxiously wait for what’s to follow. “I’m not a perfect person. I try to be, and I’ve tried even harder after the accident. But when you said that, I felt ashamed. Like I’m just someone disgusting. And I focused on it so hard the only thing I could think to do was push you away.”

And he did it. So easily, as if you were nothing but some weed he was taking out from his burgeoning flowers.

It hurts, that same pain you’ve grown accustomed to over the last few months. You want to flee, to disappear, but you know you have to face your feelings. Ignoring them brought you nowhere good, didn’t it?

“Did it help you feel better?” you ask.

A crease appears between his brows, and you wish to reach between you so you can flatten it away. Needless to say, you resist the impulse, and hate yourself for having it in the first place.

“It did?” he admits, though he sounds unsure. “I can’t lie and say I didn’t get scared too. It was terrifying. But I think I knew before you did.”

“What?”

“I think the night after I told you about the accident?” he says like a question, waiting for you to nod before he continues. “It changed something for me. I couldn’t see you the same way that I saw you before.”

You remember the day after he told you. You were angry at him, because he ignored the text you sent him when you woke up. Mostly because you were embarrassed that you acted like you cared, and you reckon you already did too. It feels like a lifetime ago, and for a mere moment you wish you could be back there and tell yourself to stop being blind. It’d save you a heartbreak.

“Oh,” is all you can think to say.

“So then it all culminated when you looked like you regretted so much,” he adds. You think you see him gulp. “Not going to lie, it actually really hurt. And when I hurt, I tend to turn into a very ugly person.” At that he can’t hold your gaze anymore, and he chuckles bitterly as he shakes his head. “Ask Tae.”

“You weren’t an ugly person”, you gently say after he’s stared at his half-eaten cinnamon bun for a while. “I hurt you, and you tried to move on. No?”

He looks at you again then. “Yeah. But I think some part of me wanted to hurt you too. And…” His gaze lines with silver, and his words die on his mouth. It makes you feel like there’s lava in your blood again, and you shiver. “And I did hurt you. I saw you wasting away all those weeks. You looked… so sad. And nobody cared.”

You don’t think it’s true that nobody cared. But you think you understand what he’s trying to say: nobody cared the way that he did, nobody can care the way that he does. Or so you like to tell yourself.

“It wasn’t just you, if that can reassure you,” you admit, eyes falling to his coffee cup as he picks it up. He doesn’t move to drink, just holds it, maybe because he needs to busy his hands. “There was my mom, and then Jiho growing distant, and all that shit. The internship was great, but it was rough too.”

All of it is true, though you know it wouldn’t have felt as gut-wrenching if you didn’t have to watch Jungkook loving someone else coincidentally.

“Thank you for saying so.” He clears his throat, tries a glance your way but decides to let his gaze drop again. He shifts in his chair a little, before saying, “I understand why you didn’t come to dance practice most of the time. And honestly, I didn’t like that you weren’t there. I know it makes me selfish, but I… I wanted to see you? Because…” He gulps, and you watch a tear as it rolls down his cheek. “Because then I could at least know that you were okay?”

You shut your eyes, nodding slowly. “It was just too hard to see you.”

“I know.”

There’s a pause in the conversation, while both of you fight the emotions that are choking you up. You expected you’d get angry at him, but all you’re able to feel is longing, the kind of longing that aches and burns and crushes your heart.

“I was a dick for not listening to you that night after practice,” he says, slowly. You open your eyes to look at him, catching his eyes on you before they flit back to the table. “I knew exactly what you were going to say, and I couldn’t hear it. I think if we had had this conversation then, I would have hated you.”

It’s your turn to gulp. “Why?”

“Because it was too soon. I was still neck deep in the embarrassment, and in the selfishness. But I wish I didn’t have to break your heart for the embarrassment to go away.”

“You think the ending would have been worse if I had told you that night?”

You sound like you don’t believe it. Maybe because for weeks you’ve kept telling yourself that it would have made things better. It’s hard to accept that it could have made things worse.

“Oh, trust me,” he says, scoffing. “I would have been very ugly. Remember all the fights we used to have? They wouldn’t have compared.” He pulls at his piercing, hard, and you think it probably hurts, but he doesn’t look like he cares. “I was ready to hurt you. That’s why I left.”

There’s an untold sentence there, but you hear it nonetheless.

I knew I was already going to hurt you anyway.

And that he sure did. But you find it hard to be angry at him today. You do let a silence linger for a time, only because you feel like cursing and crying at the same time, and you don’t want either to happen.

It passes, with your gaze diverting to the street outside. You watch a woman walking her dog until she’s disappeared from view, and then your eyes move up to the blue sky. It’s strange how sunny it is, when you feel like a tiny storm is brewing between you and Jungkook.

“Were you happy with her?” you ask, eyes still on the world outside.

It takes a while for Jungkook to reply. “I don’t know, honestly. I wasn’t sad by her side, I won’t lie to you, but I don’t think I was happy.” He chuckles sadly. “In all truth, I think I was punishing myself by being with her.”

It makes you look at him again, and this time your gazes connect like long lost lovers hugging after years apart.

“Punishing yourself for what?”

“For all the bad things I told you, all the times I tried to get on your nerves on purpose.” He shrugs. “For the way I purposefully decided to break your heart, and how I tried to ignore the consequences at first.” He speaks with conviction now, like that’s really what he’s been wanting to say all along. “I knew that being with her was hurting me, and I believed I deserved it.”

“But why?”

“Because… I feel like we’re going in circles, so I won’t repeat all that I just said. But because of all of that,” he says, and there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. “All in all, I just was a fucking idiot.”

You can’t agree more, so you purse your lips and nod once. “That you were.”

He doesn’t even fake offence, just chuckles a little before taking a sip of coffee.

“Do you really want to help me with the apartment?” you ask, thoughtfully, eyes glazing a little as your mind runs miles away from him, to the place of hurt that being homeless at the moment is bringing to you.

“Yes,” he answers softly. “Not even because I want to redeem myself or anything. Like I said yesterday, I do care about you. And I wouldn’t let you go through a situation like this alone.”

You inhale shakily, blinking away the sudden tears. You won’t cry again.

“Okay.”

There’s another silence, only interrupted by the regular café sounds. You only then notice that there’s some music playing, but it’s so low you can barely make-out the song. It sounds like some indie artist you’ve heard once before, but it’s hard to tell.

“Do you think…” he starts, but he doesn’t finish. Instead, he eats a bite of cinnamon bun, as if he’s giving himself time to collect his thoughts. “Do you think we could be friends? Like… I don’t think I deserve your friendship, after everything that’s happened, but I’d forever be thankful if you still gave it to me.”

You don’t even hesitate before you say, “Of course, Jungkook.” You’re choking on tears again. “Of course we’re friends.”             

He’s crying too. “We can put it in the past?”

You bite at your lip to keep a sob in. “It might take some time, but yes, I think we can.”

“Fuck”, he curses, then he adds your name like it’s his favourite line from his favourite poem. He says it softly, carefully. “I am so sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.”

He shakes his head, stubbornly blinking his tears away. “No, but like… this is all my fault. I think I’ve never fucked up so bad in my life.”

“Jungkook…”

“I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you.”

It sounds like a promise, with forever laced to it. And maybe that’s what you are to him, a forever he can’t bring himself to let go.

It’s what he is to you too. Because, for all that Jisung and your father said, you didn’t want to move on from Jungkook. Some part of you always believed you’d find your way back to him, and today, you know you weren’t wrong.

And you’d go through the pain all over again, for eternity, just to experience this moment with him right now. This new cataclysm, the one that creates instead of destroying. It creates a world between you, and you find yourself excited to explore it. Yes, the scars will stay, but scars make us who we are.

Scars mar Jungkook’s skin, mar your heart and his too. Scars are the reason why your heart started opening up in the first place, and scars are what makes you want to hold on to him today. They brought you to him, brought him to you, and the pain that they carry, like everything in life, doesn’t last.

No winter lasts forever, no night can stop the sun from shining when the morrow comes.

But you’re right. It’ll take a while before you’re able to fully forgive Jungkook. The look in his eyes tells you that he’ll be with you every step of the way. It tells you that he’d die for you, and maybe he already did. Maybe you both died for each other, and that’s what the scars truly tell. A story of a complicated love that destroys and creates.

The story of the cataclysm of you and him. The story of the forgotten spaces where you always met. Because Jungkook meets you, even in the darkest corners of your heart. He doesn’t balk from it, doesn’t fear the worst of you. And you’d meet him in the desert, in the dance your hearts share, the one his body can’t experience anymore, but his soul and yours know by heart.

Maybe he’s been your forgotten space all along, and you his.

Prev | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

The idiots are finally not idioting too much anymore :') what did we think? Did we like this chapter? Let me know!

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[uptoolateart]

The Miraculous Child

So, in 'Representation', Felix talks refers to ‘the miraculous boy’ a couple times. He also calls Adrien’s conception ‘a miracle’, meaning Adrien too is ‘miraculous’.

The second I heard this, it hit me that the title of the show has had this extra meaning from day one. If we look right back to the start of the series, it has been a story about children and adults, especially parents, some a little overbearing (like Tom) and some neglectful or downright abusive.

The message I take away is - life, bringing a child into the world, is a miracle. Science tells us how it works, but the fact that it works is almost like magic. Yet, there are people out there who fail to see this and don't value the gift they've been granted.

There will be people reading this and thinking, ‘Yeah? So what about Chloe?’

I hear you.

Audrey is a terrible person, and Andre is no better. When he hauls her off at the end of ‘Revolution’ and says he needs to correct his mistakes, he just sends her away with her mother. He’s washing his hands of ‘a problem’, just like he’s done with everything else, e.g. when he resigned as mayor. He walked away from responsibilities, after creating a mess for the people who voted him into office. Likewise, he walked away from his responsibilities as a father.

Does that excuse Chloe's behaviour towards others, especially Marinette? No. Does it explain it? Yes.

So, let's talk about choice, which has been mentioned several times in the series. Chloe has a choice to become just like one of her parents...or to become something better.

Because, if you think about it, at some point in time, Audrey and Andre and even Gabriel were all children. And children aren't just born nasty. They learn nastiness as they grow up. To become who they are today, they had to have started out in a similar position to Chloe, for example. They represent the potential future for their children.

If we saw them as kids, we'd probably see them being mistreated by the adults in their lives and we'd all sympathise with them and hope for their redemption. But we're seeing them as adults and our instinct is to say oh well, too late, they're just awful people. In fact, they could redeem themselves at any point, as demonstrated by Nathalie's turnaround in Season 5. It's just that, the more awful things you've done, the more you have to atone for. Gabriel would have to do a lot - maybe even have a brain change - to be redeemed. But you see my point.

So, at the end of 'Revolution', we see Chloe at a crossroads. She's on that plane, annihilated by her mother, and hiding by herself in a corner. She browses her contacts and hovers over Sabrina's entry...and her face crumples like her heart is breaking with regrets. Oh, it’s sad.

But she passes over Sabrina and moves onto Marinette. She makes one last attempt to bring her down. It’s an act of desperation – redirecting her own suffering onto another, trying to keep control over things when she’s completely out of control of her own life.

Marinette finally puts her in her place, and we see Chloe fall apart in a real way - for the first time ever. I don't know about you, but I found that very uncomfortable viewing. It was a relief to see Marinette stand up for herself, and it needed to happen...but Chloe's despair was also painful. I think all of those were emotions were intended.

Let’s set Thomas aside here. I don't want to get into debates about what was said on Twitter. He’s not the only writer for the show, anyway. I am just speaking about my personal perception of that scene. Chloe gained heaps of sympathy, after she’d been appalling all season, which was pretty powerful.

The fact is…Chloe needed to be put in her place. But that doesn’t mean she deserved everything she went through. Even so...sometimes these moments are necessary and revelatory. They can be the catalyst for great change.

What I mean is – if you're in denial about your position, redirecting your pain onto others, sometimes you need that wakeup call. You need to hit rock bottom in order to start climbing back up into the light. So, when Chloe fell apart, it was painful...but I also saw it as her potential turning point. As long as she maintained her delusions to escape into at school, it was impossible for her to transform - because she refused to see that there was any change needed. But when you have nothing left…that’s when you might begin rebuilding yourself.

Every episode in Season 5 has had multiple meanings. Looking at 'Revolution', when Chloe was akumatised, she trapped her victims in a maze, going round in endless circles (revolutions). Notably a lot of them were adults.

I think if this had happened early on in Season 4, Adrien would have been trapped morosely in that loop with the others. We saw this kind of thing in 'Guiltrip'. So, it spoke volumes about his growth as a character when he was the first one to seek a way out of Chloe's maze. He immediately used his cataclysm and broke a hole, escaping and letting everyone else out. Metaphorically, what he did was break the cycle. If we think about cycles of abuse, this is what the next generation always has the chance to do - to revolt against the past.

it's interesting, then, that when we got to 'Representation', we saw Cat Noir completely lose it with his father. He needed to let it all out...but he was in danger of going too far...and deep down, he knew it. His worst nightmare was of losing all control, to the point of letting his rage destroy everything he loved. Unconsciously, he's well aware that he runs the risk of becoming like his father. However, his complete breakdown, begging his father to take his miraculous to make it all stop, tells us he won't become like his father - because his conscience is too strong. He wants to break that cycle.

Felix has also done some bad things - but he's begun the journey of redeeming himself and changing. He too is trying to break out of that cycle so he doesn't become like his father.

Kagami is embracing her passionate side, rejecting the coldness and isolation her mother has attempted to breed into her, no doubt due to her own upbringing once upon a time.

And I think there’s definite potential for Chloe to do the same. There’s no reason for anyone to remain caught in these patterns. The trick is to recognise the pattern is there in the first place - because you can’t break free of something if you don’t know you’re imprisoned. At the end of Revolution, I think Chloe finally saw her prison, saw that she was already trapped in her own maze, going round in circles. Now it’s up to her to pull an Adrien and cataclysm the bars that hold her in.

Because like Felix said, over and over – each child is miraculous simply for existing. And miracles should be cherished.

PLEASE NO POST-REPRESENTATION SPOILERS IN COMMENTS :)

[milf-murdock]

My brain is literally overflowing with Ghost thoughts and I can’t decide what I want to write first. Here’s a quick summary of the different plots rumbling around in my head. Please help me pick one 😩

•Simon thinks his S/O went down in a plane crash in a mission gone wrong, only to find out upon return that she made it. The relief causes Ghost to finally confront his feelings about you and how much you mean to him. Delicious Smut and heartwarming fluff ensures.

• Things are strained between you and Simon as another female colleague continuously flirts with him right in front of you. Simon says he doesn’t see it and to just ignore it, leading to a small fight. After taking some space, you decide you’ll try your best to repress this new found jealous side and go to apologize to Simon for your behavior. However, things come to a head when you walk into his quarters only to find your colleague scantily clad and waiting in Simon’s bed—unbeknownst to him. You immediately assume the worst, and it’s up to Simon to reassure you of his love for you (and to put that bitch in her place of course). Fluff and smut ensues as Simon makes it abundantly clear that you belong to him and he absolutely belongs to you, and only you.

•Simon returns home to his civilian S/O to find another man in your apartment, relaxing on the couch, getting a movie queued up on the tv. Simon’s first instinct is to kick his ass, but before he can even get the words out, he hears your voice and another female voice coming from the bedroom. To his horror, he watches you make your way from the bedroom to the living room on a pair of crutches, half your leg covered in a brightly colored cast. You had a minor accident and of course didn’t want to bother Simon about it over letters or the few phone calls you two managed—he didn’t need anything else to worry about, you reasoned. And besides, you had your two close friends here to help you through. Unfortunately, Simon doesn’t see it that way. His heart aches at knowing you’ve been hurt and he hasn’t been around to take care of you. And to know that you kept this from him? He is devastated. Fluff and some very carefully managed smut ensues.

•lastly, not a full fledged fic idea here, but I am obsessed with the thought of Simon coming home last minute in the middle of the night, without enough notice to so much as call you and let you know. In his exhausted state, his only focus is on getting home to you as quickly as possible. The suddenly noises at your front door wake you from your sleep, and, terrified, you grab the handgun Simon insisted you keep in your bedside table. You creep to the bedroom door and gingerly turn the safety off before heading into the hallway to confront your intruder, nearly barreling right into Simon, who obviously scared the shit out of you. But seeing you ready with your hand gun just the way he taught you to do?? Oh that does something to him. “That’s my girl,” he mutters as he takes the gun from your hand and replaces the safety. “Just like I taught you.”

“I learned from the best”

[mr2swap]

Dungeons and Dragons

-Jacob! WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?! - the childish and strident voice of a child made the gang of friends leave their wooden swords, their plastic shield and their "magical" scepter that was actually a broom on the floor

Among all the "kids" there was one that stood out from all the others, a 35-year-old man, shirtless, holding a large metal sword that would normally decorate the Johnsons' game room, he fell on the grass, The muscular man and Shirtless froze in terror instantly upon recognizing that shrill and annoying voice-Ups! Damn, we met-

A scrawny 8-year-old boy walked into the garden, his angry look turning to surprise as he saw the group of children staring at him in silence. -oh Fuck- those words escaped from his mouth with an adorable tone. -Hm… Hey… Dere- I mean "my" dad needs you to help him move something… from his niece.-

-Hey!… Uncle Dick, don't worry, I told my friends about the amulet, I saw you asleep on the sofa, so I thought you wouldn't mind if I took your body to play and I…- Uncle Dick He slowly approaches the children and takes the huge, hard hand of his little thief of his nephew.

-Yeah! Come on Uncle Dick! Just let me play with my friends for 15 more minutes!...- the rejuvenated Uncle Dick sighed and placed his soft hands on his head to give himself a little massage to prevent his brain from exploding from all the anger and anger. accumulated stress in this. Little time.

-Listen Jack... you took my body without my permission, you told your friends our little secret and you left me locked in your room while I slept with a note that said "I'll give you your body back at dinner time, it would be great if you did my math homework” -How the hell do you think I feel?!-

Jack winced and a couple of tears formed on his face which was covered by a freshly cut beard, he rushed to the grass and started crying as he yelled -SORRY UNCLE Dick I JUST WANTED TO PLAY DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS WITH MY FRIENDS AND KENNY NEVER LET ME BE THE KNIGHT BECAUSE I AM THE SMALLEST OF MY FRIENDS AND ALSO I…-

Now the thunderous voice of his nephew was heard throughout the neighborhood, The Man in the body of his weak nephew looked to all sides worried that one of the neighbors would look at the muscular man throwing a tantrum -Okay, okay! Only 15 more minutes! You're not in trouble! But stop crying for the love of God!-

The tears stopped, Jack using the hideously long fingers of his new hairy hand wiped the tears from him, wiped his nose and stood up. -Thanks Uncle Dick! You're the best! - The children continued their little game while their uncle Dick supervised them, from time to time he checked his text messages so he was not having such a bad time in the skinny body of his nephew Jack.

"I just hope Uncle Dick doesn't mind having to spend another day in my body. When he finds out that I gave my friend Clarence the magic amulet so he could take over his stepfather's body, he's sure to try to kill me. But what?" could I do in my puny body of only one meter? I guess I'll keep the amulet for now, I don't know what planes my brother had with this thing, but I have big planes for his body tomorrow.

We have big planes for tomorrow! We will drive, go to the bar and even buy our first cigarettes! Maybe if we have time we'll play Dungeons and Dragons, maybe we can both be knights now!”

Hey! You can support me to continue creating stories, see similar stories on my patreon, you can also join my discord if you are interested in role-playing about bodyswap, possession and transformation, m2m!