#but this is beta so there's plenty of time for improvement | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

babyblue711 · 1 year

Text

Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 2 Read Part 1 Here Summary: You and Will reconnect after spending some years apart and learn that each of you has gone through their own difficult circumstances in that time. Your friendship develops into something more as you help each other heal from the past. Words: 7.2K

Warnings: NSFW, language, sexual content (18+), mild BDSM, miscarriage, prison, divorce, alcohol, infidelity, mention of death A/N: I am absolutely overwhelmed by the response to Part 1. Thank you all so so much. My heart has never been so happy reading your comments. Things get steamy here, it was my favorite part to write - I hope you all enjoy! Thank you to my beta readers @megatardisbaby and @arcielee; And thank you to @myfandomprompts for making those incredible gifs for me. Dividers by @firefly-graphic Distance, inches in between us I want you to give in I want you to give in Weakness, tension in between us I just wanna give in And I don't care if I'm forgiven - "Shameless" by Camila Cabello

A Couple Months Later

Late summer is in full swing and you are the happiest you can remember being in a very long time. Your mental state has greatly improved. Although you still had plenty of dark days and hard nights, they no longer held you captive as they once did. You didn’t feel as crushed by your grief anymore and had begun to feel hopeful again, waking up and looking forward to the day.

You still hadn’t defined your relationship with Will yet, worried about messing up your dynamic. Although you very much acted like a couple since you spoke every day and saw each other almost every weekend, sharing a few more sweet kisses and intimate make-out sessions. You could tell Will wanted to take things further, but it was important to you to take it slow and he respected your wishes. You were finding it more and more difficult to hold yourself back though, with a fire that ignited in your chest and desire pounded through your blood anytime he was near.

A pivotal moment came when he invited you over to his house to have tea with his Nan. Observing him doting on his aging grandmother was a testament to his kindness and compassion and it melted your heart. Despite the decline in her physical health, her mind and spirit remained undimmed, a fierce flame that illuminated the room; engaging with her had always been a delight, her wit sharp and her laughter infectious. You felt so comfortable sitting in their tiny kitchen, sharing a cup of tea together while listening to her tell stories of the past. With her, it felt like “home”.

Before you departed his house that day, his Nan pulled you to the side, gripping both of your hands with her wizened ones and looked up at you with watery eyes.

“Now you be sure to always take care of my boy as I know he will take care of you,” she said when Will was out of earshot, a small tremor to her voice.

The weight of her words carried an unspoken gravity, a plea for your unwavering care. Your throat felt tight. What would become of Will once his beloved Nan departed this world? Your heart constricted with worry as you felt he had suffered so much already, but you knew this day would inevitably come.

In response to her heartfelt plea, you squeezed her hands in return, smiling warmly, and vowed that you always would care for him too. The weight of that promise settled upon your shoulders, but you didn’t feel burdened by her request. You wanted to be there for him the same way he was there for you. The commitment of your pledge resonated deep within your soul, but your heart had never felt so full as you made your way back home.

It’s a beautiful day in mid August and you are back in the city for work, when you glance down at your phone and see a text from Will:

[Will]: Hey, fancy grabbin’ a pint at the pub in a bit? Drinks on me.

You smile as you reply.

[Y/N]: Sure, looking forward to it - let’s say around 7pm and maybe we can make Happy Hour?

Summer was quickly fading into autumn and you were eager to catch the last of the warm summer sun. You text your parents quickly that you would be home late and not to expect you for dinner, then gather your things and leave for the pub.

Your phone buzzes as you approach.

[Will]: I’m back in the pub garden.

As you make your way through the crowd towards him, you can’t help but admire just how good he looks in this moment. He’s trimmed his hair a bit and combed it back, the summer sun adding a few copper highlights to his usual light brown. His freckles stand out on his tanned, toned arms. He’s chosen another white t-shirt today with black jeans and black Adidas trainers, while you had taken advantage of the last days of warm weather to wear a cute sundress, navy with small vertical white stripes, buttoning down the front and tied at the waist with a cute little sash.

He’s relaxing in his chair with ease, something about his posture is mature and confident. It suits him so well and you can’t help but smile to yourself, pleased to have known the boy that this man has grown into. He already has a half-finished pint in front of him, his phone occupying his attention. He takes a drag from his cigarette as you approach.

His eyes light up when he sees you. “Took you long enough,” he says and playfully blows the smoke in your direction. Having never been much of a smoker, he knew that you hated it. Amused but slightly irritated, you arch an eyebrow at him and give him a sharp look, which soon dissipates as he leans in and gives you a kiss on the cheek, a smug smirk lifting the corner of his lips. Between the warmth of his lips on your cheek and his scent washing over you, smokey with the hint of his masculine shampoo, you couldn’t find it within yourself to be mad at him.

You cough a little for emphasis of your feigned irritation, “Thanks, you fuckin’ wanker, now where’s the pint I was promised?” You try your best to sound stern but you know he sees right through you. He continues to smirk at you, amused, then turns to go to the bar to get your drink.

You sit down and take in your surroundings. The seating arrangements are thoughtfully organized, with long communal tables and cozy nooks tucked away amidst lush greenery. Wooden benches and wrought-iron chairs invite guests to settle in while soft lighting from twinkling string lights adds an enchanting ambiance as day transitions into night.

Sun-kissed faces dot the outdoor seating area, as the other patrons try to catch a breeze in the shade, sipping on chilled beverages and enjoying idle chatter. You turn to see Will approaching with your drink and another for him in his hands. His eyes are on your tanned legs and you were glad you had chosen a light cotton sundress to wear that day.

Several hours later, darkness has fallen and several rounds of drinks have been enjoyed, laughter echoing through the air. A game of pool had turned into a friendly competition between you and Will.

You both had flirted incessantly with each other the whole night. As he showed you the proper way to hold a pool stick, you couldn’t help but notice his body heat radiate off of him, a tingling at the bottom of your spine at his proximity. When he leans over you and adjusts your grip on the pool stick, you give a small wiggle underneath him and he immediately notices. Leaning in close, he whispers “behave” into your ear while a long fingered hand squeezes your hip. Feeling sassy, you side-eye smirk at him, letting him know you absolutely did it on purpose and catching his shy, smug smile in return.

As the final ball sinks into the pocket, punctuating the end of the game, a triumphant smile spreads across your face and you declare yourself the winner.

“Taught you too well I guess,” Will teases, crossing his arms. “Or maybe I just let you win.”

“Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” you say playfully back as you nudge him in the ribs just for good measure. “I won fair and square!” You giggle and lean into him, the alcohol making you feel a little giddy. As you look up at him, you notice the way the string lights create a halo effect around his head; he looks like an angel fallen from heaven and you have to catch your breath for a moment.

He smiles down at you and hums in amusement, rubbing your bare arms from the chilly air now that the sun has set. You can’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction and contentment, safe in his arms, and you wanted him to know it.

“Thank you for the drinks and good company tonight,” you say sweetly. “I had a lot of fun.”

He seems pleased, his eyes warm. “Me too. Are you sure you didn’t just meet me here to pay for the drinks?” he banters, smiling.

“I bought the third round!” you exclaim in mock outrage, hitting his arm in jest.

He chuckles, surprising you with a quick kiss on the lips. The small gesture lights a fire in your belly; you can practically feel the heat of his gaze burning right through you.

You gather your things and he takes your hand as you make your way out of the bar, both of you feeling as if you didn’t want the night to end. You don’t want to let go of his hand.

Once outside, he hesitates a little, “You know, Nan and I live right over the way, it’s a short walk from here. Given the hour, would you want to come and stay?” You consider him for a moment; it was later than you intended and you aren’t looking forward to taking public transportation back home alone at this hour.

“Are you sure we won’t be bothering your Nan?” you ask in a hushed tone.

“Nah, not at all. I have the whole downstairs to myself since Nan lives upstairs. She’s a sound sleeper, won’t hear us at all,” he reassures you.

You look up into his pleading puppy dog eyes and agree to go home with him, never having been able to turn down those eyes. Will lights another cigarette as he walks you home, burning end in one hand, the other placed on the small of your back, guiding you home. You swear you can feel an electric current thrum between the two of you as you walk side by side in a comfortable silence.

A short while later, you arrive at his doorstep; he unlocks the door and steps back to let you in. The threshold reveals a small landing, offering a choice of stairs that split in opposite directions. To the right, the stairs ascend to the upper level and to the left, they descend to the basement.

“Do you mind if I check on Nan real fast? Since it’s late, she probably won’t be in the visiting mood, if she’s still up. I’ll be downstairs in a minute,” Will says.

“Of course,” you say easily, as you wouldn’t want to be disturbed by visitors at this hour either. You wander downstairs and flip on a light, the soft glow of the lamp illuminating his space, tidier than you would have thought for a guy. A black leather sofa sits up against the wall, furnished with squashy grey pillows, opposite a big, flat screen TV. Trinkets and old photos adorn the bookshelf in the corner of the room. There’s a door to the left to what you are assuming is his bedroom. You sit on the sofa and make yourself comfortable while you wait.

Within a few moments, you hear footsteps on the stairs and Will reappears carrying two glasses of water for you both. “Nan’s fast asleep, didn’t even hear us come in,” he says. “Thought you might need some of this,” he gestures to the water. You accept your glass gratefully and take a few sips, the ice cool on your tongue.

Emptying his pockets onto the coffee table and kicking off his shoes, Will plops down on the couch next to you and makes himself at home. You follow suit by removing your sandals, still feeling a little chilly from the cool nighttime air. He notices you shivering slightly and gets up, heading into his room to get you a hoodie of his to put on.

You can hear him rummaging around to find you something acceptable to wear. You sip your water, eyes glancing to the bookshelf in the corner. Framed ornately in gold, the largest photo catches your eye and you can tell, even from a distance, it is probably the last recent photo Will has of his mum and dad. You wander over for a closer look, studying their happy faces, smiling at how much Will resembles his mum.

“Think this’ll do?” he says suddenly from behind you and you turn to see him holding up a grey hoodie; you are fairly certain it is the same one he always wore when you were in school together.

“Yeah, that’ll do, thank you,” you say, reaching for it. He moves closer, noticing the photograph that must have caught your attention.

With a deep sigh, he stares at the photograph for a moment before turning his eyes on you. Without saying anything, he cups your face in one large hand, staring intently into your eyes. You gaze back steadily, worried that you had upset him by looking at this photograph, afraid to have accidently brought up the past. For a moment, you both breathe in unison together, you inhale his exhale and he, yours. Finally, he leans down and kisses you.

The kiss starts out slowly but quickly becomes heated. At last, you think to yourself with a sigh. You didn’t come home with Will with the intention of hooking up with him; you were pleased at his generosity to invite you to stay the night rather than traveling home alone by yourself. But, now that you were getting lost in his kiss, you didn’t know how you were going to stop, reveling in the feeling of his lips and the taste of his tongue on yours.

You suck his bottom lip into your mouth, pulling on it slightly before giving him your bottom lip to suck on in return. You gently slide your tongue along his lower lip, enjoying the smoothness of the kiss as he languidly pushes his tongue into your mouth. He slides his tongue over yours and you do the same back to him. After another moment or two of blissful oblivion, he pulls back, looking down at you with hooded eyes.

Desire stirs in his blown pupils and you are certain he can see the fire reflected in yours as the savage storm inside of you threatens to spill over from your carefully maintained control. You have tried to be good...have tried to give your heart time to mend before going any further, but tasting his kiss was slowly breaking your resolve.

Setting his forgotten hoodie down on a nearby armchair, he leads you by the hand towards the leather sofa, pulling you onto his lap to straddle him. His head tilts on the back of the couch as he watches you settle yourself in his lap, your dress riding up on your thighs. Staring into his fathomless blue eyes, you find yourself getting lost, sinking to the bottom of those ocean-blue depths.

Time seems to slow down. Your fingertips caress his face lightly, over his cheekbone and down his sharp jaw, ghosting over his perfect lips, tracing their shape, and reaching up to run your fingers through his hair, tugging a bit at the back. His large, warm hands rest on your hips, squeezing lightly. You watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows; his breathing steady, he seems content to watch you while you stroke his face.

Your eyes flicker back to his and you both simultaneously resume your kiss; you trail kisses along his jawline towards his right ear, purposefully tickling it lightly with your breath. He shifts slightly under you, fingers tangling in your hair, and he huskily whispers in your ear, “Tell me how you like it.”

Those simple words ignite the fire in your chest. You chuckle softly while unbidden, dark thoughts race through your mind. Oh…you knew perfectly well what you wanted him to do. The deepest part of your subconscious mind ferally roars to be let out of her cage. Your heartbeat picks up as you momentarily remember what it feels like to be alive again and your hunger for him quickly begins to overpower any common sense you still possess.

Slow down, don’t move so fast, your inner voice whispers to you, echoing in a distant chamber of your empty brain.

You pause, pretending to contemplate his question as you lick the outer edge of his ear, needing to taste his skin. You press your body close to his, absolutely sure he can feel your heartbeat thunder in your chest.

Ignoring your inner warning completely, you whisper into his ear in turn, “I want you to hurt me.” The words escape your lips before you have a second chance to think about it. You bite down on his neck, not enough to hurt but definitely enough to get his attention by emphasizing your meaning.

He jumps a little at the unexpected pain and sucks in a breath. “Hurt you?” He pulls away, his blue eyes searching yours, a slight frown creasing between his eyebrows. You knew it was not in his nature to be rough with a woman and what you were asking was probably pushing his limit.

“Please, Will?” you beg sweetly, not wanting to completely scare him at this point.

Your mental sanity was slipping but you knew he could help you, you just had to show him how. How could you tell him that, by wrapping his long fingers around your throat and squeezing, you could finally have clarity again? How do you explain to him that you want to see bite marks and bruises on your skin without sounding like a total psycho? That, by giving yourself completely to him, when he has total control over you, releases your anxiety and frees your mind? You are sick of the mental anguish, the voices in your head, always at war with yourself, always trying to do the right thing, the pain of your past always simmering just below your surface. All you wanted was for it all to stop. Just for a moment.

He regards you intently, his tongue darting out, moistening his bottom lip as you see his decision form in his eyes. “Are you sure you want me to do this?” he asks quietly as he studies your face. His change of tone is subtle but you immediately pick up on it. He’s turning the tables like he’s the one asking for permission now.

“I’m sure,” you breathe, voice barely above a whisper. “Do your worst,” you challenge. “But I gotta warn you, I may bite and scratch a little,” you tell him seductively.

He smirks. “Good, because you’ll crawl and beg too,” he promises ominously, his gaze darkening so his eyes almost look black in the low light as his face hardens. “Well, well, well, who knew you had this side to you, Y/N?” he purrs at you, voice low and deep.

Considering just how quickly he acquiesced, you silently find yourself thinking the same thing about him. You didn’t expect this side of Will, but the sultry tone of his voice has your heartbeat racing, longing to know more of what he could do to you.

His hands roam over your body, up from your hips, over your ribcage and back down your spine, moving lower to grab a chunk of your ass and squeeze. Lifting you suddenly by your ass, he suddenly flips you over, so that he’s on top of you on the couch. Propping himself up on his elbows, he kisses you deeply, his tongue moving over yours as he dominates your mouth. You feel his length stiffen against your core and you can’t help but grind your hips into his, seeking friction, moaning involuntarily at the way he is consuming you. Moving from your mouth down your body, he places hot, open-mouth kisses and sharp bites to the delicate skin of your neck and collarbone.

Hindered by your cotton sundress, he reaches for the buttons that lace the front, undoing them slowly, kissing and sucking every inch of new skin that he exposes. He unties the sash at your waist, continuing lower as you run your fingers through his hair, squirming underneath him.

Suddenly, he stops and sits up. “I have an idea,” he says as he finishes the last button on your dress, laying it open, exposing your matching bra and lace panties to him. His eyes roam over your curves, dark with longing. “And I’ll need the sash on your dress,” he adds.

He rises from the couch to allow you room to remove the sash from your dress and you wonder what’s coming next. He moves to the coffee table where he had dropped all his things earlier and you notice him picking up his lighter. Eyeing him apprehensively, you think to yourself "what the hell?”

“Will…are you sure we won’t get caught?” you ask, feeling like a teenager all over again hooking up in your parents’ basement while trying not to make any noise.

“Nah, Nan doesn’t do stairs well anymore,” Will shrugs, unconcerned. You hand him the sash from your dress.

“One more thing,” he says as he cleverly unhooks your bra with one hand. “Good, now lay back down,” his tone leaves no room for argument.

Obediently, you do as you’re told, shivering slightly as your bare skin rests on the cool leather of the couch. You feel open and exposed as you watch him drink in the sight of your appearance, his eyes lingering on your breasts. Being topless on his couch where anyone could see suddenly feels so erotic. Your breathing picks up speed as you realize he intends to blindfold you with your sash and you decide to play along. Once it’s secure, he kisses your lips lightly, abruptly biting down on your bottom lip. You gasp in surprise, pleasure coursing through your body at the unexpected pain.

“Remember, you asked for this,” he growls into your ear.

Straining your other senses, you feel him move away from you for a moment, hearing the sound of clinking ice. “Now, don’t scream and stay still,” he says in a low tone as ice cold liquid suddenly moves over your skin, first near your neck at your collarbone, and then down between your breasts, circling each nipple, their peaks stiffening immediately. You jump and gasp at the unexpected cold sensation, a shiver running through your body as your skin melts the ice.

You moan quietly and almost miss the next sound, the snick of his lighter. You freeze in place, fear momentarily clutching at your heart…Surely not? Did he intend to burn you? You curse internally, Does he know what he’s doing? Your breath becomes rapid as you wait for the pain, senses heightened by the blindfold.

Instead, a warm liquid drips onto your skin, everywhere the ice cube had been moments before. It immediately hardens upon contact and you realize what it is: candle-wax. You feel the liquid drizzle on your breasts and stomach, warm but not unpleasant, it cools almost instantaneously when it touches your skin, cold from the ice.

Repeating the process, Will continues dripping some down your inner thighs, alternating between cold ice and hot wax. You quiver and whimper in pleasure, your chest rising and falling with each breath. You unexpectedly feel his breath on your left nipple as his warm tongue caresses the sensitive bud, while he massages the other breast with his hand. Your back arches off the couch, the sensations between hot and cold and his mouth on you starting to become overwhelming.

You squirm as you feel him climbing on top of you, settling between your legs, brushing away some of the hardened wax. Tantalizingly, you feel his fingertips skate under the band of your panties.

“God, you are so fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathes and you can feel the heat in your cheeks at his compliment. “Lift your hips for me,” he murmurs as he pulls your underwear off, discarding them on the floor while placing a pillow under your bottom, elevating you for him. Panting as the cool air hits your hot pussy, you ache for him to finally touch you there.

“Hmm, such a pretty, perfect little pussy you have,” his fingertips part your folds, opening you up to him, “Already so wet for me,” he growls as you feel him gather your slick on his fingers, bringing it up to your pearl, rubbing it with light circles. As much as you want him to touch you, it takes everything in you not to close your legs, keeping them open for his inspection, his actions made ever more sensual as you are still blindfolded and can’t see his expression at all.

You feel him lower himself between your legs as he wraps his strong arms around your thighs. You hear him inhale, then he blows cool air directly onto your aching core. Jesus Fucking Christ, you think as your pussy automatically clenches down around nothing, and you mewl pathetically, practically begging for more.

Ignoring your wishes, he begins kissing the insides of your thighs, biting and sucking and making sure he leaves bruises behind, just like you secretly want him to. After what seems like eternity, you feel his sharp nose run through your soaked folds, his luscious lips attach to your pearl and he sucks deeply.

Ecstasy at finally being touched the way you want, you slap a hand over your mouth to stifle a loud moan, fearful of waking his Nan at the most inopportune time. You know you’re in trouble as you’ve never been quiet in bed and you hated the thought of having to start now. You quickly shove a pillow over your face, muffling your noises as he fucks you.

Will chuckles at your struggle, his tongue pushing into you, lapping at your folds, sucking your clit. You suddenly feel a finger at your entrance, sliding in easily given how wet you were for him. He strokes inside of you for a moment before inserting a second finger, wiggling them on the way in, stretching your pussy and brushing that spongy spot inside. Electricity zings through your core and into your chest with his touch, causing you to let out a muffled cry. You’re sure your heart skips several beats as he continues stroking inside of you, curling his fingers and beckoning your orgasm forward. Writhing and moaning like a slut, you buck your hips up into his face, the pleasure consuming you.

“Hmm, so tight. Just the way I always imagined,” he whispers, almost to himself. The fact that Will, your sweet Will, was talking so dirty turns you on even more. The room is full of your pants and moans and lewd noises coming from your wet core.

Expertly alternating his tongue between flicking your clit and sucking on it, he sets a steady rhythm with his fingers, consistently brushing that rough patch inside of you, your orgasm approaching almost embarrassingly quick. Breathing heavily into the pillow, you let out a muffled cry as your release washes over you, shattering in his face, legs trembling uncontrollably. You feel your walls pulse around his fingers as he continues to fuck you through your peak.

Coming down from your high, you remove the offending pillow from your face, panting heavily and muttering a string of curses. You rip your blindfold off so you can see his face. He’s still crouched between your thighs, his lips wet from your slick, looking indecently triumphant at making you cum so quickly. Without hesitating you reach for him, pulling him back up your body, slamming your lips against his. You revel at the salty taste of yourself on his tongue.

You can’t remember the last time a man ate your pussy so well. Crazed with lust, you reach to undo his pants, with Will suckling at your neck. There was nothing that you wanted more in this moment than to have his cock in your mouth as you unzip his jeans.

Realizing what you are trying to do, he rises above you, assuming control once again. “So eager for my cock now, are you?” a devilish smirk plays on his lips. “I need you on your knees.”

Christ, you think to yourself as you hastened to obey. You had never experienced this dominant side of Will, but you could feel the slick forming between your thighs again from his simple command.

Sitting on the couch, knees spread, he’s pulled his cock out but his jeans are still on, pumping himself with his right hand. He watches your expression, breathing deeply through his long, straight nose.

Your hands slide up his thighs and you finally get a good look at his cock - thick and veiny, his length stands proudly erect against his stomach, the head weeping slightly; he’s impressively large. His patch of hair is kept trimmed and neat, his balls round and smooth with a light dusting of finer hair.

You gulp involuntarily at the sight of him; you had no idea he was so big. Your eyes flick up to meet his own and he raises his eyebrows at you, as if to say yeah, I know it’s big.

You smirk at his audaciousness as you tug at his pants and he lifts his hips, allowing you to pull his jeans and boxers completely off. You were naked, why shouldn’t he be too? you reason with yourself, eagerly removing his clothes, although he still had his t-shirt on.

Kneeling between his legs, you gently wrap your hand around his cock, enjoying the soft velvety texture of it, swiping your thumb over the weeping head, watching his face. You pump him a few times, feeling the weight of his impressive length heavy in your hand.

He sucks in a breath when you wrap your lips around his cock and begin taking him as far as you can, your hand continuing to pump the rest that won’t fit in your mouth. You breathe through your nose and relax your throat, attempting to take him further. His breathing is quick and shallow as he moves his hips gently, matching the rhythm of your mouth as you move up and down his length. You can feel the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat and feel momentary pride that you never had much of a gag reflex. Your other hand gently cups his balls and gives them a gentle massage.

He groans in pleasure and closes his eyes, tilting his head on the back of the couch as you continue your ministrations. Slurping noises fill the room as you repeatedly swirl your tongue over the tip. Flattening your tongue, you lick a strip up the vein in the middle of his shaft like a lollipop before fastening your mouth around the head and sucking harshly. You moan around his cock as you feel your core start to ache all over again, so turned on by giving him pleasure.

As you work him, his fingers tangle in your hair; he doesn’t use force, only guiding your motions as you slurp and suck on him. After a few more passes with your mouth and tongue, his fingers tighten on your hair, pulling you away from his cock. Confused, you look up at him with pleading eyes, wanting to continue.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last very long.” He stands suddenly, dragging you up from the floor by your hair. You whine at the pain but an insane smile plays on your lips, impressed how committed he was to this dominant role and you secretly love the pain.

He hauls you towards his bedroom, flipping on the lamp at the bedside table. Letting go of your hair, he turns to you and removes his shirt, grabbing from behind his neck and pulling it up over his head. The first thing you notice is the silver necklace he’s always worn, even years ago during your school days, hanging around his neck. You glance at the cross, before your eyes drink in the sight of his naked body, admiring his strong shoulders, muscular chest, and toned abs.

Prowling towards you, he presses his body to yours, the heat coming off of him in waves and warming your naturally cooler skin. His hands reach for your hips as he holds you close to him, a moment of tenderness, your arms circling around his neck.

Just as you think he’s leaning down to kiss you, suddenly he’s bending down, grabbing you by the thighs, and unceremoniously throwing you onto the bed. The bed makes for a soft landing but it momentarily stuns you as you crash down upon it, having no time to recover as he’s suddenly on top of you again, caging you in with his muscular arms, resting between your thighs. He lowers his mouth to yours, ravaging you again, his fingers in your hair, holding you still for him.

You whine loudly into his mouth, needing him, your core aching for him, desperate for more. You want to feel his large cock stretch you, the anticipation eating at your patience. He’s moving back down your body again, biting harshly on your nipple, then moving his tongue over the sore spot to ease the pain. His thumb finds your clit as he repeats the bite to your other breast. You arch your back towards him as he continually switches between giving you pain and pleasure, your mind going blissfully numb.

Suddenly, he's kissing back up your body, but your core is still aching to be touched. You mewl, rubbing your thighs together. “Don’t worry, I’m not done with you yet,” he whispers darkly.

Laying down on his side next to you, he slides a hand between your breasts, down your stomach and onto your aching core where he doesn't waste time, inserting two fingers and setting a brutal pace. The palm of his hand rubs your clit and his long fingers reach deep inside you, repeatedly stroking that rough spot. Your heart jolts again at the sensation, you’re panting and moaning uncontrollably as he fucks you ruthlessly with his fingers. Just as soon as your walls begin to pulsate, he takes his hand away and you look up at him in horror.

“Oh, no worries, love, you’re gonna cum again, but it’s gonna be on my cock,” he purrs into your ear.

You huff and pant, deciding to tease him a little in return. You reach for his fingers that were just inside of you, his middle and ring fingers coated with your slick. Maintaining eye contact, you watch his face as you insert each finger into your mouth, licking him clean. You close your lips and hum around his fingers, enjoying your salty taste. His mouth hangs open and you observe his chest rising and falling more rapidly as he stares at your hot mouth sucking on his fingers.

“Fuck,” he murmurs hoarsly, suddenly positioning himself between your legs once his fingers are clean. Laying his body on top of yours, you relish in the feeling of his warm weight pressing you into the bed, chest to chest, skin to skin, your hips cradling his. Your hands caress the broad planes of his back and shoulders as he sucks on your neck, leaving a hickey you know you won’t be able to hide. Your hips buck up into his, your patience gone, you need him to be inside you.

“Will, please,” you beg pathetically, reaching down and stroking his cock, attempting to guide it to your entrance.

“Didn’t I promise you would beg for it?” he whispers, a smug smile on his lips as he knows what a pathetic, mewling mess he has already made of you.

Sitting back on his heels between your legs, he pumps himself a few times, his eyes hooded and dark, raking over your body that’s laid out on the bed before him. He takes his thumb and circles your clit, guiding his cock with his other hand to your entrance. He teases you, sliding just the head in and back out again. His mouth is open slightly and he pants a little as he tortures you by not giving you what you want. You inhale sharply at first as his thick head stretches your pussy, but soon start to squirm and whine, needing his cock to fill you up. Without warning, he grabs you by your hips and thrusts into you, your pussy clenching down on his cock at the intrusion, your back arching off the bed, you suck in a sharp breath and let out a small cry at the pain of the sudden stretch as he hurts you so good.

He lowers his body back onto yours once he’s buried himself to the hilt in your wet heat where he pauses, allowing you to adjust to him. You take a few deep breaths through your nose, pulling him closer to you, nibbling on his neck and shoulders to distract yourself from the stretching of your pussy around his thick cock. You can feel every ripple, every vein, every ridge of his cock inside of you.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he groans into your neck at the sensation of being squeezed, filling you so deliciously. Capturing your lips again with his own, he doesn’t move above you, hips still against yours.

You moan into his mouth, tugging at the back of his hair, raking your nails down his back, ready for him to finally move. He gives a few shallow thrusts, watching your face, making sure you’re okay. Satisfied that you aren’t in any more pain, he pulls out and slams his hips back into yours and you cry aloud as another jolt of electric pleasure courses through you.

His hips roll into yours with a steady rhythm and you pant as the drag of his cock continually rubs against your g-spot, sending more electric currents through your pussy. His face is still in your neck and you grab the back of his hair, breathing harshly into his ear, overwhelmed at the sensation of his cock inside of you.

He adjusts positions to hover over you, his damn silver necklace swinging in your face. He grips your thigh with one hand as he drags it up over his hip, the other hand slides up your chest, his long fingers wrapping around your throat as he slams into you relentlessly, holding you in place for him. He’s careful not to push on your windpipe, rather putting pressure on the sides of your neck, giving you room to breathe.

The noises of heavy breathing and skin slapping erotically fills the room, the smell of sex in the air. You grip the wrist that’s wrapped around your throat, the better to hold on as he picks up the pace, snapping his hips into yours. You feel the strength of his arm holding you down, corded with muscle, watching as his abs flex with every thrust into you. The primal knowledge of his strength and power, the thought that he could easily crush your windpipe without even trying, the feel of his cock stretching your walls, the scent of his body, the heat radiating off of him takes over your senses until there is nothing left but him. Your body submits to him, your numb brain surrendering as you allow him total control over you.

Grunting and breathing heavily, he curses under his breath, “So tight…..fuckin’ hell,” he says between thrusts.

With his punishing pace, you can feel your walls fluttering around his cock, constantly sucking him back in as he repeatedly hits your spongy spot. You reach between your bodies to rub circles on your clit.

He glances down at your hand, “You gonna cum for me, love? God, I can feel you clenching, your pussy doesn’t want to let me go,” he groans, voice seductively deep. “Look at you taking this dick so well. Who does your pussy belong to?” he asks suddenly, squeezing around your neck a little for emphasis and thrusting into you harshly.

Your breath coming out in gasps, his question only fuels the pleasure building deep within, his possessive energy consuming you.

“Y…you, Will,” you whimper his name, barely able to form a coherent thought.

“That’s what I thought,” he grunts back, never slowing his pace.

You can feel your orgasm approaching, ecstasy building steadily, you start babbling uncontrollably, willing him to keep going.

“Will,” you pant, your breathing harsh, “I’m - I’m coming, Will. Please… don’t stop….”

A moment later he practically growls as your cunt clenches around his cock, pistoning his hips into yours as your orgasm hits you like a freight train, waves of pleasure crashing over you, one wave rolling into the next. You cry aloud, hardly hearing the volume of your own voice, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your breathing fast and labourious and you don’t think you’ve ever come so hard in your life.

He pounds into you, sustaining your pleasure through your peak, somehow managing not to cum himself until your cries die down. He pulls out of you, pumping himself the last few strokes, squirting his hot seed all over your belly. “Fucking perfect little pussy, took me so well,” he pants, breathing heavily.

Your body feels like a limp noodle and immediately your eyes feel heavy, all you can manage to do is continue laying there, trying to catch your breath while Will retrieves a warm, wet washcloth from the bathroom. He cleans himself off of you, gently rubbing over your stomach, even wiping the mess of slick from between your thighs. You jump and whimper a little at the sensation as he brushes over your abused pussy, so sensitive after multiple orgasms, but you can tell he is trying to be as gentle as possible.

After your thorough cleaning, you both slide down into the sheets of his bed, still naked, facing one another. Neither of you speak, content to only gaze at the other. Reaching for him, you trail your fingertips over his shoulders and chest and down his arms, as if by touching him, you are making sure he is real. His eyes blink at you slowly, calm and content.

“Was that too rough for you? I didn’t do too much?” he asks quietly after a moment, you can hear the concern in his voice, worried that he took it too far with you.

A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. You lean over to him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Not at all, you were perfect. You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for that.”

He gives you a small smile of satisfaction in return, brushing the hair from your face. You snuggle back down into his chest, both of you falling into a deep and peaceful slumber. Wrapped in his arms, curled into the heat of his body, enveloped in his smell, it was the best night’s sleep you had had in a very long time.

>>>Part 3

Tags: @sylas-the-grim @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @highinthetower @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @boundlessfantasy

#ewan mitchell #will #will salad days #salad days #aemond targaryen #smut

208 notes · View notes

myimaginedcorner · 5 months

Text

SCALES OF JUSTICE - BETA TESTERS NEEDED

Hi dear readers,

Thank you for your overwhelming trust and support. The opinions that I've collected over the past few days have finally motivated me to put aside my self-criticism and doubt, and to make the next step towards SoJ's release.

Yes, Scales of Justice is now officially in its BETA-test phase!!

If you would like to help me by being a BETA-tester for my book, please, comment under this post, send me a direct message, or message me on CoG's forum. I aim to take around 20 to 30 people, so we can have a big and productive group that nonetheless remains constructive in its feedback.

If you don't have the time or you don't want to be a tester, consider sharing this post, so it can get to as many of you as possible.

I will be working alongside the testers on improving style, grammar, and other minor details that require polishing as the month progresses. Hopefully, by the end of it we'll have an even better version of this book that will be submitted for approval to Hosted Games!

See you all very soon,

Julia xx

BOOK DETAILS:

DEMO DESCRIPTION:

Scales of Justice is a fantasy game situated in another world, far away from Earth. There are plenty of species living together in harmony, but the human race is currently split in two civilisations: the one known as Hero kingdom, which is ruled by ‘heroes’, and the one named Vannais kingdom, controled by ‘villains’. Both nations hate each other and the fight between ‘heroes’ and ‘villains’ here is something that happens on a national level. The game is focused on lore, on character development and your own perception of reality: perhaps, your MC just wants to live a peaceful life... or maybe wants to save the world.

Or even rule it, if you’re into such things.

THINGS TO DO IN THIS DEMO:

Set off on a new adventure towards Neutral Lands, to meet a mythic creature of all answers - The Visionary.

Gather up to 3 companions to help you in your quest - befriend, romance or rival them, the choice is yours.

Buy a horse - we know you want one.

Fight, conjure, support, speak or think - choose your way of handling a tricky situation.

Explore the kingdom of Hero up to Menai's shore, in search for someone - or something - to aid you in your journey.

The DEMO version of the book runs up to Chapter 5 and contains 276K words overall. I will be putting up updated versions of the first chapters as I work my way through them, so expect the DEMO version to become a polished reflection of what the final book will look like!

USEFUL LINKS:

If you want to know a little more about this project and read chapters 1-5, I'll leave the link to the game here -> https://dashingdon.com/play/myimaginedcorner/scales-of-justice/mygame/

If you want to discuss anything on CoG's forum, I'll leave the link for SoJ here -> https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-scales-of-justice-new-project-announcement-and-demo-release/101088/16

If you want to send me a more extensive feedback, here's my email -> [email protected]

Any mistakes, concerns or questions you have, feel free to contact me through Tumblr! I am very excited to share this story with all of you, and I want to make it as good as possible with your help!

RO DESCRIPTIONS:

Shoren/Seile -> Heir to the Hero kingdom's throne, right where your journey starts. Also, your old friend who's very attached to you. Likes to read and practices magic, enjoys adventure and heroic deeds. A recognised “hero”, with blonde curly hair, pale skin and a pair of beautiful blue eyes.

Robert/Reina -> Order's Paladin, defender of Hero and Knight of Fate. Brave and honourable, determined to protect the people of the kingdom. Very loyal to friends and very dangerous as an enemy. Has short brown hair, tanned skin and an athletic build.

Valerius/Venis -> An Outworlder, who was caught by cultists from the Wicked Woods. Gracious, elegant and charismatic. Has long dark brown hair with a silver streak, olive skin and golden eyes.

Arion/Aria -> Leader of Vannais, a recognised “villain” who escaped from Hero and now rules the enemy kingdom. Serious, reserved but temperamental. Prefers action over words and so is always present on battlefields and amidst negotiations, even though never in official manner. Has short blonde hair, pale skin and emerald eyes.

Be careful! These characters have their thoughts and opinions on the world and your actions: if you want them to support you, convince them or take their side… or neither. That is your choice after all!

#scales of justice #interactive story #tumblr community #interactive if #interactive game #hosted games #beta tester #progress update #update

44 notes · View notes

sgt-seabass · 2 years

Note

hi! can i request steve kemp where reader lashes out during dinner one day? then he gets angry because he was being merciful lately and puts reader in their place. maybe he grips the readers jaw while he yells at them because i’m a whore for that 😩

𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒅 𝒈𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔

✧˚ · . 𝘚𝘶𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘥𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺.

pairing — steve kemp x little!reader w/c — 1.3k this is a dark fic. 18+ only. warnings — little!reader, dd/lg elements, violence towards stuffies, implied kidnapping, referenced murder, threats, degradation, pet names (sunflower), minor violence against reader, blood play, cannibalism, yelling a/n — omg thank you so much for this ask. i love it. i don't see steve as the type to yell when he's angry (unless you bite his dick or smth) so i hope you like the way i went with this. not beta read. i hope you enjoy!

It’s not like Steve wanted to hurt you.

He had plenty of other outlets for his violent tendencies, but you were meant to be something relaxing for him.

And when you weren’t, it could easily send him into a rage.

The thing about Steve was that his wrath didn’t present as outward anger. He never raised his voice. He was rough with you physically, but his demeanour remained scarily calm, and he was always plotting his moves one step ahead of you.

You were his predictable sunflower, after all.

Cute. But oh so dumb at times.

This evening, Steve knew he’d have an issue on his hands the moment he got you from your cell, a defiant look in your eye that spelt trouble with a capital T. Even in your little space, a term Steve had learnt, you had your moments of fighting. You never were a big talker, but Steve could read your behaviours like a book.

His victims always had a hard time adapting. The thing was, you were holding onto your life while they lay in pieces in Steve’s cold storage.

With your dress flouncing with each step, a teddy hanging from your hand and Steve holding your other, you were brought to an immaculately set dining room table. The presentation of candles, flowers and shining silverware was romantic, but given the circumstances, Steve could tell your heart wasn’t in it. Your eyes didn’t light up for him, instead, they were filled with unshed tears.

It was insulting. He’d gone to all this effort just for you.

“I want to go home… Daddy, please let me go home.” You sniffled, clutching at your bear. He was missing a leg. Mr Bear had lost his limb when you misbehaved last week. He’d be a stump at this stage with your attitude.

“Stop being silly. Sit down.” Steve pressed down on your shoulders, forcing you into the wooden seat.

You sat stiffly, but Steve brushed it off. Once you tried the food, perhaps your mood would improve.

Steve watched from the kitchen counter as you shuffled Mr Bear to sit in your lap. He hadn’t bargained on a third wheel, but you’d grown attached to the stuffie since he brought it home from the hospital gift shop. You listened better with little friends, so Steve took the small win.

With a hum, Steve moved around the kitchen, plating your amatriciana pasta in pretty swirls. He could feel your beady eyes observing him, making him smile.

You were curious, always watching him. Steve appreciated your inquisitive nature because it meant you were interested in him. His little sunflower likes to watch.

Steve brought the pasta to the table, your eyes turning to the dish once it was placed down. Your lips pursed, fingers digging into your bear.

Did you know? Surely, there would be no way you could tell the difference just from the look. Steve sat down next to you, his own plate mirroring yours.

“Don’t let it get cold,” Steve commented, swirling the pasta around his fork before taking a big bite. “It’s delicious. I made it just for you.”

Nervously, you picked up your fork with little teddy bears engraved in it, picking at the pasta sauce. You were moving the bits of meat away.

Steve frowned, placing his hand over your wrist. “Don’t be rude and pick at your food.”

“What is it?” You questioned as you moved away the little shreds of pink meat.

“Pancetta. It’s pork,” Steve lied. The pancetta was actually called Laura.

You’d never eaten Steve’s desired cuisine before, so he wanted to start you on something small.

You turned your nose up. Steve’s eyes narrowed. You had better intuition than he had given you credit for.

“Eat the pasta, sunflower. This is your first and only warning.” Steve’s voice had lost its usual nonchalant tone. He wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“I’m not hungry,” you muttered, and Steve scoffed. He’d purposely not fed you all day so you’d be hungry, so he knew you were bluffing.

It seemed you were growing bolder in saying no to him, and Steve hated it. The broken angel he found on your first night in your cell was growing her wings back. And it was time for your feathers to be clipped— No. Snapped off.

Steve sat back in his chair, considering you. If a gentle approach wasn’t going to work, well, maybe he just needed to scare the shit out of you. It seems to work on his other victims just fine. He wasn’t even that mad, more irritated. But if he needed to act angry, he could do that.

“Right.” Steve tilted his neck, letting his bones pop to release the rising tension in his body. Your frame shook at the sound. If you wouldn’t obey him, he would have to take the alternate route.

Steve would worm his way into your head, turning your mind into his possession, not something you could control of your own volition. But first, you needed to be vulnerable.

There was an almighty whack when Steve grabbed your head and slammed your forehead into the table, not even a gasp leaving you with how little time you had to react. A split opened on your hairline instantly, blood trickling down your face and dripping onto your bear.

“Do you think I’m fucking around, huh?! When I tell you to do something, you fucking do it!” Steve gripped your face tightly between his fingers, his spit hitting your face as he yelled at you.

Your tears quickly began flowing, and Steve thought it was the prettiest sight he’d ever seen. With the deep red ichor sliding down your face, and your tears mixing in, it was a sight to behold.

Beautiful.

“Do you want to die? Because when you don’t fucking listen, you push me closer and closer to the fucking edge,” Steve growled, and you quickly shook your head with a sob.

“I— I don’t want to die!” You cried, and Steve pulled your face closer to his.

“Then listen to me, you dumb useless baby. You’re making me regret keeping you. I cooked this meal for you, and you’re going to eat it, or I will shove it down your throat myself.”

You let out a mighty wail, shaking with fear as Steve held you so tight there would be bruises left on your skin.

Steve had got precisely what he wanted. You hooked on his fishing line, ready for the slaughter. But instead of gutting you and selling you to the highest bidder, Steve wanted to keep you in a tank away from all the other fish.

Steve let you go, shoving your face away and ignoring your whimpers. He ripped the bear from your grip, putting it on a spare chair away from you. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask for it back in your scared state, your bottom lip trembling miserably.

“Poor Mr Bear, always bearing the consequences of your actions,” Steve taunted, loading up your fork with food and bringing it to your mouth. The ‘pork’ (Laura) flecks stood out of the red sauce, and Steve could see the way you hesitated.

“Open that pretty mouth for me, sunflower, or Mr Bear loses an arm.”

That seemed to be all the extra pressure you needed, your head still bleeding as you leaned forward and took the food into your mouth.

You scrunched your eyes closed, Steve raising a brow. Were you expecting a horrible taste?

Confusion flooded your features as you chewed, and Steve patted your cheek. “It’s not bad, is it?”

“It’s… It’s nice...” You said with astonishment, and when Steve brought another forkful to your mouth, you didn’t hesitate to eat it.

Steve smiled.

His little sunflower was growing up.

Steve filled his fork with pasta, before swiping his finger through your blood and smearing your crimson across his food. You watched, mesmerised, as Steve ate his tainted food with a satisfied moan. “Mm, divine. See? Date night isn’t so bad, is it?”

To be updated on when I post please follow @sgt-seabass-library and turn on post notifications.

#ambswrites #ambs answers #cherished anons #steve kemp #steve kemp x you #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x y/n #sebastian stan #dark fic #sebastian stan character #sebastian stan fanfiction #steve kemp imagine #sebastian stan imagine

604 notes · View notes

moni-logues · 1 year

Text

Kintsugi 5

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, non-idol!au, angst, smut, tiny bit of eventual fluff

Summary: In a fit of spiteful, post-break-up self-improvement, you sign up to a baking class. Yoongi, in a bid to appease his demanding girlfriend, signs up, too. Determined to make him your friend, you end up with more than you ever imagined.

Word count: 7.2k

Content: depression, self-harm (cutting)

A/N: first and foremost, please read the warnings; there's literally only two and one is a pretty significant one so plleeeeasssseeee take heed!!!!!! And let me know if there's anything else I should be tagging for it. Feels too flip for me to ramble in my usual way here given the content of this chapter, so just to say be safe, and I hope you like it! Thank you to my betas @amethystwritesbts @quarter-life-crisis2 @here2bbtstrash

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

Chapter Five - The other shoe

The sun was shining and birds were singing and you wished you were a character in a musical so you could burst into (tuneless) song and run across a field in a circle skirt. You hadn’t felt this good for a long, long time.

“Looks like someone’s in a good mood,” was Taehyung’s greeting to you as you plopped down in your chair next to him. “You get laid or something?”

You had, in fact, got laid last night. It had been even more anxiety-inducing than you had thought it would be, particularly given that Sungbin was a verified Greek god of a man and, well, your body had been through a little since the last time you were fully naked in front of someone new. You had put your body through a lot. The body keeps the score and it also shows the scars. You did not tend to keep them on display and you had hesitated and become awkward and flustered when you remembered them, when you realised he was going to see them, going to see what you had done to yourself.

He didn’t mention them. He didn’t make it weird. He didn’t avoid them nor did he bring extra attention to them. He acted as if they weren’t there at all. Then he made you come until you were seeing stars.

“That good, huh?”

It had been that good. Or maybe it had just been a long time. Either way.

“I think I’m going to fall in love with him, for real,” you said, all dreamy and moon-eyed, staring at your computer screen and seeing nothing but love hearts.

“Girly...” Taehyung’s voice had a slight warning note but you let it wash over you.

“I know, I know, but seriously. I feel happy, Teddy. Legitimately happy. I feel like I can see a future unfolding, a future I might actually want to live in.”

“With Sungbin?”

You shrugged.

“Sure, why not?”

He didn’t answer, not really. You could feel his reluctance; you could almost hear all the questions he wanted to ask. You let him think them. You weren’t going to let anyone burst this bubble.

“What are we doing this weekend, chick?”

You looked up from your desk and took the coffee cup in Taehyung’s outstretched hand. He sat down next to you.

“What do you mean ‘what are we doing this weekend’?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean “what are we doing this weekend”’?”

“What do you mean-”

“No, I’m serious. We always do something, but I haven’t seen you for weeks now.”

“Teddy, we are together every day. You’re seeing me right now!”

“That’s not the same and you know it! You’re reserving all your time for Sungbin these days.”

“That’s not true.”

Not entirely. He wasn’t being fair. It was true that you had seen Taehyung a little less over the past month or so but it wasn’t like you hadn’t seen him at all. You had someone else in your life now; you would’ve thought Taehyung would have been a little relieved to get some time back, to be honest.

“Well, what about you?” you asked. “You’re spending all your time with the barista.”

“Hyunjin. And I’m really not. I still have plenty of time for my other friends. For you.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m not making time for you?”

He shrugged.

“I know you’re really into Sungbin right now and things are going well and that’s great. I’m genuinely fucking stoked for you and I hope that it’s everything you want it to be, but I feel a little tossed aside, yeah. Especially because I’m the one who’ll have to pick up any pieces if it goes south.”

That hurt. Coming from Taehyung, that really hurt.

“Why do you think it’ll go south?”

“I’m not saying that it will but you’re honeymooning hard right now and it kind of feels like you’re putting a lot of eggs into one basket. You’re ditching me to spend all your time with a guy you’ve know-”

“I’m not ditching you!”

“I’m just saying you’re letting yourself be taken over by this. You haven’t seen me outside of work for ages. I know you didn’t go to therapy last wee-”

“How do you know that?”

“I know when your appointments are and you were posting on Instagram with a cocktail in your hand at the time.”

“What makes you think I didn’t rearrange the session?”

“Did you?”

No, you didn’t. You skipped that one. Just one. That would hardly hurt. And you were feeling so happy right now, the need for therapy had receded a little, dipping past the horizon, not entirely out of sight, but almost out of mind.

“That is exactly what I’m saying-”

“No, what exactly are you saying? Is this about wanting to see me more or is it about telling me that me and Sungbin are going to crash and burn?”

You could feel tears burn in your eyes and you desperately wanted not to cry. You always cried. All the time. It was exhausting and embarrassing and you were at work, right now – you didn’t have time for this.

Taehyung’s eyes softened and this made your tears well even more.

“I’m saying that I miss you and I’m worried. You are acting like he’s fixed you, like the only problem in your life was that you were single and now you’re not so everything must be perfect. But that’s not how things work and I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m not stupid,” you spat, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I don’t think he’s fixed me. I think he likes me. And I like him. And we are together-”

“Are you?”

“What?”

“Have you had that conversation? Are you together?”

“Well-… What about you and Hyunjin? Have you had that conversation?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “We’re keeping it casual for now.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. You hadn’t talked to Sungbin about it because you didn’t think you had to. You thought you were on the same page. Isn’t that what dating was? You dated and then, if you kept dating, you were in a relationship. It was automatic, by default. Why would you date someone if you didn’t want to keep doing it? If you didn’t imagine a relationship with the person, what was the point?

You managed to blink your tears away but an uneasiness had settled in your stomach. What if you’d got it all wrong? Did Sungbin want to keep it casual? You didn’t. It was already too late for that. You were a goner.

Maybe Taehyung was right.

Was he?

You sniffed.

“Well maybe Sungbin and I aren’t.”

“Does he know that?”

Fresh tears. Anxiety. Your old friend insecurity crawling up your throat again. You should have known that this was coming, that there was a line you needed to acknowledge and either cross together or not at all. It hadn’t been like this with San because you had known each other so well before you got together, it really had been a foregone conclusion. This time, though... And there was so much Sungbin didn’t know about you, so much you knew you would have to share at some point and didn’t want to. The thought of revealing your ugliest self to him – to him, a flawless specimen of a man, inside and out, his parents’ pride, and the person you thought most about – was nauseating.

You stood and walked off to the printers, pausing there only long enough for you to realise there was nothing you could pretend to print. Then you carried on to the kitchen, making yourself another coffee, even as the one Taehyung brought you was sitting, steaming, on your desk.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began, sitting across from Sungbin at an outside table, running your finger up the wet glass of your iced latte. “What are you doing for Halloween?”

He looked a little taken aback.

“Halloween? In October?”

“Yeah!”

You held your palm tight against your glass, the discomfort of the cold playing distraction. You were trying to be casual about this. It was normal. Of course you’d make plans. Why wouldn’t you? You fought off the voice in the back of your head saying that you wouldn’t if you were just ‘keeping things casual’. That was why you had to ask.

“I... have no idea yet. It’s only August.”

“That is true, but I’ve been thinking. Teddy always has this massive party for Halloween and does costumes and everything and I would like, this year, to outdo him.”

The party thing was true. Taehyung did throw one every year. And he did always have a good costume... You also always had a good costume, because he planned and bought it for you, but Sungbin didn’t need to know that part.

“Wow, if he’s planning it this early, it must be big.”

“Oh, no, he’s not yet, but I want to get a head start. Like I said, this year I think we can beat him at his costume game.”

“We?”

“Yeah, there are so many good couple costumes out there; it’ll make more of an impact if we do it together, right? Two is more than one etc.”

“Right, yeah, uh... Sure.”

“We don’t have to decide right now, but get your thinking cap on. I am going to destroy Teddy this year and you’re going to do it with me!”

He chuckled a little and you thought this was good. Halloween was, as he suggested, months away, but he hadn’t said no. That counted for something. You ploughed on.

“Also, what do you think to a double date?”

“Oh. Um, who with?”

“Teddy and Hyunjin. They actually got together the night we met! Might be fun. Also, to be honest, I really want Teddy to meet you. It’s been long enough, haha; you need his seal of approval!”

“A test?”

“Yep. He’s my bestie so he has to approve.”

“Right. Yeah... Ok. You and he are really close, then?”

“Yep. And, besides, it gets to a point where someone’s seen you have enough breakdowns that you have to keep them close: he knows too much!”

There was a pause and you could see Sungbin considering his words. You fought the urge to move it on, to brush over it, to drop a hundred words a second to blow past it. But you also just had to... check, to let him know, to try to drip-feed him the information you, truthfully, didn’t want him to have but knew that he had to have, if this was ever going to be serious. It made you anxious, slowly revealing your brokenness to him, pushing him closer and closer to the threshold at which he might say ‘stop, that’s enough; I don’t want you anymore’. He hadn’t yet, but you’d barely begun.

“Breakdowns, huh?”

“Yep. Although, actually, while it was Teddy who held me together after the break-up, it was my ex who really did the heavy lifting before that.”

Sungbin nodded thoughtfully and you didn’t know if you imagined his eyes flicking down to your thighs or not. Probably imagined. But it wasn’t like the two didn’t go hand in hand.

“Sounds rough.”

“It was. Both times, haha.”

He nodded again.

That was enough, you thought. That had to be enough disclosure for now. You could feel it pressing on you, like the oppressive summer humidity; you felt stifled by your exposure, almost a little giddy with the force of your discomfort. If this is what it was like, revealing your darkness to someone, you crossed all your fingers, hoped, and prayed that this thing with Sungbin would last so that you would never have to do it again.

You went home with him that night and there was a background buzz of something in your head, this kind of vertigo-swirling of standing too close to the edge of a cliff, an unsteadiness of foot that Sungbin was able to kiss away but which came back two-fold when you were lying naked in his bed. You tried to look at yourself, discreetly, objectively; what did you look like to him? Was he looking at you differently now, tonight, armed with new knowledge? What did he really know? What had he taken from the things you had said? You didn’t want to ask him, didn’t want to talk about it more, didn’t want to have to explain and elucidate and make explicit things that you hoped he would infer.

He didn’t seem different, then, didn’t turn off the light or kiss you goodnight any differently from the way he had before. Maybe it was fine. Maybe your brokenness wasn’t fatal. Or so you could dream.

“Last day, baby!” you cried when Yoongi put his bag on the counter at your very last baking session.

“So it is,” he replied, cool as ever.

You shoved him.

“Be excited! We made it! We’re bakers!”

He rolled his eyes and grinned.

“A rather generous term for yourself, isn’t it?”

You shoved him again.

“How dare you? Do I need to remind you of last week’s triumph? Or should I say my triumph and your tragedy?”

You weren’t being entirely fair. Yoongi’s buns had failed because he had taken on the risk of your illicit ingredient, allowing you to follow the recipe correctly. It was gallant, really. He even said that his buns were alright, not that bad, kind of ok which you knew without having to try them was untrue.

“Should I remind you who is responsible for my tragedy?”

“No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You grinned at each other and started unpacking your bags. It felt easy between the two of you now. Long gone was your anxiety that used to accompany Thursday evenings, that gnawing embarrassment and glowing shame that you used to feel in Yoongi’s proximity, sure that you were the worst person in the world and that he wanted to get away from you, desperate as you were for his friendship and approbation. You didn’t have to be desperate anymore, because you had it. You were friends. In the spirit of said friendship, you had agreed to celebrate your last baking class tomorrow, so you could get as drunk as you liked without having to suffer the consequences in the office.

“Generous term,” you scoffed, looking at your layered cake at the end of the session, assembled and decorated and still standing. “How very dare you. Look at what I’ve made! I’m a genius!”

Yoongi laughed quietly and swiped a finger through the buttercream frosting on top before you could swat his hand away. He put it to his mouth.

“Yeah, it’s not bad.”

“Not bad!”

You swiped a finger through the frosting on top of his cake.

“Yours tastes like shit.”

“Well, now you’re just being mean and I won’t let you have a slice.”

“Fine.” You turned your back on him to put some things in your bag and then turned back. “I didn’t want to eat your shit cake, anyway!”

“You had better be careful or I’ll bring this as dessert for tomorrow.”

You gasped.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Yoongi turned to face you head-on, a smirk on his lips, mischief in his eyes.

“Wouldn’t I?”

You mirrored his expression and crossed your arms.

“I won’t let you in my apartment.”

“Not even for the booze?”

You faltered. You didn’t buy the expensive shit that he did. You still fully believed that expensive alcohol didn’t give you such bad hangovers. You didn’t want to lose this spat, didn’t want to come out of the bit, but also didn’t want to say no to booze.

“You can leave the booze on my doorstep and go.”

Yoongi broke first and laughed loud, tipping his head back.

“You’re spoilt,” he said.

You sniffed haughtily.

“I deserve nice things.”

Then he gave you that smile that he did sometimes, warm and soft, that made you feel like a broken open caramel truffle, oozing and sweet and sticky, like the two of you were stuck together, sugary fingerprints on your skin and a brown sugar taste on your lips. It was like a secret smile, for special occasions; you wondered who else got to see it.

“Yeah, you do,” he agreed. “Which is why I’m bringing this cake to dinner tomorrow!”

You groaned and pretended to fall, dead, to the floor. Yoongi laughed again.

“I mean it.” He packed the last of his things in his bag. “I’m going to bring this and you’re going to eat it and like it.”

“Over my dead body.”

“If I recall correctly, I do, in fact, owe you a murder, so that can certainly be arranged.”

You both laughed this time and you could think of much worse ways to go, much worse last things to see before you died. Yoongi picked up his stuff and his cake and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“With bells on!” you called after him.

You had taken the Friday afternoon off, just to make sure you had enough time to shop and prepare and, gulp, cook dinner for Yoongi who you were expecting that evening. It was a celebration of your finishing the class but it was also a sign of intention, a new set-up for this kindling friendship that didn’t have anywhere else to meet. You’d take turns: one of you would cook and one would bring dessert and you’d alternate fortnightly. You weren’t sure whether you’d got the short straw to be tasked with dinner first or if you’d rather it were this way. You got the feeling Yoongi was a good cook and you didn’t want to have to follow that, but it felt like a lot of pressure being the first to host. You felt a little embarrassed of your shoebox apartment and cheap things and you knew Yoongi would never care—you knew he would understand completely—but it made you feel a little small, that this was all you had to offer.

Never mind, you said to yourself. He didn’t care and neither would you. It wasn't about the venue; it wasn’t even really about the food. It was about the company. It was about making a space and a time for you and Yoongi to hang out. It was about making a commitment to taking your friendship outside of its bounds and cultivating it. That was what mattered and that was all you needed to focus on.

You were scrolling on your phone, looking for recipes when a message from Sungbin came in.

Sungbin: hey I’m wfh today. I'm about to have lunch can you come over?

Obviously, the answer was yes. You did your best to make yourself look presentable in a rush and hot-footed it across the river to him.

“I ordered food, hope that’s ok,” Sungbin said as he gestured to the dining table where two bags of lunch had been placed.

“Sure! I’ll eat whatever.”

It felt a little strained, like the world had twisted itself into an uncomfortable position, but you put it down to the fact that you had never been to his apartment during the day before. He was also working; maybe he hadn’t shrugged off his focus yet. His job was still new and still stressful and this lunch was interrupting it. He was quiet as he sat down and you felt stifled. He ate a forkful and another. Then he put his fork down.

“Thanks for coming all this way. I really wanted to speak to you but work is really hectic so I can’t get away.”

“Yeah, no worries! I have this afternoon off anyway, so it’s no big deal.”

“Oh right. Good. Um.”

You thought to yourself that you were getting good at this: letting silence reign. Maybe it was all the time you’d spent with Yoongi; maybe it was all the time you’d spent in therapy. Maybe it was a sign that you weren’t letting your anxiety run your mouth anymore – even if you really, really wanted it to.

“I thought we should talk,” is how he began.

“About what?” Your guts twisted as you asked.

“I know you were talking the other day about all sorts of plans and things and I just wanted to be clear about... where we are. What we are.”

“Oh, right.” Your voice was airy and thin, even your lungs being squeezed by this cold-creeping fear working through your body.

“I really enjoy spending time with you and I’d like to continue that but, ah, I’m not looking for anything serious. I don’t want... a relationship, y’know? I just moved here and I’m still finding my feet and getting to know everyone and everything and I don’t want to, uh, settle into anything? And I get the feeling that... you do. I didn’t want, um, wires to be crossed or uh, I didn’t want things to get complicated or- I just thought we should talk before it went on any longer. I wanted to just make myself clear. I would like to keep seeing you but I think you want... more than I do. If I’m wrong, just tell me, sorry if I’ve assumed but I, uh, just, get the feeling...”

“Right.”

Your eyes were already blurry with tears. Here it was. The other shoe dropping. Taehyung was right. Sungbin didn’t want you. Not really. He knew who you were and he didn’t want you. You tried to tiptoe into it; you tried to slowly heat the water in the pan but you’d overcooked it. The frog was jumping out. You wanted more. Too much. More than he wanted. He didn’t want you. He didn’t want you that much. He didn’t want your broken parts. He didn’t want your ugliness. He saw your scars and he heard of your breakdowns and he knew that was ‘more’, too much. He didn’t want to carry you. He would have to carry you if you went on for too much longer. You had to be carried because that’s who you were: you weren’t enough, not even enough to lift yourself up. All your good parts, the shiny parts, the parts you thought you had in you somewhere... It wasn’t enough.

“It’s not-” Sungbin was trying to start again, to explain, to let you down even more gently. “I like you; I think you’re a cool person and we have fun. I just can’t commit to more than that. I don’t want to lead you on or pretend this is going somewhere it’s not. Y’know, I really appreciate you making all these plans and things but that’s just- it's really, well, it’s a bit too much for me right now. Do you know what I mean?”

You nodded and hummed and bit your lip to stop it wobbling. Your face was burning with embarrassment: that you were being dumped, that you were crying about it when this hadn’t even been real to start with. It had never been what you thought it was. It was just fun. You had pictured parties and holidays and walking off into the sunset but that was just you. It had never been that for Sungbin.

He didn’t want you. Like a woodpecker pecking at your skull, it hit you again and again: he didn’t want you. He didn’t want you. You tried to show yourself to him and then he didn’t want you. You took him to your water’s edge and he decided not to swim. You should have seen this coming. You should have heeded Taehyung’s warnings. You should have had this conversation before now.

You could feel yourself spiralling, crumbling, sitting at his table with an uneaten salad bowl in front of you. You couldn’t speak because you didn’t know what to say. ‘Please just love me’? ‘Can’t you change your mind’? ‘What if I were different’? ‘I can change’? Would anything make a difference? You couldn’t be different. Not really. It hit you at that moment: you would always be you. All of these things that you had been doing to try to change, to be better, to grow, to stop being such a mess all of the time. They wouldn’t work. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t change who you were. What you were. You’d always just be... this.

“Yeah, I understand,” you whispered, your voice trapped in your strangled throat. “I have to go.”

You stood and whirled around, heading immediately for the door, shoving your feet in your shoes any which way, as long as they stayed on long enough for you to escape.

“No, wait, hold on!” Sungbin called, following after you. “Don’t just go, please. I want to talk- I don’-”

But you were opening the door and running down the corridor and he was calling, but not running, after you.

You wanted to break down, just fall to the floor in a heap and stay there until the ground ate you up but you had to get out of his building. The lift was stifling, a too small metal box with mirrored walls that showed you your red eyes and running nose and face contorted with the effort of trying not to cry, with the fact that you were crying anyway.

You had never felt so stupid. Humiliated. You wanted to scrape your skin from your body with the shame of it. Of course he didn’t want a relationship with you. A man who already loved you and loved you for years didn’t want a relationship with you anymore; why would Sungbin, with the world at his feet, settle for you?

You were crying on the subway again. You had sworn you wouldn’t do that. Not after the break-up. Not once you’d finally stopped crying over San. You weren’t going to be that person, that’s what you’d said. No one took any notice; no one said anything; everyone averted their eyes, but you could still feel their attention, were still so aware of the way they were not noticing you. You were a weirdo, a pathetic woman crying on the subway in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

When you got off the train, you considered throwing yourself on the tracks. You would never have done it. Too many people around. A traumatised driver. Delayed and cancelled trains. Compounding your worthlessness by ruining other people’s days? You hadn’t sunk that low, not yet.

You traipsed home, your feet feeling lead-heavy, your legs feeling weak and, as soon as the door to your apartment closed behind you, you dropped to the floor. You gasped in huge, choking sobs; you couldn’t see for your tears and could barely breathe. Your chest felt as though it were caving in on you, squeezing the life out of you. You dragged your nails across your skin to try to feel something else, something different, some other kind of pain and then a thought came to you, sharper than it had been for months, clear before where it had been vague. A directive, not just a thought anymore.

There was a reason you didn’t keep razors in the house but your nails certainly weren’t cutting it. Then you remembered the knives Yoongi had bought you, how he had impressed upon you that they were sharp, that they were good quality and barely used so they should still, now, be sharp. You dragged your body to the kitchen counter and ripped open a drawer. You picked one at random – it didn’t matter which – and sat back down. You shuffled to pull off your cycle shorts and there they were, your mosaic thighs, criss-crosses of light, thin lines and thicker scar tissue. You had always taken a weird pride in the neatness of it. You had always cut carefully and deliberately, as though you were creating something other than scars, other than a mess, other than something you had to hide from everyone. You went over them again, re-cutting all the old lines, each sharp slice of pain a relief, grounding, pulling you back from somewhere.

The relief made you feel hysterical, silly even, the strange, old euphoria of hurting yourself, of being in control of that hurt rushing through you and making you dizzy. It was like coming home. Your breathing came more smoothly and your heart slowed and your tears began to dry and you couldn’t stop, not yet. You had to see how far you could go. A little more. You needed just a little more. You had plenty of real estate; you could make more. You could expand the design, your bloody, little, monochromatic Mondrian.

You felt empty when you stopped. Drained. Exhausted. Sick to your stomach. You let yourself fall sideways, lying on your dirty kitchen floor. You had nothing left in you. You lay there, unmoving, letting your brain tell you whatever it wanted. You didn’t care anymore. About anything. You had nothing. You had nothing to give and no one to give it to anyway. If you blipped out of existence, well, that would be the best-case scenario. Like Buffy’s key in reverse. Blink, and you had never existed at all. That would have been nice.

It would still be nice. If you could just disappear off the face of the earth. You couldn’t bear to look towards the future – a future you didn’t want, that you knew wouldn’t be better than this. The thought of it made your soul shrivel, made you dig your nails into your reddened thighs, made you cringe and wince. When would it be over? Why couldn’t it be now?

You distantly heard your intercom ring but it felt as if it were coming from another world. You were gone. You were out of this world. No one missed you. Your apartment was a glitch, a tiny black hole where no one could go and no one wanted to go. It rang for what could have been a short time or a long time—you'd lost all sense of it. Then you heard knocking at your door.

Then more knocking.

Then something akin to thumping.

“Hey,” Yoongi’s voice rang cleanly through the wood and metal. “Are you in?”

Your phone started buzzing noisily on your side of the door, rattling against the floor bar in the entryway. Then there was silence for a while. You assumed he had gone away.

Your door beeped and swung open and there were footsteps, the quiet flomp of shoes hitting the floor, the rustle of a carrier bag. You remembered you had given him your codes in the interest of fairness -- you did have his, after all. You felt so detached from everything that you didn’t know how you felt about that. Yoongi quietly called out for you. You didn’t respond. Didn’t even feel like you could.

Your apartment was small enough that he could survey the entire space in a few small steps, so he would barely have to enter before he would see you. You knew the moment he did; you felt the way the air was sucked out of the room for a second. You felt him freeze, could hear the seconds tick by on the clock on the wall. Then he came into your line of sight, kneeling in front of you, saying your name.

“Fuck, don’t be dead,” he whispered.

He held his hand underneath your nose and felt you breathing. You felt the weight of the sigh that left him.

“Shit, fuck.”

He bent over, turning his head to try to catch your eyes; you could see him but you weren’t looking at him. You weren’t looking at anything. He was a blurry approximation of a man in front of you. He called your name for a third time.

“You, uh, are you alright? ... fuck, fucking stupid. No, obviously not. Fuck. Ok. Uh. I-. Can I... What can I do?”

You couldn’t give him an answer. It was as if all speech and movement had been taken from you. You really had nothing left. You couldn’t give him anything. You felt like a husk and that was all you wanted to be.

“Shit, what should I do? I.. I do-. Well. Ok. Can you sit up?”

You couldn’t even shake your head. You were aware of him continuing to mutter to himself. He stood up and disappeared for a minute or two; you heard the open and shut of cupboards, the rifling through of your jars and bottles and boxes. He returned with a light load.

“I have to-” he started. “I’m going to. You.. I have to- I'm going to touch you, ok? I have to lift you up?”

He hesitated as he came closer but was firm when he gripped your arms and lifted your body off the floor, pulled you sitting upright. You tipped your head back against the cupboard and a deep sigh pushed air from your lungs.

“I still have to- this might hurt. You don’t have much stuff. I, uh, yeah, ok. I have to clean this.”

You closed your eyes when he pressed a soaked cotton pad to your thigh. The burning sting of antiseptic made you feel a little bit alive but it was so short-lived.

He was muttering again.

“Fucking hell. I can’t. You don’t have anything useful. How am I-. What... This is... Fuck, this is going to need stitches. Is it?”

You’d almost never heard him talk so much, not like this, not to himself, not with all these half-finished, curtailed sentences, this stopping and starting. Yoongi was straight-forward, even when he was feeling chatty. This Yoongi was going around in circles.

When your eyes finally focused on him, he looked pale, paler than usual. A little grey possibly. His mouth was pulled in a taut, grim line when he wasn’t mumbling himself through the task.

“Still fucking bleeding? Shit, did I make it bleed again? I can’t- I...”

He sat back a little and looked at you; his eyes were sharp and focused and you couldn’t look at them. Yoongi took your chin in his hand, less gently than you might have expected, and he held you there until you looked at him.

“How can you not have a fucking first-aid kit? What the fuck am I supposed to do with this?” The anger in his voice registered only dimly. “There’s a pharmacy on the corner and I’m going to go there.” He paused and his eyes were steely and his jaw tight as he worked his brain around how to say what he needed to. “I’m going to go and I’m going to come back and if I get back here and you’re dead, I am going to kill you, ok? I know I promised to kill you but I was fucking joking and you’re not allowed to be dead. Is that clear?”

His face softened as he waited for an answer. You managed to nod your head. He held you a few more seconds before he stood and walked out.

It could have been only seconds or it could have been hours until he returned—you neither knew nor cared—but he did return and he dropped a plastic bag on the floor beside you. He tipped it upside down and dumped its contents. He wasn’t looking at you now, not at your face, just at your legs, as he cleaned and tended and muttered to himself some more. He unwrapped bandages and folded over gauze and you let him lift your legs and place them back down. You let him do whatever he needed to, wanted to. It didn’t matter.

When he was finished, he sat back and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and you saw his eyes alight on something to your left. You couldn’t read the expression that came over his face. Something like horror, something like disgust, something like despair. He leaned forward onto his hands and grabbed the offending object; he threw it into the sink with a metallic clatter.

He sat opposite you for some time. You didn’t say anything. Neither did he. You felt hollow. You could hear it, the wind howling through your empty spaces. You felt like you were all empty space. Just an echo of nothingness trapped in skin. Every part of you hurt, as if the pain were radiating out from your heart, filling the void inside you with a sharp, persistent ache. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t bring yourself to do it, to have to hear yourself, hear your existence continuing in the world. It hurt. As long as you were silent, you could fade away, you told yourself. Just disappear. Yoongi would go and you would be alone and you could just disappear.

“Do you want to eat?” he asked. “You should eat.”

The thought evidently set him on a path because he stood and opened your fridge, opened your cupboards, looking for food. He stepped over you and then stopped, foot in mid-air. He turned back to you.

“If I’m going to cook, you’re in the way. Can you move?”

You blinked. You sighed. You looked down. Then you felt his arms wrap around you as he pulled you to your feet. It was an awkward drag and shuffle to the sofa, your feet tripping over themselves, Yoongi lifting but not really carrying you.

“Fuck, sorry,” he said on a heavy exhale as you dropped like a stone onto the sofa. “I’m going to cook now.”

He held a bowl out in front of you and, when you didn’t take it, he picked up your hands and placed them against the ceramic, lowering it all into your lap. Then he sat next to you.

“Eat.”

You looked at the food, steaming hot; it smelt nice. You wondered what on earth it was and how he could have found the right ingredients in your house. You were still not exactly domesticated, despite your efforts. Yoongi kicked your foot.

“I mean it. Eat.”

You sighed and continued staring into the bowl. Eating would mean conceding to living, to staying alive. You felt defeated but you also wanted to avoid this defeat. Everything about you felt wrong. Hideous. Like things were crawling beneath your skin. You didn’t want to continue that existence. You didn’t want to feed it.

Yoongi took the bowl from your hands and placed it on your coffee table.

“Fine,” he said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Absolutely not. You shook your head.

“What do you want to do? I don’t know what to do. What can I do?”

You, again, fell sideways, lying on the sofa with your legs still dangling down. It wasn’t entirely comfortable but that hardly mattered. You couldn’t answer; you didn’t know.

Then Yoongi did something that you wouldn’t in a thousand years have expected him to. Just as you had, in his apartment, weeks ago, he crawled behind you and wrapped his arms around you. You stiffened, convinced for a second you might split and shatter. He was warm and soft and you could smell his hair and his breath tickled your neck and it hurt so much. It all hurt so much.

You breathed in deep and when you exhaled, you choked, crying again. You didn’t know you had more in you. You had thought you were dry, but just as there was no end to your sadness, there apparently was no end to your tears.

You lay there, letting him hold you as you cried, letting the sun lower in the sky, letting the stars come out.

“I’m fucking sick of it,” you gasped. “Sick of it, sick of it, sick of it.”

“Sick of what?”

“Everything. I hate it. I hate everything. I hate it. I hate being alive. I hate being me. I can’t stand it. I don’t know how people do it. I just want it to stop. I just want it to stop.”

“Life?”

“Yeah.”

“I get it. I don’t want you to stop being you, though. For what it’s worth.”

You couldn’t hear that kind of thing. Not now. You couldn’t take it.

“You just don’t know me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying and thick from new tears.

“Tell me, then.”

“I fucking suck.”

“How?”

“Literally everything I am. Fundamentally flawed. I’m broken and stupid and I can’t be normal and no one can ever love me because I’m this. I’m just this all the time and I can’t get better and I thought that I could but it’s just me and my fucking broken head and I ruin everything. I ruin everything for everyone and always will and no one can stand me. No one can and I don’t fucking blame them. I can’t stand me either. It makes me sick to be such a useless heap of junk. I’m a worthless waste of space because what is the point of me? What do I do? I need people, I cling to people, I make myself their problem until they can’t take it anymore. I’m depressed and stupid and I will never achieve anything and never do anything and I might as well just die right now because who cares? Literally who cares. I tried and I fucking tried but I’m still me and I can’t run from it or change it and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be here. I don’t know what to do anymore. There is nothing for me. The future is black and it’s bleak because I’ll be there. I’m always there. I can’t get away from myself. I can’t bear it. I have to live like this? For years? More and more years? Twenty? Or thirty? Forty years of this? It makes me sick to think about. I can’t think about it. I can’t think about having to be alive like this for another day let alone any longer. I hate it. I hate being me and I hate being alive and I just wish I wasn’t. I wish I could just disappear. I’m a broken, useless, fucked in the head piece of shit and no one will ever love me because they can’t. I’m unlovable. I’m this and it makes me unlovable but I can’t change it so I will always be unlovable and I can’t do it. I can’t live like that. I can’t do it anymore.”

You took a deep, shuddering breath and Yoongi said nothing. He was quiet for long enough for your shame to creep back in, curling its fingers around the door frame and pulling itself in, unbidden and unwanted. You were embarrassed now, again. You felt stupid. Again. You felt pointless and petty and pathetic and you were about to shrug Yoongi off, to tell him to leave, to crawl into your bed and hide under the sheets when his arms tightened around you. You heard as well as felt him take a deep breath.

“Yeah, I understand.”

There was a pregnant pause and Yoongi cleared his throat.

“But I don’t think any of those things about you. For what it’s worth.”

Chapter Four | Masterlist | Chapter Six

#yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi angst #bts angst #tw self harm #tw cutting

150 notes · View notes

wakandas-vibranium · 1 year

Text

Planet Earth 2023 || Part One

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2.9k

Warning(s): Canon typical violence, cursing, injuries, fluff, slow burn

A/N: This will be a mini series in ten parts. Semi slow burn between Din and Reader. No beta reader, but there shouldn’t be too many grammatical errors. Please like, comment and share!

Summary: The Mandalorian and his kid were ambushed by pirates in space and ended up on Earth, crashing the new and improved Razor Crest right onto your front lawn.

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

It was a shining afternoon in Florida. You were relaxing in your backyard, in a lounge chair beside your massive pool, soaking in all that the sun had to offer.

You were a renowned trauma surgeon, and this was your first vacation in four years. You considered sailing across the Atlantic Ocean for three weeks, but ultimately opted to stay in the comfort of your own home. A lot of time, effort, and money went into building your dream home, so of course you decided to bask in the ambiance for the next twenty-one days.

You lived in the middle of nothingness. Your nearest neighbor was a 6-mile drive up the road, and you couldn't be happier. It was a 12-mile trip to downtown, where there were plenty of grocery stores, gas stations, and restaurants.

You were on day two of your vacation. You took the liberty of driving into town yesterday to stock up on everything you needed. It was the first week of July, which was one of the busiest weeks in Tampa.

There were simply too many people. College and high school kids on summer break, bikers, tourists, and locals that got on your nerves every chance they got. Not to mention the buzzing flies, lizards, and deafening cicadas that were hellbent on driving everyone in Florida insane.

You leaned forward, taking one final swig from your flute glass. You made delicious mimosas. This was only your second glass, but you wanted to squeeze in a short nap before pouring a third.

You placed the empty glass on the mini table beside you and leaned all the way back, relaxing into the lounge chair. You tilted your hat down to protect your eyes from the beaming sun and drifted off to sleep.

Out of nowhere, a sound that you could only describe as the blue sky opening jolted you awake, and you shot up out of the lounge chair, gawking up at the sky. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. You snagged your cell phone from the mini table, checking the time.

4:09pm

You had only been asleep for eleven minutes. You pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t in the middle of a dream.

The foreign junk of metal barely missed the tall gate surrounding your home as it landed unceremoniously on your front lawn. You kicked off your wedge sandals and hauled ass to the front of your house, mentally preparing to rip this asshole to shreds with your venomous words.

You stopped at the wreckage, grumbling obscenities as you assessed the damage that was done. Your tulips were tarnished and a wide section of grass was burnt to a crisp. At least the lily and chrysanthemum sections were left unharmed.

The door to the colossal heap of metal opened, revealing the culprit, who appeared to be a helmeted man dressed in metal and black.

Wow, you thought, completely sidetracked by the man you saw before you and what appeared to be his ship. That was the spitting image of a spaceship. Living in Florida, you’ve met your fair share of cosplayers, but something about this man was different. How in the hell did he build something like that? How did he afford it? Those looked like authentic parts.

Despite the turbulent landing, the ship was not significantly damaged. It probably needed four or five repairs, but it appeared to be functional.

Whoever it was needed to collect their things, compensate for the damages, and get the hell off your property. You rolled your eyes at yourself for not stopping in the house to retrieve your handgun. Hopefully the man wouldn’t be violent towards you.

You walked fiercely up the ramp onto the ship, pausing when you spotted the man slightly bent over, groaning in pain as he clutched his right thigh.

“What in the fuck?” you yelled at the man, stopping all movement once you saw he was aiming a weapon at you.

He’s taking this cosplayer shit a little too far, you thought. You folded your arms across your chest, tapping a bare, beautifully pedicured foot against the floor of the ship as you waited for the tin man to say something.

He didn’t.

“What in the hell kind of gun is that?” you cursed, squinting as you pointed at the weirdly shaped weapon in his hand.

He tilted his head towards you, but still didn’t say anything.

“And what the hell are you wearing?” you continued, throwing your hands up in exasperation.

He looked like a complete and utter fool. Okay, that is not the case at all. He actually looked incredibly good in his costume. However, now is not the time to be ogling the man who just crashed into your front yard, destroying your favorite flowers.

“Get away from me.” he said, grunting softly, and gripping his thigh tighter as he attempted to stand up. Red drops of blood soaked a patch around the knee of his pants and trickled down his leg onto the spaceship's floor.

The smooth gruffness of his modulated voice was enough to make you standstill in your criticisms. It was almost as if he was speaking from his chest and not his mouth. You did not expect him to sound like that. How alluring.

“Excuse me!” you gasped in dismay once you remembered the rude tone he took with you as if you were the one who crashed into his perfect day.

The unmitigated gall this metal man had.

You pointed a perfectly manicured nail at him, “You’re the one who landed this fugly chunk of metal in my backyard! Who are you?”

“I am Mandalorian D—“

“—Is that supposed to mean somethin’ to me?” you asked, interrupting the bleeding man.

He exhaled in your direction. You barely gave him a chance to get a word in edgewise. Something about the man seemed both vulnerable and frightening at the same time. The large tear that was on his thigh was bleeding profusely. You took a cautious step forward, eyeing the wound. Although it didn't appear to be infected, the puncture was fairly deep and would require stitches.

“Who did this to you?”

“A pirate. We al-almost didn’t make it b—“

Who is we, you thought. You were so focused on the metal man, you didn’t even see the tiny green munchkin looking up at you with huge eyes that matched its long ears.

Oh my god. It was a green baby E.T.

Your heart skipped a beat and you slyly pinched yourself again to make sure you were wide awake.

He was too cute.

“—I’m sorry, did you just say a pirate did this to you?” you squeaked, interrupting the injured man yet again. Sorry not sorry. You were definitely in shock.

Great. Now alien pirates were a thing.

You shook your head hoping that would clear your bewildered mind. You only had two mimosas, but this newfound information was starting to give you an awful migraine. It was happening too fast. Your brain needed time to catch up.

“I think I put in the wrong coordinates before jumping,” the helmeted man disclosed before asking, “What planet is this?”

The space man went on about how his gravity well projector and navicomp malfunctioned due to the shootout with the pirates.

“Planet?” you replied, “Are you high?”

“Just tell me where I am.” the strange man grunted as he slowly rose to his feet, succeeding this time.

“This is Planet earth. Florida to be specific. Ever been here before?”

“This backwater—No. No, I haven’t.”

“Well, welcome to the sunshine state Mandalorian.” you flashed him a smile that didn’t quite meet your eyes.

“Just call me Mando.”

“Alright then, Mando,” you said, “I’m a doctor and I can stitch up that nasty gash you have there.”

He said nothing for a few seconds as he stood there weighing his options. He took one look down at the baby before agreeing.

“Yes, that’s a good idea. I can’t fight like this.”

“Who are you fightin’?”

“The pirates who tried to shoot me and my kid down. They’ll be here soon.”

Your second day of vacation was going to be spent fighting off alien pirates, huh? Not too shabby.

While he went to gather what he needed, you took this opportunity to explore this section of the ship in greater detail. Wow. This ship must have cost him a pretty penny. You extended a helping hand to the Mandalorian on the path to your home, but he declined, instead picking up the child and walking alongside you.

“You live alone?” He asked, stepping into the house after you.

“Yes.”

“Why?” he pressed, stumbling a bit as he tried to round the corner and keep up with your long strides.

“None of your goddamn business.” you quipped, motioning for him to come into the kitchen. He snorted softly and the baby cooed.

Somewhat unexpectedly, Mando let you steer him into the kitchen and even accepted your assistance in guiding him to a chair at the island in the middle of your kitchen. He sat the kid on the island and they both turned, watching you reach into the upper cupboard to pull out your homemade first aid kit.

You brought two chairs closer to him, sitting in one of them while motioning for him to position his leg up on the seat of the other chair. He leaned forward slightly and made a low grunting sound as he shifted his leg to perch on the chair.

To gain better access to the injury, you gingerly removed the metal plate that was shielding most of his thigh. Although the bleeding had stopped to some extent, the wound still needed cleaning and disinfecting before being patched up. You leaned closer as you dabbed at the laceration. Every now and then, when you applied too much pressure, he hissed softly, but he never told you to stop.

He asked, “Is that bacta?”

“I’m not sure what bacta is,” you admitted, half shrugging as you examined the jagged edges of the laceration. It was a nasty cut on his thigh, right above his knee. You noticed that his skin was white and not green. A curiosity you’d ask about at a more appropriate time. “This is a numbing agent called lidocaine. We use it so that the stitches don’t hurt as much.”

“Will it make me drowsy?”

You shook your head, “It shouldn’t. Plus it only lasts about 40 minutes or so.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll be a quick pinch then I’ll start stitchin’ you up.”

He just nodded. His kid cooed worriedly and you felt your heartstrings being tugged by the little one yet again. Aww, you thought, the little one was worried about his dad.

“Don’t worry, kid. I won’t hurt him.” you promised.

After injecting the lidocaine into his thigh with the needle, you proceeded to suture the wound closed, making sure not to pull too tightly on the ends. You went a little deeper than necessary on the next stitch, which caused Mando to jerk and grip your wrist, cursing loudly, “Dank farrik!”

“Ooh,” you grimaced at the sound of his harsh pants, stopping to glance at him and the kid, “I didn't mean to go that deep. Sorry, Mando.” you apologized.

To take his mind off the discomfort, you took two fingers and massaged the underside of his knee. As he relaxed, you could feel the tension ease out of his thigh muscles. Your method worked like a charm. It always did. He loosened his grip on your wrist before dropping his hand back into his lap.

“You ruined my favorite flowers, you know…” you commented as you peered up at him, attempting to find his eyes through the helmet. How was it even possible to have a tinted helmet? Exactly what were the Mandalorians so afraid of in space that they had to conceal their faces? When you failed to locate his eyes, you went back to the wound and threw another stitch. You were almost done now. Just a couple more sutures.

It was getting harder to ignore the tiny green guy's agitated cries. He must have been getting hungry or bored. Mando didn't utter a word, so you assume he was just used to it.

“I’m sorry about your tulips,” he expressed, ducking his head a bit in embarrassment, “I’ll see if I can salvage them once I know we’re in the clear.”

“You know how to tend to flowers?”

“A little bit.” he said, shrugging as he turned his attention towards his upset kid.

“Sorry,” Mando apologized for the increasing volume of the kid’s cries, “He’s probably hungry.”

“Well, I have some leftovers from brunch. Does he have any allergies?”

“Not that I'm aware of.” Mando replied.

“Alright. I’ll fix him a plate once I’m done with you. Would you like to eat somethin’ too?”

“Not really hungry at the moment.”

“Okay.”

After you had completed the last stitch, you took a little, red container, opened it, and used a dollop of vaseline to evenly spread it over the stitches. As soon as you had completed that task, you got to your feet and headed over to the kitchen sink, where you washed your hands thoroughly.

You took some oatmeal and heated it up in the microwave, sliced an apple and added a few red pieces to the bowl. You grabbed a spoon, handing it to the child as you placed the blue ceramic bowl in front of him. He cooed happily before digging in.

You asked Mando to wait some time before strapping the metallic layer of protection back on his thigh, but he refused.

The child appeared to be in a better mood now that his belly was full. You had to resist the urge to ask Mando if you could hold him. He was just too stinkin’ cute. You’d probably never let him go.

You lingered on the couch for an hour, staring at Mando entertaining his kid, before opting to get some fresh air in your backyard.

“Where are you going?” Mando questioned as he put his son on the couch and hurried over to you, standing in front of the sliding glass doors, blocking you from leaving the house.

You forced back an eye roll as you reminded yourself that he was only being cautious. There was no need to be rude to him. He merely wanted you to avoid getting killed by the pirate who had followed him to your house. From space.

“I need to grab my phone,” you explained as you pointed to the chair you were lounging in peacefully before he arrived, “Look— it’s just right there by the pool.”

“Fine,” he exhaled sharply after following your direction, eyeing the object, “Be quick. It isn’t safe yet.” He stepped aside after you nodded at him and you slid the door open, stepping out into your backyard.

You're not certain why, but on your way to the swimming pool, you kept track of how many steps you took. You’re astonished that you haven't done this before now. 31 steps in total from your house to your pool.

You bent over, snagging your cell phone from the small table, checking the time.

6:42pm

Today, time was flying by. It was almost time for dinner. You could probably cook dinner while you waited for this so-called pirate extraterrestrial to arrive. Sadly, you were no longer in the mood to make dinner. You could just order a pizza. Did they even eat pizza in space?

Your phone chimed, and after tapping the green icon to check your messages, you saw that you had received a new text from your friend and colleague Jaime, who was a highly qualified cardiothoracic surgeon. Due to the fact that you two worked so closely together on various urgent cases, it was inevitable that the two of you became great pals.

An appreciative smile formed at the corner of your mouth as you read Jaime’s message which reported that there was no code blue while she was on duty. This occurred once or twice a year, but it was always a cause for celebration. You typed out a few emoji’s before pressing send.

“Tulip, run!” Mando bellowed from inside the house.

You glanced at him in confusion. Who was tulip, you thought sardonically until it dawned on you. Your mouth fell open in a hushed O. He never asked for your name and you never offered it.

So, he took it upon himself to nickname you your favorite flower? Interesting.

You ignored the sudden fluttering of your heart and the warm flush that danced across your skin.

The boisterous warbling of another spaceship captured your attention. Despite being smaller than Mando’s, it was distinctly louder. Just a few feet away from Mando's, it landed, and out stepped the most outlandish space pirate you've ever seen. It was the first alien pirate you'd ever seen, so there was that, but the entrance was very lackluster.

“Tulip, come to me now!” Mando barked, unholstering his weapon and beckoning for you to come back inside to where he and the kid were.

The space pirate spotted you immediately and made a beeline for you. Your heart thumped against your rib cage as you tucked tail and ran back inside.

Running from a goddamn space pirate wasn’t on your 2023 bingo card.

#please like comment and share 🫶🏾#din darjin #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x black reader #black reader #black reader insert #pe2023 #din djarin reader insert #din djarin x f!reader #pedro pascal x reader

284 notes · View notes

spicedrobot · 10 months

Text

what was lost, what was gained ch. 3

Also on ao3! (linked in description 💖) beta by @bluedaddysgirl

The reprieve Cody thought the voyage would bring never came. Maybe he was a little too hard-wired for battle. Extended periods of down time sometimes made clones nervous. But he’d been on long voyages like this plenty of times. And after they dropped the Sith off on Coruscant, they would embark on another one.

No. It wasn’t the same. It wasn’t. And Cody knew who to blame for that.

Sleep did not come easy to him at the best of times. And as the voyage dragged on, it became almost impossible.

Whenever he tried to rest, dread coiled in the darkness behind his eyelids. His thoughts ran on an endless loop. The Sith’s dark eyes, his pointed, needling questions. The general’s gloved touch sliding over Maul’s chin. The expression General Kenobi had worn after that first shift, when he thought no one was looking. Cody had witnessed it accidentally, led by an urge to glance behind him after he’d been dismissed. He wasn’t sure what he had seen in the general’s eyes—sadness, maybe. A lost, unsure gleam. A look Cody couldn’t forget.

All while the general stood, unmoving, gazing at the sleeping prisoner.

General Kenobi was wise, kind, unwavering. But the Sith had done what Cody thought impossible: he had shaken him.

Cody felt helpless. There was nothing he could do. It wasn’t his place. All he had were his orders, so he followed them. He kept his eye on Maul. And Maul… well, he didn’t exactly make it difficult. He hardly moved. Mostly he read, meditated and slept.

But when he did engage his guards… it was unnerving. Even without his connection to the Force, Maul still knew how to take his opponent off guard with a few well-chosen words. Comments as innocuous as You haven’t slept, Commander to Did you know your scent is different from the other clones?

He was dangerous, even in a cell.

Of course he is. He’s a warrior. They use whatever they have at their disposal. Just like you.

Cody didn’t enjoy that line of thought. He was nothing like a Sith, and especially not like Maul. He would rather die than be a blight on the galaxy. Rather die than hurt General Kenobi.

That familiar unease crept over him. After the first night with the Sith on board, the general’s state hadn’t improved. In fact, he seemed more exhausted than ever. But any mention of his deterioration was waved away. Yes, he was taking the time to rest. The extra sleep was helping. That will be all, Commander.

Cody’s hands were tied. The general wasn’t exactly skirting any of his duties, so he couldn’t point to a lapse of productivity or decision-making. It was just enough to torment him. A concern too personal to mention.

“This level of surveillance is unnecessary.”

The comment snapped Cody out of his reverie. It was the first thing Maul had said all shift, which was fine by him. He was happy to let the Sith rot while he tried and failed to file reports on his datapad.

The Sith’s words came again. “I’ve no weapons. No power. No memory.”

Cody blinked away weariness as his mind caught up with his words. He either needed more caf or had already had too much. “True. Still can’t trust a word you say.”

“Why?” Maul asked. “Have I not shown I can be obedient? Obi-Wan had no qualms—”

“General Kenobi isn’t here. And he’s the one who gave the order to watch you. He’d be doing it himself, if he didn’t have more important matters to deal with.”

“Would he…” Maul said. His voice was muted, but there was certain infuriating thoughtfulness to it. “So, as second in command, you have no work more pressing than to surveil me?”

Cody narrowed his eyes. “Double duty.” He lifted his datapad and shook it. “And in case you weren’t aware, you’re a criminal.”

There was a flash in Maul’s dark eyes. “Am I? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.” His tone was light, grating.

“Even if you don’t remember, you still have blood on your hands. You’re an enemy of the Jedi and the Republic. When we get to Coruscant, you’ll be tried for your crimes and left to rot for the rest of your days. If you’re lucky.”

Maul stiffened, his eyes widening fractionally. Not appalled, like Cody had hoped, not angry either. Just… accepting. “So, I have killed. Who was it?”

Cody blinked. The angry heat drained away as realization stole over him. Maul really didn’t know anything. And the general hadn’t told him either.

Why?

Maul hummed under his breath, lips upturned. “Don’t clam up now, Commander. Your general wasn’t forthcoming enough for my tastes.”

“He doesn’t owe you anything,” Cody bit out.

“Is that so? He seems very intent on helping me.” His expression grew softer. “Strange. I sensed no hatred from him, no fear when he first approached me, unlike you and your men. I could feel it all too keenly before my power was lost to me.”

The silence between them hung. Maul nodded. “Wise not to deny it. Perhaps you are in a league above your peers.”

Cody glared. The Sith’s smirk returned, wide and threatening. “Do you want to know what else I sensed, Commander? About you… and Obi-Wan.”

The general’s given name purred in that low, filthy voice made the hairs rise on the back of his neck. It was a name Cody couldn’t speak aloud, not freely, not without self-consciousness.

“What? That I’m his favorite commander?” he spat.

“Hm. More like Obi-Wan is your favorite.”

Maul’s words should’ve been easy to brush off. There was nothing untoward between him and the general, not a single action or gesture that could be misconstrued. Cody had made sure of that.

Only the secret, unanswered longing was there, a scream in his own mind. There was a spike a fear, a knot of anger. Somehow, Maul knew.

“I’m not interested in your lies,” Cody said, after a long, incriminating silence.

Maul tipped his head, grinning wider for a moment. Cody couldn’t shake the image of a preening raxshir, striped, dangerous. The Sith was enjoying this.

“What reason would I have to lie? Especially when the truth is far more devastating.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I grow weary of your denial. Wouldn’t you rather know how I know? It’s nothing so obvious as the Force. It’s far more droll, more… base.”

Cody was frozen, as much of a prisoner as Maul. He couldn’t run. Wouldn’t be able to explain why he abandoned his post. He couldn’t stay either, couldn’t listen to his deepest secret pool like venom from the Sith’s fangs.

Duty, of course, won out. He did not leave his chair.

His skull ached. His jaw twinged. A single word. “How?”

Satisfaction bled out of every line on Maul’s face. “There is so very much that one reveals without thought or notice. It was your own body that betrayed you. Your singular heart, pumping so very quickly whenever your general offered you a kind word or touch. How sweet.”

Cody felt sick with disbelief. Denial was impossible. He couldn’t even form the words. And still the Sith continued.

“And if I can intuit so much, even with this…” Maul touched his collar. “How much do you think Obi-Wan already knows?”

It was out, then. The general had known all this time. Had known, and never mentioned it, never treated him any differently. Never returned that affection.

Of course he wouldn’t. He’s a general, my CO. A Jedi. And I’m a clone. Made for one purpose. Expendable.

He hadn’t realized how much he had been holding onto the hope that one day, the general would look his way. Really see him.

“I never expected anything to come of it,” Cody said. His voice wavered. He curled forward, elbows on his knees, face in his hands.

Even if Cody had spoken with absolute conviction, they both would’ve known the lie for what it was.

#fics #obimaul #maulobi #wwlwwg #star wars #darth maul #obi-wan kenobi #commander cody

55 notes · View notes

hopelessrromantix · 2 years

Text

Content: no beta, cockwarming, marking

Chamber let out another huff, dropping the small metal pieces he was working with. His hands shook as he tried to pick it up again, without much success.

“C’mon, focus.” You reminded, chuckling in his ear.

He shifted in your lap, trying his best to get you to move. It only ended with him letting out a moan, hand gripping his desk.

It had started as a simple ‘compromise’. He’d spent far too much time tinkering with his guns, insisting on improving them. Honestly, you thought they were perfect already, but Chamber wasn’t having it. So, when you came in clinging to him, palming anywhere you could, he’d come up with a solution.

“If you think you are funny, you are not, mon chéri.” He gave his own smirk, clenching down on you. It forced a groan out of your mouth. You buried your face in his neck, listening to his mocking laugh.

It was always a fight for power between you two. He always tried to take control, only for you to snatch it right back. Not that you were complaining though, a challenge is always fun.

Chamber was back to working on his gun. He was fidgeting with the bigger pieces now, knowing his hands were far too shaky for the smaller ones. He cleaned them slowly, the gold metal glistening in the artificial light. You weren’t the one to build his guns, but you didn’t need to be a genius to figure out he was just busying himself.

“Vincent, you aren’t even doing anything, love,” You pleaded, shifting slightly. He gave a soft swat at your thigh, not even enough to hurt. “Come back to my room, I’ll make it worth your while.”

The promise didn’t do much to move him, likely because he knew you’d fuck him either way. His workshop was stuffed into a corner of the headquarters anyway, likely a move by Viper to stay away from him. You couldn’t blame her, really.

“Unlike you, I have work to do,” He commented, tapping a finger under your chin. “You can hold out thirty minutes, can’t you?”

You groaned. You knew damn well he wouldn’t be working for a single minute of that. You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face into his still clothed back. He chuckled, returning to the same piece he’d cleaned five times by now.

You could feel him clench down on you, his tight warmth making it harder not to move. You were far from cumming, but you were damn close to ignoring Vincent and slamming him against his desk. You knew he wouldn’t put up much of a fight either.

Instead, you resigned yourself to Vincent’s torture.

But after about twenty minutes, you were starting to crack. He’d adjusted himself multiple times, claiming he was ‘cramping up’, which you knew was utter bullshit.

“You’re getting just as tired of this,” You hummed into his ear. You tested the waters, gently fucking up into him. His fingers tensed, a low groan reverberating through his chest. He didn’t move to stop you, though, which you took as reassurance. “You wanna come back to my room yet?”

“I have to fini--”

“You don’t have to finish shit, Vincent.” You rolled your eyes at the statement. “Besides, if you wanna work so badly, we don’t have to go anywhere.”

He opened his mouth to question you, but you moved before he could. You finally stood up, still fully inside Vincent. He moaned at the movement, stabilizing himself against the desk.

You gripped his hips tight, your pace immediately brutal. Your grip was sure to leave bruises that Chamber would complain about for the next several days. He’d never asked you to stop though, and you’d caught him looking over marks in the mirror before.

“A second to breathe, mon cœur,” He requested, biting down on his sleeve. Normally you’d tell him not to, but some protocol members weren’t keen on fraternization. And by some you meant Viper. And that was not a beast you were willing to poke.

“You had plenty of time to breathe,” you laughed. “No more waiting, hm?”

The moan he let out at that was pronographic, muffled only slightly by the now messy sleeve of his shirt. His hair was disheveled from your sudden movements, several strands now out of place. His shirt was completely untucked and pants on the floor beneath his desk.

“You look like a mess,” You commented. “Let’s see how far we can go.”

#6 hours late #whoops #letters to valorant #x reader #male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #seme male reader #valorant chamber #chamber #sub character #valorant #valorant x reader #chamber x male reader #valorant smut #vincent fabron #vincent fabron x reader

480 notes · View notes

doubleddenden · 2 years

Text

Damn the more I hear about Velma the worst it gets. This saddens me because I've been watching Scooby since before I could talk :(

Mainly what I'm seeing is that someone has contempt for the series + their own ideas for their own incredibly generic show and rather than make something unique, they're just insulting an established series.

My biggest gripes so far:

1. How tf do you got a Scooby Doo show without Scooby Doo? Is he too kiddy for your generic ugly adult cartoon?

2. Shaggy- oh sorry, NORVILLE. Look, I have no problem with the race thing- my literal main issue is that he's called SHAGGY for a reason. How hard is it to give him thick hair? On top of that they make him an actual druggie- let's pretend there's not some subtle racism behind making the perceived 'stoner' of the group black- it's boring. Yes yes we know the gang is a bunch of stoners, but isn't it funnier when it's just IMPLIED? Isn't it funnier that a man just REALLY FUCKING LOVES DOG TREATS and is willing to risk his life on a regular basis for god damn DOG TREATS? Instead they just turn him into yet another Seth Rogan tier predictable disappointment

3. The overall mischaracterization from what I'm seeing just... sucks, and again, I think part of that comes from a contempt for the series. You don't have to make the characters assholes to make them likeable! I know Rick and Morty and Seth McFarland have poisoned the well for a lot of people but you really don't!

Across the franchise there's plenty of fun ways to interpret the characters:

Fred: himbo that loves his friends, dad friend barely holding it together, obsessed with traps- take your pick, none of these are spoiled boring asshole rich kid.

Daphne: if you're opposed to damsel in distress, how about the cool martial artist fashionista made prevalent in the What's New Scooby Doo series or the live action movies? What about being a good reporter? Hell, even her goofy dorky self in Be Cool Scooby Doo is better than the stereotypical snooty popular girl. Props at least for keeping the red hair.

"Norville" is not a self friend zoning beta male and he's not really obsessed with drugs. Literally the man across DECADES of this franchise is ridiculously talented. Ventriloquism, improv acting, gymnast and athlete- seriously, why do you think they have him and the dog constantly running away from monsters and leading them into traps? The man was literally so good at that that he became a COACH. for MONSTERS. Let's also not forget that he was a race car driver! And had a hot girlfriend! In fact, fuck this friend zoned beta male shit- Shaggy literally pulls more girls (and men I think) in the entire franchise than the others COMBINED. If anything he should have dense harem protagonist energy. I'm talking more than Velma, dude also pulled her LITTLE SISTER- and she was okay with it because she knows he's a good guy(mind the AUs)! Pulled a girl that was kinda a monster fucker for him specifically when he was a werewolf, an actual fucking alien, several foreign girls of various nationalities, several average girls, a crazy but hot redneck girl that tried to SCHWOOSCH his bones after seeing the red shirt ONCE, pretty sure he did something good for Daphne to hang out with him for so long with just a bunch of dogs and a random kid they picked up, very sure actual monsters fell for him- and he's a nerd! He and his beloved best friend the talking dog are massive nerds! I reckon people still latch onto that and think he's the stereotypical nerd but no, no, Shaggy has so much going for him! Not to mention- not to mention! Animal lover! Doy! How do you miss that? He's always paired with the animals! The man is a collective family friend of the entire Doo clan! Every time there's a guest appearance with a non human entity, he's hanging out with them!

Velma... alright look. I'm about to say something real controversial. Real controversial. You ready? She is kinda boring and bland. She's smart and a good investigator, but really? This is who you base the show on? Recently she was allowed to be bisexual- that's great! She's well read, well informed, and if you want to skip the bitchy "its me or the dog" persona from Mystery Inc or the snooty geek from Be Cool, you could fall back to the quiet but cute and thoughtful personality she had in A Pup Named Scooby Doo. If not, she's just boring. I feel like most of the hype for her comes from memes or the people that think they're unique for finding her more attractive than Daphne (you're not btw). Like what does she do that the others cannot do? I'm pretty sure Daphne can do her job but without the min max on intelligence and some points in kicking ass. In fact, why are Fred and Daphne the assholes when Velma in TWO separate series has been the judgey bitch and overall asshole? If anything she should would fit the perfect "beta incel self perceived victim that's actually just a massive douche" trope!

And Scooby. First off fuck the writers for not including my boi. Second, you really couldn't make an adult comedy of a talking dog? If Scooby said fuck- scuze me, 'ruck'- I'd cry laughing! If Scooby was the druggie and Shaggy was normal, that'd be hilarious! Literally if they took every negative trait they forced onto the others and put it onto Scooby, you'd literally have a prime adult cartoon character right there. He's a gag character! Utilize it! I know in the recent series he's been pushed to the side for the others, but he's literally a comedic gold mine waiting to happen! Make him an arsonist! Make him have questionable opinions! It'd be hilarious because he's a literal dog that can't speak understandably half the time!

Look, if you want to make an "adult scooby doo" then I guess I can't stop you. Velma ain't how you do it though.

Btw before anyone jumps on me to defend the new show, the creator of the series supports JKR soooo

#velma #scooby doo

221 notes · View notes

steamberrystudio · 1 year

Text

13/08/2023 Devlog

Hallo! It is time for the bi-weekly Tumblr update once again

Summary:

Sprite art finished and imported (all sprites are now in the game)

All CG art completed

50% of CGs coded

The Ramble:

So here is the quick ramble for Gilded Shadows.

I finished all the remaining sprite art and got that imported into the game.

And I finished all the CG art. I have not finished coding the CGs as some of them take a bit longer due to Morgan. So I have a few more of those left to do.

I really did not expect to be finished with the CGs by this point but somehow managed to finish them by the end of Friday without killing my hand.

I've definitely been...uh...feeling it the past couple of days though. Ha ha.

Fortunately the art is done now so my hand will have plenty of time to rest through beta testing!

Upcoming Weeks:

Beta testing!

I have a few more things to wrap up, including coding the rest of the CGs and then Yuu's route will move into the beta testing stage which will last a few weeks; but I'm not sure how long.

So yeah. We're nearly to the final release for Gilded Shadows.

Even after release, I still have some KS related loose ends to tie up but the game is kind of the main thing to complete and we are nearly there.

Anyway, that's all for now on Gilded Shadows. By next update we should be mid-beta testing and I'll probably be working on some of the KS loose ends while waiting for feedback.

When Stars Collide:

For those following updates on this project:

I have received one new background since last time and a new sketch.

I have also done a fair bit of writing but since this is just my side project I've actually been tracking my word count progress a little less meticulously than usual. I don't know how many words it was at my last update so I don't know how much progress I've made since then. LoL!

I have one more short scene for Yren chapter 5 left but I also worked on the new chapter 3, which I had planned out but not started last time. So it looks like I wrote right at 10,000 words based on how long the scenes I know I wrote are. 💪

I also wrote Kav's first actual scene and appearance (well, it's part of the new chapter 3, not a separate scene.)

I've done a few other small things - worked on potentially re-designing the flowchart screens, changed up some character lore for a few characters. Changed a few character name spellings too (there are reasons for this; it wasn't just a whim. LoL)

And a few other minor things.

I also improved my WSC word count spreadsheet.

Keeping a detailed spreadsheet of my progress - including a specific goal system and progress tracker really helps keep me focused so that my forward momentum stays at a steady pace.

I'm not a naturally organised person - in fact, my natural state as a writer is quite chaotic and disorganised. But I have learned during Changeling that chaos does not serve me well in the development process and that I do better if I make myself use organisational tools to stay on track.

I haven't been meticulous with writing spreadsheets for WSC since it has been my side project until now. But as GS wraps up, it will become more of my focus so I want to be sure I have the tools in place to stay focused.

Hence...better spreadsheets. 💪💪

Side note. But did you lens flares are actually required when something is set in space? That is how you know it's sci-fi.

I don't make the rules.

#gilded shadows #otome games #english otome games #when stars collide #amare game #updates #that's a nice flare

70 notes · View notes

lucrezianoin · 11 months

Note

First, I want to thank you for the posts, they helped me reflect on our dear Astarion. I was enchanted by your story and identified myself as a demisexual person who has difficulty giving and receiving touch, who feels certain discomfort during sex. Now, the question, I'm Brazilian and I simply can't find access or anything about Astarion, but I wanted to write a fic with my Tav. Do you think I should try to write and translate, even though my English is pretty bad?

Thank you so much!! THIS MEANS A LOT! both the comment and your question because

I absolutely 100% relate. I am not English and for a very long time I wrote my fanfics in Italian, until I stumble upon a fandom that was much bigger in English.

I am sure people who read my fics now can feel that I am not a native speaker, I make plenty of mistakes and I know some of my sentences are written strangely. At the time I started writing in English my English was much much worse, I remember going through editing of my old fics about 4 years ago and I could see that I was catching up so many more mistakes.

And I have not read your fics if you have any in English but from this ask I could NEVER never tell that English is not your first language. I would definitely not define your English "pretty bad"... you should have seen mine when I started posted fics :'D on ao3....

I am sure other non native speakers will have other comments/opinions or suggestions... for me, I think starting writing fics in English def helped me improve it, and finding beta readers is a great tool too because you can see what grammatical mistakes end up in there! (ON THE DOWNSIDE... I am much worse at writing in Italian now :'D)

If you have enough time, maybe you could do both, that was also something I did a lot at the start! You never know how many other Brazilian fans are waiting to read fanfics!!

18 notes · View notes

samsexualdeancurious · 9 months

Text

The Sight of Stars (Makes Me Want to Dream)

Pairing: Technically none but I'm calling Sam x Castiel cos I wrote it and therefore I can 😤

Words: 1,027

Summary: Castiel returns from a year-long journey into the depths of Hell with precious cargo in tow.

Warnings: The Cage, mentions of torture

A/N: This is just a lil something expanding on an idea @wendibird had, also betaed by her 🥰️ This isn't very Christmas-y but I love it and Sam coming back from the dead is always a gift

---

Castiel’s wings burn with each upward push but he doesn’t slow down. He did not come this far, spend this long wandering the depths of Hell, only to fail when he finally has what he came for cradled against his chest.

His true form burns bright in the darkness of Hell and he knows it draws attention. He roars with his lion head even as his gazelle head swivels, noting the dark eyes peering at him from the shadows and darker forms lunge at him. Their screeches fill the air. Their claws leave Grace-bright marks on his body and tear feathers from his wings but he pushes on. His blade flashes around him and Demons fall away, vanishing into the depths of the Pit below.

Faintly, he thinks he can hear Lucifer screaming.

Castiel seems to fly forever and yet for no time at all, the strangeness of Hell twisted around him. A sliver of doubt is creeping into the corner of his mind when he sees it at last - a light, just a glimmer, that belongs in this darkness just as much as he does. Demons reach out, desperate to keep him. Fire licks and catches on his feathers. Castiel pushes himself farther, faster. Just a little more. Almost there -

Cool night air washes over his face as he slots back into the Earthly plane and the vessel he left waiting for him. He feels the gate of Hell close behind him as his knees buckle and Castiel tumbles into the grass, Sam Winchester still cradled in his arms.

Sam wakes with cool air in his lungs, grass beneath his body, and a vast expanse of stars above him.

He blinks up at the stars. Lucifer has made illusions with stars, of course, but never so many and besides, they always felt… wrong. Like a sky much younger than the one Sam is accustomed to. The one he’s looking at right now.

He breathes deeply and tastes sweet night air. Fresh, in a way not even Lucifer has proven himself capable of so far. Perhaps the Devil is improving. Perhaps Michael has a hand in this, though Sam strongly doubts that. The two are united in their hatred of him and that alone but Michael has never participated in Lucifer's games before.

A breeze stirs his hair and Sam soaks it in. He wants to enjoy every moment of this new trick while it remains peaceful.

"Sam."

Hm. That's a new one. Dean, Lucifer has conjured plenty of times. Enough that Sam almost feels immune. Almost. But Castiel? Never. Lucifer really is upping his game, then.

"Samuel."

Sam doesn't look. Being ignored will just piss Lucifer off but Sam wants to look at the stars and pretend he doesn't hurt to his very core.

His head is pillowed on an arm, he realizes. It moves now. Adjusts. Then a hand presses against his forehead and Grace washes through him.

Sam gasps, and his spine arches off the grass as panic rises in his chest and threatens to swallow him whole. But this Grace… it tastes different, on the back of his tongue. Unfamiliar and yet, very familiar. Not ice and fear. Not ash and flame. This is sweet. A warm spring rain, cleansing and gentle right down to his soul. He knows intrinsically that there are things wrong with him that not even an Angel can heal but the relief still leaves him breathless.

Castiel.

Sam looks, finally, and finds blue eyes watching him with concern. They soften when they meet his.

"There you are," Castiel murmurs.

Sam's gaze shifts beyond him at a movement over Cas’s shoulder and his brow furrows. Huge wings rise up from Castiel’s back. Tattered and charred, smoke rising from the feathers still, and still beautiful in a way that is beyond this plane of existence. The feathers are inky black and seem to mirror the stars above them. They flutter and one curves over Sam, like Cas is trying to protect him. When Sam blinks, though, all he sees is the stillness of the night sky.

"Castiel," Sam whispers, turning his gaze back to his friend’s face and God, his voice feels like it hasn't been used in at least a year. "Cas."

"Hello, Sam. It's good to see you."

Confusion and wonder war in Sam's head as he tries to work through what is going on. "How…? Where…?"

"We're in Stull Cemetery," Cas says softly. "Exactly one year from your leap into the Cage."

Sam blinks. "I'm not…?"

"In the Cage? Not anymore. You're safe now. Lucifer cannot touch you again."

The sob that tears itself from Sam's throat is raw and primal. He’s not sure he believes, not yet, but he wants to. He wants nothing more than to be so certain of his own safety. Of his family’s safety.

His brother. Where is his brother? The last thing Sam remembers of Dean is him with a face swollen from Sam’s own fists, kneeling on the grass by the car. Is he here still? How long has it been?

Sam tries to sit up but Cas holds him down. His hand flies up to grip the angel’s wrist. "Dean…?"

"Safe,” Cas assures him. “He was with Bobby last I saw. Though, that was a year ago.”

“A year?” Sam gasps.

“The Cage is deep in Hell. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Cas looks ashamed of himself, even though he fucking saved Sam. Saved him. He’s still processing that one. The warm press of Cas’s hand against his chest helps, skin on skin. A small corner of his mind realizes he’s naked but somehow it’s not important. He’s alive. He’s not in the Cage. It still feels impossible.

“Cas,” he says softly. “Pinch me?”

Cas’s brow furrows but he obediently pinches a spot next to Sam’s tattoo.

“Ow,” Sam hisses, batting his hand away. “Fuck. This is. Fuck.” He lets his head fall back against Cas’s arm. “I’m really out?”

“Yes, Sam.”

Sam manages a small smile, allowing that little spark of hope in his chest to grow. “Thanks, Cas.”

Cas returns the smile. “Happy to help.”

---

Like this fic? Support me longterm on Patreon HERE or make a one-time donation on Ko-Fi HERE.

—

Team Forever: @mrswhozeewhatsis @manawhaat @books-and-icecream @laughing-at-the-darkness @tumbler-tidbits @emoryhemsworth @imsuperawkward

#my writing #supernatural #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fic #spn fanfiction #sastiel #samcas #sam/cas

19 notes · View notes

yoonieper · 2 years

Text

Beyond— Prologue | KSJ

The greatest mystery is the unknown.

✫ Pairing: Astronaut!Seokjin x DNA Specialist!Reader

✫ Genre: angst!!!!, future fluff, future smut

✫ Rated: A for Anew

✫ Warnings: gets kinda meta, mentions of major character death, major character deaths (yes plural) but… tune in for chapter 1 (don’t get too sad!), mentions of ptsd and anxiety, this is very sad please get tissues friends (I promise the whole series ain’t like this at all :’D)

✫ Word Count: 4.2k

✫ Series Summary: A man from beyond with claims he’s come from another world. Not another planet, another world. Earth. A man on a mission, with only one purpose. You.

✫ Chapter Summary: It was a giant leap for mankind… A chance to see the impossible. They doubled, triple checked the numbers. The numbers didn’t account for the unexpected. A look into the beyond. It was him, he was the chosen.

✫ Now Playing: Starboy by The Weeknd (ft Daft Punk) and Frequency by Kid Cudi

✫ Betas: Thank you so much to @xxxanimangxxx and @mashajlynn for reading over this!

✫ Author’s Note: This story is brought to you by your local space nerd! Get ready for the ride y'all! We got the angst a comin~ Fun fact— got this idea when I visited NASA last year :3 Happy Birthday to the best star boy, please enjoy your third decade celebration and I promise the rest of the parts will be out for this soon!

No reposting, modifying. Translating is not allowed unless given explicit permission. Thank you so much : D

Masterlist coming soon (around 5 estimated chapters)

Everybody loved him. His face was plastered on everything space related you could imagine. Hats, tshirts, cups, dining sets, plushies, buildings, a space station for fucks sake, they even made underwear with his charming smile all over it.

No one complained about it though, because it was his face. Kim Seokjin. A beloved astronaut of the solar system.

One of the first things that caught everyone’s attention was the charming face underneath that helmet. Dark brown hair, kissable lips, eyes that just made you fall in love. He was a walking dreamboat. He was a part of a new class of astronauts and the handsome Kim Seokjin was already loved by the world even before he ever set foot outside the solar system.

But nope, if a handsome face wasn’t enough, the minute he was approved to head into space, it was hard to believe he was one person.

Scientific discovery after scientific discovery, improvements, theories, the whole shebang. In truth, from that alone you wanted to hate him. Mr. Perfect. It was annoying. Seokjin this, seokjin that, at some point you should get tired of it right? But nope, no matter how much you tried, as an astronaut yourself, you couldn’t help but admire him.

Not even just that, but you guys were close. No… not like that, he was just a good friend of yours. Yep, a friend, a great friend. Dare you say one of your best friends?

He probably never thought about you as such, constantly being surrounded by some of the greatest minds mankind has ever seen, you were sure that there were plenty of people he got along with better. You even saw it once.

A gala for all astronauts happened one day, you had been there, and of course, he had to as well. Surprisingly, for a good part of the night Seokjin was right by your side, you smiled, laughed, and drank together.

It was weird, before this night the two of you mostly hung outside of your work environment, he's been to your house, you’ve been to his… this was the first time you had made your friendship known to the public. Part of you worried about the press, the headlines **KIM SEOKJIN’S GIRLFRIEND??** But no, by the end of the night a group of other highly renowned astronauts, astronomers, and many other scientists were his company by the time you were leaving. No headlines.

As you were walking out you saw how happy they looked and you could only imagine the intellectual conversations they had that night. Honestly, you were just happy he spent time with you at all being the big shot that he was.

Part of you still always found yourself hoping for more.

Well, at least you did before it happened.

Seokjin remembered that day with painstaking detail, it was the worst day of his life after all.

You had made a discovery that made you so excited, you had bounced on the balls of your feet when you came up to tell him about your findings.

L/n Y/n… fuck even saying your name made his heart hurt.

You were on the cusp of one of the greatest discoveries science has ever seen. As an astrobiologist, traveling to different planets and studying its life was your job. Society had so far not found much besides a few plant-like species on a couple of distant planets, but intelligent life still remained undiscovered. You were about to change that, at least that’s all you told him before you were making your request to head up into space and check it out.

Seokjin hardly had time to say goodbye to you before you were in the rocket ready to prove if your theory was correct.

It happened so fast, so fucking fast. Seokjin was there… he watched the launch happen right there in mission control. He could never forget your voice on the intercom, you were so excited.

The entire solar system had seen the tragedy. Media coverage was expected with the claims you had made— details were mostly kept under heavy security. He was proud of you, you were about to truly change the world, he was already picturing the headlines as he was about to leave mission control.

L/N Y/N found proof that we are truly not alone.

He had a big smile on his face, right up till it happened. Launch was routine, you made it to the atmosphere and were all clear to jump. At this point, the most concerning part was over and he was about to leave…

That’s when the sirens went off. They were ultimately useless. What the world expected to see was your ship jumping through the wormhole, sailing off on an expedition that was about to change humanity. Instead they saw you enter the portal but space seemingly bending and twisting before an explosion. It wasn’t big, loud, or anything spectacular as one would expect, but it was as if the entire portal itself disintegrated and collapsed in on itself.

Seokjin remembers how quiet it was that day in mission control. He remembered the desperate attempts to reach you, hoping a miracle had happened and you made it to the other side. He remembered the panic, that heart sinking feeling knowing that the worst had happened.

It happened so fast too…

For a few days he just didn’t want to believe it, holding out hope just like mission control was. Maybe somehow you made it?

Well a few days after the accident a crew aboard a ship found a piece of your space craft. Hope died almost instanteously.

For a few years after that, space travel to that scale halted completely, everyone confused and terrified after the accident. Space used to be like a second home to Seokjin, but after the accident it became just as scary as it was to most people. A vacuum that wouldn’t hesitate to let you know who ruled.

It took awhile but after a thorough investigation they found out what happened. The details still were fuzzy, teams and teams of scientists tried their hand at uncovering the details, he did as well, but the mystery of the accident remained vastly in the dark.

The wormhole that was opened was unstable, the dark energy that was used to keep it open long enough to make it to the other side had dropped to low levels and collapsed in on itself. What they didn’t know was why that happened, why that wasn’t detected beforehand, and why hadn’t the incident resulted in a black hole if that was truly what occured?

None of it made sense. There was an internal investigation on everyone at mission control that day to see if there could have been malicious intent on clearing that Y/n was good to go through despite the unstable conditions, but it didn’t take long to see that that wasn’t the case. The records show that data matched ideal conditions. No one could really figure out what went wrong.

It took a while for far away missions to resume and it took even longer for Seokjin to eventually join back in on the missions. Your death hit everyone hard, the entire solar system grieved your loss, but for reasons that became too obvious after you were gone made it harder for Seokjin to just ‘move on.’

Everytime he walked into headquarters he would remember seeing your face, whenever he’d walk to the astrophysicist department, he’d think about the way you’d cheer for him anytime he’d leave for launch. You were always there in Mission Control watching, you were always there for him. Going back was too hard without you there.

The first time he went back to headquarters he had a mental breakdown when he didn’t see you in the lab. A bunch of new faces he didn’t recognize and none of them were you.

But eventually, his work on earth was not enough and he needed to go back out for field research. They were small missions at first, a trip to the far out planets’ moons, then to the neighboring solar systems, his furthest for a while was at the far out base nearly on the other side of the galaxy.

He didn’t like traveling too far, as much as headquarters proved whatever happened to you was a freak accident, each time he left home he feared he would suffer the same fate. Years passed, but you were always on his mind, sometimes he even swore to see you in mirrors and windows, he even swore he saw you walk into your old department, the door swung open and everything but as he rushed inside all he got was concerning glances from all the nameless scientists inside.

He had long been diagnosed with PTSD, it only coming months after the accident and was another reason he had been grounded for so long– he couldn’t pass the readmission screening. Lots of therapy made him realize these apparitions were likely just his mind still processing the trauma, as much as he wanted to hope you were out there still.

It was mission control that sort of “insisted” him to get back on the job and he knew that they eventually forcefully passed his rescreening. He was better than before, but not near where an Astronaut of his nature should be at. He would sometimes see you in empty seats reflected off the windows of the spacecraft whenever he’d launch. He wasn’t fine but he pretended to be.

Despite his instability on October 16th, 4122 all over the news they blasted the most basic details of his upcoming mission. A team of seven, him included, would be tasked with studying a black hole up close for the first time ever, Sagittarius A, the supermassive one at the center of the galaxy.

On launch day he was so nervous, too nervous really. The last time the news was this big, he never saw you again. It was a strange experience, he smiled and tried to be optimistic in front of the cameras and any interviews he had about the mission, but there was this sense of dread that wouldn’t leave him as he prepared.

Seokjin had tried to back out of the mission multiple times— he tried to tell mission control he was not cut out for a mission like this, but they insisted he go. He was one of the heads in charge of conducting the study and he was also one of the most experienced astronauts on the team— he really had no choice but to go.

Before he could even realize he was on the ship, “The Beyond,” and they were staring into the wormhole that was to take them straight to the center of the galaxy.

He had mission control in his ear telling him to calm down, they were monitoring his heart rate, but as they prepared to enter, his anxiety had gotten so bad and he started to shake so much that he had to get one of the junior astronauts on the mission to take over.

“Uh— this is mission control— Seokjin we’re picking up on an elevated heart rate— please confirm you’re alright— over.” He heard over the intercom as he tried to do the breathing exercises he talked about with his therapist.

“Copy, This is Seokjin, just nervous.” He faintly laughed and the rest of the crew joined in.

“How many times have you been out here, what’s making you so nervous?” Jungkook, the junior astronaut who took over for him asked.

Part of him wondered if he should lie or make light of the situation but as he stared at the wormhole he couldn’t joke about this.

“I keep thinking about her.” It was a simple answer, cut throat, but he was honest, painfully so. His heart ached so much and facing the very thing that killed you was almost too much to bear.

The only reason he hadn’t broken down was he had an image to upkeep and he couldn’t be one of the senior astronauts acting that way. He couldn’t drag the rest of his team down.

The mood immediately turned sour at the mention of you. Most of the crew onboard had been there when the accident happened— they all knew how close you both were.

No one said anything, there really wasn’t anything to say. Instead, Jimin, another astronaut on the team, floated over and lightly rubbed his arm.

“Alright mission control, we should be prepared for launch on our end.” Jungkook said happily and everyone started to head back to their seats.

“Beyond, take off will begin in t-2 minutes, over.”

That dread was horrible. It was so bad that even after they launched and were staring for the first time ever with human eyes, the black hole that we’ve been circling around for eons he still didn’t feel anymore at ease.

The whole thing had been broadcasted, mission control lightheartedly told them the emotional reactions from people all over the solar system and that those living on the moon base had taken pictures and videos of the whole launch process.

Everyone was in good spirits but Seokjin as they began to step up all the equipment. They were at a good distance away from the black hole, far enough away they wouldn’t be at risk of getting pulled into its gravitational field, but they got as close as they could in order to conduct their research.

That feeling, that sense of dread that he tried his best to ignore for the sake of the mission would not go away. It was only 4 days after their study started that he found out why.

EMERGENCY

The sirens continued by blare, mission control had started to break up, and the crew was frantic. The impossible had happened.

Only Seokjin had been awake at the time monitoring some numbers. That dread he’d been experiencing had made it hard to sleep so instead he occupied himself with the work he enjoyed, it kept him awake and his mind busy.

It was so sudden that Star, the A.I. program on the ship, had alerted him of an anomaly.

“Seokjin, there seems to have been a shift in the gravitational field.” She pointed out. At first he didn’t believe her, thinking at first maybe one of the instruments had malfunctioned or something had damaged the equipment, but as he looked out the window a horrible reality began setting in.

Seokjin had stared at the black hole for a while, trying to see if he had gone crazy or not. He’d been staring at the black hole for 4 days straight and he knew it wasn’t that close the last time he checked.

He’d gone ahead and got everyone up after that.

“It’s not just me right.” He asked everyone as they all sleepily rubbed their eyes and looked out the window.

“That’s strange— but we can easily set ourselves back in course. Hobi, Yoongi, try to see if you can move us back.” Namjoon— the official head of the mission ordered the pilots.

They both nodded before getting into position. Mission control had picked up on the strange occurrence as well and had agreed with Namjoon’s plan.

Everyone thought this would be a simple fix, even Seokjin had calmed down slightly thinking this was just one of those weird stories he’d have to tell later, but the minute he’d relaxed slightly was when everything went from strange to…

As they both switched to manual piloting and turned the ship around to try and pull themselves from the pull of the black hole, it seemed like it had different plans for them as the thrusters boosted the black hole’s hold on them only seemed to get stronger.

It was quickly concluded by the team, mission control, and their instruments that they were getting pulled inside at a rate that was increasing by the second. In that short time that it took for them to come up with a plan and act on it, the rate had exceeded what their boosters were capable of.

It didn’t make sense and while Namjoon, Hoseok, and Yoongi were trying to figure out a new plan everyone else’s attention turned toward the black hole out the window.

“Hyung, what are you doing!” Namjoon exclaimed, trying to get his attention.

They sat there for a while trying to figure out a plan as the black hole got closer and closer. The plans they came up with just continued to fail, and the more fearful or frantic everyone became.

The relatively lighthearted mood in the ship turned somber and desperate.

“Hyung, we’ll be alright… right?” Jungkook questioned. He and Seokjin had been sitting together on the floor, right below where the window was. He’d been relatively quiet this whole time, everyone not wanting to disturb anyone in case they got an idea.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine, someone will come up with something. I’ve been in a couple situations like this where the end seemed so close before someone got an idea at the last minute and we were saved.” Seokjin tried to reassure him.

He wasn’t lying either. Before your accident Seokjin used to travel so many times, he used to go on so many missions that there had been a couple times he’d been in tricky situations. He probably would have never flown again if that happened now, he already was strongly considering quitting his job when he got back to the home planet.

It was this thought that he focused on to keep him calm enough to assist the team.

“Good because I haven’t been on many missions yet. There’s so much I want to accomplish, I can’t die yet.” Jungkook tried to laugh, but he saw the tears that had started streaming down his face.

Seokjin hurriedly went over and pulled the younger one into an embrace. This, this hurt more than the impending doom they were facing, seeing their suffering hurt more.

Jungkook was so young too, he was only 25, way younger than someone on a mission like this should be. He was top of his class and graduated ahead of the original class he was put into. He was doing missions pretty much as soon as he became an astronaut and quickly worked himself up to be invited to a mission like this.

“My mom said a mission like this was too dangerous for me— I wanted to prove her wrong but—“ Every word was even more painful to hear. Seokjin tried to stop the pain, fear of a fate that seemed more and more likely but he couldn’t.

Eventually Seokjin and Jungkook joined the rest of the crew to contact mission control again, but their growing proximity to the black hole was intercepting their connection and they were only vaguely able to hear the sounds of panicked voices on the other end before they would get too fuzzy to understand.

No one had any ideas— no one could have prepared for a situation like this as everyone here knew what was happening was impossible. There was nothing anyone could figure out under these conditions.

As the team became more frantic Seokjin just turned to stare out the window once more.

Something that had seemed so intriguing a few hours before had begun to show its true colors. The glowing accretion disk that circled the sphere that looked into entirety. So many strange thoughts came to him at once.

He wondered what mission control might be seeing back at that moment.

Had the predictions been true? Had they managed to get close enough that they had started to slow down to those that were watching? Likely not, they weren’t that close yet.

What were the headlines going to say? Would the headquarters be the same after this? Would this be the final blow that shuts down the astronaut program? Were people going to grieve in the way he hoped? Would his family miss him? What was his legacy? Was everyone going to forget about him? Everyone is forgotten.

He only hoped the research they sent back to mission control would do some good.

What would kill them first? The heat, the radiation, maybe they would survive long enough to get the experience of being spaghettified? Probably not though, they weren’t making it past the event horizon. The last thing they would all see might be the blinding light of the accretion disk before being burned.

None of them could probably come out of this situation anyway. He wouldn’t be surprised if by this point they had all suffered a poisonous dose of radiation positioning. They probably wouldn’t survive long enough to feel the effects.

They were not making this, were they?

It was on cue that the sirens on the ship began to go off.

EMERGENCY

Mission control had tried to reach them but all they were getting at this point was static.

The ship was starting to creak because of the speed and the force of gravity pulling them in. It was obvious very quickly that it was going to happen soon.

Everyone was scared to move, scared one step would be the final blow.

Seokjin didn’t know what to think. He wanted to cry, scream, beg for mercy but at this point he knew no one would hear him. There was nothing, absolutely nothing anyone could do at this point. Not even a miracle could save them.

He took a second to look around at all the crew.

Kim Namjoon— a friend he’d met a few missions ago. A good leader that would be missed.

Min Yoongi— One of the best engineers he’s ever met. They’d been friends long before your accident. He was happy he was here.

Jung Hoseok— A pilot who could get you out of anything. The fact that he wasn’t able to get them out of this was truly telling. He was really a light on the ship.

Park Jimin— A lead researcher on the team along with him. Another long time friend that had been there for him when he lost you all those years ago. He’d never met a guy as smart and caring before.

Kim Taehyung— A long time friend of Jimin that he had recruited for this mission and had only met recently. An interesting guy who always had such unique perspectives on their findings. Seokjin only wondered what they could have found if this mission hadn't failed.

Jeon Jungkook— A kid who really shouldn’t be on a mission like this. They had only met recently, but someone he felt he needed to look after. That kid was really going to go places if the universe wasn’t so cruel.

These were the people he was to die with. While not everyone he had known for long, he hoped for a split second they might be able to see each other again.

The ship started to get so hot so quickly.

He wished he could have thought of something, something that would have saved everyone here from this horrible fate.

It was so strange how they got here. It was as if a hand had plucked them out of the void and was pulling them to the center. Nothing made sense, a death even his worried brain had not forecasted.

Seokjin looked at everyone again. It was almost too bright to see anything anymore, but for a second longer he saw them. He saw Jungkook, an expression that matched his age, a fear so genuine it hurt to look into his big eyes that sparkled more than the stars ever did.

He hardly remembered what happened next, or rather, he wished he couldn’t remember anything that happened next.

He heard a big cracking sound before everyone was being violently pulled out into space through a hole possibly.

He didn’t know why he was able to see it, maybe he died in that moment as well, but he saw as all of his friends were pulled into space, their bodies practically vaporized instantaneously. He hoped they didn’t suffer.

Space was strange in the fact that there was no sound, there was absolutely nothing. No scary noises, no dramatic soundtrack as they all met their end, nothing as grandiose as some would expect for a moment like this.

He couldn’t scream, he couldn’t cry for them, he was just subjected to the forces of nature as for some reason he was still aware and still being pulled further inside.

He zoomed past the event horizon, he saw space and time bend around him, he was sure he could see himself everywhere he turned. The darkness got bigger and the blinding lights around him grew fainter and fainter.

When would it end? When would he finally be put out of his misery?

He wished it was sooner, he felt it, his atoms all string into a single line as he was pulled even closer to the singularity.

Things were dark after that for a while.

The next thing he knew he was staring into the endless void, yet it wasn’t as endless as it should be.

Edges, borders? What?

Then a glow, a glow so similar to that of which one would turn on a computer— a very old computer at that.

Faces, there were faces staring at him.

Yes, he’s definitely died long before this. Was this the beyond?

“Seokjin… we’ve been expecting you.” One of the faces said to him.

“We have a mission for you.”

70 notes · View notes