#Kinda? I just kinda shove all my interpretations into there so why not | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

livingemkayde · 9 months

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ch iv. tacit

joel miller x f!reader x unrequited!tommy miller (no outbreak AU)

chapter four of chaser

warnings: 18+ minors please dni. love triangle forming formed. lots of angst, miscommunications. very brief mentions of sexual situations. age gap, reader is 23 and joel is 35. Tommy is 30. (ages of all characters and plot do not follow canon strictly for the story’s sake).

summary: tommy miller 'accidentally' sets joel up on a blind date on your night out. you're definitely not happy about it, and neither is joel.

a/n: tried something kinda new with this chapter. Been feeling like my writing as a whole lowkey gives bare bones considering all my edits and things i cut out so i tried to keep most of my ideas, just refined them more. ~ THIS SYMBOL REPRESENTS POV CHANGE. Really trying to rein in the idea that they’re fucking terrible at communicating and they interpret situations differently (but differently in such a similar way). If yall liked this please lmk. and dont worry things will get better in the next chapter (i already have half of it written).

if you would like to read more of mine: masterlist!

“I did good, didn’t I?” What the fuck. “What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair. “She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.” “You invited her?” you ask, your voice small. “Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

“Are you serious?” you almost want to hit Joel upside the head.

He just nods, raising his beer to you and chugging down a good portion of it.

“God. You’re kidding, right?” You turn back to Tommy.

“Sorry, baby. Dead serious.”

“Jesus,” you shake your head, tipping back the remainder of your second drink.

Tommy’s birthday. On Sunday. As in like, two days from now, and you had no clue, not until this very moment, the two brothers staring back at you like they don’t see the issue with this.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“‘M tellin’ you now?” Tommy laughs. You shove him playfully.

“Well, we have to throw you a party,” you announce, shaking your head at the thought that maybe, if Joel didn’t say anything, you wouldn’t have known about Tommy’s birthday at all.

“No, I don’t think —”

“No excuses,” you say, shrugging your shoulders and giving him a shy smile. “Joel and I will take care of it. Right?” you look over at him, but he stares back with wide eyes.

He stutters out words, trying to give an excuse, but doesn’t get very far.

“Joel and I will throw you a party,” you say, giving Joel a teasing look. “You gotta up my pay, Miller.”

“In your dreams, I pay you plenty. And Sarah’s an angel — I’m basically paying you to sit around and hang out.”

“‘S hard work,” you chuckle, the boys laugh. “Can we use your backyard, Joel?”

“Why.”

“You have a pool…and a barbecue…and a lawn.”

“Jesus. ‘S like y’all don’t own houses.”

“Great! Party at Joel’s,” you smile at him, teasing almost — flirting. But you reel it in at Tommy’s voice.

They start talking about something regarding the current state of Joel’s backyard and you get lost in the conversation, itching to approach the bar and get another drink.

Your phone buzzes, it’s Olivia calling. You excuse yourself and make a quick break outside.

“Hello?”

Hey babe, so how’s it going? Am I interrupting anything??

You roll your eyes.

“Liv, c’mon. Tommy is here with us,” you say into the phone, peering back at the brothers perched on a high table through the window.

Ugh. Fucking buzzkill. So you’re not gonna make a move tonight?

“Jesus. No — no.”

Sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself more than me.

“If I get some alone time with him then maybe we’ll — talk about it. I guess…” you look back to them again. Joel’s eyes catch yours and you turn around quickly.

“I dunno though. Tommy’s being clingy.”

He’s always clingy. Sneak Joel into the bathroom, maybe y'all can go for round two.

“Liv!” you chastise, your cheeks heat at the thought.

Keep me posted. And have fun, girl.

“I will, thanks. Love you, bye.”

Love you, bye.

You hang up, rubbing your hands on your upper arms to shield yourself from the cold. You need another drink desperately.

You walk back in. The roaring crowd meets your ears immediately. Dim string lights and a couple shots in and things had been going — good.

Relatively good. The best you could hope for out of your Friday night out with the boys.

Joel isn’t being an ass and Tommy is relatively chill so things have been good. It’s fun being out with them. Especially when Tommy might be too distracted by the crowd to see you staring at Joel — the way his biceps stretch the cotton of his t-shirt. The way his lips curl around his glass. The glint in his eyes when he laughs. And you know for certain, Tommy doesn’t notice Joel’s hand resting on your thigh for a couple, fleeting seconds every so often.

You approach the bar and ask for another drink. You’re not sure where you stand with Joel, you two haven’t been afforded much alone time since the phone call. But things might finally feel good. Especially between the brothers.

Maybe it had been way too good — way too calm — because something always had to fuck everything up — and this was that moment.

A long legged blonde walks through the double doors like a scene out of a movie. Somewhere deep down in the teenage part of your psyche, you want to say her clothes are ill-fitting, her lipstick — a garish shade of mauve, her hair — coarse and utterly damaged. But it’s not. She’s none of those things.

She's perfect.

It's been two days since the incident on the phone. Joel and Tommy have been sort of MIA with a big part of their project — coming back home late, when Sarah’s already asleep. You got your car fixed (all on your own) so you leave them with some leftovers on the table as soon as they get back.

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

Joel had said when you pointed out the food on the table last night. You recall everyone’s eyes widening, the pet name slipping from his lips with ease. It sounded like butter to your ears — fighting the urge to smile a mile wide and kiss him like you’ve been begging to do since the day you met. But you knew Tommy noticed, you all noticed. Joel brushed it off with a cough, saying something about how it had been a particularly rough day.

Tommy didn’t say much about it. But he wasn’t acting strange which was good. Even tonight, he’s still acting himself — it’s a bit of a relief.

Even now, when surprisingly, Tommy stands and greets the woman, pulling her into a hug. Joel stands too, though he looks a bit confused.

You stare at them from the bar, Tommy says something to Joel, obviously introducing the blonde to him. Joel’s face contorts into recognition at the name, maybe Tommy has mentioned her before.

You don’t even notice the bartender placing your drink down in front of you, abandoning it and beelining towards them. The drink sweats on the bartop, alone. Forgotten.

“Why don’t you go with Joel?” Tommy says, ushering her towards Joel’s side. “Grab her a drink?”

You look up at Joel in passing, the blonde on his other side, you try to keep your face normal, but a look slithers onto your brow. He knows exactly what you’re trying to say.

What the fuck?

His eyes scrunch for a half second, saying, I don’t know, either and stalks away with the blonde. You watch them leave, but Tommy’s voice snaps you out of your trance, a heavy arm braces itself over your shoulder as you both watch them approach the bar.

“I did good, didn’t I?”

What the fuck.

“What?” you echo your thoughts, looking over at Tommy. He smiles at the pair.

“She’s my next door neighbor. I fixed up her mailbox and got to talkin’ — said I thought she would get along with Joel.”

“You invited her?” you ask, your voice small.

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs and rubs your shoulder. “‘S what I just said, baby.”

Joel looks — you don’t really know what he looks like. He doesn’t look completely uninterested, but you can spot the glint in his eye a million miles away. And when he lacks it too, like right now.

But maybe you like to imagine what his eyes look like — just for you. How you can feel his glances from across a room, how his eyes meet yours through a crowded bar and never let go. Like a string attaches your irises and pulls you, locked together, forever.

It doesn’t seem like he’s looking at her like that but you’re beginning to realize you know nothing of what these boys might do.

It’s not like Joel owes you anything in this moment — and you’re not asking him. You know what he has to do to save both of your asses from Tommy’s precise, unwavering eyes, and he’s doing it. He’s strong — but you’re not sure if you’ve got that kind of fight in you. To let him go, with wandering eyes and wandering, delicate fingers braced all over his body. Maybe this is how he feels — no — now you’re certain your feelings match Joel’s in those fleeting moments when he catches you with Tommy.

It leaves you feeling sick. Guilty? Sure. Sad? Oh, definitely.

Jealous? Yeah. That one.

Even if it might be unrightfully so. But you keep it down the best you can.

“You think they look good together?” Tommy says from the table now. You don’t remember him moving.

“Yeah,” you reply in a soft voice.

He clears his throat when you stare at them for too long.

“Yeah,” you say again, louder, when you turn to him. He smiles back.

“‘S what I thought, too.” he throws some trail mix into his mouth. “Think she might be good for him.”

“Good for him,” you echo, absentmindedly. The only thing you can think about — and look at, for that matter — is the way her manicured fingers brush over his arm, and how he doesn’t push them away.

Good for him.

She seems good for him. Maybe all he needs is a bobbing blonde bimbo in his life. Something to brighten up his day. You thought you were good for him. Thought you were good for his life. Thought you were good for everyone.

But when he laughs a bit — you can’t help but wonder: what do you think you know anymore?

“You alright?”

You snap your head to Tommy again.

You feel like crying but you bite back the desperate tears.

“Yeah,” you say, the feeling in your throat rising with your reply, and even more so with the next. “‘M fine.”

You watch the bartender set a drink down in front of the unnamed woman and she accepts it graciously. The pair begins to walk back, she’s close to Joel’s side. You bite your tongue, whipping out your phone instead to sneak Olivia a sad, solemn text.

You look down, the tears pooling to the front of your eye, momentarily blurring your vision like someone just released a flash bomb in the bar — maybe an ambush — this certainly feels like one.

You can’t really read the legibility of your writing, knowing it's littered with typos, your thumbs moving faster than your mind — saying something about a woman and Joel and almost regrettably because of how in the moment you are right now — how fucking stupid Tommy Miller is — even though you know this is far from his fault.

The pair stands before you. The woman smiles down at you — your body failing to stand until Tommy puts a gentle hand on your shoulder, ushering you up to your feet.

Why is everything coming out of Tommy’s mouth muffled to your ears?

Maybe Joel can see the unshed tears in your eyes, but he stops the introduction on its head — the pity clear in his voice. That you can hear. The honey-rich, southern — homey — sound of his drawl punching through the sound barrier of stupid teenage hurt feelings and childish jealousy wrapped around you like a blanket—

“You alright, sweetheart?”

There it is again. That fucking pet name that holds you in a vice grip, sends shooting electricity down your spine, makes you want to scream out to the entire bar — please — please. Just stop this bullshit, end it. Press rewind to five minutes ago when things seemed to be going good and make this — fucking please — make this stop.

But you don’t say that. The tears recede at his voice, you smile up at him like a scene rehearsed and then back to the blonde. She stares at you, her brow a bit cocked and at his words — you know this is far from the acting normal you and Joel unspokenly try to adhere to. Even in the worst circumstances — like this one.

“Yeah,” you brush him off quickly, he moves to speak but you cut him off, a surprisingly cool tone braced on your lips.

“Nice to meet you,” you smile, taking her hand, telling her your name. “Tommy said you’re his neighbor?”

“Yeah that’s right,” she laughs. “Quite the handyman.”

“I try my best,” Tommy jests from beside you. She laughs.

“Caroline,” she finishes with, dropping your hand. You smile back.

She’s pretty, and nice, and fucking funny and you want to be so fucking mean to her because she’s got her hands all over Joel and she’s insanely gorgeous but you know better. You like to think you're far from your teenage years — even if you feel like you’re drowning in your numbers.

You can see her better in this light.

A lump in your throat forms because what’s even worse than her being pretty is that she looks older.

More like Tommy — more like Joel.

More age appropriate.

Less like you.

“So what do you do?” Caroline says as you all sit.

“Oh. I’m Joel’s nanny—” you stifle an awkward laugh. You’ve never said that out loud.

“Joel needs a nanny?” she bites back with a witty smirk on her face. Everyone laughs.

“I’m Sarah’s babysitter, just got my bachelors in May though,” you laugh back. She nods.

“What did you study?”

“English.”

“Ah. English. Remember those days.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m a journalist. Work for some company no one cares about, blah blah blah. You get it,” she says, sipping on her drink.

Great. Journalist.

“Do you like it?” Tommy asks from beside you. You get lost in her words, not really hearing anything besides how she's better and farther along in a similar field as you.

You mumble something to Tommy about how you need another drink, hopping to the bar when everyone settles into the conversation.

Like clockwork, you can feel Joel’s eyes on you, tracking you across the bar and when you slip further into the crowd.

You push through to get to the bathroom but when you arrive, you freeze.

How could you be so stupid?

You’re surprised the door to that bathroom doesn’t show your fingerprints and scratch marks from the other side. You remember it being nicer than it currently stands before you. A small smile finds its way to your lips at the thought. Everything seems to fade when you think about that night — when you think about how Joel makes you feel.

But you can’t go back in. That would be setting yourself up for the ultimate failure. Disqualifying you from the race because of a faulty start.

You push into the next bathroom, some ways down the small hallway.

The door shuts behind you, a rumbling tune plays through the walls of the bathroom, shaking the mirror and ruining the look you try to get at yourself. You can almost see the fatal flaw written on your face through the rippling glass: the thought that this would ever work out between you and Joel.

The woman beside Joel keeps touching him.

It’s not that it bothers him, particularly. It’s just that he can feel her wanting need pulse off her body like a fire alarm. The thought that he might look her way now is comical. Especially when you slip towards the bathroom. The same fucking bathroom all those weeks ago. Like it’s been sitting here waiting for the two of you to get inside and let hell break loose.

But it stares at Joel and bites back with teeth and fangs when you slip inside. Normally a smirk or even a wide smile would be wedged on his face from the implication. Follow me inside, tell me what you’re thinking with your actions, not words. Pin me up against the wall, let me say your name. Let me tell you I’m yours. But everything about right now screams the opposite of That Night.

It’s different this time. Instead, he can feel the sadness at your greeting and the look in your eye that followed.

Tommy is such a fucking idiot.

Joel’s always known there was a temper on Tommy since they were young. And there has always been that godforsaken sibling rivalry because Tommy turned out to be a good man. And as Joel reasons with himself — maybe Tommy is a better man than he is because all Joel wants to do is follow you into the bathroom, see if you’re alright, ask you to forget about this nonsense and just stay with him. Don’t let this push you to Tommy. Don’t let this ruin everything that’s been building.

Maybe that makes him a bad man for wanting. But maybe it also makes him a good man for not following through.

He can’t even drink anymore. The light beers are clearing from his head, but honestly, he was dead sober at the sight of you with unshed tears in your eyes.

But when you emerge from the bathroom like nothing is wrong, Joel falters. He isn’t sure what to do when you request a drink from the bar — and he isn’t sure what to do when it turns out to be a shot, you down it in one gulp and don’t ask for a chaser.

Maybe you want it to hurt.

It’s the first indication that something — anything — is wrong. And Joel would wager a million on what that something is.

Joel thought it had been clear the night of the dinner at his house. He thought his silent words snuck into Tommy’s brain enough to send a clear signal. Back off, dude.

But apparently it didn’t. Because this woman is sitting next to him, and her hand rests on his knee now. And she keeps snaking her fingers through to rest on his bicep. And he’s just about had enough.

“You should come. Right, Joel?”

“Huh,” he pushes out, looking back to his brother.

“To my party?”

It’s almost like Tommy is pleading with him. And he’s not sure what to say. Of course he doesn’t want her to come. But it’s Tommy’s party and the kick under the table from Tommy’s boot forces the words out of his mouth even though he wants to say the opposite.

“Yeah, sure.”

Tommy gives him a look. Joel knows this woman — Caroline — is nice. Hell, she might’ve even caught his eye if he wasn’t worshiping the ground you walk on. Maybe Tommy knew that too, and that’s why he invited her. She seems nice, and funny, but Joel can’t get you off his mind. The thought of you — like a bee who won’t quit buzzing around a flower.

“Need some water. Y’all want anythin’?”

They shake their heads and give their thanks but Joel wasn’t really paying much attention to them anyways. He can only look around the bar and see an apparent lack of your figure — anywhere.

He stands and searches for you, only to see your figure in a flash, walking towards the entrance. He catches your arm and you turn to him, a feigned, sad smile appears on your face.

Jesus.

You can’t even look him in the eyes — hold the unbreaking eye contact he made a mental note of when you two first met.

“What a’you doin’?” Joel asks, trying to keep his voice from wavering.

“Need some air,” you say.

Joel follows you wordlessly. He doesn’t care if his date or his brother sees him walk you out. It’s nothing to hide from. You guys are — friends.

The cool air hits his skin. He sees that you’re cold, but doesn’t want to hold you against him like he desperately needs to — at the implication that maybe you’d turn him down. Or worse, push him away.

“So…a party,” Joel starts with, grimacing internally at his chosen words.

“Yeah — if you don’t wanna help, you don’t have to. I was just joking in ther—”

Joel cuts you off. It hurts a bit — the thought that you think he wouldn’t want to help you.

“I do — wanna help.”

You smile shyly.

“Pick me up tomorrow? We’ll go shopping.”

“Be there at four, Sarah's goin’ to a friend’s for dinner and a sleepover.”

“She’s got more social battery than me,” you chuckle, looking back into the bar.

“You ‘n me combined — maybe she got it from Tommy.”

“Maybe,” you echo.

Suddenly, the air feels less playful.

“I didn’t know,” Joel starts with because he doesn’t know what else to say. His words make you laugh a bit. He doesn’t know what to do anymore. All he wants is you.

“I know —” another laugh, but he knows you think none of this is funny. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

Is it just him or is the glint in your eyes gone?

“No, I…Jesus. Tommy just — fuckin’ — I don’t know her, I — know of her. But I didn’t tell him I wanted to meet her.”

“Joel,” you say, your voice breaking a bit. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He can see that much displayed on your face.

“She seems nice,” you note. His brows furrow because he can tell you’re being genuine. Why does it seem like you want him to admit it too?

“C’mon,” he says, a harsh chuckle in the form of a crisp breath escapes his mouth, pleading with you—

Stop this.

“What do you want me to say?” you whisper, breathless. He stares back at you like he doesn’t know what could possibly be running through your head. You need him to say his truth now. Or honestly? You’re not sure it’ll ever come out and you’ll be left behind forever.

“Anythin’ but that,” he breathes, the air puffs cold around your face.

You want to speak but nothing comes out. You wrap your arms around yourself, the cold biting through your thin top. He looks unmoving and warm. But he stands with his hands shoved in his pockets.

Why isn’t he holding you?

“Well she does,” his brows cock at your words. “Seem nice.”

“I don’t like her. I —”

I like you. I want you. I need you.

It’s on the tip of his tongue. Maybe he’s about to confess and the dam holding all your feelings from the last month will break through. But he’s searching for the words — and that’s when you know. Because he shouldn’t be searching for anything. Not when it comes so easy to you. Not when what he makes you feel is threatening to spill from your lips at every chance you get. He shouldn’t be searching for the right things to say when you can think of a million possibilities.

He steps forward, grabbing your hand in his. His fingers play with yours as you wait with bated breath. Waiting for the —

Be with me, stay with me. Forget about them. Forget about everything. I just need you.

You hold out for one last moment. Maybe he can’t articulate his feelings as well as they ring true in his mind.

You step back a bit, moving to turn, moving to open your body as a silent invitation for him to follow you. Your fingers pull on his a bit towards your direction, pulling him, propelling him towards what you want him to say. But he doesn’t say those words. Instead—

“Where are you goin’?”

Your hand holding his fingers pulls slightly again. A life raft. A beacon of hope. The last twinge that you have to offer him so he can finally break down his walls and be with you.

Because that’s all you want. You just want him.

“Home.”

You say it. It might be the first time since Caroline walked through the doors that he’s looked into your eyes. You’re pleading with him. With every ounce in your body. Just fucking say it.

It's a silent invitation, you ask him with your eyes. And with the fingers pulling at his.

Come with me. To my house, to my bed. Stay with me. Come with me. Leave them behind, and stay the night, stay till the next night too. Forget about the blonde laughing at Tommy’s jokes. Hell, forget about Tommy. Just fucking ditch this hell hole and take me home. And come with me and don’t ever leave.

Please.

But it seems like you both don’t talk as well with your eyes as you thought. And it seems like you don’t know this man in front of you at all.

Because he steps back a bit, nodding, dropping your reaching fingers, and says those fatal words that solidify your fatal flaw.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

Joel arrives at Caroline’s house. She somehow convinced him to drop her off at home. She keeps insisting Joel come in for a night cap. But he’s too fucking sad and pissed to even consider speaking to her for another two minutes longer.

His head pounds. But not from the alcohol, from the quiet heartbreak settling in his chest at the memory of your words. At everything that had happened that night. It was meant to be a fun evening. But when he left you outside the bar, and ran to fetch Tommy, he knew this would go down in one of his most regrettable moments. And his most sad, too.

Home.

The word rings in Joel’s ears. But you looked so fucking sad and you were already moving away from him. He had failed to say what he really meant to say — I want you. I just need you.

Maybe that truly was the end and maybe he failed to say what he thought and it turned you off. Made him unwanted in your eyes.

Solidified the fact that he might never be a good man.

Not like Tommy.

But you were turning away — your fingers hanging onto his because he was the one who grabbed your hand first, and pulled you towards him with his fingers, his eyes, with his body — desperately.

You kept pulling away — pulled away with sad eyes and he desperately wanted you to stay but he couldn’t make you do anything. Not when you look like that and you sound equally sad and broken.

So he thought of what you deserve. Maybe even what you wanted at that moment.

He finally dropped your hands, the warm spots your fingers held — were trapped under, brushed against the cold and Joel shivered.

“I’ll get Tommy to drive you home.”

He said it, but didn’t want to act on his words. He wanted to be the one to drive you home and to slip into your house, then maybe into your bed after that.

But he wasn’t — you didn't want him to.

He was sitting in the truck outside Caroline’s house as she pulls all her best tricks to get him to come inside.

But he brushes them all off, and drives back in silence until he slumps in bed.

“Fuckin’ — sit up, Jesus,” Tommy says, pulling your body upright in the passenger seat of the truck.

You grumble with him.

“‘M fine laying down. Stop micromanaging me.”

You’re drunk.

The shot you took before talking to Joel outside the bar was beginning to take root. And all the other shots after that, when Tommy ushered you in to grab one last drink, and you just happened to down three more before leaving.

“‘M not — mircomana— you’re a fuckin’ piece of work.”

You smile lazily at him.

“Like you aren’t?”

He laughs back.

There's a tense silence after Joel’s name pops up on Tommy’s phone that sits comfortably on the center dash.

Tommy speaks first.

“What’d you and Joel talk about?”

“Oh, nothing,” you say, his head twitching a bit at your too-broad, overarching answer. “Your party,” you say when you think he might pry too much.

“Joel isn’t gonna help you with that, you know.”

His words make you freeze. Joel actually was going to help — or was supposed to before the shit show outside the bar.

“We’ll see. Can do it on my own too, though.”

“Thanks again for offering, I — I know it’s dumb.”

“‘S not dumb. ‘N I wanted to do it,” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

“Well thanks anyways.”

You hum in response, looking out the window into darkness.

“What’d you think of Joel’s date?”

Your eyes widen and suddenly, you don’t feel as drunk, sitting up a bit at his question.

“That’s what it was? A date?” you say with a nervous chuckle.

“I guess,” he laughs. “Don’t know what else to call it.”

“She’s nice,” you say, echoing your words to Joel. Somewhere in the back of your mind you note how that sends a pang to your chest.

“I don’t know if he was interested,” Tommy notes.

That doesn’t really give you as much relief as you would’ve hoped for. You’re not hurt because of Caroline. You’re hurt because of everything that happened after. When you tried to get him to take you home, and he pulled away.

Tommy continues when you don’t respond.

“Took her home though.”

Now that sends a shooting throb to your heart.

Like it’s saying Of course he did. Even though that doesn’t seem very much like Joel at all.

“Really?”

“Yup. ‘N I think she’s comin’ to the party. Seemed excited ‘bout it.”

“Oh,” you reply dumbly. You’re sure that’s not helping your case when trying to be indifferent about Joel’s dating life.

Tommy pulls up to your driveway.

Tense silence follows after he puts the truck in park.

“Is that — like — an issue?”

Your heart starts beating a little bit faster.

“No, why would it be?”

“Just wonderin’,” he says with a sigh.

“Is it an issue for you?”

“No. Think she’s good for him.”

There it is again.

Good for him.

Are you not good for him?

You brush it off quickly, moving to unlatch your seatbelt.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, but Tommy’s hand reaches out and stops your movements. You tentatively look up, scared of what might be looking back. He looks a bit pained, or maybe scared — though his hardened brow doesn’t give much emotion.

“I had fun tonight — you looked — look good,” he says, pulling you a little closer, he’s starting to dip his head ever so slightly. If you weren’t paying him so much attention you might not have even noticed his movements.

You don’t pull away.

That would be the end of everything with your friendship. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t terrified — apparently the look is clearly etched on your face.

He laughs a bit suddenly, pulling away.

“Jesus.”

“What – what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’. I —” he pauses for a long time.

You’re scared of what he might say.

“Can I…can I take you out? Like — just the two of us?”

You stare at him with wide eyes. You force yourself to breathe, a couple short puffs of air slip past your lips.

“Oh, I — like you want to go out for food?”

“Food,” he huffs out a short breath mixed with a chuckle. It makes your breath hitch, the uncertainty and knowing he’s acting so strange right now.

“No, like — like a date. I guess.”

chapter v. just you

taglist! comment or message me if you want to be added. (for this series, i took the liberty of adding you to the taglist if you commented that you wanted more parts on chaser. you can let me know if you want to be taken off) kisses!

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multifandumbmeg · 29 days

Text

Alright SCREW IT here's my Kiara defense post:

Is it annoying to watch get paired off with everyone in the main cast? Sure. Let me explain why that's not a character flaw or terrible, unplanned writing so yall can put some respect on her name.

1. They're ALL in love with her, and literally throwing themselves at her all the time. This is so important and well-documented that John B literally tells us IN HIS INTRODUCTION TO THE GROUP in episode one. It is literally so relevant to their entire group dynamic that he brings it up in the first episode summary of who they all are. Guys actually do this I have seen this happen. One of my high school best friends was constantly manic pixie dream girled (despite being profoundly depressed) and several entire friend groups of boys fell in love with her. She dated one guy, who was a piece of shit and dumped her saying it was because of his parents but told his friends it was because she had too much baggage. The fallout was so bad, one guy from one of the friend groups tattled to her and a different guy, who was best friends with the douche, literally got into a fight with him and THE DOUCHE HAD TO CHANGE FRIEND GROUPS BECAUSE HIS BOYS KICKED HIM OUT. I'm serious about these teenage boys all having the same taste and thinking it's a competition.

2. John B kissed HER. She immediately shut him down. Immediately. Everything before that can easily be explained as Kiara being concerned about him after losing his father. Teenage boys are dumb anyhow, but it's particularly easy to see why John B and JJ, who have both been routinely neglected and grew up without mothers (read, any positive female attention/influence) would interpret this as Kiara having feelings for them. They fall in love with anyone who sincerely gives them the time of day, basically. And that's a little too relatable moving on.

3. "Mixed signals" by kissing boys on the cheek. While I would not recommend this, I think there was a very clear pattern to her behavior and I have a theory I'm 99% sure is canon, based on copious textual evidence.

Kiara was in love with JJ all along. I'll come back to this. She only kissed the boys she friendzoned on the cheek. With John B, I genuinely think she never had any sort of romantic feelings for him and just saw him as a best bro. But she was worried about him, and maybe realized he listened to her more when she did it. Nonetheless, the minute he gets with Sarah it's almost like she feels relieved and never does anything remotely mixed signals to him again. Now Pope? That is a rich text. What the hell is going on with her and Pope?

4. When Pope first confesses, Kiara is once again caught off-guard. She once again rightfully turns him down IMMEDIATELY and gives extremely accurate and self-aware reasons. Her rejection of him is surprisingly mature, that the life he plans on and wants is ultimately and assuredly not compatible with what she wants for herself. So why did she kinda date him? Honestly, I think it was an attempt to move on from what she believed were doomed feelings for JJ. After all the things that happen in season 1, after Pope going off the deep end a little bit by smoking weed, getting drunk, and engaging in acts of violence, as well as ditching his scholarship interview, Kiara suddenly experiences a spark of attraction towards Pope.

Because he's acting like JJ. Reckless. Using substances to cope. Chaotic. Spontaneous. She knows these things are bad for Pope, and she's at times put off by how un-Pope-like they are as his friend, but she has a type. So following a moment of attraction and the sudden supposed loss of John B (and Sarah), she decides to give it a go. Maybe Pope's different after everything that happened. And he is, but not quite the way she was expecting. To link this back to the cheek-kissing thing, honestly, I think Kiara lowkey has the ick 😂. She consistently shoves any of the boys who try to touch her at all away except for JJ, the entire series mind you, except for these little cheek kisses like that's all she can manage to do. She kisses Pope like twice and ends up sleeping with him, at which point she realizes she just can't do it. She's not consistently attracted to her, and she can't get past her feelings for JJ, so she calls it off. Again, that's a fair healthy, and kind thing to do. When you realize it's not going to work, especially if you have feelings for someone else, it is distinctly NOT dragging people around to cut it off. If Kie has a real problem, honestly? I think it's that ultimately she wants a man she can fix. And Pope's fine. So that's him out.

My proof that the writers absolutely intended Kiara to have feelings for JJ from day one:

"Did you tell JJ?" specifically. Just JJ. She doesn't want HIM to think she's taken.

Shoving away John B and Pope every time they try to hug her or put an arm around her etc. Letting JJ hug her, take her hand, sling his arm around her etc. She also goes out of her way to touch him by taking his arm, holding him when he's crying, hugging him several times and then almost kissing him. So in a way, I'd very much like you to consider, Kiara was not in fact sending everyone mixed signals, her problem was that she was so consistent. Consistently attracted to and in love with someone she thought had no real interest in her. JJ flirts with her jokingly, and from episode 1 and the convo in the bell tower between John B and Sarah, we know that he's a horny little dude. And that's not surprising either, because people who've been abused tend to go one way or the other- either very physical touch-seeking in an attempt to balance about the bad, or very touch-avoidant. JJ is clearly, demonstably in column A. Not just with Kiara, but he also initiates hugs with John B and Pope, touches their faces, and even kisses Pope on the cheek once. He's clearly a very touchy person with everyone, so I can see how Kiara would be unsure about his feelings when he very much does not communicate his wants or needs with words.

Finally, the proof that Kiara had feelings for JJ, and that Jiara was the direction the show was headed, was in their conversation in thr storage container. When JJ tells her what he wants from life and plans to do with the money, it's a direct parallel to her initial reject of Pope. He wants to travel the world and be spontaneous and non-sedentary and have no use for money. Everything she said to Pope and is always trying to explain to her parents. That was 0% accidental, that was the writers making it clear: these two are a match, they're compatible on a much deeper level.

4. So if they always planned on JJ and Kiara, why didn't those two just get together to start? The answer, my friends, is jealousyy. This is a common tactic in writing to get a couple together: force the reluctant one to acknowledge their feelings by putting the other in a relationship with someone else. Im short: every moment between Kiara and John B or Pope was to show us JJ did not like that and therefore that his feelings for Kiara were serious, unlike how she interpreted them and him being a flirty himbo with other girls. It also helped Kiara realize she wasn't getting over him any time soon, and that she couldn't avoid her feelings either. So it forced them both to give up and acknowledge to themselves that they had feelings for the other.

5. "Teenage girls don't act like her" JOKES. This is the dumbest argument I've seen, I'm sorry. I'm happy you have met such well-adjusted teenage girls but buddy... I have known some teenage girls and people who used to identify as girls at that age who would make you roll over in your grave. Some people don't know what they want, some people desperately crave attention, some people just can't seem to avoid drama or make good choices and sometimes that's even a resulted of untreated disabilities or mental illness. Sometimes it's all of the above. My point is absolutely there are teenage girls who act like Kiara and faaar worse.

6. Lastly, why not John B or Pope? Why was Kiara totally valid for not liking them romantically? Well feelings are feelings so she's valid anyways but can we talk about them both touching her/making moves at inappropriate times without consent?? It's understandable she likes JJ and feels the safest around him when he's the only who doesn't act like he wants or expects anything from her. He never kisses her without consent, let alone while running from the cops randomly. He never tries to put his arm around her or make a move in the middle of them having an emotionally intimate conversation where she is clearly seeking emotional comfort. I'm not saying John B or Pope are bad people, but with Kiara both showed a lot of immaturity and failed to read the room numerous times. They acted whenever they personally felt attraction, regardless of where she was at at the time. There's such a thing as reading body signals, and the only times JJ comes close to making an actual move on Kiara is when she comes to him, gets close to his face and leans in. In the end, he only kisses her after she looks him dead in the eyes and tells him I LOVE YOU. That's on respect. Also, John B and Pope both get their shit together and learn this with their next girlfriends! So good on them!

But Kiara confessed to JJ at a random time too! I hear you shouting. NAY. Incorrect!! JJ is actively avoiding her and having a mature conversation about how they feel about each other, and also the fact that he stole from her family, and that is on HIM. That is a result of his issues and his fear and poor coping mechanisms. Kiara forced him to address it at an inopportune time because she already attempt to address it privately TWICE and he wouldn't let her. So all she did there was clear the air and make her own feelings known, which he needed to hear. That is the last conversation they have before he attempts to apologize and confess back. That is what convinces him that Kiara's feelings for him are both genuine and serious, and that no amount of pushing her away will succeed. She loves him unconditionally, which he did not know was possible until then.

So in short!! Kiara actually behaves like a real human being. She's not crazy, extremely selfish, nor an example of writers just testing out the waters and seeing what the fans want or who has the most chemistry. She is very consistent. The only thing I can really begrudge about her behavior towards her friends (her parents are a different story) is that she's insensitive to both John B and Pope after rejecting them, which I believe is because she doesn't realize they had actual feelings for her so much as thinking she's hot.

#Anyway #If anyone wants to reblog this with gifs #Please do!!#Give us the adhd friendly version #outer banks #obx #kiara carrera #kiara obx #jiara #pope heyward #john b routledge #Kiara apologist

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saulocept · 1 year

Text

you know i’m such a fool for you

pairing: ominis gaunt/reader

rating: g

summary: Sometimes, four simple words can mean the world. You didn’t know it then, don’t know it even now. But maybe it’s still not too late to change your mind.

background notes: took a lot of liberties w this so everything’s all vague and messy - some canon things are alluded to, but no explicit spoilers? full tags include: implied love triangles, implied sebastian sallow/reader. for a more detailed explanation, read the ending notes.

ending notes: originally this was going to be a poly fic - it kinda still is depending on how you interpret the ending, but it could also be read as a resolution to an alluded love triangle. i still however want that poly so i might write a companion part for this, rather than a direct sequel. or you know. just a new thing but w poly still (more established, less establishing). if you agree w me and have some ideas for prompts, head onto my inbox!

The night is quiet, the skies bright with countless stars. It’s almost a strange sight, certainly different from what you’re used to, and it’s odd – you feel odd. You’ve never been this at peace before, or calm. It’s a strange sensation to feel, especially when you’re used to always being on high alert, waiting for the next bad thing to happen, for the next tragedy to drop, afraid that every smidge of happiness will be quickly taken away.

You’re not used to it, not really, but as you glance around your surroundings: the moon on the horizon, close enough that you could almost reach out and touch it, you think you might be wrong for once. It’s really over now, you think. A moment of peace, even if it might not always last. Still, the thought of it is a huge weight off your shoulders and you feel as if you can finally breathe, relax.

You don’t know why you’re here, not really. All you know was that you couldn’t sleep and you felt the need to wander, take your mind off things. The next thing you know, you’re already outside the academy grounds, visiting a place you’ve frequented before, though not anymore.

As far as everyone’s concerned, it’s an abandoned building, off-limits to everyone, especially students. There were even rumors of a ghost lurking around at one point, though in all the times you’ve been here, you’ve never encountered one. Most likely a scare tactic, you suppose, to keep the students from being too curious, nosy. It worked well enough, anyway, and in your favor too; in a matter of months, this has become your most favorite place, the only thing you could call yours.

Home, you think, if home could be anywhere in the world right now. Still, it hasn’t been home for a while now, not after everything that’s happened. There’s too much memory in here, too much feeling, lingering around the corners like a miasma. The things you’ve never said out loud, things you wish you could change. If you could take it all back and redo it all over it again, would you do it?

But you’re not here to dwell on past regrets. Absently, you wander around the place, trying to see what’s changed, if anything even has. It looks just like it always did, if not a little older, more… abandoned. There’s rust everywhere now, spots of them scattered here and there, looking too much like dried blood that it makes you nervous. You shove your hands in your pockets, trying to find what little warmth you could in this place, and it works but not nearly enough.

Still, you press on, reconnecting what you know of the past to what you’re seeing now in the present. Ever since you’ve stopped visiting, there seems not to be any fresh activity. You snort, then shake your head at the thought. What would you expect? You’re only one of the few people who know about this place, and if there’s one thing you’re absolutely certain of, it’s that none of them would be inclined to share. You’d each considered this place sacred once, sacrosanct, and maybe there’s something of that sacredness still lingering somewhere.

A piece of a memory you’re still reluctant to let go of just yet. Something that binds you still, even if you’re no longer inseparable. You wander around the place, glancing here and there, trying not to get lost too much in memories, nostalgia. Once upon a time, it wouldn’t have just been you doing the wandering, but it’s all in the past now, and you’re all alone. Not that it matters. You’d made your choice then, and it’s time to live with it now.

As it turns out, you’re not exactly all alone. There’s a figure in the corner, standing against the railing, watching the stars or maybe just lost in thoughts, reminiscing. You can’t really tell from a distance, and from where you stand, it’s not easy to see who it is. Their face is cloaked in shadows, almost hidden from view.

All you can make out is that they’re taller, not quite familiar. He’s wearing a robe unlike you, so at the very least, it means that he’s a student. Unfortunately, there are as many students in the academy as there are stars in the sky. You square your shoulders as you slowly walk over to where they are, wishing that you’d somehow had the foresight to bring your wand.

“Hey,” the figure says as soon as you’re close enough. Familiar, you think, unmistakable, though it takes you a moment to match the name.

“Ominis,” you say, coming to stand beside him. You lean against the railing, careful to keep some distance between you, because as close as you were with him once, you’re not those people anymore. Or maybe he isn’t. Maybe you’re the only one who’s changed. “How’d you know it’s me?”

“Your footsteps.” The corners of his lips twitch in amusement. “You haven’t changed at all, you know.”

“Haven’t I?” you ask, tearing your eyes away from him to stare at the sky above you: bright, twinkling with stars, infinite with every possibility. You don’t feel the same at all. You never have. Some days, you look at a mirror and you don’t even recognize yourself. Maybe there’s never an old you somewhere. Maybe all you’ve got are his memories of you and nothing else.

“Maybe you have,” he replies, conceding. From the corners of your eyes, you catch him drumming his fingers against the railing, humming under his breath as he thinks. “But there’s still the old you in there somewhere.”

“And you can tell how?” you can’t help the bite in your voice, the sharpness. It comes out automatically, some kind of reflex, and you mentally curse yourself because you’re not here to fight, to ruin things between you once again. Still, you’re not sure if you’re here to patch things up.

He seems unfazed by your sudden shift in tone. “Because I know you,” he replies, says the words like they’re the most obvious thing in the world. The only thing. Then, very quietly, he adds: “Like the back of my hand.”

Do you, is what you want to ask him, because it’s true. Does he still know you after everything you’ve done? Would he still want to? But instead, you hum under your breath, let it go, nodding in agreement because it’s easier and you don’t have to pretend. Or deal with the consequences, the weight of all the things unsaid. Are you even ready to hear his answer?

Instead, you change the subject: “What are you doing here?”

“To think,” he replies with a hum. He’s quiet for a second, thoughtful. “I’ve got a lot on my mind lately.”

“You can tell me all about it,” you say, the words spilling out of you instinctive and automatic. A learned reflex, dug up from a past you’ve already long left behind, buried in an attempt to forget. Once upon a time, it’s the first thing you’ll say. This line of conversation is familiar – a scene acted out so many times it’s embedded in you, impossible to forget. You almost expect him to play along with it, complaining like he used to when you were both still younger, stupid. More naïve.

“Like old times, huh?” he jokes, laughing just a little. There’s a tiny smile playing about the corners of his lips, but then he shakes his head, looks away, the smile fading, disappearing. He huffs out a quiet breath, almost like a sigh, then tilts his head skyward, quiet for the longest time. Briefly, you wonder if he could see the beauty of the sky, could sense how things seem to have changed. If he could sense that same changes in you. “It’s nothing.”

If you were still the old you, it would’ve been easy to coax the answers out of him, get him to spill the truth. You’d always had a way with him, after all, as he’d told you once. But you’re not that person anymore. You haven’t been for a long time. You shrug, turn away from him. You don’t miss the disappointed look he gives you, sharp as a dagger to the heart. “If you say so.”

It's getting late now, and neither of you have said anything else. Or made an excuse to leave. It feels odd, standing here beside him, basking in the silence, that gentle atmosphere you’ve almost forgot until now. You’ve been expecting conversations, accusations, an argument or two – perhaps even a fight, or something close to it. What you’re not expecting, however, is the complete silence between you: natural, comfortable, as though this were in the past, where everything’s perfect, where nothing bad has happened just yet.

There’s a part of you that wishes he’d demand you for answers. Or get angry. It’s more believable, anyway, and you’d know how to deal with him then. You’ve spent nights tossing and turning in your sleep, dreaming about this moment, wondering what he’d say to you when you see each other again.

There’s a thousand different ways this meeting could go. You’ve played out the scenarios, conjured the possibilities, each one slightly different. This isn’t on any of them. With a frown, you watch him from the corners of your eyes, keeping yourself alert for any changes. He looks like he always has, that same face you see in your dreams, only older, slightly different. And he’s smiling, too: the kind of smile that used to make your heart flutter because it’s pretty, it’s serene – it’s all for you.

You’re not expecting that. He looks content, genuinely so, and for a second, it feels like you’re back in the past again, spending time with him because you’re friends, because you want to, because it’s what friends do, and it hurts. He shouldn’t be happy, or content, especially not with you. Not with everything you’ve done. And yet he is, and it only serves to make you more guilty.

You turn your head, stare at him. He’s not stupid, you know, and yet it’s odd that he hasn’t breathed a word about your past. What you did. What you said. Why you fought. You figure that it’d come up between you sooner or later, but he hasn’t yet. Has he truly forgot? Or is he trying to get you to lower your guard, be the first to give in? You can’t tell, and it’s at this moment that you wish there’s a spell to allow you to read his mind.

“What is it?” he asks, turns his head in your direction. “You look like you want to say something.”

“I don’t.”

“You’ve been staring at me since earlier,” he shoots back. When you still don’t say anything, he frowns, continues. “And I can tell when you’re lying, you know. We wouldn’t be friends if I don’t know you like the back of my hand.”

His voice has grown softer, fonder, and there’s that phrase again, the one you’re beginning to hate with a passion because it isn’t true, and it hasn’t been for a long time.

You purse your lips together, stare at him blankly. Your voice is quiet now, barely audible even in the silence. “Do you?”

He gives you a smile, though it’s more bittersweet than anything. “Don’t I?”

You shake your head, breathe out a sigh, looking away from him. It’s no use starting an argument. You don’t even know why you’re being like this: prickly and combative, but you suppose you’ve got so used to it that you find it hard to be anything else. It’s always easier like this, after all. “I’m sorry,” you say, and the words feel strange on your tongue, almost foreign. “I don’t want to argue.”

“Is that what we’re doing?” he hums. He sounds almost amused. “Arguing?”

“No,” you say, and then frown. It’s true enough, isn’t it? You’re not arguing and yet you’re not conversing either, because having a conversation means addressing the elephant in the room – you. How you still haven’t apologized to him before: for betraying him, breaking his heart. Choosing someone else, and finally, the worst sin of all: siding against him. How you haven’t reached out to him after all that, and how you probably never will if things had gone your way.

Since when did you change into someone who doesn’t know how to apologize? Someone who couldn’t acknowledge their own mistakes, or the fact that they hurt the only few people who loved them?

It’d be better if he’d just called you out on it, demanded it from you. Apologies, answers. Something that would’ve made him understand you better. Or perhaps even revenge, just to get back at you for all you’d put him through. It’d be easier, you’re sure of it. It’ll be what you deserve.

But he’s quiet, still not saying anything, and that alone already feels like a trap. You give him a sideways glance, catching the smile on his lips: soft, warm. Familiar. This close, he looks almost like an angel – a saint, someone who could give you the absolution you want, the forgiveness you needed. (There’s a voice in the back of your head, asking you the right question: do you even deserve it?)

You close your eyes, suck in a deep breath. “Ominis, I—”

He stops you quickly, cuts you off before the words could even leave your lips. “I know.”

You stare at him, blinking a few times. You can’t keep the surprise out of your voice, or that hint of confusion, growing by the second. “Do you?”

“Of course,” he says, and here, his voice has grown softer again, warmer. There’s a familiar ache in your chest, a recognizable flutter in the pit of your stomach. Like in the past, you think. But you’re not in there now; you’re here in the present, watching as he slowly reaches for you, fumbling for your hand in the dark, takes it in his. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You don’t say anything to that, because you aren’t sure how true it is anymore. Sure, you’d been friends once, perhaps even more at one point, but it’s all in the past now, isn’t it? Now you’re not even sure where you stand with him, or where he’s going with this.

But he’s relentless, refusing to give up. You don’t stop him, don’t push him away even as he moves a little, inching ever closer to you – not close enough to overwhelm, but still enough that you could feel him beside you: a steady presence, real and solid and warm. “And I told you before, didn’t I?”

It’s a weird feeling, letting him hold your hand, allowing him to be this close. Not exactly in a bad way, you think – just odd, mostly because you’re just not used to it anymore. Still, you can’t deny the comfort this little gesture brings you. Even now, this part of you still hasn’t changed. Maybe he’d been wrong all along. Maybe he’s the one who has a way with you, after all. You eye him curiously, licking your lips before you speak. “Told me what?”

When he realizes you’re not pulling away, he turns to give you a smile, squeezes your hand once: careful, gentle, like he’s afraid you’re going to walk away if he does anything too much, too fast. But still, the warmth is there, buried beneath everything he wishes to say but can’t. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, breathless like he’s revealing a secret, some form of weakness – a thing reserved only for you. “That I know you like the back of my hand.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, but maybe you don’t need to. You swallow the lump that forms in your throat, then look up, staring at him for a few more moments, trying to read through his face, his expression, see if he’s lying.

He doesn’t seem like he is. He’s still smiling, though it doesn’t seem fake or forced. He looks content. Satisfied. As though he’s just glad to be here with you again: talking, standing together. Holding your hand. It’s nice, even if you don’t have the courage to admit it just yet.

Hesitantly, you squeeze back, and you’re rewarded by the sight of his smile widening just a little, his eyes crinkling in a way that awakens every single emotion you’ve long since buried. You smile back at him even if he can’t see it, feeling like you can finally breathe again.

#renwrites #ominis gaunt x reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 11 months

Text

Random Eyeless Jack tongue hcs

Cw// kinda borders into suggestive territory if you squint, but nothing intentional? Writing this before actually putting down the hcs, but

Yeah

Nothing too crazy, obviously

Also cw// for body horror and shit since I also wanna dive into his whole.. how he got messed up

Getting the body horror stuff out of the way, I hope yall already know ab my whole curse hc/interpretation on jack

If you dont/if you're new; hi! Welcome to my blog! I hc that jack used to be a normal dude but got dragged into a cult that made him the way he is now!! Real important and relevant to my take on him/I haven't seen many other people use that spin on fan story for this sort of thing

Anyways

As per the whole "his body is shifting into something horrific," thing, his tongue literally. Splits into several tendrils

Havent decided on an exact number, but hes got.. a few alright!

Thick, but get thinner to the tips; and they have the same goop that leaks from Jack's eyes! Sensitive sense of taste; and he can kinda detect scents with them, like snakes do!!

His mouth is kinda crowded, though, so sometimes he'll talk with a bit of a lisp (?), or accidentally bite himself

Now onto the real horror; the process of his tongue splitting was painful, and long. He felt all of it, and given that he's literally turning into a man eating monster, he was unable to seek medical help; so he had to suffer alone and without aid

Obviously, if your tongue is splitting itself open, there's gonna be a mess plus lots and lots of pain

Poor dude

Moving on

They writhe

A lot

Especially when theres... food.. nearby; they tend to flick out (snake like!!!) If hes hungry (tends to lose himself for a while)

In the most sfw way I can say it because there is literally no way I can say it without being sus, they kinda??? Wrap around things??

Like okay I had an art idea, to draw jack with a blood-popsicle, since summer is coming; and with the previous hcs it'd make sense that his tongues would just naturally latch around it and grip said blood-pop

So that's my hc now

Also back to horror stuff i feel like that'd make his feeding frenzies all the more terrifying

I mean when he goes into one he completely loses all his humanity and thoughts and just jumps on someone

Imagine he latches onto someone and like

Idfk anchors them into the persons flesh so they cant just easily shove him off

That's terrifying

I love it sm

Downside; kissing jack is not fun since 1) it's a legitimate choking hazard, and 2) the goop makes his tongues taste gross

I feel like the goop is also, to a degree, corrosive

Or at least, an irritant

Like super powered saliva that can break down meat fast; also explains why I draw jack with huge dark circles n shit around his eyes

I bet yall (who follow my main) just thought I made him tired

Nope, it's his flesh being slowly burned away!! Granted hes more durable to it since the whole monster thing + it's his own material but

Still

Yeah!!!

Take what you will with these hcs

#creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta #crp #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack imagine #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack

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skzoologist · 5 months

Note

I just woke up, Hello

My vision is failing me ngl, for some reason whenever I wake up my vision gets so goddamn blurry, I can't read

The ghost fic made me cry, so beautiful

The ghost anon is so sweet wth

OH and since you erased the 1 request for 1 person thing, I would like to request

"No! I want cuddles now!" 🧋☕ focused more on Bae, 3Racha

Go ham with it

P.S I saw that -6°C was nearly freezing? Is where you guys live that warm? Cuz here the lowest is like -33°C and highest is like -9°C so far

word count: ~1.4k

warnings: none

genre: fluff, crack

a/n: Hey-ho 🐿️ anonnie! I hope your vision got better soon afterwards, it sounds worrying 😨 And I'm sorry my ghost!Bae fic made you cry, I hope this one will cheer you back up! Made it extra fluffy, for you. I accidentally went ham with it, I did not mean to write this much lol 💀 Also where I live it's I guess relatively warm? It's kinda rare for it to snow here properly (and not just have sludge and ice all over the place), which is why I'm so happy it snowed a few days ago, even if only a few centimeters. Your place is waaaaay colder, so stay bundled up and cosy! 😊

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

The powerful beats of their latest title track flowed through his body, his heart beating to that same, exhilarating rhythm. He knew the song from the top of his head already, having danced to it countless times, and yet, once the inevitable silence crept in, he restarted the cycle all over again, no matter how much his clothes and hair clinged to his sweaty skin.

Then suddenly the music cut off midway, a frustrated sigh left in its place amidst the dancer’s confusion.

“Bae, how many times have we talked about this? You’ve already perfected the choreography, you NEED to rest now.” - it was Minho, a disapproving scowl sitting on his sharp features.

Bae simply watched his hyung, heaving for air, wondering how the man got there in the first place. A quick glance at the now open door gave him all the answers he needed, knowing fully well that he was probably too absorbed in his own practice to even hear the sound of the door opening. Wouldn’t have been the first time, after all.

“I’m talking to a wall, I swear to god. Bae. If I see you in this room one. More. Time. I’m chucking you into the air fryer next to Hyunjin. Don’t look at me like that. Now go.” - the angry cat ushered him out, gathering all of the otter’s belongings and shoving them into his arms.

Bae obediently let himself be pushed out of the door, a click immediately resounding in the air.

He was locked out, that much was obvious.

Of course he knew not to push Minho’s buttons anymore, a miracle in itself that he was let off only with a simple warning. He’d already experienced the man’s wrath once before and it was not fun at all. Just the mere thought brought a shiver up his spine, never wanting to experience that ever again. Even if it was all for his own good, he would rather avoid a repeat of what’d happened.

Sighing, Bae trudged towards the locker room, the thought of a quick shower and fresh clothes soothing his mind.

Although that calmness disappeared the moment he checked his phone afterwards, the device filled with messages from Chan. There wasn’t a lot, not nearly enough to make him think something terrible had happened, but their contents were unusual, requesting him to drop by the studio. It had happened before, sure, but not often enough for it to be considered normal. The three idols preferred to work alone, their synergy so perfect, anyone else’s presence was a mere bother.

Confused, but not having anything else to do, Bae messaged his leader back and started his ascent to the seeked-after room. It took a bit of time; the hallways were packed, and so was the elevator, the rush hour inside the company hitting the idol full force. He politely bowed his head in greeting towards staff and other idols, some looking at him with a smile, some too busy and instead looking like they were about to collapse right then and there. It caused a worried crease to form in his forehead, but there was nothing he could do, sadly.

Having made his way to where he was needed, Bae let himself into the room, only after a soft knock and a quiet ‘Come in’ could be heard.

There sat Chan, Changbin and Jisung, all in comfy hoodies, bundled up and hunched over the table, way too entranced to even look away from the monitors fully.

Only after Bae closed the door and plopped onto the couch did Chan shake himself out of this trance, headphones now fully slid off and hanging around his neck. A lopsided smile sat upon his face as their eyes met, only widening at Bae’s expression.

The other two joined the oldest soon, all eyes set on Bae and teasing smiles dancing on their lips. Bae didn’t know what warranted these expressions, simply confusedly tilting his head and causing soft giggling to be heard.

“So, I heard Minho kicked you out of the practice room.” - Chan gently whispered out amidst giggles, dimples fully on display. “Oh, so that’s why he looks like that!” “Jisung! Hey, it’s okay baby, don’t look so sad.” - Changbin said, his arms already guiding Bae’s head towards his chest in a soothing hug.

It was true that their tallest member was not happy about being kicked out, but the others’ reactions puzzled him greatly. He wasn’t devastated or anything, so what were they talking about?

Loud laughter grabbed his attention, the poorly breathing wolf soon joined by a quokka and a dwaekki. This only confused him more, a huff escaping his mouth as he crossed his arm, now free from Changbin’s hold, as the latter was too busy almost falling off the couch.

“I love it so much when you don’t realise you’re doing the puppy eyes. Hyung, you look like a kicked puppy!” - Jisung explained, making Bae’s eyes widen and cheeks dust over with pink. “Mh, our baby otter is so cute.” - Chan added in, watching in satisfaction as his victim’s skin only reddened. “YAH, you’re too cute, this is unfair!” - Changbin all but shouted, locking Bae into a tight hug and squeezing the air out of him.

Bae tried to wiggle out of the dwaekki’s arms, but the hold on him was way too strong for that. After realising this, he gave up, turning limp in the happily celebrating man’s clasp, essentially becoming his cuddle pillow.

Seeing this all, the two left out members started protesting, wanting their fair share of their shy member and his cuddles. Bae didn’t hesitate to take the chance when Changbin’s arms loosened around him amidst his own protests about wanting to keep the man for himself, quickly slipping out and away from all of them. This naturally gathered all their attention; their eyes watching him fiercely, as if he was their prey, ready to be hunted.

“Is this why you called me here?” - he sternly asked, a furrow in his brows and a slight scowl in his lips that wasn’t there out of true anger. “Yes and naur. Minho asked me to essentially lock you into the studio with us, so you cannot secretly overwork yourself. And hey, who am I to say no to some cuddles?” - Chan answered, that teasing smirk dancing on his lips that told Bae he was not joking around.

Before the cornered otter could dash towards the door, Jisung pounced on him, keeping him in place just long enough for the other two to drag him back onto the couch. A soft ‘Oomph’ sound left his lips as he collided with the bouncy material, unable to fight against the entire force of Gymracha alone.

He had to accept his fate, one that was filled with stiffening cuddles and teasing for an unforeseen amount of time.

A deep sigh left his lips as he’d done exactly that, relaxing in Chan’s hold as Jisung was hugging his legs and Changbin was playing with his fingers, arm tightly hugged into his chest. The couch was impossibly small to house all four of them, yet somehow they managed, all crammed into the tiny space.

The three seemed content to just stay like that, and seeing as Bae literally had no choice, he let them be, their warmth seeping into his clothes and skin, settling there in contentment. His muscles relaxed in a way he didn’t even know they needed to, a tension he’d never noticed leaving his body. The position he was trapped in felt safe, as if he had nothing to worry about in the entire world.

Maybe Minho was right, maybe he did need to rest for a bit, just a little bit.

But after an hour of it all, he was starting to overheat, the contact on his skin now too much, too warm.

“Shouldn’t you guys be working?” - he asked, hoping the answer would be yes, since all of them were workaholics to a certain degree. “No, I want cuddles now!” - Jisung shouted before anyone else could, flopping onto Bae’s front and burying his head into his clothed stomach.

Chan and Changbin only laughed at his misery, their answers probably similar to their younger members. Bae could only sigh for the umpteenth time, head gently plopping back against Chan’s shoulder.

“At least let me get my hoodie off.” “No.”

The afternoon seemed way too long in Bae’s eyes already, a fact that was only strengthened as time went on, even though there was an undeniable, gentle warmth that danced around in his eyes whenever he looked at the ones around him.

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sobeksewerrat · 6 months

Text

Mini-Drew-Analysis for His Birthday!!

Since yesterday was my lovely Drewy-bear's birthday, I decided to write a bullshit little blurb talking about how I interpret his character, and how much (I think) people misinterpret his aggression during the drakeup.

I won't include anything about the music club, since it has been a while since I rewatched the series as a whole and memories of them interacting with Drew are kinda rusty and that deserves its own essay.

Like the Milly/Ep.3 post, I *might* briefly mention a lot of my own trauma or experiences and compare them to Drew's behaviours, so apologies in advance if that bothers you.

Now, firstly, I would like to establish his major relationships in the show since most of his characterization comes from said relationships.

ZOEY:

Droey is arguably Drew's second-most-important relationship, despite the lack of screentime (which I am really salty about).

Now, whilst I love the aroace and gay Drew headacanons, I think we can all agree that he did love Zoey to some extent. The photo in Zoey's room and the fact that he is willing to fulfil her ever wish are proof enough in my eyes.

Drew's love-language is gift-giving (same, Drew, same). It was been confirmed that his parents get him everything they want since HIS FIRST APPEARANCE.

"Well, they bought it for me last night!"

I'm mostly theorising here, but going off of this alone: Drew's parents have been (and still are) very absent in his life.

They couldn't give him enough attention nor affection when he was a kid so they just opted to shove lavish gifts and money in his face to show him their [persumed] love for him.

So, Drew grew up with the virtue that love is mainly expressed through money and expensive gifts ingrained into his head since he was a young child.

He only buys gifts for people he deeply loves and cares about, it's not just a way of flexing or getting people to like him (more on that in the Jake part).

Drew loved Zoey, from the bottom of his heart, so he bought her everything she asked for and took her on dates to the mall regularly to show her how deep his affection for her is.

That's why he was so concerned and "suspicious" when she stopped asking for so many gifts.

He wasn't worried that she was "cheating", he was worried that she didn't loved him anymore, that she was going to leave him.

Moreover, Drew is a very distrustful person by nature, and those he trusts, he trusts deeply.

Those are the only people he allows himself to be emotional around or express his interests and hobbies to, but even then he still has an invisible wall surrounding him.

He lets them be close enough to understand him on a surface level, but not close enough to see his true colours and vulnerabilities (same, Drew, same ×2. Also, Milly parallel!!).

Zoey was naturally one of those few people he trusted, and she broke that trust.

That's why he was so hurt after Zoey left him. He trusted her, he was willing to go to the ends of the earth for her, he loved her.

But she cheated on him. She took advantage of him. She broke his trust.

And even without all of the above, anybody would get scarred and hurt by their partner cheating on them, manipulating them, and using them for money (trust me, I am speaking from personal experience here).

Well, Zoey betrayed him...at least his other friends are still-

HENRIAM:

WRONG. THEY HURT HIM TOO.

Let me elaborate.

We don't get enough screentime to see Drenriam interact so I can't write about them separately (FUXK YOU JAKE AND THE NUSIC FREKA DFOR HOGFINF ALL THE SCREENTOME).

But, we know Drew cares about them. And they know it too.

"Come on, you know you love us" (Henry, Ep5)

And Drew doesn't respond. He just blushes, rolls his eyes and stays silent, which I think is confirmation enough.

"buT hE iS mEAn tO tHeM!1!1" I hear a Drew-anti cry from afar while clutching their limited-edition Jailey keychains.

My guy, my gal, my enby pal, do you even HAVE friends?!?

You're only nice for the first month or so and THAT'S IT, you've gone past the expiry date of nice and become mean and brutally insult each other lightheartedly and call each other "Freak" affectionately. Sometimes it takes even less than that.

Again, they were two of the only few people he trusted.

And they also broke that trust by hiding Zoey's cheating from him. They even think about her gold-digging as JOKE (flashback to ep2 opening scene).

"They were blackmailed!!"

I don't even think I have the patience to elaborate on why that is a stupid fucking excuse. Zoey had no dirt on Jake, no?

They could have told him to tell Drew, or they could have just told him but tell him not to tell Zoey they were the ones who told on her or whatever.

I think the only reason Drew stuck with them during the finale was because he was truly alone. He had nobody else, so he stuck with the last shred of his life before Jake left, even if he hated them now (still can't wait for the Drake-up 2.0, where Drew breaks off his friendship with Henriam and falls into deep, deep depression<44).

(WAIT FUCK THEN DRIAM WONT BE CANON SH-)

Lia(and why Dria /p will never happen imo):

Yeah no it won't happen. Lia distanced herself from Zoey,and she will definitely start hanging out with Jake and the others and completely ditch the Dromies.

Yknow just completely cut off Drew from any form of emotional support system let him SUFFER

JAKE:

Oh the dreaded part-

Here we go ig.

Jake sucks. He was a horrible friend. That is the thesis, that is the topic sentence, that is what I will start with.

Let me just document every major shitty thing Jake did that I can remember atm.

1. He blackmailed Zoey and hid the fact that she was cheating on Drew from him, which breaks his trust (I elaborated on this more in my ep.3 analysis!!)

2. He lied to Drew about being grounded to ditch him for club practice, I am not even gonna try to explain why that is super shitty anybody with 2 braincells and 2 milligrams of basic human decency (which Jake apparently lacks) should be able to realize this on their own. Especially since Drew clearly has trust and attachment issues (his clearly possessive nature of Jake, being that he is one of the closest people to home). Actually, he also lied to him at the end of ep1 wtmf

3. Trying to give his laptop away to Sean. It isn't even about how rude it is to give away an expensive gift, it is about how oblivious Jake is to Drew's feelings. He doesn't even CARE about what Drew feels at all.

Drew feels like Jake is his closest friend, like he's the only person who truly understands him, when this shows that it is quite the opposite in fact.

Jake doesn't understand that it is more than just an expensive gift given by a spoiled kid with too much money to spend. It is a symbol of how much Drew loves him (platonically or otherwise). All of the gifts he buys for him are.

Drew is emotionally-constipated. We (sadly) don't get to see how they met exactly (only one picture to elude to it). But, I think I have an idea.

Drew sees Jake, a loner who's bullied by everyone and sitting all alone. He feels bad and wants to talk to him. He doesn't know how to approach him, so he tries the only way he knows.

All of his other friends and classmates would always seem impressed and fawn over him whenever his parents would buy him something new, so maybe it would work this time?

So he approaches Jake, and offers to let him play with his new switch, because that is the only possible way (in his head) to talk to him.

It is not like Jake doesn't value Drew, but this shows how little he actually knows; that him trying to fit in has caused him to completely misunderstand Drew. Idk man I don't really like Jake so I don't like analysing him please any jake kinnie try to explain.

Now, Jake has been spending a lot of time with the music club, and that has been triggering Drew's attachment issues. What was so great about those freaks anyway??

That whole scene in ep.9 was just his attachment and validation issues on full display, an essay on jagged--dust-jacket-analysis explains way better than I ever could, so check it out!!

When Jake yells at him and leaves in ep.10 and implies that there is something Zoey is hiding it...it breaks him, for all the reasons I stated before.

After Henriam explain everything, it just confuses and hurts him more.

But why would Jake hide this from him? Wasn't he his best friend? Why is he apologising to those freaks, but not him?!

It must be that Hailey girl, she is the one fucking with his head.

He'll confront her. He'll expose her for the fraud she is, and then Jake wi-

(Look please bear with me on this part ik the drake up is a meme now but please let us try to treat it seriously for once)

"Back off, Drew"

Jake chose the freaks. Jake is defending them.

"The club is what I care about- MY FRIENDS!"

His friends?? What was he??

This...this was all for Daisy wasn't it?

What passion was he talking about?!

He never told them anything!!

Why would he hide Zoey's cheating from him!?

Wasn't he his best friend?!

Was he lying to them this whole time..?

"You're right. Drew, Henry, Liam, I'm sorry,"

He is sorry. Drew didn't bother listening to the rest. It was basically confirming what he'd already concluded.

Jake lied to him.

They all did.

"I'm sorry"

Those words were meaningless.

Sorry, sorry, sorry, that's what they all said!

Accepting this apology would make him seem weak.

Allowing Jake to abandon him would make him weak.

Breaking down crying would make him weak.

Apologising, when he'd done absolutely nothing wrong in his own eyes, would make him weak.

And if there is one thing Drew hated more than anything else, it is appearing weak.

Appearing vulnerable, letting people take advantage of him like all of his friends and his girlfriend did.

"I'm done with you,"

Drew walked away without making eye contact with anybody. He didn't even look to see if Henry and Liam were following him, and he frankly didn't care.

They were all assholes anyways.

They all used him.

Nobody mattered to him anymore. He was fine before meeting them, he'd definitely be fine without them, right?

Drew was leaving them all behind, he'd cut them out.

He would be better off without them.

Conclusion/Closing Thoughts:

I must admit, this did turn fanfic-y midway and it is not the most well-put together, I was really rushing to finish this.

A lot of what I am describing here is my subjective opinion and what I percieve ad Drew's P.O.V, not the objective facts.

Another confession I must make is that most of what is here is just me projecting a few months of therapy sessions onto Drew. My therapist dissected a lot of internal issues with me naturally, and they served to help me understand myself better and realize how much of my own issues applied on Drew aswell.

As I progress with my therapy and learn more about my own baggage, I might be able to remove the biased lens that I am seeing Drew through and might write a more well-constructed and objective analysis of him in the near future.

For now, however, this is all I have. Hope you liked it!! Happy late-birthday to Drewy Bear, and have a great day/night everybody!!!

#the music freaks #tmf #sobek rants #tmf drew #drew tmf #kin posting #(<rechnically)#freakblr #rosyblr #freakblr/rosyblr #tw repeating words #tw cheating

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some-pers0n · 10 months

Text

Restless Nights

Fandom: WoF

Characters: Qibli, Winter

CW: Mentions of night terrors, trauma, etc

Summary: Qibli's having troubles falling asleep, kept up by the Bad Thoughts again. Yet, through it all, he hears someone nearby shuffling through papers.

Word Count: 1.0k

A/N: Oh SHOOT it's almost the end of gay month- TAKE THIS!! I'm not typically a Qinter writer. I've ranted before about how I don't quite care for the main fandom interpretation and how I prefer Turtbli, but eh,,,sometimes you just gotta write it.

Qibli tossed and turned, unable to fall back asleep. It was one of those nights again. You know the type. The ones where you flip and flop from one side to the other without rest. The ones where you try counting sheep only to get distracted after the first hundred or so. The ones where unwanted thoughts and ideas pester you nonstop. You know they aren't true, but, hey, it's nighttime and everything's possible; including believing that everyone hates you and can't stand the persona you've built.

So, yeah. Great. Just terrific. Lovely night as always. Wouldn't be him if he didn't constantly worry that his closest friends despised him. He rolled over once more, dwelling away in his thoughts.

However, as he did so, the still darkness wavered for a moment. First, some rustling. Then, a tiny scraping sound. At last, light. Despite his eyelids blocking most of it out, he could see a tiny orange flare flickering away.

Obviously, he became curious. There was something happening right in front of him. He'd be an idiot to not at least look. That's what he's been taught to do since he crawled out of the egg: sleep with both eyes half-open just in case somebody's decided to put a hit on you.

He squinted. His eyes were adjusted to the pitch-black room that was his sleeping quarters. On the other side he saw something quite odd.

Winter was there. He was laying on his bed of embroidered cushions and silky blankets, several scrolls sprawled out. An inkwell rested nearby, which he dipped an icy blue claw into and began to write on one such scroll. A couple tall wax candles were dotted around him, their wicks just recently lit.

"What are you doing?..." Qibli asked, his voice hoarse and groggy.

Winter's head shot up. "Nothing!" he hissed, quickly grabbing the scrolls and shoving them under the pillows.

"Oh, nothing? I couldn't tell you were doing nothing. Sure looks like you were doing something, but I guess writing on scrollpaper at...moons above, what time is it right now?"

"Late," Winter said, "the moons are at their peak. Besides, what does it matter what I'm doing?"

"C'mon, don't be a pain in the tail here. I've...actually got a bit of a headache here," he half-lied.

The corners of Winter's mouth tightened as his eyebrows furrowed. "I see. I don't think sitting there and talking is really going to help with that though. It only makes you and I more stressed. Hows about you try- oh I don't know- going to bed?"

"No can do, frost-face," he lightly teased. "I can't really sleep right now."

"What? Why?"

"Just can't. It's one of those nights again."

A look of familiarity stretched across Winter's face. He let out an exhale. "Right. Of course. Sometimes I forget you get like that too."

"Even after our big talk like a month ago?"

"My mind wasn't concerned with you at all. I have other things to worry about."

"So you care more about 'doing nothing' than about me right now?"

"That's not what-" He took a small breath. "If you're looking for sympathy right now, you're not going to get it by teasing me."

"Sorry! You're just an easy target," Qibli snickered, but surely enough the guilt settled back in. "But... You know what, never mind. Sorry about that. Shouldn't've been a jerk like that."

Winter tilted his head. "Is it really that bad enough for you to admit that your wrong?"

"No, I just..." Qibli rubbed his face. "What are you doing?"

"I'm doing work."

"What kind of work?"

"Is it any of your business?"

"I just wanna know what it is. I kinda like hearing you talk. Gives me something else to listen to."

Winter stared blankly for a moment, eventually breaking the eye contact. "It's a personal project. It involves scavengers."

"Scavengers? You're still into them?"

"You thought I wasn't?" he scoffed. "I'll have you know that I'm planning something with the council in Sanctuary. A little plan that'll perhaps help in letting dragons come to realize that these aren't mindless pests." Winter's voice got more intense at the tail-end of that sentence.

"Didn't know you were that passionate about them. That's cool! Much better thing to like than...I dunno, nothing." He slipped out of his little alcove. "You mind if I sit next to you?"

"Uhh," he stammered. "I suppose. Just don't muddy up anything or I'll slit your throat."

"Heartwarming." Qibli plopped himself right next to him. "What sort of stuff are you planning? You've been gone from Jade Mountain for a while. I'd assume it's for something big."

"You could say as much. It's a program that'll go on for a couple months at a school we're building there. Animal studies and whatnot, but with a focus on scavengers and their society." Winter pulled out a scroll, his signature neat and dainty writing all over it to the point where there was more black ink than pale-brown paper. "I took a couple notes." He continued to pull out even more scrollpaper, all of which with similar amounts of writing.

"Three moons, that's a lot."

"Really? I don't think it even comes close to the amount I could jot down. Scavengers are brilliant when you get to them. You have to actually be around them and watch them as opposed to eating them like a savage beast."

"What do they like to do?" At this point, Qibli was pretty interested in what he had to say. Truth be told, he was never all that into scavengers. They were weird creatures, but he never gave them too much thought. However, listening to Winter talk so passionately about them was thrilling. It was entertaining to watch him ramble for once in his life about something he loved. Something he wholeheartedly loved. Not something he was told to love, like his tribe or whatnot. He was talking about a true passion.

It calmed him, listening to Winter speak. Everything felt much better around him. He'd never quite met a dragon before that was so easy to be around. Yes, he could be cold and distant at times, but there was nobody else who really got him. Who understood the words he said. Who knew what it was like when he finally admitted to wanting to put down this mask he puts up around others.

Winter was special to him. Winter made him happy.

#wof #wings of fire #wof fanfic #qinter #qinter wof #somepersonswriting #SP-writing

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Note

these kinda go hand in hand for the emoji asks so 👀🤲

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please! 🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip? → Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

😂 Oh boy, erm... I got a request for breeding kink with Seb? 👉👈 And I may be going a little overboard with it? Been working on it for two days, this is day 3.

Basically, it's kind of inspired by the myth of Pandora, or rather an interpretation of it.

The existing version is that Pandora's box released demons and evil and diseases into the world, and all that was left in it when it was closed were the good things.

But another interpretation I've read recently is that, perhaps, originally, Pandora's box was the source of all things (hence the name, Pan dora = all gifts). So that means good and bad and war and peace and illness and healing all originated from it. And in that way, it served as a metaphor for the womb, which creates all of humanity with all of humanity's potential for good and bad.

And from all that, I came up with the idea that Seb found this magical box that gave you whatever you need, kind of like the Room of Requirement that you could carry around lol. But you needed a special key to open it, and that key was... proof of love 👀 Cum, the key to opening it is girl cum and boy cum.

That's it, that's the fic. I'm halfway done at 5k words and I want to pull my hair out. It is smut from start to finish. And to make it more ✨fun✨, it's noncon, and my goodness do I hope the anon who sent the request won't mind, because it's comin' 😅

Anyway, thank you for your questions, nonny! 💕

And here's the hastily written and not proofread snippet. Below the cut, because NSFW:

He looked at her intensely, breathless, watching every frown and tensing of her face while his finger eased itself past her hole. He pressed in almost shyly, then retreated, then pressed in deeper, making her moan. Her hips twitched beneath him, trying to buck him off. To soothe her, he flicked her clit a little harder, distracting her with pleasure from the pain of piercing her.

“Shhh… shhh… there there,” he gentled with a whisper. “I just want to feel what you’re like inside…”

His thumb eased on her clit and he removed it, leaning closer instead to touch it with his tongue. She yelped and her hips jumped, but he held her down firmly while working his finger deeper, deeper, a little bit deeper inside with each thrust. Slowly, Sebastian curled his tongue beneath her hub, just letting it rest there as his lips slowly closed around it.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, her back arching, head thrashing left and right, her hands twisting senselessly into the rope. “Sebastian, it’s too… too much…”

He hummed as he suckled on her clit, sucking the taste of her flesh off of her. Her little pearl warmed up on his receiving flesh. Beneath, he removed his index finger and moved it instead to part one of her folds, now so much more swollen and throbbing, and placed in its stead his thicker middle finger in her hole. Rubbing back and forth gently, he opened her up a little wider, groaning at how her soft channel hugged him from every side. Her wetness dripped out of her around his knuckles, coating her upper thighs. She clenched when he shoved the digit all the way inside, her whimpers drowned out by Sebastian’s hungry moan when he felt the end of her on the tip of his finger.

“Stop it!” she hissed through clenching teeth.

Her legs struggled and moved until he caught one of them in his hand and held her by the knee close to his neck, folding her open while he ate at her, licking and sucking and teasing her with kisses from her clit to her hole where his finger teased her open. He parted from her with a suckling pull at her folds, then began kissing her inner thigh while he thrust his finger faster and faster, preparing her for what he was about to do.

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept being loved?” asked Sebastian, looking tiredly into her eyes, his lips against her skin, breath fanning over her most sensitive place that burned and leaked with her pleasure. It didn’t even sound like a tease, it sounded as if he was… sad for her, and genuinely curious to know the answer. “You’re not afraid of me,” he sighed, shaking his head slightly, “not really… You’re afraid of being vulnerable. With me...”

#sswallow;answers #sebastian sallow #hl #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian sallow smut

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sirwow · 2 months

Note

absolutely predictable question that i am dumping in your inbox here. i just finished reading the sword brothers doc (LOVED LOVED LOVED IT ur characterization of them is so good!!!) and i was wondering how kibou's apology/reunion with cole went after blowing up at him

no pressure i just love samurai and cole's dynamic so now your interpretation of kibou with that in mind is just gonna be like. swimming in my brain. like fishies (its 3 am here pardon me)

YOU you have given me possibly my favorite question ever to answer so here’s a full dialogue of the making up / reconfrontation between Kibou and Cocole under the cut because it’s long and im mental. Please ask me more questions like this I will be so mental <3 /nf

Click!

The break room door of the cafe opened to Cole and Nicole on their phones. The two looked up expectant as Lucky strided in with Kibou slinking in behind him. They took a seat at the small table across from Cole and Nicole. The pair put away their phones, Cole lifting his visor to stress scratch his scalp.

“Alright. Samurai-“

Cole was immediately cut off from an under table kick by Lucky.

“Dude what was that for? I just started.”

“Call him his name, Cole. I’m here to make sure he’s not getting the short end of the stick.”

“Hmph. Kibu- er.. Kibou. Why should we forgive you after everything you said to us?”

Cole sat back by Nicole and watched Kibou shift nervously in his seat. Kibou spoke up unsure.

“… I did not mean the words I said. I- I was not entirely in control of myself.”

“Dude you called us bastards and worthless friends for not going out drinking with you. Even if you were drunk you were the one to have those thoughts in the first place!”

Nicole snapped a bit at the generic apology. Kibou sunk back into himself and Lucky just remained to the side, understanding her anger. The silent, head lowered, dispondance from Kibou for a good while seemed to only raise the old hurt feelings in the couple. Cole’s past anger suddenly rose in his tone.

“You called us the worthless friends when you were the one drinking and dragging us down with you!”

Lucky sat up straight at the insult and even Nicole was a bit surprised if remaining silent.

“Woah- okay cool it dude. We’re trying to meditate not make this worse for Kibou-“

“No, he is right.”

Kibou said, stopping Lucky and everyone looking over a bit in surprise.

“I do not believe I deserve being forgiven for my words. I did not come here with that goal. I want you to be aware of my guilt and know that I am sorry. What you will do with that is your choice and I will not push for the one that is best for me.”

The room fell silent. Nicole and Cole glanced at each other with a conversation seeming to happen between them in their heads. Lucky pat Kibou’s shoulder with a sigh n tugged on it signaling they should probably go. Kibou nodded in response and stood with Lucky.

“Well if that’s all I think it’s best we get going. We have the doctors next door to still apologize to, hm? Unless you’ve got something else to say Kibou.”

Kibou glanced back to Cole and Nicole then back to Lucky, shaking his head.

“Alright’. We’ll leave you two it then.”

“Wait- Kibou!”

Kibou stopped himself from walking out the door while Cole scrambled over.

“…Uhm.. I was wondering if maybe you wanted to swing by later..? Friday after hours and maybe, I don’t know.. sort this out over a game of smash..?”

“Hm.. Sure. Best be ready to be wrong again.”

“Pff you’re on.”

The two shoved each other around laughing softly. Nicole floated over with a relieved sigh.

“Also- mind if we get your number again? We kinda deleted it a year ago..”

Kibou instantly shoves a hand in his pocket and hands them a neatly written post it note with his number, both being surprised at the preparation.

“You’re the 3rd people to say that so Kibou thought he’d just be prepared if it happened again”

Lucky piped up from behind them. He opened the break room door again with his foot and led Kibou out who seemed back to his chipper self then.

Click!

The door closed once more just as fast as they had come by. Cole lent back, sighing from the awkwardness of the whole situation. Nicole shoved the note between the keys in her pocket and watched Cole smiling softly, fiddling with his visor in his lap.

“..Missed him?”

“This version of him? Yeah, haha.”

#sirask #rhythm doctor #blade bros bosting #rd connections converged #rhythm doctor writing

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sith-shenanigans · 4 months

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tier iv headcanons blease 👀

4. Makes a character or situation more relatable to me:

Let’s jump immediately to the heavy/complicated one. Force users are never neurotypical, by definition; their thought patterns and senses differ from their species’ norms. And I approach darksiders specifically and deliberately as being mentally ill—which, uh, sounds awful if it’s coming from someone who isn’t, but I am. Mental illness is part of the sapient condition, and it deserves narrative empathy and respect.

Using the Dark causes certain distortions in thinking, which differ from person to person, but tend to (as a basic rule) involve getting “stuck in their own head”; being much more seriously biased towards their own perspective (and often not realizing they should care about anyone else’s), tunnel vision on whatever they’re focused on, sometimes to the point of emotional solipsism (you know other people are real, but they don’t feel that way, or it doesn’t feel important). There are some people who vary from that—Ahene doesn’t really do a lot of that, because she’s so hypervigilant about analyzing other people that the characteristic thoughtlessness doesn’t appear—but they tend to have other issues, and generally those get drawn out the same way. (Okay, she does the tunnel vision thing, but she does that for autistic reasons. She just does it more now.) It basically tends to shove you very hard into whatever mindset you’re using to access the Force, and that is usually where “I want to do a thing” goes.

There tend to be emotional effects, of course (hypomania/actual mania and intense anger being most common, but it can go in most directions, honestly), though I don’t… like the interpretation some people have of “entirely kills your emotional control, usually in ways that don’t really read like any kind of realistic emotional reaction.” It makes it harder. Accessing the Force through yourself (which is what using dark side really means, in my headcanon) tends to magnify whatever is there. And some people… get the idea that they don’t really need emotional control? Which is an entirely different thing.

But, like, the important thing here is that cognitive distortions? Can be managed. Not perfectly—which is the other thing that bothers me, having characters who just Heroic Willpower through it unscathed—but it’s possible to have strategies. You can channel that druk. It’s going to affect you anyway! But being a reasonable member of society doesn’t require being “sane.”

(Or I’d be kinda screwed. No shame to anyone who doesn’t like the idea of “sanity” as a concept, but sometimes it’s reassuring to me to go “there is literally no reason why I should be incandescently angry about the idea of interacting with people I love, or feeling like my parents are strangers with no emotional connection, or whatever is happening here today” and the way I tend to think about that is “I’m objectively not sane and that’s just something I have to work around to be a reasonable person.” This personality disorder is a mood disorder in Groucho glasses, etc, etc.)

Anyway, while most Sith aren’t really managing things well—imo, they do kind of all have strategies? Most of them don’t think of it like managing a mental illness (Ahene and Verok being the exact opposite ends of that aside), but they all have their particular ways to wrangle themselves in the direction they want to go. And Sith society and social norms are built around that to a significant extent. A fair amount of the management of it unfortunately gets offloaded onto the regular people (bad), but the rules for Sith-to-Sith interaction are all calibrated around “how do we society when all of us are 90% problems by volume,” and I think that’s neat.

And also everyone can probably tell that I have one of the ✨bad ones✨ where sometimes when I get upset my brain flips the Wounded Abuser mindset and then I need to go hide away from society until I’m done being a werewolf because otherwise I am putting way, way too much effort into not deliberately being horrible to people. I’m not writing my darksiders as borderline (except the ones that actually are), but my brain is so good at inventing awful thought patterns, you guys. I’ve got to do something with them.

[tiers of headcanons]

#complex relationships to my own mental illness here!#asks

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incognito-lionbeast · 10 months

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RE: Shen Yuan’s family (ft. mentions of loss & grief)

Initially, I thought it was strange that his family members were mentioned maybe a handful of times throughout the entire novel & never in any particular depth? I sorta wrote it off as One Of Those Things -- something that’s not really relevant to the plot, so it’s just kinda hand-waived (which isn’t uncommon in the media I’m typically into). So, I left it alone for a while.

Later, upon reading meta posts about Shen Yuan’s past life here, I got to thinking about it more... and while I agreed with many points I saw, it always bothered me when folks used how Shen Yuan seldom mentioned his family / never seemed all that upset about losing them as an example of how miserable & depressed he was before he transmigrated.

--like it was one of those things that I felt very strongly that they were wrong about, but didn’t have the words to articulate why.

Until I was abruptly smacked with Extreme Fuckor™

It felt wrong to me because that’s how I experience[d] grief RE the loss of immediate family. It looks an awful lot like avoiding it, not thinking about it, going about your life as normal, and when you do think about it--for as briefly as you’ll let yourself do so--it feels like:

A “slight sorrow” to immediately be replaced with something as a distraction, because God Damn It. Now isn’t the time. And it’s never really the time. Not to get too real, but eventually you become so good at Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlbossing yourself that eventually you lose the ability to actually tell whether or not you’re Fine & Normal About It (IE have accepted it & moved on) or if it’s just been shoved into its own little compartment so well that you’re only pretending to be fine/happy/normal. Yet, there’s still no time to unpack that, so we won’t. We won’t.

So, maybe I’m projecting, I dunno. Yet, I can’t help interpreting things that way... which is to say, my point is that I believe Shen Yuan when he said that he & his family were close -- at least he & his siblings were. The even further lack of mentioning his parents reads to me as either He Loved Them But They Didn’t Give Him The Attention He Needed (being the [remarkably depressed] third son with no responsibilities or expectations) and/or it was just a little more complicated. for any number of reasons.

Yet, he always mentions his siblings fondly. So, no matter how unreliable of a narrator Shen Yuan is... he refuses to let himself think about it too hard, because there’s nothing he can do now. He has a new family whom he loves & though he struggles to believe/realise it at times, they love him, too. He’s happy with them.

So, we really shan’t examine the skeletons in his closet nor any of its tightly-packed compartments. No sir. Which is in stark contrast to how he grieved Luo Binghe after pushing him into the Endless Abyss, because he WOULD have to deal with Binghe later & he knew it. The guilt ate him alive. Yet, he still tried denying / avoiding his grief as much as possible, but it’s much harder with the [perceived] looming threat of “This man is going to come back and rip me limb from limb & it’s my fault”

so yeah, I have thoughts >u<

#Shen Yuan #Shen Qingqiu #SVSSS #Bay babbles

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novelcain · 1 year

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Ooooh dragon theories!!!!! I, for one really wanna hear it!

I'm a curious lad and you just mentioned one of the most universal and fascinating mythological beings. I must know what theory you have about them.

- 🐟

FINALLY I CAN ANSWER THIS NOW!!

This ask was based on another ask, which you can find here!

*SHAKES A CAN OF ROCKS*

GATHER ROUND CHILLENS! CAUSE ITS TIME FOR A SKITTLE RAMBLE!

Ok so technically I have a few theories about why dragons are so universal!

The easiest one is that humans as individuals aren't special and think alike a lot more than people want to admit which could be why we have so many repeat concepts throughout history where there was absolutely NO contact with the other cultures some even happening at similar times halfway across the world when that kind of communication wasn't possible😐... But I don't like that idea!😃 *throws it into a wood chipper and aggressive shoves the remains in a blender*

*dusts myself off* NEXT THEORY! You guys may wanna get comfortable for this one.

Now, this one may seem kinda far fetched, but I personally believe it has some merit, so stick with me here! IN FACT, this was actually going to be my college thesis before I dropped out, so I have collected a lot of evidence to support it at least being a possibility! (And in case anyone was wanting to know what I studied I majored in biochemistry and mechanical engineering and minored in psychology. If anyone wants to know more about that feel free to ask.😌 NOW BACK TO MY HYPOTHESIS!) But before we begin☝️, a question. Have any of you ever experienced a situation where you've met someone you've never known get to talking to them and realized that they've had the same wacky and insane idea as you that you've never told anyone about? Well, there's a term for! It's called ✨social consciousness✨! And because of this fascinating concept, I spent my high school and college years secretly experimenting on all my friends, family, and any stranger I was in the company of for longer than five minutes! (Ritz if you're seeing this, yes, I did use you as a test subject, but you can't be mad because you were and still are my favorite one.😁) All to push the limits of this concept in the name of science! And fear not! No humans were harmed in the making of these experiments except for that one kid in my high school college program who had an existential crisis when I discussed this theory of mine with him but that's neither here nor there. ANYWAYS! What I discovered was FASCINATING to say the least! I found that within close proximities, thoughts can to some degree be interpreted! And no I don't mean telepathy. Nothing has come out of those experiments so far BUT I'M STILL HOLDING OUT HOPE! What I mean is that all living creatures emit bioelectricity some more than others but that's besides the point and brains run on that bioelectricity! I believe that each species has a specific frequency and therefore the brainwaves of individuals might be able to be picked up on by another member of that species. Of course, for humans brainwaves can differ greatly and so also I hypothesize that it certainly helps if you have similar brainwave patterns given that some test subjects were more responsive than others but I didn’t have access to an EEG machine those cowards wouldn’t let me borrow one so I wouldn’t know for sure. A few of my finds were as follows: ~57% of the time when consistently thinking of a random tune someone else in the room will begin either humming or tapping to the same rhythm. ~82% of the time when intensely staring at someone from behind or an out of sight location they will directly turn to look at you. ~29-30% of the time when continuously thinking a certain word or action around someone they will eventually mention that they can't seem to get it off their mind lately. And there are many other data points I've collected over the years as well many other branching theories but I think you get the point I'm making. But it's probably that this point in time that you're thinking, "Skittle what the frickidy FUCK does this have to do with dragons?" And to that I ask you, if you took this theory and applied it to a very large population thinking about something all at once, what do you think would happen?🙃 I believe something every interesting would result from such a thing. Such as maybe say the transference of ideas and concepts from one culture to another even over great distances. Except with a few differences here and there to account for both culture and dilution of the transmitted concept. And this doesn’t apply to just dragons, we see similarities in religions that never even knew each other all the time. It’s incredibly interesting to think about.

Basically, if you learned anything at all from that one it's that the world should be on its knees thanking whatever cruel yet merciful god exists that I didn't continue down the path of science otherwise I'd probably be in some government lab either as a mad scientist with questionable morals or an experiment to see how far one can truly stray from sanity.

And my final theory!☝️

That dragons were a real species that might have been hunted or driven to extinction by a growing human presence. And if they were a very large widespread species found all over the world then regional differences would only be natural. That they, like many other species, adapted to their habitats. Or perhaps they are like tigers, leopards, lions, and jaguar who are all different species but are from the same genus. And if they were animals meant to fly then hollow bones would most likely be very necessary making fossilization and preservation very difficult. Paleontologists find pieces of large bones that can't be identified all the time. And fossilized eggs aren't even possible to be definitively matched to a species. We could have been staring at the answer for decades and we'd never know it.

Me trying to explain my theories in a manner that makes sense:

#🐟 anon #skittle answers #skittle rambles

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deafeninggardenerpanda · 7 months

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Sorry if this is more of a redundant question or related to one that you already did, but what is your opinion on people claiming that ships with little evidence or up to interpretation are "canon"?

I believe you mentioned this somewhat with FranFlam, but what about with other ships that you like where this seems to be common with like Metadede? Or is it the case of "it's fine as long as they aren't attacking people who think otherwise"?

under the cut! nah totally valid q anon i love talking about stuff like this:

tbh i think kirby is just a series that should not have romance in it at all. innocent things like ribbon and kirby in 64 is like fine because i personally dont take kid relationships too seriously but like anything else i just dont think its the place for it. for metadede in particular, ofc i love shipping and i like to scream with other shippers and pick out things and see it in a shippy context but i absolutely dont think metadede is canon, will ever be canon, or even particularly Should be canon actually. im just gonna stick to metadede and franflam like your examples for this because you dont really see people trying to claim any particular (fanon) m/f ship as canon in this fandom but hey even tho i think a lot of us can agree nintendo makes some great games, nintendo is also a big soulless corporation that does not care about us. if youre someone desperate to find a cake in the crumbs on the floor in terms of canon main/major character queer rep, anything nintendo is absolutely not the place for that

to answer your question, that sums up how i feel about other people who try to make canon ship claims too. i try to think the best of people because the lines get really blurred when a lot of people just like making jokes about ships being canon vs Actually genuinely thinking that, but for anyone who legitimately does try to push their ship as canon its just kinda like Mmmm. that gets a thumbs down from me... its not like problematic in of itself (unless you try to claim that people who dont like the ship are homophobic by default or something. youre getting thrown in the grain silo and you probably need to go outside) so like technically i guess i dont care, but i sure do think its obnoxious as hell and also absolutely REEKS of "FRIENDS dont DO that!! people who arent dating dont DO that!!!!! so they must be dating!!!!" and then the thing in question is the two characters like holding hands sometimes. of course theres something to be said about Writer intent but cmon this is a series where people kiss each other on the lips platonically all the time i cannot take canon ship claims seriously. why is so much of peoples worth in a ship staked in whether its "canon" anyways? it just comes off as wanting a reason to lord over others why a certain ship is better than everyone elses. unless two characters make out in a cutscene complete with blushing afterwards prefaced by a lot of romantic tension through the entire game previously its not canon. thats my hot take lol. we have a rare series where canon romance isnt in your face and shoved down your throat every moment and yet some bad folks in the fandom will try to do that for you still. unbelievable

#asks #anonymous #ask to tag

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bornetoblood · 10 months

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1 2 9 AND 10 VIOLENCE ASKS 🔥🔥🔥🔥💥💥💥💥

Link to the questions!

I answered 10 here!

1. the character everyone gets wrong.

I’ve already talked about why and how I’m not into a lot of Afton interpretations so I’m gonna talk about Henry Emily now (my favourite man ever). A lot of people I’ve seen kinda present Henry as a guy who does nothing wrong, the sane half of the furry franchise duo. I believe this is incorrect. Mr Emily is just as (if not more) fucked up than Billy and I’m tired of pretending he’s not. Before any child murder happened we had the springlock suits (that Henry designed) that Faz Inc’s minimum wage employees were forced to wear and told to go bleed out in the back room if they malfunctioned as to not disturb customers. I think Henry capitalist’ed his way into child murder complicity there’s no way he didn’t know Will was the one doing it I refuse to believe Afton is a component criminal. It’s ALSO implied he either helped build or fully constructed the Funtimes which are specifically designed to kidnap children. He’s also lobotomised at least 2 people on purpose and shoved his puppet daughter in a bear that shocks her every so often. I also love the fact he locked his business partner’s corpse in a back room for 30 years and has an arson streak. In the books also he is filled with a rage so volatile and deep it animates a robo version of his daughter that’s pretty metal. I like him a lot and I think he’s a bad person who tries to make up for his complicity while still running the most exploitative children’s franchise in the US (he totally does fucking union busting no doubt).

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom ( @mrslittletall asked me to do this for the Lozza too).

Okay I have pretty complicated thoughts on this. I think Laurence Bloodborne is a massive switch (he can do both) what I dooon’t like is that he pretty much always subs in all the stuff I’ve seen with him and he’s always doing it in a way that gives me the most visceral “he would not fucking say that” I’ve ever had. People hardly ever let him keep his violence or his love of control in porn stuff and like… idk that’s what I find hot about him. He’s always not old as well which sucks to me I think that old man can get it. Also tangentially related is that I think he’s transmasc and trans men never Dom in anything ever I am actually starved.

9. worst part of canon.

For fnaf there’s so much I’m just gonna say ‘all of it’ and move on lest we be here forever.

In regards to Bloodborne I suppose it’s just a lot of little things that make me a little uncomfortable. I’ll have to mull it over more but there’s certain aspects that I think about and I think ‘Hm and this feels a little off but I can’t tell why’. I also wish there was more character customisation options like hair texture and weight but that’s an issue in a loooot of games unfortunately.

Gameplay wise I hate doing forbidden woods sooooo much oh my god.

#hope I’ve made sense here #anyway I love Henry Emily I love how it’s implied he someone caused the death of all bears and also may be god????#the rat speaks #asks #slight n/s/f/w #percyverance #bloodborne #fnaf

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ctrlaltsoob · 2 years

Text

20. stupid, stupid, stupid - take a hint (csb)

summary: worrying about anything else couldn’t matter less to huh y/n, who cares so desperately at beating the one and only choi soobin in absolutely everything she can. although maybe there are some things than only can take the trophy for first…

or where two people fail to realise that the line between love and hate is very thin, even though they might be the smartest in their studies.

warnings: swearing, empty insults, cliché writing pls i’m so sorry idk how to word things anymore

a/n: Hi . so college is busier than i expected (surprise), so i’m gonna update tah on wednesday evenings-thursday mornings GMT time. this weeks update is kinda underwhelming (literally filler) bc i was not prepared for how busy everything is

STILL i want to continue updating bc i like writing for fun so pls bear with me as i get used to this new lifestyle😭😭 i’m also in the process of writing a beomgyu one shot so keep an eye out for that !!

19. #goals | masterlist | 21. Okay…

more under the cut [wc. 1.9k]

stupid brain. stupid mind. stupid heart.

it’s what soobin’s been saying to himself for the past week. every little interaction with you has been replayed at least fifty times in his head, and he finds a new thing to regret and fret over each time. you’re slowly edging back to the shell of whatever relationship you had back then, and it hurts not only his head, but also his heart, because of course, you surely don’t see it that way. afterall, it’s always him who fails to interpret things correctly.

“what’s wrong with you?” soobin feels a finger poke at his side. he instantly recognises your voice, and your concern has his head spinning.

“nothing,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets so that he doesn’t end up picking at his nails in front of you.

he hears you scoff beside him. “you’re a shit liar, you know?” he can hear the concern under your playful tone, and he hates it. he hates how you’re so considerate towards him, because it only messes with his head even more. “you always hide your hands when you get nervous, or when you’re lying.”

“are you stalking me? that’s a bit creepy,” he squints, watching as you roll your eyes with a small smile on your face. somehow he’s glad that he amuses you.

“i’m just a very observant person, and i just happen to notice that you do this often.”

hiding his hands is not something he does voluntarily, but rather something that he’s grown accustomed to whenever you’re around. shoving his hands in his pockets, or making sure they’re preoccupied with holding something ensures that he’s not doing something dumb, like tucking your hair behind your ears or holding onto your sleeve so that you don’t get lost when you walk in big crowds. yet somehow he ends up doing all this anyway, because while it’s a reflex to hide his hands away, it feels more natural to have them near you in some way. it’s not intentional, but rather a precautionary measure — one that never seems to work.

stupid brain.

“well, i’m fine,” he says, ignoring the way you squint your eyes in disbelief. the streets of seoul are busy as shit, and there’s way too many people here for his comfort, but he’d rather you not know that. “why do you ask?”

“because you look like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” you say truthfully, which makes him blink in surprise. “i know you hate big crowds, so why are you here today?”

“choi beomgyu is the root of all my problems,” he says, trying his best to not think about how you’re so attentive when it comes to him. “your stupid cousin is also to blame.”

he sees you roll your eyes, but with more intent this time. “sunghoon is so slow. i don’t understand how he is my blood.”

“must run in the family then.”

the way you glare at him and reach up to push his forehead makes him wonder what exactly thing one and two said for you to be so comfortable with him. it’s a little strange how you’ve essentially switched up so fast, but he’s glad about it nonetheless.

“i hate you,” you mumble, but the way the corner of your lips curve upwards ever so slightly tells him that there’s a chance you’re not telling the truth. “going back to the others now. you annoy me.”

“is that so?” there’s a fond smile on his face as you avoid his eyes. “is that why you’re still holding onto me so that you don’t get lost?”

your eyes shoot wide open as you quickly release your grasp on his bag. he chuckles softly upon seeing your reaction, grabbing your hand and returning it to its previous position.

“i’m only joking,” he laughs, wincing when your fingertips pinch his side. the huff you let out as you mutter out what seems to be a string of insults only makes him laugh even more.

as you two weave your way through the crowded streets of seoul, your hand moves to cling onto his arm. it’s not that big of a deal, but it is big enough to make his head spin with too many thoughts. you’re too close to him, way too close to him, especially when someone shoves past you and forces you into his side. a flurry of apologies leave your mouth afterwards, but he’s too busy trying to keep his face cool and stop thinking about how strangely cold it is once you’ve stepped away.

stupid mind.

by the time you’ve both reunited with your friends, soobin’s still trying to calm the annoying thoughts of you that keep invading his head. he hopes that no one can see how red his face is, or how bothered he’s suddenly become, but one short-lived eye contact with heesung tells him that he’s been found.

“you’re fucked,” his friend says, eyeing how soobin’s gaze has become hyperfocused on a random street sign. “you’re so fucked.”

“i literally do not know what you’re talking about.”

“the redness on your face says otherwise,” the arch in heesung’s brow makes soobin’s stomach plummet, because he swears he was doing a good job at hiding it. “you’re gonna kill yourself in the process if you keep denying this.”

“i deny nothing,” he says, immediately correcting himself with: “i mean, i deny nothing because there is nothing to deny.”

“right…”

“shut up.”

heesung decides to press no further, seeing how soobin’s arm is suddenly being dragged by your hand to a nearby food stall. he watches as you point out several foods, inevitably forcing the man to pay for all of your choices. it’s a strange sight, seeing as you two have the most dysfunctional relationship anyone’s ever seen — you push and he shoves, he pulls and you tug, yet here you are sharing street food from a random stall like you’re something akin to friends.

“you’re only here for my money,” soobin frowns, watching you nod contently. around half of his bank account has been drained purely because you keep pointing at things, and he keeps buying them for you.

“what use are men, if not for their wallets?” you say with an innocent look on your face, and although he knows you’re only joking, the idea of you only talking to him for something as materialistic as money and not something else has his heart dropping slightly.

“i could at least get a thank you,” he mutters, looking away to hide the red that creeps up on his face as your thumb wipes something from his face. “where are your manners?”

“is this enough?” you muse, hand still touching his face for no apparent reason. whatever mess you saw on his cheek must be long gone, but he finds that he quite likes the feeling of your hand against his skin. it’s strange, it’s unusual, yet your hand doesn’t move, nor does your thumb stop brushing the same spot of skin over and over again.

and when he turns his head to look at you, soobin makes the mistake of looking directly into your eyes. it makes his skin burn — he’s sure that you can see it too. you two work like pieces of unfinished clockwork, but your hand fits so nicely against his face that he’s starting to think this is something else.

flames burn within his chest as his eyes stare into yours. there’s something there, something that he can’t quite decipher yet. it feels like a weight pushing against his heart, trying to tell him something, but he can’t think clearly, not when you consume his mind as his heartbeat thrashes in his ears. it’s dangerous, but it’s not a new friend.

stupid fucking heart.

it’s not until your hand freezes and the regret flashes in your eyes that forces soobin back into reality. you’re not friends, you’re not lovers, and you’re certainly not close enough in the slightest to be acting like this, so you pull your hand away from his face which has his heart aching strangely. he knows that he shouldn’t have enjoyed that, and he knows that he shouldn’t be disappointed in the lack of skin-ship with you, so why does he suddenly feel empty without your touch against his skin?

“thanks,” you suddenly say, which only throws soobin’s mind into further peril. why are you so casual about this? why aren’t you freaking out like he is? it can’t just be him, right?

he can only nod as a response, too busy questioning everything to be able to come up with a concrete answer. your hand is far from him now, and you stand like two walls built incorrectly too close to each other. it’s awkward, to say the least, and when you stretch your hand outwards to offer him whatever food he ended up paying for, he finds himself staring at you for what seems the millionth time.

“what?”

“do you want some?” you ask this question like it’s not already obvious, like you weren’t just caressing his face in public. “i mean, you did buy it, afterall.”

soobin doesn’t say anything as he pulls a warm bun out from the paper bag, for fear of his voice cracking or something stupid like that. he soon realises that you’ve chosen red bean buns, something that you bought for him years ago because they were his favourite thing to eat whenever he got hungry. you probably don’t even remember that, so he tells himself that it’s just some random coincidence and not your thoughtfulness coming into play. you’re not friends, he tells himself.

you’re not friends.

soobin feels stupid. he feels stupid because he can’t properly talk to you, and he feels stupid because he wants to properly talk to you. somehow everything seems stupid when it comes to you, like all logic and common sense flies out the window whenever you come into the picture. it’s frustrating, for lack of a better word, that soobin fails to function like a normal human being whenever you’re around. he blames you, for existing, for making his life so difficult.

perhaps a life without you would be easier. a blessing where you’re not invading his thoughts, affecting his mannerisms, confusing his mind — without you, life would be straightforward, uncomplicated. he believes this like the feeling of you dragging him around the city doesn’t make him feel carefree, like seeing you in his shirt doesn’t make his head spin, because he refuses to admit any of this. he refuses to acknowledge the affect you have on him, purely because it makes him feel dumb.

still, you exist in his life to make it so irritatingly complicated. but he lets you take his hand and do whatever you want because he’s, well, stupid.

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#choi soobin x reader #soobin x reader #soobin smau #soobin fic #txt fic #soobin: take a hint #choi soobin #tomorrow x together #social media au

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