#TOTALLY NOT HAVING A MENTAL BREAKDOWN AT MIDNIGHT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

synonymroll648 · 9 months

Text

no hummingbirds, no butterflies (just soft whirrs & peaceful daylight)

pairings/relationships: queerplatonic keefex, minor mentions of dex’s dynamics with his parents, + referenced dadwin (keefe & elwin as a parent-son duo of sorts)

tws: minor (autistic) overstimulation, anxiety, touch starvation, swearing, implied sexual humor (keefe’s here, what’d you expect), and i think that’s it - but please let me know if there’s more that should be added!

summary: “I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’.

OR: An exploration of what Keefe and Dex’s dynamic could’ve been if Keefe hadn’t run off to the forbidden cities.

additional notes: happy final day of @keefex-week 2023, even if this is for the day 1 prompt queerplatonic! i started this fic back in feburary as an ayyam-i-ha gift for the one and only wonderful @bookwyrminspiration, but didn’t finish in time, and then i tried finishing it in time for its tumblr bday, and didn’t finish in time for that either. but at least i finished in time for this! i hope you enjoy the third draft of keefex being queerplatonic and neurodivergent (i wrote this with autistic!dex in the front of my mind. also, this entire fic was inspired by this keefex shitpost i made [and the really gay eckodon scene in book 4].) comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!

word count: 6.4k

ao3 link (recommended)

taglist: @gay-otlc @purplesoup-lad-le @when-wax-wings-melt @asexual-juliet @cowboypossume @xanadaus

fic under the cut :)

Out of all the things that can surprise Dex Dizznee at 12:21am, getting hailed by Keefe Sencen isn’t one of them.

The buzzing of his imparter laying on his bed cuts through the quiet ambiance of the noisemakers carefully placed in his room. The gadget Dex has mindlessly fidgeted with for minutes on end gets set down on his desk, and he carefully steps through the mess on his floor to pick up the hail.

(After turning the volume down, because Keefe has accidentally woken up Dex’s parents from laughing too loud on more than one night like this.)

“Heeeey, Dexy,” Keefe deliriously croons across the line.

Deliriously is the correct description, Dex knows, because Keefe only ever uses that tone when his guard is down—and after Loamnore, lowered guards only ever occur after a mental breakdown or from serious sleep deprivation.

Or both.

“Hello to you too, at this totally reasonable hour for the two of us to be awake,” Dex sits down on the edge of his bed, tucking his feet up onto the mattress.

A snicker. “Tooooootally.”

Dex does a brief internal analysis of his face—he doesn’t have enough time to be thorough without being awkward, but no mental notes at all is bound to leave him floundering later on in the conversation.

Dark circles → Keefe is probably at least halfway out of his mind.

Bedhead → Keefe is definitely at least halfway out of his mind.

Lots of blankets and pillows → Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis.

Slightly more prominent freckles across the bridge of his nose than usual → Congratulate Keefe on getting some sunshine.

Keefe starts talking again, and Dex is glad that he doesn’t have to be the one to resume conversation. “What’d I interrupt?”

“Me trying to get work done for the Black Swan or school but being too tired to think properly.”

“I’m guessing you’re also too awake to go to sleep.”

“Bingo,” Dull exasperation on Dex’s end.

“Relatable.” Fatigue softens the ‘t’ so much that it’s only implied at best. Relatable is surrender wearing a humorous mask; Keefe’s favorite shield.

You need to say something. It’s the start to an all-too familiar chain reaction. He almost lists out all the ways You need to say something evolves into something much more panic-inducing, since lists usually help, but this is one of those few exceptions where listing it all out will screw him over.

So Dex starts on the steps to prevent that, with an inhale quiet enough that Keefe hopefully doesn’t think he’s sighing. Next is grasping for something to contribute. Something silly, preferably.

Dex is a second slower to reply than he’d like, but he finds something that works. His headspace relaxes once he asks, “Is the bingo card or the bingo pieces or the bingo itself relatable?”

“Hmmmmm, good question…” Keefe tilts his gaze up to the ceiling of his starry bedroom at Splendor Plains.

Dex takes his thoughtful pause as an opportunity to study Keefe further. He notes gulon pajamas, and eyelashes that are long and dark and confusingly nice to look at—which makes him think of the eckodon ride to Alluveterre, the first time he’d really noticed them—which makes heat begin to fester under his skin, because that was a lot of physical contact and—

—Keefe starts talking again, and it’s enough to get his brain to shut up. “Bingo pieces, probably. Sometimes I get put in situations where things work out, and sometimes I get put in situations where they don’t. Comes down to everyone else’s luck.”

The Keefe is either content or in the middle of an existential crisis part of Dex’s mental notes from earlier resurfaces at the front of his mind, and he leans a little more towards preparing for helping Keefe through an existential crisis.

Then Dex leans a few degrees back into the or part of the note, once Keefe cracks, “Kinda like all the backstories we came up with for Keebler elves.”

Laughter, fast and loose and loud, threatens to explode out of Dex’s chest. He quickly covers his mouth, unable to help looking away and throwing his head back while he tries to not disturb the sleepy nighttime air that blankets Rimeshire.

When Dex looks back down at Keefe, there’s a proud grin crinkling the corners of his eyes, smushed up against the cozy mess of his bedding. Keefe wrestles a hand out from under the blankets it was trapped under, and points directly at his imparter camera. “You thought it was funny, don’t deny it,”

“I won’t,” Dex relents. A wistful sigh almost turns into snickers, since he’s apparently spent way too many nights talking with Keefe over the past few months. “That was probably the funnest reason for pulling an all-nighter.”

A giggle. More than one giggle, actually. A whole stream of them, like a human song kids would get hooked on. (Giggles. Keefe is undoubtedly delirious, guaranteed to be more than halfway out of his mind. There’s no other explanation for him being so light and sunny at 12:26 in the morning.) “Best all-nighter eeee-ver! No school, just the silly.”

Dex arcs an eyebrow like the sunrise that’s hours away. “The silly?”

“The silly!” Beaming a childish grin, Keefe’s fist punches out of his heap of blankets and up into the air, almost as if he’s cheering for something.

The force of it sends Keefe’s imparter—wherever it’s propped up on—toppling over. The view on Dex’s imparter shifts to close-up constellations behind glass. He hasn’t done well enough in his Universe class to be able to identify anything before Keefe cries, “Dex! Mrs. Stinkbottom! My dearest companions! Noooooooo!”

This time, Dex has to gently bite down on his knuckles to keep himself from laughing too loud.

(Dex has to stop himself from wondering too much about the depth behind My dearest companions too. Because he’s gone down far too many rabbit holes about whether or not he’s romantically attracted to Keefe and been left with a confusing answer of no, but also not being satisfied with the label platonic either. He just focuses on the joy of someone finding him valuable outside of his tech and alchemy skillsets.)

There’s a smile on Dex’s face so wide it makes him feel dumb as he watches Keefe lean over his bed to try and grab at his imparter. Awkwardly angled footage goes a little fuzzy as Mrs. Stinkbottom gets pulled up before Dex. Well, not Dex, the imparter, since Dex is leaned back against his pillow and headboard and not collapsed on Keefe’s bedroom floor, but no one cares about technicalities like that other than Dex.

Finally, Keefe’s hand presumably wraps around his imparter, and Dex’s screen is a blur as Keefe hauls ‘him’ up. “I got a little too silly for the world to handle,” he pouts.

“The world? I don’t think me and Mrs. Stinkbottom count as the world. Pretty sure there’s a lot more to the world than that.”

“Well, that’s the only part of the world I care about right now.”

Don’t read into it, don’t read into it, don’t read into it—

Dex doesn’t read into it. Because he’s a master at this seemingly mythical thing called self-restraint, if his friends are anything to go by. “I dunno, I’m pretty sure you care about your blankets and pillows right now,”

Keefe’s lips thin into a disconcerted line. “...Yeah, I do. Caught me red-handed,” he mumbles, relaxing further into the comfortable disaster he’s wrapped himself in. “But that’s it.”

You sure about that? he wants to ask, but takes the few seconds of silence to consider his options and turn the conversation towards something else instead. “How much have you slept?”

Things That Would Replicate Keefe’s Hysterical Laughter at That Question When Mixed Together Properly:

Tea kettles when their contents are boiling.

Monkeys screeching.

Gasps from someone who almost drowned. Or ran a long distance at a high speed and finally got to stop. Or something like that.

A recording of someone’s sobbing or laughing that could pass as both to unaware listeners.

It’s a little startling—startling enough that he jumps at the unexpected change in sound. Frantically, he turns down his imparter volume. And then Dex tries to climb under his covers as quietly as he can and curls up on his side, so he can fake being asleep if his mom pops in to check on him. (She’s a light sleeper, which she’s jokingly coined as her proof that she married into the Dizznee family instead of being born into it.)

Keefe wipes at his eyes. “You gotta specify a time frame, Dex. Tonight? The last twenty four hours? The last week? Etcetera,”

It takes a blip of time to remember what they’re talking about. “Last twenty four hours.”

“I took a nap after lunch. Ro woke me up for dinner. After that, I painted until I spilled my water jar on accident. Cleaning up made me realize how tired I was, so I tried to sleep. Buuuuut…” Something about the way Keefe’s facial expression just barely shifts makes Dex suspect that he’s either gonna cough up a hard truth or lie to cover it up. “my brain wouldn’t shut off. And now we’re here.”

Dex takes a shot in the dark—literally. The only thing lighting up his room is his open curtains. Moonlight washes the room in pale silvers and a whole scale of blues. “Was it that you couldn’t stop thinking period, or you couldn’t stop thinking about the wrong things?”

The steady, easy rise and fall of Keefe’s form stills. It resumes when Keefe sighs and says, “Does anything get past you?”

I’ve spent my whole life analyzing everything to the best of my ability, because I’ve spent my whole life out of the loop and fighting to get in it. It’s late at night, and your guard’s down. Of course nothing you do gets past me. Too serious, too blunt. Killjoy of a response. Dex condenses it into something lighter, but still truthful. “When it comes to you, no, not that I know of.”

“I feel like that’s a sign that I’ve overshared on one too many nightly hails over the past few months,” Keefe tries to laugh it off, but Dex can sense the nervous undertone.

“I mean, if it makes you uncomfortable, I can stop you next time you try to open up,” Dex offers. He hopes Keefe doesn’t take him up on it.

Dread begins to stir in his stomach as Keefe pauses to consider. It dissipates when Keefe says, “Nahhh, I trust you to not take advantage of me being stupid. Also, like—actually, you know what? Can I ramble about something? The only way my brain can make points is through stories right now. But if you want me to shut up, that’s fine.”

“Ramble away,” Dex says. It’s nice being your number one person to talk to, even if I’m sure it won’t last forever.

“Okay, so, earlier today—well, technically yesterday now, but no one cares—anyways. Anyways.” Keefe clears his throat, fist in front of his mouth. Eyebrows downturn in a way that’s either ironically or unironically serious; Dex can’t tell.

Dex poorly suppresses a smile. Turns up the volume again to hear him better, and resolves to just remind Keefe, No sudden noises please, if he gets too loud again.

“So basically, after Ro woke me up, Elwin knocked on my doorway today and told me dinner was ready if I was hungry. It was in the usual spot he leaves it for me since being in the same room as people is hard and he’s cool about me eating alone, y’know? I feel like I told you about that already, but whatever.” (Keefe has indeed told Dex about this routine. On multiple occasions.) “I hear his footsteps walking away, and I open the door and I say ‘Elwin?’”

“Out loud, or using signs?”

“Out loud,” Keefe confirms.

It’s been a month or two since Keefe managed to start saying short phrases to people aloud again, but it’s still difficult enough—especially without preparation beforehand—that it’s always a surprise to hear him mention talking out loud face-to-face recently. Dex’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline. He holds back the Wow, Keefe, incredible job—genuinely, ready to jump off the cliff’s edge of his tongue. Lets Keefe keep talking.

“So he turns around and he tilts his head in this way that’s like, hey, keep going. My nerves started acting up, but I managed to ask if we could eat at the table together. I had to clear my throat and clarify—well, I was really just rambling, but whatever—that sitting, like, right next to him would be too much. And I’d probably have to sit on the opposite end of the table, but he told me that was totally fine. No disappointment or anything. And we—we actually had a conversation. Not just a few sentences. I could keep up with talking back and forth for longer than a few minutes. And there was this point where he said…” Keefe stops. “He said, um. Hang on.”

Keefe flops his face into his pillow. Dex suppresses an instinctual smile at the unintelligible noises that come out of Keefe’s throat, because he doesn’t know if they’re positive or negative. Yet.

So he asks. “Is this good or bad?”

Keefe nods. Confusion forms in a crease between Dex’s eyebrows. Some absurd part of Dex suspects Keefe can sense it through the screen, because he turns his face towards his imparter and clarifies, “Good. I think. I’ve just forgotten how to handle affection in general. And I’ve never known how to handle it from parental figures.”

Parental figures has delighted surprise lighting up Dex’s face for a split second before he smooths his expression out into something neutral again. Elwin’s always been a lot better than Cassius. Keefe maybe, just maybe, finding someone else to call ‘dad’ or something like it would be good for him.

Dex hopes they get there. Eventually.

Dex also doesn’t know if it’s too early to tell Keefe that, so he errs on the side of caution. “From what I’ve heard you tell me, I don’t think Elwin minds that you don’t really know what you’re doing. But what did Elwin say to you? You cut yourself off.”

Keefe blinks, a bit slow to respond. “Sorry, I was processing that first sentence. Uh. He said that he was really proud of me. For,” —Keefe’s laugh in between words is bittersweet— “being so brave about all of this. And I thought he was playing up how he felt to make me feel better, so I told him that he didn’t have to lie to me. Then he told me that he was being dead serious, and he was sorry he didn’t say it more often. And he tried complimenting me more, but, um, I—I told him to stop because I didn’t want to start crying, y’know? Especially since I couldn’t—can’t hug him. Or anything like that,”

Dex doesn’t really know how this relates to whatever point(s?) Keefe was trying to make earlier about trusting Dex, but he’ll roll with the punches. “I’m not a professional on emotions or anything, but I think it’s okay to get overwhelmed by someone being nice to you when you’re used to literally nothing at best.”

“That’s…” Keefe goes quiet. Dex wonders if he said the right or wrong thing. Hopefully it was right. It feels right, at least. “That’s good to hear. Thanks.”

“No problem,” Dex says, and gives him a tired smile. Not because he’s tired of Keefe, but because it’s who knows what hour in the morning now and Dex has been on a losing streak with his sleep schedule for roughly a week now.

Keefe sighs. “I wish I could hug you,” he whines. “You’re always so nice about putting up with my bullshit, and you’re cute when you’re tired, and I call you all the time but I still miss you because it’s not the same as when I could wrap my arm around you and say I’ve got you, Dexy, without physical consequences.”

There are many, many things that Dex could think in response to that. There are many, many things that Dex does think in response to that. But the first thing that comes to mind is if this conversation had been a string of imparter texts, Keefe would have written something along the lines of “:(((“ at least once just now.

Keefe bulldozes on. “Like, you’re so…patient,”

And then Dex cuts him off with a snort. “You are the first person I have ever heard call me patient. Ever.”

“I—okay, fine. You’re not patient with gadgets or alchemy or anything that’s a project,” Keefe laughs, and then his voice goes…gentle. Like midnight rain. “But you’re patient with people. You’re patient with me.”

You’re patient with me, Keefe says, and Dex thinks, What an interesting way to say ‘I love you’.

It’s an observation. Not a revelation, because Dex has known for months now that his dynamic with Keefe is defined by oddities. They are misfits on the outskirts of everything they know. They are two boys that don’t fit neatly into any boxes—one with a genetically modified ability that’s drastically altered his life in ways no one knows how to fix, and the other the son of a bad match that’s become a regent at 15 and a Black Swan technopath even younger. They are more than that, too, and they see all of that more in each other. They see all the mundane more and the wild more and all the more in between that doesn’t fit into any box society likes. They’ve been seeing more of all the more in one another over these past few months, and scrapping their discoveries together like spare parts into something that’s probably confusing and worthless to the rest of the world, but it works for them.

Progressing without refining, coloring outside the lines—it’s not what mechanics or artists are supposed to do, but for this piece, for their style, for their invention, it works for them.

This weird version of love that they have, that seems to permanently float either between or outside platonic and romantic binaries (Dex is too sleepy to tell): it works for them.

It works for them.

“You make being patient worth it, Keefe. You always do, in the long run.”

Half-lidded eyes shoot wide, and Dex can’t tell if the glaze over icy irises is due to tears or lighting until Keefe’s turning away and whining, “Dex, what the fuck did I say about not wanting to cry?”

Dex is glad that his words touched Keefe, since his hands can’t. Appreciation presents itself through amused exhales at the smile on Keefe’s face that won’t go away. “I thought you liked honesty, though?” he teases.

Keefe rolls back over in his twist of bedding to glare at his imparter, but it looks more like a pout. “Yeah, but I also like not having a crisis over whether or not—I’m pretending I live in an ideal world that doesn’t hate me, by the way—I want to draw you a bajillion times or paint you a bajillion times or tickle fight you until you’re in hysterics because I like the way your laugh sounds or hug you for an eon normally or hug you for an eon the way we did on the eckodon or if I want to kiss you. And I know that last part’s probably overreacting, but also, I can’t tell if it’s wanting to, like, kiss you on the cheek? Or more than that? Or less? Which makes things harder and way more confusing,”

Dex’s eyebrows aren’t practically touching his hairline, they are touching his hairline. (In spirit. Because eyebrow muscles don’t work like that in the real world. He thinks.) Dex adds You want a REPEAT of the eckodon ride? onto his mental list of conversation topics, then asks the slightly more pressing question he got from Keefe’s rambling: “You want to kiss me?”

Because Keefe Sencen? Renowned heartthrob that had half the girls at Foxfire wrapped around his finger without even trying that hard? Wanting to kiss him? Him? Dex Dizznee? The sheer notion was fucking absurd. Bonkers. Ridiculous.

“I mean—like—listen—okay, just, just let me explain before your brain runs wild, I know how you are,” Keefe splutters.

Dex suppresses a grin at Keefe being the flustered one for once. “Oh, I’m definitely listening.”

“Okay, so, first off, kissing was a brief idea that popped into my head when I thought, How do I show Dex how much I care about him? Kind of like an afterthought. And the original afterthought was, like, impulsively kissing your cheek. In a goofy way. Not full-on making out with you or anything.” Keefe pauses, and two things shift in the meantime: Keefe’s facial expression tipping off of panic into thoughtfulness, and Dex’s facial color gradually sliding from its pale base color to a blush that only gets more vivid as Keefe talks. “Though I probably wouldn’t complain if we made out, but it’s not something I’m yearning for every second of every day or anything. The possibility only just hit me, after all. I want it if you want it, I mean. But if you don’t, I’m all good. We’re all good.”

Dex blinks. Throws all caution to the wind, and thinks about it. Thinks about whether or not he’d like that kind of kissing from Keefe. Keefe would most likely start slow, because that feels like a Keefe thing to do, so Dex imagines that. Imagines how he might feel if they were whispering to directly into each other’s ears instead of each other’s imparters, if Keefe pulled him in for a kiss instead of keeping his distance without compromising himself—

—and almost immediately thinks No thanks. Which is a little odd, since he likes the way Keefe looks and acts, but his stomach hollows out at the idea of another mouth moving over his, no matter how kind the intention. Mashing two mouths together is an overrated display of affection hyped up too much by mom’s romcoms and other romance enthusiasts is the explanation for it that pops up into Dex’s head. The lack of spark or pull that Dex feels towards kissing in general plus the weirdness of textures and germs interacting through mouth to mouth contact probably factors into his opinion too.

Overriding that kind of mind and body instinct feels wrong, so Dex offers up more honesty to Keefe. “I think I’ll pass on the kissing. Making-out kissing, at least. Kissing anyone makes me feel weird—a bad kind of weird, if you get what I mean.”

“Sir yes sir!” Keefe barks out, giving him a cheesy salute, and Dex giggles. “Thank you for making it easier to make my brain shut up about kissing you. The identity crisis prevention is appreciated.”

“Of course, of course,” Dex jests. “But for the record, I don’t think you potentially wanting to kiss boys in general is a bad thing. As long as they’re good for you, y’know?”

Quiet overlays Keefe’s demeanor, and Dex can practically hear the gears in his brain turning. Processing. Then Keefe gives a small smile and says, “Thanks, Dex. I’ll keep it in mind. Buuuuuut,” Keefe claps his hands suddenly, and Dex nearly jumps out of his skin. “I’m not in the mood for heavy introspection right now! Soooo…maybe you could tell me about the things I said that you’d be okay and not okay with instead? For the sake of, like, boundaries and stuff.”

“Ah, yes. Discussing boundaries when we’re both sleep deprived and not thinking straight. Incredibly intelligent move.”

Dex apparently didn’t put enough lightheartedness into his deadpan, because Keefe scrambles to backtrack. “I mean, yeah, you have a point, we can do that sometime later in daylight, or later, or never. Whatever you feel like. No worries.”

“I was joking. We can and probably should talk about it now, even if we’re not 100% functioning,” Dex reassures.

“Okay. Um. Where do you want to start?”

Dex references his mental conversation prep list, and plucks out a relevant item he hasn’t used yet. (He will use the sunshine comment before the end of this hail, or so help him.) “Can we talk about the whole ‘basically wanting a repeat of the eckodon ride’ thing? Because in the moment you seemed pretty eager to end that, and I’m simultaneously confused and curious at your…change of heart, so to speak.”

A hypothesis Dex will never be able to test the accuracy of: If Keefe weren’t under the weak starlight of his bedroom walls and somewhere brighter in this moment, Dex would be able to see a flush crawling over Keefe’s ears. Perhaps even over his cheeks, too. The musing is based on evidence—the hand running through Keefe’s bedhead, the loaded exhale, the averted gaze, the upper teeth worrying his lower lip.

Anxiously, Keefe chants strings of swears under his breath before composing himself a little. “First things first, just to know how much of my dignity I’m losing here at whatever time of night it is right now, can you tell me how often you think about the eckodon ride? And what you think of it, if you do think of it at all?”

Oh god. Dex had not prepped for actually talking about that. At all.

So much for not floundering later on in the conversation, he curses his past self.

“Do you want me to start right now and then just pause and backtrack when I word things wrong, or do you want me to try and get things sorted out before I talk?” Clarification and a counterattack, a delay of the inevitable.

“Take your time,” Keefe murmurs.

Dex does. While Keefe breathes in a purposeful pattern he messes up every now and then, Dex rearranges the scramble of thoughts in his head until every piece is in the right place. And then he double checks to make sure it’s right. And when he thinks Maybe I should triple check, he forces the words out into a freefall and hopes that when they collide into the connection between him and Keefe, it won’t hurt. “Before I get into emotional vulnerability, I would like to say that I still stand by my opinion that your breath stunk. You need to invest in having carry-on breath mints at all times, dude.”

Keefe bursts out laughing, and it’s everything from playful ocean waves curling and splashing at his lower legs on a shoreline walk to distant melodies whispered in the wind. “I’ll do that, next time I go out,” Keefe promises, and for now, only Dex will ever know how big it is to hear Keefe make plans for a more social future he said he’d given up on at the beginning of these nighttime hails. “But only if you do too. Because I swear, your breath rivaled gulon farts, my guy.”

But only if you do too. My guy. It softens Dex like the glow of the stars outside his window. His smile is a crescent in the dark. “Fine, fine, I will. Maybe I’ll make my own and hail you so you can watch alchemy antics.”

“Please do. But finish talking first.”

Dex takes a deep breath. “Okay. Uh. Where was I?”

“Emotional vulnerability, I think?”

Exhale, trace back to which thought he left off on, and go. Hurtle out of comfort and into the brilliantly terrifying unknown. Speak before the end of the fall. “Right, emotional vulnerability time. I don’t think of the eckodon ride every second of every day or anything. But it pops up from time to time. More often when I’m talking to you, of course, but it’s not like I can hear whale songs or see Z-shaped objects without at least briefly thinking about it. As for what I think of the eckodon ride, I think…” Dex falters. Stumbles. His carefully constructed thoughts flutter just out of reach.

What was I thinking earlier? What have I thought about it before? “I think it was nice. Confusingly nice, but nice. I felt—it felt—it was different. A lot more physical contact than I was used to. And I guess I liked looking at you close up more than I was willing to admit before. Noticing little details was interesting—like how long your eyelashes are, since I didn’t really have anywhere to look but your eyes and I usually try to look close to people’s eyes but not quite since I get distracted by their eyes when they talk if I make eye contact, but we weren’t talking, and I just got to look, and—ugh, I’m rambling. That sounds weird. My words aren’t, I dunno what the word is—wording? Right? That’s wrong, but whatever. My words aren’t wording. You get what I mean.”

Dex drags his hands down his face, and grimaces at the light layer of sweat that’s built up there in such a small amount of time. Has the freefall ended yet? Will his stomach please stop hollowing out?

The freefall crashes to an end, and Dex slips out of the wind into into safe waters when Keefe asks, “So you didn’t mind how close we were the whole time?”

With only the moon as a witness, the timidness in Keefe’s voice is clear. With only the moon as a witness, all the air empties out of Dex’s lungs when he says “I didn’t really mind, but I thought you did,” into what feels like six feet underneath the sky.

Thuds pulse loudly in his veins and ears in the real silence. Every gentle slide of fabric moving with the crests and troughs of Dex’s breathing feels like the edge of too much, but Dex doesn’t know which side of the edge it falls onto. Staring at his imparter is too much now, too, so he turns his face into his pillow and swipes his thumb back and forth across his sheets as a nearly futile distraction from his frazzled senses.

Keefe reels him out of it, out of the increasingly weird stimulation levels and the imaginary water. “I didn’t really mind either, and I didn’t know what to do with that, so I shoved you away and jumped to something that I understood. And then I tried not to think about it. Which worked for a while, but then Loamnore happened, and now it’s really hard to not think about how much I miss being close to people, which makes it extra hard to not think about the eckodon ride when I’m around you, and now we’re here.”

A hum vibrates in Dex’s throat; it resonates with all the gadgets scattered around his room on sleep mode. “So originally, you didn’t want to fully process the eckodon ride, but now that you have, you miss that kind of proximity?”

“Yes,” Keefe breathes out a syllable and longing.

“That makes sense,” Dex nods to himself.

Contemplation lulls talking from either end of the line to sleep for a little while, but not Dex. Yet. At some point, Dex’s imparter slipped so that he couldn’t see Keefe and Keefe couldn’t see him. Not focusing on the changes in his expressions and environment, when it’s so late and quiet and Dex woke up at 2am yesterday and hasn’t slept since, makes it a little difficult to stay awake.

“So if I end up being able to handle touching people at some point in the future,” Keefe starts, and Dex starts at the sudden verbalism and the hope in his voice that they both thought he’d lost, “kissing you is a no, but hugs are a yes?”

“Hugs are a yes,” Dex agrees.

“What about, um—” Keefe stops short.

Laziness compels Dex to flick his imparter upright with telekinesis instead of just reaching over and grabbing it. He raises an eyebrow at Keefe. “What about what?”

Dex is the furthest thing the elvin world knows to an empath, and yet. And yet. He can feel Keefe’s embarrassment through the countless miles separating Rimeshire and Splendor Plains. Keefe’s almost completely buried beneath blankets, pressed deep enough into his pillow that only some messy blond tufts are visible.

“This is so stupid,” Keefe grumbles into fabric.

“I think this is rather funny, actually. Hilarious, even,” Keefe can’t see Dex’s shit-eating grin. “Share with the class, Keefe. How were you gonna finish that sentence? Be honest,”

(Dex turns down his imparter volume to the lowest setting. Just in case a certain froster is wandering around the halls with those silent mom feet of hers and walks in at the worst time possible.)

Dex thinks he hears Keefe mumble holding hands, but that seems far too innocent to be correct, so he asks, “What?”

Keefe pops up out of his cocoon. He looks like he wants to shrivel up and disappear to somewhere that’s anywhere but near his imparter. “Holding hands. That’s how I was going to end the sentence.”

Suspicion narrows Dex’s eyes. “Considering the kind of jokes you like to make, I feel like it takes more than the idea of holding hands to get you flustered,”

“Not anymore,”

Dex can’t tell if Keefe is whining or scraping the surface of loneliness that he’s shoved aside for tonight, and decides it’s a good idea to pull him away from that. He can lament his losses when the sun’s there to smatter more freckles along the bridge of his nose. “Getting back to the point—you wanted to know how I felt about you wanting to hold my hand?”

Slowly, Keefe nods.

“I don’t see why it’d be anything to get flustered about. We used to hold hands for light leaping all the time. Extending that doesn’t seem like a huge deal, in this hypothetical.”

“How the fuck are you so chill about this but I’m not,” Keefe says, and yeah, he’s definitely whining now.

Dex laughs. “My serious answer is because 1) I’m not touch starved and 2) we’re talking theoreticals, and my emotions kind of take a backseat during conversations like these so my critical thinking skills can take the wheel, since it feels like there’s no stakes since it’s all, as I said, theoretical. My joking answer, on the other hand, is because I’m cooler than you.”

Keefe cracks a smile. “True, true,”

“Anything else you wanted to talk about?”

“Is there anything else I said earlier that you’re not cool with?” Keefe returns.

“List it off again?”

“Uhhhh…” What some humans would call Keefe’s ‘Adam’s apple’ bobs as he tips his head back and thinks. He raises one hand and flips up a finger for each item he rattles off. “Stuff we haven’t talked about yet: Me wanting to draw you a bajillion times, me wanting to paint you a bajillion times, me wanting to get into a tickle fight with you just because I like how your laugh sounds, and teeeechnically cuddling?”

This is the kind of thing that Dex should probably have to mull over for a while, but answers come to him oddly easily. “All of those are fine, but I will warn you that I might kick you on instinct if you tickle me too much. Which isn’t that hard. My dad makes fun of me all the time for still being ticklish. He said that Dizznees usually have built up immunity to tickles by my age.”

Keefe blinks. Numerous times. Exaggeratedly. “Normally I’d be losing my mind at you being cool with me using you as a pillow for no reason, but I’m way too stuck on tickle immunity being a thing you can build up.”

Dex forgets to be quiet with his wheezing. “Dude, I have so many whack stories about things me and my family have done that have to do with tickling. Like, my dad said that when he was a level two he’d make elixirs specifically to give him vampire fangs so he could bite his siblings harder when they tried to tickle him,”

The tea kettle monkey screeching hysterical laughter from before comes back with a vengeance, and Dex is very glad his imparter is as quiet as it can be without deafening Keefe out entirely. “I need the full story now,” he gasps out.

“You’re in for a ride,” Dex says, settling into a more comfortable position on his bed. But then he remembers one thing he swore he’d say before this hail ended, and makes sure to look the camera head on when he comments, “Oh, by the way, before I don’t shut up for another three hours, good job getting some sunshine. The freckles look nice on you.”

Horror rounds Keefe’s eyes comically. He frantically runs his fingers along his cheeks as if his aforementioned freckles were braille spelling out some awful message on his face. “You can see them?”

“How else would I know they look nice on you?”

Keefe groans and curls up like the roly poly bugs Dex loved to pick up as a kid. Keefe’s imparter falls forward, and the imparter screen thumps into fuzzy blackness. “I chase Bullhorn around the property so Elwin can have a break for a day one time, and this is how the world rewards me,”

“As I basically told you already: I think it’s a great reward. Anyway. Wanna hear about just how petty my family gets or not?”

“I’m 100% down, Dexy. Hit me with good old storytime.”

Storytelling hasn’t ever really been Dex’s thing, but Keefe doesn’t seem to have high standards, which is nice. (The other explanation is that Dex is better at storytelling than he thinks, which he refuses to believe because he hates being wrong about anything ever.) He laughs more than Dex expected, and insists on getting his sketchbook at one point to draw out certain parts, and then they both giggle so hard they can’t breathe. They gesture and talk and talk and talk until Keefe says his throat and ribs hurt, and Dex agrees on that last part.

Dex’s last thought before his breathing slows and evens out is some hazy musing of how nice it is that he can be Keefe’s person without having to feel hummingbirds or butterflies to get there.

Both of their imparters are on when they fall asleep to soft whirrs and wake up to peaceful daylight.

#qpr keefex fic #but it's the real thing this time!#qpr keefex #keefex #keefe sencen #dex dizznee #kotlc #kotlc fic #keefex fic #keeper of the lost cities #keefex week 2023 #autistic!dex #bisexual!keefe #aroace!dex #keefe feels alterous attraction towards dex in this btw. if i didn't make it obvious enough (sorry if i didn't)#dadwin #forever in mourning of how keefe isn't gonna get adopted by elwin :( ik grady and keefe is good but. KEEFE AND ELWIN [sobs]

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jaestrz · 1 year

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𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - 𝐤𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧 캐빈문

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✩°｡⋆⸜ 🎧

𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff | little angst | established relationship

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: kevin moon x afab!reader

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴: mental breakdown | mentioned of stress

≡;- ꒰ °you had a hard time with being insecure of yourself and kevin was there for you꒱

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a/n: i went to take a break after I wrote this. I want my own kevin ㅠㅠ

There wasn’t a time where you think you were ‘enough’ for him comparing to his fans that treated him better than you did. Especially when you’re his girlfriend. There was a sense of insecurity blew your mind when it comes to this. You couldn’t blame Kevin for it or course. This made you blame yourself for couldn’t be the best for him.

You wondered if he ever felt that way. Although he did talked about how both of you should be transparent with each other. But humans can say words with empty promises anytime they desire. It’s just up to you to believe it or not. It doesn’t make it any better, the way your own mindset is thinking is making you look like you don’t trust Kevin. You don’t want it to be that way. But you were scared to death each time your life depends on Kevin too much. Once he leaves you, with or without reason, you didn’t want to feel the unbearable pain. If it was going to hurt at least make it less.

Leave is a powerful word. It’s something he could hold onto and use it anytime if you did not live up to his expectations. That’s what you had in your mind. It’s more awful to think how much you have tried your hardest to be a better partner for him. For Kevin.

He’s talented. Kevin is the most talented person you had ever met. He had always been since high school. Kevin was everyone’s dream boy as far as you could remember. A boy who knew how to sing, dance, cook and more things you could list in your mind. It was no surprised that a lot of people liked him. But compared to everyone else, you couldn’t understand the way he sees the world.

It was definitely clear in your memories. You remembered when it was the first performance for Kingdom. He came back home with a worn out figure. Very different than when he went out the door in the morning. There were bruises on his body’s, your guessing is that he has quite a fall during practice. But then again out of all of that sweat and minor injuries, he looked like the happiest boy you could possibly imagine. When the group gained more fans from the show, you couldn’t forget how excited he had gotten.

There was a night, where both of you were sitting down in the living room. The only thing that could be heard was songs from his phone with a mix of yours and his playlist. It was 2 in the morning and a layer of glass was formed in his eyes. The tears threatening to fall out. He was stressed. Kevin talked about something that has to do with not getting the choreography right, the song was hard and the album was a total mess. He was completely a different person at this moment. He wasn’t smiling like he always do, wasn’t laughing nor cracking up his stupidly funny jokes. It was just Kevin who let out and spill all of his struggles. Which soon leads to him breaking down with you comforting him.

You can’t deny, the world is a scary place.

He felt too much pressure in his head. It seems like it could burst if he didn’t let it out.

That was the last time you had seen him breakdown.

‘I don’t think I could even cry, because then I couldn’t be the one that he could lean on’ the sound of pen scratches against your notebook paper, leaving nothing but ink. Your knuckles turned white from gripping the pen too hard, feeling your hand going numb.

Your heart questioned you. What do you know about Kevin and yourself?

You stared blankly at the white wall. Nothing came up to your mind except the not so nice ones. A tear slipped down from your eye, following by a few more so it was non stop.

Kevin loves midnight driving in the middle of the highway with nowhere to go. He prefers speaking English with you and Jacob because to him it doesn’t sound as awkward as speaking Korean. He doesn’t like to be called by his Korean name, he doesn’t have a reason why but people rarely calls him Hyungseo.

Was that really all you could recall after dating him since high school?

‘I can’t even understand my own emotions. Something is hurting but I can’t tell what it is’ You scribbled, pulling your knees to your chest as you cried. Forgetting about the world around you as everything seem to fade away.

Kevin won’t be back until another few hours. I’ll be fine you thought. You couldn’t even sleep. Tears were streaming down your face that you didn’t even bother to wipe away.

And you didn’t even bother to turn on your phone to see the miss calls from Kevin and notifications from his text messages he had sent you.

Kevin was indeed, a little bit skeptical about your quiet behaviour this morning before he left for practice with the other members. He had actually asked if you were alright but you just replied with a dry ‘yes’ to him. He almost made up his mind about going to work and just stay at home with you to keep an eye out for you. He couldn’t skip today due to an important meeting. But that doesn’t mean he won’t ask about your condition in text. Which also, you replied dry.

‘what would happen if I could not be the one enough for him?’ The notebook was stained with tears.

You were too lost in your own thoughts to hear the sound of the front door creaked, signalling and a reminder that Kevin is home. He saw you sitting in the dark living room on his work desk with your notebook opened. The only thing that could be heard was your slow sobs.

And through the night was playing on your phone.

Kevin’s eyes softened at the sight of your silhouette. Slowly approaching you so he wouldn’t startle you to death. He took a glanced at your notebook before he touches you, watching as your tensed body suddenly eased at his skin contact. The unfamiliar temperature of your body pulled his heartstrings, taking you in a hug.

“i’m home love. I’m here now.” He whispered as you buried your face in his chest, letting out every single of your worries by crying. He could tell you had so many problems in your head that you were afraid to admit. Kevin could read your eyes that was screaming how you were not okay. And his heart broke more to see your ill body that you had neglected. “don’t cry, it’s okay shh. I’m right here with you. I’ll keep your problems away baby. Trust me. I will hug you so tight, until you forget about every single problems that’s stuck in your head.”

It took a few minutes for you to calm down. The tears were still flowing but it had definitely lessened. His hand was rubbing your back repeatedly while he gave you forehead kisses every few minutes. You were avoiding his eye contact. “Look at me sweetheart.” His request was soft, he could see the glassy layer in your eyes when you look up to him. “What were you thinking baby? Was the fever bothering you?” He wasn’t completely wrong about the fever part. You do tend to get in a 5 emotional stages when you don’t feel well.

Your voice was stuck in your throat. You were trying to swallow whatever was in your throat so you could speak. “Deep breaths baby.” He said and you followed his breathing.

“I was- not feeling like the best person today. Maybe not just today, for the past few weeks as well.” You admitted. Kevin let out a hum, signing you that he was listening.

“I felt like I wasn’t good enough to be your… girlfriend.” There was a slight frown formed on Kevin’s expression before he reached his hand to cup your face and wipe the tears with his thumb. “You were everyone’s favourite person since high school and i’m- just. Not up to your expectations.”

Kevin guided you to the sofa and placed you to sit on his lap before he started saying. “You’re the most precious and wonderful person that had entered in my life. No matter what really happened, you’re the first person I will come to at the end of the day.” Kevin told you. “You’re the actual reason why I’m still here and performing in front of people. I don’t think I could even continue if you weren’t here.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not enough for me. You’re everything love. I swear if I could take you to see what you are in my life, I would. Just to proof to you that you worth much more than you thought.”you felt his lips connected with yours. It wasn’t full of lust or anything lewd. It was full of sincere.

When you pulled away to catch a breath, you stared into his eyes. You didn’t know how to say thank you. You weren’t good at expressing yourself. But Kevin could read your thoughts better.

You snuggled up in the croak of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne while he starts telling you about his day and something interesting that had happened at work. Some made you laugh and he felt like his mission was complete.

“Did Eric really lost his phone?”

“Changmin found it underneath the couch. But Eric accused Jacob for taking it” Kevin replied with a slight laughter.

Both of you ended up talking more about his days. Until he realised both of you had to go to bed.

“Now that my girlfriend is smiling, you have to take your medicine before bed you old sick ahjumma” Kevin joked. “Then you’re ahjussi. We’re the same age.” You laughed.

He was grateful that he could be the reason you could smile again. Kevin wouldn’t trade you for the whole universe. He wanted to stay like this for the rest of his life.

With just you.

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nny11writes · 1 year

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is that deep feels prompt thing a request? i'll treat it like a request. part 1: 24 "Whyy are you crying?" "I don't know" and part 2: "laughing at yourself while crying". any pairing of your choosing. go fucking crazy!!!

ahjdfkgjsf, sorry this took so long anon!!!

Any time you see I've reblogged a prompt thing/ask a question thing/etc it is 100% there for you to ask or prompt away :D

Anyways I started this in my catrapta mode so I just followed through on that, sorta. There's a crush happening for suresies.

Rating: T for Cursing

Tags: happy ending, hurt/comfort, panic attack, sensory overload, mental health, crying, self blaming, lot of negative talk because this is catra folks I don't know what to tell you, Entrapta is the best at that's a fact, Scorpia makes an appearance, super pal trio, healthy coping? idfk I just projected onto the sad cat, it's my fanfic and I get to give the characters whichever bits of my own mental illness/coping skills that I wanna!, puppy crush catrapta

She really should have known better than to try and quietly have a breakdown while at Entrapta’s house, but Catra was never really known for logical decision making. Especially when the choice needing to be made came hot and heavy without warning. She’d been at the sleepover, felt fine, then woke up in a cold sweat at one in the morning with the distinct feeling that it was too late for her to flee. So Catra had barely managed to shuffle to what looked like the least used bathroom in the place, turned on the shower and quickly squeezed under the sink as her mind started to race.

You know, as you do.

Something in her felt better just by knowing that she wouldn’t bother anyone, and equally important that no one would bother her. If Catra could have pulled the crust of the planet back to slip into a magma flow, she would have. But sobbing uncontrollably at sometime past 1:00 AM at your best friend’s house while said best friends are sleeping nearby is a totally normal and healthy way to deal with whatever this was. Yes, she was going to handle it alone and be fine and no one would be any wiser because it was fucking stupid (she was being so fucking stupid).

But while Scorpia had been snoring away, she’d made a miscalculation by assuming that Entrapta had any sort of sleep schedule that made any sort of sense. Weird out of the blue mental breakdown or not, that one really was on her.

“Why are you crying?” Entrapta asked, sounding the same way she did when someone tried to make small talk that she found particularly confusing.

Why was she crying? The detached bit of her turned to look at what Catra thought of as her inner Rogelio, who was normally very logical and made decisions when she was upset, but the bitch only shrugged. Probably a bad dream. Might be dehydrated. You ate dinner at least so it’s not hunger.

“I-I don’t know!” Catra miserably sobbed. The detached part of her sighed heavily and rolled her eyes while faux Rogelio lifted an eyebrow condescendingly. Yeah, yeah, I know, can’t be hard on myself right now. There was the other eyebrow now completing a look that any exasperated instructor would kill to have. Shut up, I’ll be hard on myself if I wanna! He was less than impressed. Oh fucking well, get in line.

“You don’t know why, but…” Entrapta tilted her head. “Is it a tag in your sleep wear? I can get scissors.”

Humiliating to remember that one, it had practically been her villain origin story over the holidays when everyone kept calling her cute and forcing her to wear different new clothes that were stiff, constraining, and itchy. Somehow Catra had failed to notice the tag in the new pajamas she’d been given and harassed into wearing as a friend bonding thing. She wishes she could blame it on the overly scented detergent Bow used but no, she just missed it. They almost made it to midnight before Catra had a massive freak out starting with her chapped lips and spilling some hot chocolate (not even all of it just a drop or two) and ending with the soul breaking realization that the problem was the tags in her clothes. Who doesn’t realize tags are bothering them until they’re halfway through trying to burn down their own life?

Catra apparently. Fuck she was an idiot and a mess. Detached her looked at Rogelio for confirmation and he nodded. Cool. No tags.Maybe a bad dream. Yeah that made sense at least.

“No, n-nothing like that.”

“I’m not sure I understand.”

Catra’s sobbing turned a little hysterical because no duh. Inner Rogelio mentally gave her head a little pat pat, which was making an already awful but slowly becoming absurd situation a little more outrageous. “Yeah, me neither!”

Entrapta stayed squatted where she was, tapping her fingers away on her exposed knees as she looked around for something. Then offered, “Would you like me to turn the light off?”

Her “What?” sounded a lot more like “wah” in her head, and there was bastard Catra right on time. Wow, pathetic much? Couldn’t handle one bad dream and now look at you, a little baby. Always need something, don't you? Crying just to make people do whatever you want. Disgusting. Her fake Rogelio and detached mind were already starting to merge a little and that part of her reminded her of how stupid that sounded. Shadow Weaver nonsense.

“...the lights? Do you want them off? It can help to reduce stimulation.” Entrapta spoke slowly, clearly trying to think through what exactly she was trying to say and how to say it properly.

Oh! Yes, less input, she’d like the whole everything to get a lot less and smaller right now, please! “That would- that would be nice. Uh, hit the, uhm, hit the lights.”

“GREAT!” Entrapta all but leaped to her feet and smacked the light switch hard enough that Catra was sure she’d heard the drywall crack..

But it was also enough for Catra to giggle a little helplessly.

“Gotta commit to the bit.” Entrapta nodded, and even in the darkness Catra could see her smiling brightly. “Can I join you? Not in crying, I hope it’s okay but I don’t really feel like crying tonight. Just under the sink I mean.”

Catra scooted into the corner and waved a hand towards the open space, and within seconds she was surrounded by the grounding cold of the tiles on three sides and the soothing warmth of Entrapta’s arm and leg on the other.

They didn’t talk again, but it was nice when Entrapta eventually got up to turn the shower off. The steam was already starting to make her clothes stick uncomfortably to her, and Catra appreciated not having to talk to have the problem fixed.

Entrapta tapped her toes, wiggled her fingers, and rocked back and forth a little while humming and occasionally popping her lips which provided Catra with something pleasant to focus on instead of the three versions of her that were still trying to duke it out over why she felt so shitty. Which was a feat considering they were slowly melding back together with Catra’s more conscious emotional side. A thoroughly unpleasant feeling as she became a functional human again.

“Wow,” she eventually croaked, trying to scrub the remaining tears and snot off her face, “Hated that. Hated that for me. It was fucking lame.”

Entrapta frowned at her. “That was not lame. Or stupid, I know you really mean stupid when you say lame. It’s your favorite insult.”

Catra did somehow manage to not blurt, “Stupid is a stupid favorite insult, stupid!” and huffed instead. “Well it’s stu- it’s dumb that I don’t even know what set me off.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s stupid.” Entrapta whispered to herself, but it was plenty loud enough for Catra’s sensitive hearing. At a louder level she said, “I’m guessing it’s all the stuff happening right now.”

“What stuff? There’s, like, nothing happening in my life right now.” Catra was confused and her head and throat hurt from all the crying, and she just wanted to sleep for fifteen years and also never sleep again. But if Entrapta said she knew what the problem was, she probably knew exactly in excruciating detail what the problem was. She honestly wasn’t sure if she asked to figure it out or just to make herself feel worse.

“Well, you’re not at your own home. That’s one. You said it was kind of warm too. I know you forgot your meds a few days ago, that could be part of it. Your stomach is sensitive to acidic foods and we had pizza last night-” Entrapta didn’t even list off each point on her fingers, already seeming to know she’d need more fingers than possible. Catra just sat there stiff and embarrassed as her weirdo sins got listed one by one. “-you were worried Glimmer is mad at you, you took the lumpy bed to be nice to Scorpia, Scorpia snores pretty loudly, you’re picking up your car today and don’t know how much it’ll be, and you have that big project due next week. That’s a lot of stuff Catra.”

“You make it sound like my life’s awful.” She grumbled, unable to really provide a rebuttal considering Entrapta was probably right. That was a lot of little things stacked up, so one bad dream would be more than enough to crush her under the weight. Still, it was a lot better than getting vibe checked by DT when she got like this. Their way of helping often hurt a shit ton before Catra managed to shake a few nuggets of good out of it.

“MeeeEEEEeeeeeh,” Entrapta wiggled her hand in a so-so motion. “Not that it’s awful, there’s just a lot. …and I’m sorry I didn’t think about that last night, I should have let you use my bed.”

Catra snorted and groaned as everything flared painfully to life. Yup, she’d been right, she was being stupid and now Entrapta was trying to be stupid with her. “Self sacrifice isn’t good friendship.”

Rule one of the Reformed Super Pal Trio: Sacrificing something to make the others happy does not, typically, make them happy.

Scorpia had to stop giving ground, Catra had to stop taking/assuming blame, and Entrapta had to stop giving up her own physical comforts for others. It was a necessary rule for them to function as a friend group, otherwise Scorpia would start to feel steamrolled, Catra would get resentful, and Entrapta would just straight up shut down.

“Well, we could’ve shared it. It’s big enough.” Entrapta said this the same way someone might point out an obvious plot point in a cartoon to a small child. A bed. Sharing a bed. With Entrapta? She did not need this in her life right now, that was a whole minefield of feelings she did NOT need right now.

“It’s a full size, that’s barely big enough for two people.”

“We are ‘fun sized’ though,” Entrapta argued, pouting a little as she continued, “besides you’re a real cuddler so we’d basically be a one sized fun size.”

“I am not!” Oh yeah, she was burning up right now.

“Small or a cuddler? You are only three inches taller than me and I can assure you you are snuggly.”

Normally that would be a declaration of war, right now Catra could only whine, “No, I’m not snuggly.”

“...but you are? Do you want to see the photographic evidence?”

“What photographic evidence!?”

Entrapta smiled awkwardly, “I forgot I was not supposed to tell you about that, so don’t worry! There is no photographic evidence to see anywhere, and especially not here, especially not from road trips! OH HEY, I smell coffee! Let’s go get coffee and breakfast!”

Coffee? Oh yeah, Catra could smell coffee too and food. Bacon? How fucking long were we under the sink!? Didn’t matter, she’d spent the night a miserable damp ball of dissociation fragments stuffed into a corner where she’d made Entrapta hang out the whole night to feel better. Stop being an idiot, stupid. Man, maybe stupid was her favorite insult? Huh. Probably more Weaver lies she needed to unpack later. Much later.

Catra was already half dragged out from her hidey hole before Entrapta paused and quietly asked, “Unless you’d rather not? We can stay here if you want to. I don’t mind!”

She scrambled to get her feet under her and not just be pulled like a sack of potatoes. Mmm, potatoes. Her stomach growled pitifully. Inner Rogelio got one last pot shot off before vanishing and leaving her head free of any weird fake versions of herself she compartmentalized into to cope. You ate last night and it’s now morning, eat something. “Only if there’s the little fried boys.”

“Let me check!” And with that Entrapta darted out the door shouting hello to Scorpia who gleefully shouted back a good morning.

Yeah, Catra was going to wash her face and let them get it out of their systems before making an appearance. She still felt off. Tired and sick, both sensitive and a little numb. But considering she was functional and had an appetite, Catra would take the win for what it was. By the time she made it to the kitchen, her friends had both calmed down a little and Entrapta was concentrating while pouring coffee as Scorpia put the last finishing touches on cutting up the toast into little bites.

A plate of eggs, skillet potatoes, toast, and two coffees later she was feeling a lot more human. They hadn’t talked during breakfast, which helped a lot more than she wanted to admit. In fact, Scorpia only made a peep when she coo’d quietly and pointed to Entrapta who was now sleeping on the table, her plate of quail eggs, mini toasts, and bacon cut into cute shapes nearly empty. It would have been darling if not for the raging guilt coursing through Catra’s veins at being the cause.

“Want me to get her?” Scorpia asked softly.

It was tempting, but Entrapta had helped her and it would make her feel better to help her. Did that make her a bad person? Too early for that. She pushed the thought aside to agonize over later. “Nah, I think we both need some sleep.”

“Gotcha, sleep well buddy!”

Did she almost drop Entrapta on the way to her bed? Shut up, maybe, what are you, a cop?

Did she pass out within minutes of settling them both on the super plush mattress? Duh, she had a rough night and Entrapta’s bed was suspiciously comfy. Don’t judge!

Did she wake up to discover Entrapta trying to stealthily take a selfie of her and Catra (who was basically clinging to her like some sort of octopus) together? That information is classified.

Did she feel a lot better thanks to having some really amazing friends?

Yeah. She did.

#she ra #spop #prompt game #feels prompt #thanks for playing!#thanks for asking!#sorry it took so long T-T #catra #entrapta #catrapta (sorta)#see the fic tags listed above #should I post this to AO3? kinda wanna but not sure

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linosbundles · 2 years

Text

letting it all out || seungjin

Pairing : seungmin x hyunjin

Genres : angst

Word count : 2.2k { 2217 words}

warnings : insomnia, suffocating parents, self harm (please let me know if i have to add any more)

a/n : this is my first ever fanfic so i'm kinda nervous about this ;-; hope you like it!!

Summary : Seungmin has been studying really hard but can’t seem to focus properly because of all the pressure on him. One day when Seungmin gets locked in at the school late at night and there's just Hyunjin to give him company, they kiss under mistletoe while listening to 24 to 25 Sorry I was just joking! 🤡 They just have an insight on each other's lives and Seungmin finally finds a friend.

Three more weeks and Seungmin would be free. Well, not forever but at least free from the pressure of his final exams. Seungmin was in his senior year and had just two more weeks for preparation. Coming from an average family that had to depend on a single person’s pay check, and being the only child? It wasn’t pleasant. He bore all the expectations both his parents had on him and also had to carry on his tiny shoulders the pressure from his parents and teachers for him to perform extremely well ever since they had found out that he was pretty good with books and knowledge.

Being the most studious one of the class, Seungmin was always selected as the class president and well, that was good according to the teachers and his parents because he had more experience and his resume would look tempting for any employer, but for Seungmin it was too hectic. He had no time for himself, let alone to make friends or to go see what was out there around the globe, what everyone called “the world”. His world only consisted of his home, school, the football field.

Leaving all this, he could go abroad for university. He already secured a full scholarship for the course he wanted to study in the university of his choice. There was finally something that he got to decide for himself, something that would make him at least a bit happier than his present state. All he had to do was pass his final exams and fly away. But his parents still pressurized him to retain the top rank, the same way he has been doing for years together. Having no friends, Seungmin had to keep all of this and his hardships to himself and developed insomnia. He’d stay up all night worrying and feeling anxious about his future and about how he'll soon be in a totally new environment. Part of him was calm because he got to leave most of the pressure and stress behind but the other parts of him always thought of negative points such as him not having friends in the new place either, or having mental breakdowns while crossing the road and dying-

About a week before the exams started

Walking down the hallways of his school for it may be one of the last few times and also because the library was amazing, Seungmin realised that he had forgotten to search upon the important questions on a particular topic that he found difficult in various mock tests before. He headed back to the library but it was full. He quickly went back to the classroom however, when he saw that it was messy and noisy he walked to the chemistry lab because it was under maintenance and no one could enter without the key. Since he was the class president and a member of the student council, of course he had the key. He opened the door and cleared up enough space for his laptop, some books and himself.

Time passed by and Seungmin didn’t realise that it was almost midnight until his stomach started grumbling. He switched off the focus mode to check his texts and go grab some dinner or an energy drink at the least. He got a text from his mother. Yes, one message but a long paragraph lecturing him how he’s supposed to be back home on time to study as if he was out plucking tamarind off the trees. She had asked him where he was playing around while he was overworking himself. Seungmin was hurt. It wasn’t anything new to him and he was used to all the mean and harsh words, nevertheless it still hurt just as much as it did at the beginning.

The pressure of the exams, the harsh words from his own mother, the hunger, his anxiety of his future, everything overwhelmed him and Seungmin fell on his knees, pushing off his pen and a few papers. Tears shedding off his cheeks, his breath getting uneven and stifled, he barely stood back up. When his crying got a bit noisy, he heard sounds. Sounds that weren’t from him, not of his crying. He strolled towards the door to try to find out where the noise was coming from…

Keyword : try.

The door was locked from outside with an external lock to which he didn’t have the keys. Although, even if he had the keys, it was a door, he wouldn’t be able to open it from the inside. However he didn’t just give up and sleep in there. He was hungry and weighed down by all his emotions but he was a human. Every human instinctively prioritizes survival. Seungmin started banging the door with loud thuds so that whoever was making the noises outside could come and help him out.

“Anyone out there?! Help me get out of here!! I’m stuck! Chemistry lab, please come towards the chemistry lab!! Anyone there?!!” Seungmin cried. In a few minutes he heard a feeble voice that seemed more like a whisper and footsteps nearing in an accelerating speed. “I’m coming! Stop shouting, I’m coming your way!” the voice whisper screamed.

The footsteps weren’t heard anymore. Instead, the voice became louder even though it was still just whispers. “I’m here behind the door, stop freaking out. You’re not alone anymore.” After a little pause they spoke again. “But hey, uh the door seems locked.” The person outside stated the obvious which kind of make Seungmin mad. “Dude, I wouldn’t be stuck in here if I didn’t know the door’s locked.” Seungmin said in an obviously irritable voice.

“Oh, okay. Um… Now that we know you’re stuck and the door is locked, and I don’t have the keys either… I guess we’re going to spend the night here together.” The voice whispered and that person sat down, against the door right where Seungmin was leaning onto on the other side. Seungmin stopped crying and asked the voice, “Why are you whispering though?” To which the voice replied, “It’s late in the night, I don’t want ghosts following me.” And the person out there chuckled.

“Haha not funny!” Seungmin said and started crying again. The person outside felt guilty and found it funny at the same time. “Bro are you seriously scared of ghosts?” They laughed. Seungmin hit the door harder and then they stopped laughing. But there was still some sound. Seungmin couldn’t stop crying. The person outside felt that Seungmin had more than just ghosts going on on his mind to cry about, hence they decided to make him feel comfortable first.

"Hey! Since we’re going to spend the night together, I don’t want us to be awkward and sleep off. Let’s have some fun.” They said and waited for a response, but got none so they just continued, “Well, first of all, my name’s Hyunjin, and I’m from the class next to yours. We hear a lot about how you’re the perfect student every teacher wants blah blah blah but I’ve never really talked to you or got to know you. Since you wouldn’t know much about me because I’m not all studious, I’ll give you a proper introduction of myself now-” Hyunjin was cut off by Seungmin who had something to say. The softest his voice had ever been, Seungmin said, “I know you, I’m part of the football team too. I don’t play really well and I’m usually just a substitute. I only play because my parents want to decorate my resume with various experiences. Well, that’s that and I know you because you’re the hidden star player. You have good tactics and strategy; you make sure everyone gets a chance with the ball and manage to make the team win but the coach refuses to let you in the field for important games only because you’re too selfless and let everyone else carry the game even though you could literally win everyone by yourself. You’re the legend of our team. Everyone talks about you. They all talk about you just as much as they talk about me.” Catching his breath, Seungmin got up.

“Hey, where you going after praising me so much?” Hyunjin whispered. Seungmin didn’t reply to that and went to get his water bottle. He drank water and then sat back down. Hyunjin whispered again, “Ah, you’re back. Tell me if you’re going to walk around or something. What’s the point of me staying with you here if you’re going to do things alone? Also… I know that you’re part of the football team.” He paused for a short while and Seungmin seemed to say nothing so Hyunjin just went on, “Did you think of me as an idiot who doesn’t even know who’s on his team? Oh, please. I know you are my teammate. I’ve even helped you pick the balls after practice once.”

Surprised to have found out that the star player not only knew his existence but had also helped Seungmin out but he had no memory of it, he fell deep into his thoughts yet again.

A while later, Seungmin just played some lofi music to calm himself down and he started engaging in conversation with Hyunjin and they got to know a lot about each other. Seungmin learnt that people not only talked about him being a football prodigy but also for being very outgoing and handsome. He was that main character from American teen romance movies. Hyunjin also invited Seungmin to hang out with his friends after the exams were over but Seungmin declined the offer politely on account of his preparation for him to leave the country, to fly to his dream university.

They talked more and got comfortable. A while later, Seungmin started opening up to Hyunjin and telling him about how he felt.

“I’m a single child, my parents are very proud of me so far, they have too many expectations for me and set the standards too high. It’s a struggle to get through every single day without breaking down and wanting to let go of everything. I’ve also been class president every year because I’m studious and teachers like me. Everyone thinks it’s cool and really nice but no one knows how much effort it takes. It’s too exhausting and very time consuming. I don’t have…” his voice breaks as he cries while talking. Seungmin sighs and continues, “I don’t have any friends you know? It’s always just home, school and football practice. Since I don’t play much on the field, I have very less opportunities to socialise there too. It's too tough living the life my parents want and not having anyone to share my feelings with. Sometimes I go to the kitchen and grab the knife and bring it close to my wrist and just let my body take over but I’m too much of a coward to do that. It hurts like hell when I know and understand my parents but they don’t do the same for me. Okay, you can’t do the same for me? At least give me enough time to make friends who would do that for me? I’m not saying that my life is the hardest or whatever, I know other people have it worse than me but that doesn’t mean my feelings are insignificant. I am human too and it hurts for me too. Life is so depressing that I want to run away and hide somewhere. I told you I’d be going abroad soon, didn’t I? I am waiting for the day I board the plane. I’ll finally be at least physically away from all this. I hope that day comes soon…”

Hyunjin didn’t know how to comfort him, he just said, “I’m sorry I don’t know what I can do to help. I’ll be here if you want to talk more. Don’t go out and say you have no friends. I am a friend of yours now. Alright? Even though I wish to be more…”

Hyunjin couldn’t sense any response from Seungmin so he placed one of his ears on the door and head Seungmin snoring in tiny. He just smiled to himself, kind of embarrassed that his small confession remained unheard. He had a crazy thought. ‘Why not tell him everything now? I would have told him but he wouldn’t have heard a thing. It’s perfect!’

Taking in a deep breath, Hyunjin spoke really quick, “I have liked you for quite a long time you know? I helped you the other day on the field with collecting the balls and putting them back in the equipment room only because that day I had a sudden urge to tell you everything but I was a coward. I still am, I guess…”

The night was silent, the boys slept

The next morning, the security came to open the door and woke the boys up. He started questioning them but let them go once he got his answers since they both had a good reputation.

Hyunjin hugged Seungmin. Seungmin was flustered at first but he slowly wrapped his arms around Hyunjin’s waist and hugged him back. “Thank you for being with me last night Hyunjin.” Seungmin said and smiled into the hug.

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coroner-samael · 1 year

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I had a mental breakdown on my birthday brought on by the very clear fact I personally have no future to look forward to no matter how much I try.

it started pretty much as soon as I woke up at 2pm but totally spiraled out of control at midnight when I couldn’t find ways to distract myself anymore.

When I sort of snapped out of it at 2am I decided to just lock myself out of chatting and twittering for a week so I could maybe decompress.

Its not really helping, I’m still surrounded by the walls of a falling apart rental I share with a mentally abusive relative. Constantly reminding me where I’ll be till either this house or I fall apart. I try to sort my thoughts and the next thing I know im being startled at them yelling at a fucking cat or the tv or whatever.

I cant bring myself to make the art I love to make or do anything really productive with my time. Its just been oversleeping and wasting time playing a video game.

#depression cw #personal post obviously #had to rewrite this in the new editor just to turn off reblogs very cool tumblr very quality website #this is just for the record

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35gofbeansprouts · 7 months

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i have to write abt this fucked up dream before i forget it

i was laying on a short wall in this street right next to the ocean. there was a block of small apartment buildings all cramped together like movies i guess. then there was a wiiiide concrete path, a short wall and then the ocean water right there. but for some reason i was laying on the side with the buildings. then amber heard kicked johnny depp out of one of the buildings and some guy on the street threw his hat at him. i felt bad for him and smiled when he walked past me but he mightve thought i was laughing at him.

then i was laying on a concrete block on this weird little train. it was probably the size of those mini trains you see in some parks. i was still in that street just on a train now ? it was going really fast but it was smooth and quiet and there seemed to be no danger of falling off. idk why i was on the train or how i got there, my dream self was wondering this too.

then i was walking down that street but in the opposite direction the train took me. i didnt exactly get off the train i was just suddenly walking. then dohnny depp was walking in the same direction and we just walked next to each other like strangers do. then we got to this area where the path was completely broken away and you had to jump across ~2 metres of ocean water and onto this boat ramp that lead up and into another weird concrete street that bent to the right and idk what was on the left. for some reason i was totally familiar with the broken path and offered to help johnny across it but he had already jumped across because the water was like ankle deep. then we started small talk and we kept walking until we ended up at his property which was at the end of that street the dream started in. right next to the building he got kicked out of. we walked down his driveway and into some kind of covered area that felt like a shed or a horse stable maybe. and he had these weird skinny little ugly horses that were penned in by these human size mech things. they werent alive they were just there blocking the horses in. they were all metal, that solid chunky metal like fire hydrants and huge pipes with big bolts and they were painted all over in the same blue. this kind of blue. then to right there were these terrifying mech llamas with chains for legs. they were shaped a lot like a chain block but without hooks and they werent hanging from the ceiling. they were floating as if they were hanging though, they werent standing on their chain legs

skipping some vague stuff i dont remember properly. i think there was movie being filmed (with johnny in it) and we were still just wandering around and talking, we got along really well but idk why i was allowed there because i wasnt part of the movie. it felt more like the movie was already made and i just got absorbed into it somehow. there was this rivalry between johnny and some guy who eventually started calling johnny "teethy" .. a shitty nickname from high school and bringing it up was a total dick move which sent johnny into this mental breakdown and he went into a public bathroom and started trimming certain parts of his hair .. he had these sentient teeth growing from his head which he controlled by tying his hair over them. just a few strands of hair per tooth, pulled up from his scalp and tied in a knot at the top of the tooth. the teeth had cartoony smiley faces like just :)

when he cut the knotted hair the teeth became aggressive and johnny transformed into this horrific creature that was like a combination of sonic and midnight form lycanroc. this was the highlight of the dream and i dont rlly remember anything else

#enjoy !!

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dreaminginsteadofsleeping42 · 1 year

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therealvinelle · 2 years

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You wake up as Bella the day after she gets pregnant. How do you proceed?

I proceed to panic. I'm in a place I don't know, I'm covered in bruises, everywhere hurts. I look outside, I'm on an island in some other country.

Then a boy made of stone walks into the room, and on seeing my emotional state he gets worked up at well. He's moving too fast, he's too strong, and he's ice cold to the touch.

I panic harder, and now he's looking hurt and confused.

When he calls me Bella, I at first don't know what the stone boy is on about. Then, I truly look at my situation.

I'm on a tropical island, I'm covered in bruises, I'm a short and skinny brunette. There's an impossibly beautiful boy with bronze hair and golden eyes with me, and he calls me Bella.

"Edward?" I ask, not daring to give him any more information. I am, after all, terrified of him after having read Midnight Sun and drawn all the worst conclusions about him.

He nods.

I decide I've had some sort of mental breakdown.

Twilight isn't real, Edward Cullen and vampires aren't real, and I'm most definitely not Bella Swan. Far more likely that this is an elaborate hallucination. Perhaps, if not a mental breakdown, then I've been administered drugs, or else sustained some kind of brain damage.

Edward, meanwhile, realizes with dawning horror that sex with him must be what made Bella finally realize he's a monster. His bride, his love, is rejecting him.

Wanting to give me space, he leaves the house, leaving me to have my panic attack in peace. Of course, he doesn't leave the island, as I would have nowhere to go.

I eventually calm down within my house, and now I have two options.

One, I can accept the evidence before my eyes and the reality I now inhabit. I'm now Bella Swan. The Twilight world is real, all the characters exist in this dimension as real people, and as there's undeniable evidence on my body that Bella had sex with Edward the night before, I may be pregnant, in which case I have a month to live.

Two, I can refuse this reality. Twilight is a book, it's words on pages as imagined by an ordinary human woman. For me to accept that I now live within the world of Twilight, it would either mean that Stephenie Meyer is the God of a universe, or that there's a multiverse and she has access to multiple dimensions.

I briefly entertain the notion that I'm still in my world, that the world of Twilight is our world and Meyer's dream that inspired the books was in fact a psychic vision. However, this one is thrown out. Twilight became an immediate sensation when it was published in 2005, and the honeymoon is set in August of 2006. The characters would have heard about their fictional counterparts by now, to say nothing of how Forks residents like Jessica would have questions about Bella and the Cullens. Plus, had a book like Twilight been published in-universe, Aro would not have let Meyer publish the following three, she would be dead or a vampire. (Likely the latter, as she'd have to be a more powerful psychic than Alice to see all of this.)

So I have to options, either accept that I'm now Bella Swan and do whatever it takes to keep her alive, or refuse to accept that I'm now a Twilight character.

It's tempting to choose the latter. I do have one clue, a small one, but a potential one - I could try and track down Stephenie Meyer. If she exists in this dimension as well, she could be my ticket back.

However, that would not make Edward go away. More worryingly, it would not make the ticking time bomb in my womb go away.

As the hours pass and I calm down from my initial panic, I realize that I'm going to have to play this game.

I start to plan. Only, it was a lot easier to plan when I was writing silly tumblr post, where I had total control and it wasn't my life at stake.

It's tempting to try and follow the golden canon path, except my panic attack shut that down. Edward is going to be extremely worried, and want an explanation for why I freaked out like that.

It is with dawning horror I decide that honesty is the best recourse here. Or, a version of it.

I call out his name, and within seconds he's standing before me again.

I apologize for scaring him, and stomach my dread as I kiss this statue I now wants to drain me of blood. When he asks if I'm fine I choke on the word "fine" before it can even make it out, I just stare at him.

Now he's the one who's freaking out.

Slowly, I begin to tell him that I didn't actually figure out he was a vampire. No, I had a dream about it, the dream told me what he was.

Then, some time later, I didn't figure out what Jacob was either, a similar dream told me that as well.

After that, it was another dream that told me Victoria was behind the Seattle newborns.

And last night, I dreamt I gave birth to a demon.

Edward, of course, doesn't think this means anything, and reassures me it's impossible.

I'm unconvinced. I insist on speaking to Carlisle. Preferably, he comes here.

Edward at this point is a bit exasperated with me, if we're going to see Carlisle then we should interrupt the honeymoon - it's ruined anyway - and go to Forks. Even if I was somehow right about this demon pregnancy, then that would mean I needed medical help. The medical equipment is in Forks. Please be reasonable, Bella.

Alas, I know that if we go to Forks, not only will the shapeshifters decide to kill us, but should Jacob be around Bella's daughter when she is born (it's... too soon, and wrong, to regard Renesmée as my daughter) then he will imprint. More, if Renesmée grows up on the island, I have most likely prevented Irina from ever seeing Renesmée, at least under the unfortunate circumstances she did in canon.

Besides, the medical equipment wasn't all that useful. The ultrasound didn't work, there was no c-section, the only two things that wound up helpful to Bella were the blood bags and venom syringes. There's no reason to be in Forks.

We're staying on the island, Edward.

Edward grows more exasperated, but lets me call Carlisle. I explain to him I've been a psychic this whole time, and now my psychic powers are telling me that I'm pregnant with a demon baby. Please come quick, and uh. Bring the venom syringes and blood bags.

Carlisle is dubious, but I'm very clearly stressed. He decides to come, if only for the same reason why parents check under the beds for their kids.

More, when he asks Alice to have a look into my future, she goes into a panic because I don't have one.

The Cullens are now... if not taking me seriously about the demon baby, then at the very least disturbed.

So Carlisle loads up on medical equipment, having felt deeply silly as he included abortion pills and surgical abortion equipment in the bag, and takes the first flight to Rio. The other Cullens come with, as Rosalie has got to see this, that means Emmett is coming, Alice is Bella's best friend and sister so she can't not come, Esme is coming to support her family, and Jasper guesses this means he's going too.

Alright then, the whole family's going.

I'm unable to relax until they get here. Too many "and then Edward eats Bella" posts, man.

To solve this I use my terror to make him feel protective, not rejected. I pin my obvious dread on the demon baby I know is inside me. That's not even a lie, I'm scared to death of what this means. I seek comfort, and for all that Bella's not acting like herself he can't resist this chance to dote on his fragile, human wife.

The Cullens arrive, and I probably cry from happiness.

Carlisle gets a blood sample, sends it to the nearest lab, and gapes when the result comes back saying I'm pregananant.

Edward, who up until this point has been in denial, panics. GET THAT THING OUT OF HER, CARLISLE.

Carlisle nods frantically, but I refuse, and now we have the canon arrangement as Rosalie, Carlisle, Esme, and Emmett are now against the abortion while Edward is furious, against it, and on his own. Alice and Jasper are... ambivalent, Alice wants this roadblock out of her life but not the way Edward wants the demon baby aborted, while Jasper is just going to sit this one out. He'll be the one who has to kill this monster when it emerges, so he's got that to look forward to. Having Bella for a sister was nice while it lasted.

(For those wondering why I refuse: one, I happen to like Renesmée. Two, I don't think an abortion was ever feasible with this pregnancy.)

I magically know how the pregnancy will proceed, which makes Carlisle more alarmed than anything. Oh, Rosalie and Esme thinks it's great, Rosalie figures it must be some deep maternal survival instinct telling me I need to drink blood to live, and the child won't be born for another month.

But I really do know some oddly specific things, I'm unsurprised when the baby starts breaking my ribs and when the due date gets close enough I tell Carlisle exactly how the birth will proceed if we don't get the C-section done soon enough.

That would be alarming enough on its own.

More alarming is the fact that I'm not a very good actress. More, I'm not Bella, and a month is a long time to keep up a ruse, especially when I have never actually seen Bella in action, only ever read her as words in a book.

What I'm saying is, it becomes very clear that Bella is not herself. Perhaps literally.

Edward, in his growing despair, pins this on the demon baby. It's not just killing his wife, it corrupted her soul! This isn't the Bella he knows. The Bella Swan he married would have aborted the fetus.

... oh god, that's it.

That evil fetus, it altered Bella's personality so as to make her a puppet, one that won't abort it!

It's evil, and more powerful than they can imagine. Can they even imagine what it'll do once it's been born?

He pleads with Carlisle to kill it.

Carlisle shifts. Yes, it's weird that Bella's acting like this, he's disturbed as well. But they can't just forcibly sedate her and abort the child. Besides, Rosalie wouldn't let them, so it's a moot point.

But, and this Carlisle stresses, he's not going to do it against Bella's will.

Edward stares in horror, and can only conclude that the demon child has gotten to Carlisle as well.

That's it, the child has to die.

But, Edward can't overpower the others on his own.

He needs backup, backup from someone who loves Bella as well and who will side with Edward against the others.

He calls Jacob.

Sam, in this timeline, says "oh fuck no. We're staying far away from that." because this is way down in South America. To go kill this fetus would mean leaving Forks and La Push unprotected.

Sam refuses.

Jacob breaks away, because goddamnit he's not leaving Bella to die.

Leah and Seth... don't. There's a very big difference for Seth between protecting the Cullens and Bella from Sam, and glorious rebellion, and going on this big trip to Rio or whereever to be a part of what sounds like ugly family drama. Maybe the baby won't be evil at all?

Leah, meanwhile, would LOVE to get away from Sam, but... leave everything behind, to presumably get killed by a Cullen in the kerfuffle soon to unfold? She may hate life with Sam and the pack, but it's a life.

I, meanwhile, have no idea any of this is happening. I'm happily listening to stories from the Cullens, quizzing them about everything and anything. We're having a grand old time. Apart from the "oh man I hope she doesn't die" sentiment shared by the Cullens. I'm great, though, I've made the best of my situation and I have a decent chance of survival, now I'm hearing about Carlisle's top ten most incompetent colleagues through the centuries. Awesome.

Then Jacob arrives on the island.

(He and Edward have a plan.

The plan is: Jacob gets me alone, when outside Edward attacks Rosalie. Emmett will attack Edward, forcing the others to help Edward. With the Cullens distracted by a gang fight, Jacob is able to drug me and get me on a boat hidden on the island, which he drives to a prearranged meeting place, where Edward will perform the abortion himself.)

My cry of "FUUUUUUU-" is heard by all supernatural creatures around.

"Sorry," I immediately add.

Edward just looks at Jacob. See, this obviously isn't Bella. She's a lady.

Jacob asks to speak with me alone.

I refuse.

Jacob blinks. That wasn't the plan.

He insists.

I continue to refuse.

Jacob does not get his time alone with me.

He and Edward need a new plan.

I see the writing on the wall, and realize this means the others can't go hunt. If I don't have my protectors, Edward and Jacob will strike.

Carlisle, realizing this means he'll be facing a bloodbath where he has to turn me, a delicious human, while keeping me alive somehow, while not having hunted for two weeks, finds a way to pale, even though he's a marble statue.

Jasper idly contemplates dismembering Edward. Edward never forgives him this.

The birth approaches, and since this is a timeline where everyone suspects Renesmée of being a mind-controlling demon baby, I imagine her gift doesn't make Edward 180. He hears her thoughts, and narrows his eyes at the little demon bump. Oh she thinks she loves Bella? That creature doesn't know a thing about love.

I eventually request that c-section.

(Not wanting to burden my version of Renesmée with the name Renesmee Carlie Cullen, I have spent the month agonizing over names.

I land on Marie, as it's easily translated to other languages, and it's Bella's middle name. I don't know what happened to the original Bella Swan, but per this reality I have killed her and taken her place. It's only right to commemorate her in some way.

If reality has warped so Marie is now a boy, then Charlie. Charlie's a good name, easily translated as well - Karl, Carlos, Charles - or altered. Plus, both Marie Cullen and Charlie Cullen sound good.)

The c-section goes well, or as well as it can given that it's a hybrid c-section and the child's father and mother's ex best friend are outside trying to get in so they can murder the baby.

I'm bitten, Edward weeps his outrage into the skies, and Jacob decides there will be blood for this.

Together, they both advance to kill the child. It's fragile, they need only a moment to break its skull open.

Alas, this is where my psychic powers come in.

I predicted many things, impossible things.

And I said Jacob would imprint.

And so, once the child is out, Rosalie swaddles it so Jacob can't make eye contact with it. Can't hurt, right?

Well, it can, because the time she spends doing this is time Jacob and Edward spend bursting into the room to murder little Marie.

Carlisle is inside ensuring my survival, injecting venom wherever possible and stitching me up.

Emmett, Jasper, Alice, and Esme are outside and away from all the blood.

It's just Rosalie.

... goddamnit I wrote myself into a corner. Renesmarie was supposed to survive this one!

Well.

I wake up two days later to Carlisle sitting by my bedside, looking like he aged a century since I last saw him.

He tells me my child is dead, and Rosalie is now disfigured from being torn apart by Edward's teeth.

I...

Renesmée was only a fictional character to me, I suppose, I never got to meet and interact with her the way I did the other Cullens.

But, damnit, I felt that life grow inside of me. I grew attached to it, I wanted to meet her. I felt responsible for her. I had all this knowledge, I should have been able to save her.

But here I am, in a body I stole from an eighteen-year-old, with the child I'll now never hold in a small coffin Emmett put together.

I go in search of Stephenie Meyer, because I don't want to live in this reality.

(Alternate ending, courtesy of @thecarnivorousmuffinmeta: I'm able to convince Jasper to keep a very close eye on Edward. Can't hurt, right?

As Edward gets more intimidating, I may even be successful in convincing Jasper to dismember Edward. Jacob is drugged and wakes up in Siberia.

Renesmarie lives, nobody imprints on anybody, and given time my life as Vinelle feels like a distant dream. Maybe I was always Bella, or maybe it doesn't matter.)

#isekai #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #this is closer to a ficlet but... yes #edward cullen #jasper hale #renesmée cullen #carlisle cullen

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picodart · 3 years

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Digiweek 2021 - Day 4: Dark / Light

So if I had to pick a favorite Digimon villain, it would probably be Pinocchimon, however I already posted a pretty in depth analysis of his character during Odaiba week 2016 (here’s a link, if people are interested: https://picodart.tumblr.com/post/148422213160/todays-theme-is-unsung-heroes-and-villains )

One of the prompts for this week however, was heroes turning bad or villains turning good. Now there are several villains that have switched sides in the Digimon anime: Ogremon, Ken, BlackwarGreymon, Oikawa, Beelzemon, Yamaki, Zhuquiaomon, Koichi, Cherubimon etc.

But if had to pick villains who I think genuinely had the POTENTIAL to become good, had things gone differently, but sadly never got the chance, it would be these two goofballs:

I cant realistically see Devimon, Vamdemon, the Dark Masters or even Etemon becoming good guys, but I could totally see it happening with Arachnemon & Mummymon, when you take several things into consideration.

1. Mummymon really doesn’t seem all that evil. In fact one gets the impression that if Arachnemon (who he is in love with) and Oikawa (who created him and is his boss) weren’t around, the guy really wouldn’t have much of a reason to fight against the Chosen Children in the first place. Pleasing them is literally his whole motivation.

3. As crueland sadistic as Arachnemon can be, she’s still more humorously portrayed than a lot of other villains. And heroes with sadistic personality traits aren’t completely unheard of in anime (Dr. Stein from Soul Eater, Midnight from My Hero Academia, Akeno Himejima from High school DxD, Karma Akabane from Assassination Classroom etc.) so her becoming a good guy doesn’t seem completely out of the question.

2. Oikawa, their boss and creator, repents not long after their deaths. Which brings into question how things would have gone for them had they survived to the end of the series.

3. Though in the dub of Digimon Adventure their is a line about Arachnemon and Mummymon being born from the darkness and twisted desires of Oikawaor something (its been awhile since I’ve seen the dub) implying they are inherently evil, this line is more ambiguous in the original, Oikawa hallucinating them mocking him saying they are ugly because that reflects his true form. Its obvious this is just Oikawa losing going through a mental breakdown.

In reality, despite being perfect level Digimon, you could make the argument that they essentially children, having been created by Oikawa not long before the series takes place. When BlackwarGreymon confronts them and Oikawa in episode 46, Oikawa reveals he created them using his DNA, and its implied they they themselves don’t even remember this, nor were they aware of it, meaning they simply remember obeying Oikawa all their lives. Later on Mummymon questions whether that makes them Digimon, Human, or neither, and Arachnemon simply responds “Don’t think too hard about it. even if you do, you won’t get anywhere.

Basically these two have been following orders all their lives, not really thinking much about their own ambitions or what they want out of life.

4. Their deaths. The scene is clearly meant to paint them in a sympathetic light, and is easily the saddest death of a villain that never technically switched sides. Arachnemon is horribly tortured, and Mummymon is forced to watch. then Mummymon becomes so enraged over the woman he loved being killed. He attacks BelialVamdemon, knowing full well that he has no chance of winning. He doesn’t care, he has nothing left to live without her. Even the chosen kids, whom Arachnemon and Mummymon have tried killing several times, are horrified by this, but are too terrified to do anything.

If any Digimon Villains deserved a redemption arc, it was them. I personally am not a fanfic writer, an AU where the Chosen Children save them from BelialVamdemon and then fight alongside them would be a fascinating read. Also, considering how Oikawa dies shortly after, imagine how tragic that would be. How would they react. They mostly saw Oikawa as their “master” rather than their father, but his did create them, and they’ve known him all there lives. Would Oikawa apologize for treating them so dismissively over the years before passing? Would they join Iori in mourning his death? Would they be friends afterwards?

A big part of Iori’s character arc WAS about learning forgiveness and not looking at things in a black and white manner, starting with being the last person to forgive Ken, then the first person to emphasize with BlackWarGreymon, and ended with his connection to Oikawa (He even becomes a defense attorney in the epilogue, one of the few future careers that had some thematic sense) Having him be friends with Arachnemon and Mummymon would be another interesting way to continue that theme. (Also imagine them meeting Iori’s grandfather, and asking about what their former “master” was like as a kid.) I think that idea has a lot of potential

#digiweek2021 #digiweek 2021 #day 4 #digimon adventure 02 #arachnemon #mummymon #arukenimon #archnemon #oikawa #yukio oikawa #belialvamdemon #iori hida #digimon 02 #adventure 02

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chaeiimimi · 3 years

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2:30 am (Suna x Reader)

Part 1

Its been two weeks since you left the apartment, you were thankful that it was the spring break and you were able to spend it in your home

But it did feel significantly lonelier

You haven't opened your devices and social medias for two weeks, you were practically detached from what was happening outside the comfort of your childhood neighbourhood

The past two weeks were spent nicely, cooking with your mother, playing with the cats and dogs, catching up with high school friends (you even went out with Yachi three times), random market trips and hikes

But with all of that you can't help but be reminded of Suna in whatever you do, it all seems like yesterday you were the club manager for Karasuno High School

The nationals was where it all started, getting lost in a huge gymnasium was a very "you" thing to do

So what do you do when you're lost? You ask people, it just so happens that the person you asked was your next opponent (you mentally slapped yourself for that one)

A tall foxy guy wearing his headphones and just chilling in the bench to calm his nerves before the match and living his peaceful life and you decided to crash it with your angelic smile, your gentle voice and exquisite features

You had no business being this breath-taking

He was a stuttering mess when you asked him which way was the arena

"I-i'm on my w-way there do you wanna come with m-me?"

Suna was a very calm and composed person it was never in him to stutter over a girl but then there you were proving him wrong, he didn't even notice the huge "Karasuno" at the back of your jacket

You nodded at him and so you made your way

You didn't really think about it during the match, although you were surprised the foxy guy was your oponent

After the game, which you won by the way, you didn't expect him to come up to you and ask for your name and number, you were foolishly naive back in the day, so you gave him yours despite being a total stranger

Soon it progressed to constantly texting and calling each other late in the night, him confessing to you over the phone which you gladly accepted, him visiting your hometown and the other way around, he went into college while you were still in your third year of high school, random visits to his campus until you eventually moved in when you went to the same university, cheering him in his games with EJP up until he made it to the national team

From spontaneous lunch dates, brushing each other's teeth, two am fastfood run, three am drives to the beach, four am mental breakdowns, five am cuddles and six am coffees

He was all you could think of

"Suna I need to go" he was hugging your waist tightly like he don't ever wanna let go

He looks up at you, eyes beady with unshed tears "you're coming back right?" he says in a hushed tone almost pleading

You kissed him on the forehead "yes, i'm coming back"

And you meant it, you knew that you can't afford to lose him, you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your days with him, you knew that you could fix this relationship

and sometimes, a break is what really all you needed

You got up from your bed, and decided you wanted to go to the convenience store nearby to get yourself a very late midnight snack

The sky was pitch black, decorated with dots of white that were the stars, the moon shines brightly and you were glad you went out to witness this

The sound of crickets and insects were comforting accompanying you to the nearby convenience store

You made your way to the aisle and got yourself some chips and ice cream which you quickly paid for

Going out you heard a familiar tune of Arctic Monkeys, an image of Suna flashes in your head

You whipped your head to the direction where the tune was coming from and lo and behold, a disheveled Suna in his black hoodie and grey sweats

He didn't seem to notice you as he was immersed in the music of his headphones which was very loud you can vividly hear it

You slowly made your way towards him, your heart pounding like it was about to break your ribs, god you missed him so bad

You lightly tapped him in his shoulder, looking up he saw you and his eyes widen

Before you can even speak, his lips crashed against yours, his calloused hand cupping your cheeks as the other one held the back of your head pushing your face impossibly closer to his, your knees wobbled, chips and ice cream on the ground

The moon witnessed how you longed for each other, your tounges danced in perfect harmony, teeth clashing from time to time, and the hums and low growls emitted from the both of you

You pulled back feeling breathless as he pulls you in a bone-crushing hug

"god I missed you so much babe I was going crazy" he says in a breathy voice

He sneaks his face at the crook of your neck, his hot breath fanning that area

"Rin how long have you been here?" you asked as you hugged him back

"three days" he answers still not letting you go

"what about practice?"

"fuck practice I was missing my girl" he says and hugs you tighter

You stayed like that for a few minutes before he pulled back, he wasn't able to look you in the eye

"hey um I'm sorry, I have no excuse in forgetting your birthday, and I was so busy because of the move that I took it out all on you"

You looked at him confused

"move?" you asked, his eyes widen and he scratched the back of his neck

"this was supposed to be a surprise, but I already signed the lease to our own house, I uhmmm you told me about the house you found pretty and-"

"Rin that was an expensive house" you told him a worried tone in your voice

"I know, but I worked hard for it, I train six days a week and spend lot of time away from you for it, just let me okay?" he says in a gentle tone

You bit your lip, feeling relieved that he was not spending his time with the chick from the women volleyball team but mostly feeling touched that he would go to this extent to give you a comfortable life

Yout thoughts were cut off when he cleared his throat

"that night, I went out to have drinks, I was celebrating with the team because I finally got you this"

He reached down for his pocket and took out a velvet box, he opened it and it revealed the prettiest ring you've seen in your entire life, a golden ring adorned with a grogeous diamond

"You will spend the rest of your life with me, and I won't take no for an answer"

You chuckled at his antics, tears freely escaping your eyes

"I wouldn't have it any other way love" you said as he slips the ring into your finger, pulling you into a hug and kissing your temple

Suna looks at the digital clock outside the convenience store, 2:30 am wasn't an ideal time to propose, but with you, he would do it any time of the day.

Yaaaayy I'm finally done with the part 2, I hope y'all liked it💖

Taglist:

@erinoikawa @minnieminnie00-got7

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #suna rintaro x y/n #suna x reader #x reader

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

So, I started this on my Wattpad, and if figured I'd just put it on here! Just tell me if you want me to add you to the taglist!

Percy's POV

My name is Percy Jackson.

I am twelve years old. I'm a boarding student at Yancy Academy, a private school for troubled kids in upstate New York, and my sister, (Y/n), taking online schooling at home.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah. You could say that.

I could start at any point in my short miserable life to prove it, but things really started going bad last May, when our sixth-grade class took a field trip to Manhattan—twenty-eight mental-case kids and two teachers on a yellow school bus, heading to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know—it sounds like torture. Most Yancy field trips were.

But Mr. Brunner, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr. Brunner was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. He had thinning hair and a scruffy beard and a frayed tweed jacket, which always smelled like coffee. You wouldn't think he'd be cool, but he told stories and jokes and let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armor and weapons, so he was the only teacher whose class didn't put me to sleep.

I hoped the trip would be okay. At least, I hoped that for once I wouldn't get in trouble.

See, bad things happen to me on field trips. Like at my fifth-grade school, when we went to the Saratoga battlefield, I had this accident with a Revolutionary War cannon. I wasn't aiming for the school bus, but of course, I got expelled anyway. And before that, at my fourth-grade school, when we took a behind-the-scenes tour of the Marine World shark pool, I sort of hit the wrong lever on the catwalk and our class took an unplanned swim. And the time before that...Well, you get the idea.

On this trip, I was determined to be good.

All the way into the city, I put up with Nancy Bobofit, the freckly, redheaded kleptomaniac girl, hitting my best friend Grover in the back of the head with chunks of peanut butter-and-ketchup sandwich.

Grover was an easy target. He was scrawny. He cried when he got frustrated. He must've been held back several grades because he was the only sixth grader with acne and the start of a wispy beard on his chin. On top of all that, he was crippled. He had a note excusing him from PE for the rest of his life because he had some kind of muscular disease in his legs. He walked funny, like every step hurt him, but don't let that fool you. You should've seen him run when it was enchilada day in the cafeteria.

Anyway, Nancy Bobofit was throwing wads of sandwiches that stuck in his curly brown hair, and she knew I couldn't do anything back to her because I was already on probation. The headmaster had threatened me with death by in-school suspension if anything bad, embarrassing, or even mildly entertaining happened on this trip.

"I'm going to kill her," I mumble.

Grover tries to calm me down. "I'm okay. I like peanut butter -" He dodges another piece of Nancy's lunch.

"That's it." I start to get up, but Grover pulls me back to my seat.

"You're already on probation," he reminds me. "You know who'll get blamed if anything happens."

Mr. Brunner leads the museum tour.

He rides up front in his wheelchair, guiding us through the big echoey galleries, past marble statues and glass cases full of really old black-and-orange pottery.

It blows my mind that this stuff had survived for two thousand, three thousand years.

He gathers us around a thirteen-foot-tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and starts telling us how it was a grave marker, a stele, for a girl about our age. He told us about the carvings on the sides. I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it was kind of interesting, but everybody around me was talking, and every time I told them to shut up, the other teacher chaperone, Mrs. Dodds, would give me the evil eye.

Mrs. Dodds was this little math teacher from Georgia who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was fifty years old. She looked mean enough to ride a Harley right into your locker. She had come to Yancy halfway through the year when our last math teacher had a nervous breakdown.

From her first day, Mrs. Dodds loved Nancy Bobofit and figured I was devil spawn. She would point her crooked finger at me and say, "Now, honey," real sweet, and I knew I was going to get after-school detention for a month.

One time, after she'd made me erase answers out of old math workbooks until midnight, I told Grover I didn't think Mrs. Dodds was human. He looked at me, real serious, and said, "You're absolutely right."

Mr. Brunner keeps talking about Greek funeral art.

Finally, Nancy Bobofit snickers something about the naked guy on the stele, and I turn around and say, "Will you shut up?"

It comes out louder than I meant it to.

The whole group laughs. Mr. Brunner stops his story. "Mr. Jackson," he says, "did you have a comment?"

My face is totally red, I think. I answer, "No, sir."

Mr. Brunner points to one of the pictures on the stele. "Perhaps you'll tell us what this picture represents?"

I look at the carving, and feel a flush of relief, because I actually recognize it. "That's Kronos eating his kids, right?"

"Yes," Mr. Brunner says, obviously not satisfied. "And he did this because..."

"Well..." I rack my brain to remember. (Y/n) would have known the answer. She was nuts for this kind of stuff. "Kronos was the king god, and —"

"God?" Mr. Brunner asks.

"Titan," I correct myself. "And...he didn't trust his kids, who were the gods. So, um, Kronos ate them, right? But his wife hid baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he tricked his dad, Kronos, into barfing up his brothers and sisters—"

"Eeew!" says one of the girls behind me.

"—and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans," I continue, "and the gods won."

Some snickers from the group.

Behind me, Nancy Bobofit mumbles to a friend, "Like we're going to use this in real life. Like it's going to say on our job applications, 'Please explain why Kronos ate his kids.'"

"And why, Mr. Jackson," Brunner says, "to paraphrase Miss Bobofit's excellent question, does this matter in real life?"

"Busted," Grover mutters.

"Shut up," Nancy hisses, her face even brighter red than her hair.

At least Nancy got packed, too. Mr. Brunner was the only one who ever caught her saying anything wrong. He had radar ears.

I think about his question, and shrug. "I don't know, sir."

"I see." Mr. Brunner looks disappointed. "Well, half credit, Mr. Jackson. Zeus did indeed feed Kronos a mixture of mustard and wine, which made him disgorge his other five children, who, of course, being immortal gods, had been living and growing up completely undigested in the Titan's stomach. The gods defeated their father, sliced him to pieces with his own scythe, and scattered his remains in Tartarus, the darkest part of the Underworld. On that happy note, it's time for lunch. Mrs. Dodds, would you lead us back outside?"

The class drifts off, the girls holding their stomachs, the guys pushing each other around and acting like doofuses.

Grover and I were about to follow when Mr. Brunner said, "Mr. Jackson."

I knew that was coming.

I tell Grover to keep going; then I turn toward Mr. Brunner. "Sir?" Mr. Brunner had this look that wouldn't let you go—intense brown eyes that could've been a thousand years old and had seen everything. "You must learn the answer to my question," Mr. Brunner tells me.

"About the Titans?"

'"About real life. And how your studies apply to it."

"Oh."

"What you learn from me," he says, "is vitally important. I expect you to treat it as such. I will accept only the best from you, Percy Jackson."

I mean, sure, it was kind of cool on tournament days, when he dressed up in a suit of Roman armor and shouted: "What ho!" and challenged us, swordpoint against chalk, to run to the board and name every Greek and Roman person who had ever lived, and their mother, and what god they worshipped. But Mr. Brunner expected me to be as good as everybody else, despite the fact that I have dyslexia and attention deficit disorder and I had never made above a C– in my life. No—he didn't expect me to be as good; he expected me to be better. And I just couldn't learn all those names and facts, much less spell them correctly.

I mumble something about trying harder, while Mr. Brunner takes one long sad look at the stele, like he'd been at this girl's funeral.

He tells me to go outside and eat my lunch.

The class gathers on the front steps of the museum, where we can watch the foot traffic along Fifth Avenue.

Overhead, a huge storm is brewing, with clouds blacker than I'd ever seen over the city. I figure maybe it was global warming or something, because the weather all across New York state had been weird since Christmas. We'd had massive snow storms, flooding, wildfires from lightning strikes. I wouldn't have been surprised if this was a hurricane blowing in.

Nobody else seems to notice, though. Some of the guys are pelting pigeons with Lunchables crackers. Nancy Bobofit is trying to pickpocket something from a lady's purse, and, of course, Mrs. Dodds isn't seeing a thing.

Grover and I sit on the edge of the fountain, away from the others. We thought that maybe if we did that, everybody wouldn't know we were from that school—the school for loser freaks who couldn't make it elsewhere.

"Detention?" Grover asked.

"Nah," I said. "Not from Brunner. I just wish he'd lay off me sometimes. I mean—I'm not a genius, not like (Y/n). She seems to know everything."

Grover doesn't say anything for a while. Then, when I think he is going to give me some deep philosophical comment to make me feel better, he asks, "Can I have your apple?"

I don't have much of an appetite, so I let him take it.

I watch the stream of cabs going down Fifth Avenue, and think about my mom's apartment, only a little ways uptown from where we sit. I hadn't seen her or my sister since Christmas. I want so bad to jump in a taxi and head home. Mom and (Y/n) would hug me and be glad to see me, but Mom would be disappointed, too. She'd send me right back to Yancy, remind me that I had to try harder, even if this was my sixth school in six years and I was probably going to be kicked out again. I couldn't be able to stand that sad look she'd give me.

Mr. Brunner parked his wheelchair at the base of the handicapped ramp. He ate celery while he read a paperback novel. A red umbrella stuck up from the back of his chair, making it look like a motorized café table.

I am about to unwrap my sandwich when Nancy Bobofit appears in front of me with her ugly friends—I guess she'd gotten tired of stealing from the tourists—and dumps her half-eaten lunch in Grover's lap.

"Oops." She grins at me with her crooked teeth. Her freckles are orange, as if somebody had spray-painted her face with liquid Cheetos.

I try to stay cool. The school counselor had told me a million times, "Count to ten, get control of your temper." But I am so mad my mind went blank. A wave roars in my ears.

I don't remember touching her, but the next thing I knew, Nancy is sitting on her butt in the fountain, screaming, "Percy pushed me!"

Mrs. Dodds materialized next to us.

Some of the kids were whispering: "Did you see—"

"—the water—"

"—like it grabbed her—"

I don't know what they were talking about. All I know is that I was in trouble again.

As soon as Mrs. Dodds is sure poor little Nancy was okay, promising to get her a new shirt at the museum gift shop, etc., etc., Mrs. Dodds turns on me. There was a triumphant fire in her eyes as if I'd done something she'd been waiting for all semester. "Now, honey—"

"I know," I grumble. "A month erasing workbooks." That wasn't the right thing to say.

"Come with me," Mrs. Dodds says.

"Wait!" Grover yelps. "It was me. I pushed her."

I stare at him, stunned. I can't believe he was trying to cover for me. Mrs. Dodds scared Grover to death.

She glares at him so hard his whiskery chin trembled.

"I don't think so, Mr. Underwood," she says.

"But—"

"You—will—stay—here."

Grover looks at me desperately.

"It's okay, man," I tell him. "Thanks for trying."

"Honey," Mrs. Dodds barks at me. "Now."

Nancy Bobofit smirks. I give her my deluxe I'll-kill-you-later stare. Then I turn to face Mrs. Dodds, but she isn't there. She is standing at the museum entrance, way at the top of the steps, gesturing impatiently at me to come on.

How'd she get there so fast?

I have moments like that a lot, when my brain falls asleep or something, and the next thing I know I've missed something, as if a puzzle piece fell out of the universe and left me staring at the blank place behind it. The school counselor told me this was part of the ADHD, my brain misinterpreting things.

I wasn't so sure. I go after Mrs. Dodds.

Halfway up the steps, I glance back at Grover. He is looking pale, cutting his eyes between me and Mr. Brunner, like he wanted Mr. Brunner to notice what was going on, but Mr. Brunner is absorbed in his novel.

I look back up. Mrs. Dodds had disappeared again. She is now inside the building, at the end of the entrance hall.

Okay, I think. She's going to make me buy a new shirt for Nancy at the gift shop.

But apparently, that wasn't the plan.

I follow her deeper into the museum. When I finally catch up to her, we are back in the Greek and Roman section.

Except for us, the gallery is empty.

Mrs. Dodds stands with her arms crossed in front of a big marble frieze of the Greek gods. She is making this weird noise in her throat, like growling.

Even without the noise, I would've been nervous. It's weird being alone with a teacher, especially Mrs. Dodds. Something about the way she looked at the frieze as if she wanted to pulverize it...

"You've been giving us problems, honey," she says.

I do the safe thing. I reply, "Yes, ma'am."

She tugs on the cuffs of her leather jacket. "Did you really think you would get away with it?"

The look in her eyes is beyond mad. It was evil.

She's a teacher, I thought nervously. It's not like she's going to hurt me. I say, "I'll—I'll try harder, ma'am."

Thunder shakes the building.

"We are not fools, Percy Jackson," Mrs. Dodds said. "It was only a matter of time before we found you out. Confess, and you will suffer less pain."

I didn't know what she's talking about.

All I can think of was that the teachers must've found the illegal stash of candy I'd been selling out of my dorm room. Or maybe they'd realized I got my essay on Tom Sawyer from the Internet without ever reading the book and now they were going to take away my grade. Or worse, they were going to make me read the book.

"Well?" she demands.

"Ma'am, I don't..."

"Your time is up," she hisses.

Then the weirdest thing happens. Her eyes begin to glow like barbecue coals. Her fingers stretch, turning into talons. Her jacket melts into large, leathery wings. She isn't human. She is a shriveled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs, and she was about to slice me to ribbons.

Then things got even stranger.

Mr. Brunner, who'd been out in front of the museum a minute before, wheels his chair into the doorway of the gallery, holding a pen in his hand.

"What ho, Percy!" he shouts and tosses the pen through the air.

Mrs. Dodds lunges at me.

With a yelp, I dodge and feel talons slash the air next to my ear. I snatch the ballpoint pen out of the air, but when it hits my hand, it isn;t a pen anymore. It is a sword—Mr. Brunner's bronze sword, which he always uses on tournament day.

Mrs. Dodds spins towards me with a murderous look in her eyes.

My knees are jelly. My hands are shaking so bad I almost drop the sword.

She snarl, "Die, honey!" And she flies straight at me.

Absolute terror runs through my body. I did the only thing that came naturally: I swing the sword.

The metal blade hits her shoulder and passes clean through her body as if she was made of water. Hisss!

Mrs. Dodds was a sandcastle in a power fan. She explodes into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot, leaving nothing but the smell of sulfur and a dying screech and a chill of evil in the air, as if those two glowing red eyes are still watching me.

I'm alone.

There is a ballpoint pen in my hand.

Mr. Brunner isn't there. Nobody is there but me.

My hands are still trembling. My lunch must've been contaminated with magic mushrooms or something.

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I walk back outside.

It had started to rain.

Grover is sitting by the fountain, a museum map tented over his head. Nancy Bobofit is still standing there, soaked from her swim in the fountain, grumbling to her ugly friends. When she sees me, she says, "I hope Mrs. Kerr whipped your butt."

I answer, "Who?"

"Our teacher. Duh!"

I blink. We don't have a teacher named Mrs. Kerr. I ask Nancy what she is talking about.

She just rolls her eyes and turns away.

I ask Grover where Mrs. Dodds was.

"Who?" he asks, but he pauses first and he wouldn't look at me, so I figure he was messing with me.

"Not funny, man," I tell him. "This is serious."

Thunder booms overhead.

I see Mr. Brunner sitting under his red umbrella, reading his book as if he'd never moved.

I go over to him.

He looks up, a little distracted. "Ah, that would be my pen. Please bring your own writing utensil in the future, Mr. Jackson."

I had Mr. Brunner his pen. I hadn't even realized I was still holding it.

"Sir," I ask, "where's Mrs. Dodds?"

He stares blankly at me, "Who?"

"The other chaperone. Mrs. Dodds. The pre-algebra teacher."

He frowns and sits forward, looking mildly concerned. "Percy, there is no Mrs. Dodds on this trip. As far as I know, there has never been a Mrs. Dodds at Yancy Academy. Are you feeling all right?"

Word Count: 3159 words

So yeah, this is the first chapter of this book.

Not much (Y/n) yet, but we'll get there.

Love y'all! Kaitlynn ❤️😍

#percy jackson x sister reader #sally jackson x daugther reader #demigod reader #fem reader #reader insert #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the lightning thief reader insert #percy jackson and the battle of the labyrinth #percy jackson and the titans curse #percy jackson and the lightning thief #percy jackson and the greek gods #percy jackson and the sea of monsters #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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paisley-print · 3 years

Text

4:00am : Queen Bee

About: After a stressful morning Jack takes you down to his training room to show you the ins and outs of lasso throwing ...and other work related actives.

Rating: NSFW

Characters: Agent Whiskey x Reader

Warnings: FILTHY BDSM, Dom!Jack, Impact play (whips, crops, floggers oh my) , Slight exhibitionism???? (Does a phone call count?), Slight food play, toys, Curse words …….yeah I think that’s it.

Word Count: Its a secret :) 3952

MIDNIGHT MASTER LIST

NOTE: I might rewrite this chapter.....at the time it was kinda an experimental filler piece and the ugly duckling of the chapters....idk I’ll see.

“I fucked up-”

Jack squinted as he stepped into the light of the kitchen. He was in pajama pants, t-shirt and socks. “What?”

You dawned similar attire - complete with apron and icing splotches. “The order for the wedding shower tomorrow, I fucked up. The bride is allergic to tree nuts. I’m so fucking stupid.”

You bent down to take a tray of cookies out of the oven. Jack had been kind enough to lend you his kitchen until the bakery was finished. He wasn’t home most of the day anyway.

Your phone buzzed on the counter, he stole a glance at it. “You got three new voicemails darlin.’”

“I know” you sighed “I don’t have the time or energy to deal with him right now.”

For the past week and a half you had received daily phone calls from your ex, you didn’t know what he wanted and frankly you didn’t care. You winced as the hot baking tray grazed your arm, god you were close to losing it but you forced a smile and set the tray down to cool.

“And look on the bright side, now you have a boatload of cookies to bring to work on Monday. It's a win win.” Honey pot and bumble bee shaped cookies hit the cooling racks. “Code name: queen bee of cookies- no Tennessee Honey cuz, get it? Bees? Whiskey? Yeah you get it- ” you gave a strained laugh and turned away to grab more wax paper.

The sleepy cowboy watched you - woefully unprepared for the total mental breakdown he had just stumbled upon. Welp- guess he was baking tonight.

He clapped his hands together, surveying the workspace. “Alright, well whaddya want me to do?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“You're the boss, give me a job….though I will warn you honey- I look downright terrible in a hair net.”

“You sure?”

“Yes mam. I am your faithful servant for the night.”

You smiled “I kinda like the sound of that.”

He came up behind and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “And once we're done, we can switch.”

Fuck, you were falling for him so fucking hard. Keep. It. Together. You grinned “I would like that.”

----

A few hours and a case of red bull later the finished cookies were placed in the back of the event planner's car. The kitchen sink looked like a war zone but at least the counters were clean.

You bound into the kitchen, still wired from all the caffeine. How the two of you managed to pull that off was anybody's guess. “Jack Daniels, great at a whip and whipped cream frosting! The James Bond of baking!”

Your shaking hands swiped the honey off the counter, it was nearly empty. Gold liquid crept down the side of the bottle and into your mouth.

His gaze stayed fixed on you and the thick sugary ropes of honey that you dripped onto your tongue. It was never meant to be sexual, it really wasn't - but the sight must have flicked a switch in the cowboy’s mind.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

You pulled the bottle away a little too fast. Drops of honey spilled onto your chin and dotted the counter. “Uhh nothing?”

You cursed and lifted a hand to wipe off the honey but he caught your wrist before you could.

“Really? Because it seems like you're making a mess out of my kitchen…. downright unacceptable.”

You laughed in confusion “what?”

He took the bottle of honey from you and dumped a string of it on the counter.

“Jack!” You scolded, “I literally just cleaned that-”

He smirked at you “it seems as though you missed a spot.”

….Oh.

You shot him a confident and much too cocky little smile “fine.” Slowly, you leaned down and slid your tongue along the smooth granite; never breaking his gaze. When you were finished you stood and showed him all the honey you had collected on your tongue...before giving a wink and swallowing.

Jack had an immaculate poker face. He stepped closer and handed the bottle to you “finish it.”

Instead of dripping the remaining honey into your mouth like he said, you tilted your head and drew a line from your neck all the way down to where your v-neck started. “Oops.”

Jack chuckled darkly and stepped forward, forcing your back to press against the counter. “Now babygirl- you know that ain’t what I asked.”

“And?” you gasped as his hand took hold of your ponytail and jerked your head back.

His free hand pulled down your shirt, placing his tongue flat against the skin between your breasts and dragging it upward. Sticky lips gave special attention to the sensitive space just below your ear.

His voice was deep and unwavering “that wasn’t a smart move honey….seems as though you need to be put in your place-”

“You're right, you should call Ginger in - you know, just to make sure it gets done properly.”

He raised his eyebrows at you “keep goin’ sweetheart, every little comment you make now will be a mark I'll leave on you later.”

“Yeah, well we’ll see” you shot back.

He let go of you, taking the dish towel off his shoulder and spinning it up. A fit of giggles fell from your lips, knowing he was about to whack you with it. “Go put on somethin’ pretty for me darlin’ - I’ll be waiting in the office.”

He turned you around, nudged you forward then whipped the fabric right across your ass.

“ Ow! I’m going!”

“Just gettin’ you warmed up sugar.”

---

High heels padded down the long hallway leading to his office. He wasn’t there when you walked in... however you had a pretty good idea where he could be. When Jack bought the house, the previous owners used the office space as a bar area. Attached to that was a wine cellar, which was converted into an armory and training space.

Once you descended the steps you noticed that Jack had changed too. Discarded was the flannel pajamas, replaced by one of those wonderfully tailored suits he wore to work. He was turned away from you, busy surveying a display of gadgets on the wall.

You watched as he took them down one by one and laid them on a table. A shiver passed through you while you imagined what they would feel like against your soft skin.

Believe it or not this was the first time the two of you did something like this. Sometimes he would give you a light spank during your rougher sessions, but he had never taken out his work stuff before. You noticed a few other things on the desk as well…. and those were definitely not Statesman issued.

You set your phone down on the floor next to the wall. He looked so calm...confident- silent. Yeah... you were in for it. The room was mostly bare, save for two wooden chairs that stood facing each other on opposite sides.

Boots thudded against the floor, you looked up to see Jack approaching; lasso in hand. He pretended not to be affected by the lingerie you had on. A flashy little number that he had brought home from a business trip a few weeks back. As much as the cowboy liked to shower you with elegant and expensive gifts, you also gathered that sometimes he wanted you to look cheap. He got off on the fantasy that you were his little whore, and therefore would dress you up accordingly.

“Watch,” Jack commanded, facing the wooden chair at the opposite side of the room. He narrated each movement he performed. “Grab the rope by the tail, throw it forward-” the rope was tossed in front of him and landed gently on the ground.

“- make loops as you reel it in. Then swing it around your head, twisting at the wrist.” He brought his arm around his head slowly so you could see the movement. “When you feel the momentum swing you forward, release-”

He flung the rope around twice more and let it go; it flew through the air and landed perfectly on the chair back. “Then pull-”

He gave the rope a firm yank. It snapped up and constricted the chair - like a boa choking its prey. “Try it.”

You were….. confused to say the very least, lingerie for a training session? Yes you were having fun, just not the type you expected to have. Either way Jack had stayed up all morning to help you, the least you could do is approach this situation with enthusiasm.

He stood, arms folded, watching while you bound up to the chair. You released the rope and tried to mimic the actions he just taught you. Christ he made it look so easy. What were the steps again? Toss, loop, swing, release -

The hoop didn't even make it past the center of the room.

“One” he counted, “again.”

You gave him a confused glance as you pulled in the rope, “I don't-”

“Again” he said a little more sternly this time.

Well alright. You tried again, this time the rope just grazed the side of the chair.

“Two. Again-”

You were starting to get frustrated “just tell me why-”

“Three-”

“I didn’t even throw it yet!”

He cocked his head to the side a little “for talkin’ back-”

“Jack-”

“Four-”

“Jack!”

“Five- You wanna go for six?”

“Fuck fine-” you tossed the rope again, somehow your aim managed to get worse.

“Six. Plus two for the comments made in the kitchen, so we are up to eight. Again-”

You drew in a slow breath, starting to catch on…….Well shit.

It took four more tries until you finally managed to hook the lasso on the tip of the chair. You yanked it like he showed you but instead of tightening like you wanted, it just fell apart into a pathetic clump of limp rope.

You waited nervously for his response.

He bent down, took the rope from the floor and reeled it in. The tail slithered along the concrete like a viper through sand.

When he was finished he took hold of the chair and turned it, it’s sturdy wooden legs made a loud thud against the floor. “Come sit.”

You obeyed, walking over quickly and taking a seat. The glazed mahogany felt like ice cubes against your bare skin.

Jack took a knee in front of you, making sure to have your full attention before he spoke.

“Rules: Green to go. Yellow to slow down. Orange to pause. Repeat em’ for me darlin’.”

“Green to go. Yellow to slow down. Orange to pause” you confirmed.

“Red and the session ends….you got all that?”

You nodded, “red and the session ends.”

“Good girl.” His lips quirked into a smile as he got back on his feet “now stand.”

You did as you were told, your heart already racing with excitement.

“Unhook your bra and slide it off.”

It was a front clasp. Nimble fingers graced over the delicate material, all it took was a gentle pull for the fabric to come free. His brown eyes were fixed on your chest; you could see that he wanted to touch you...however he refrained.

He leaned down a little, reaching behind you to spin the neck of the chair around. “Turn, place your hands on the back.”

You did.

Jack took a step forward, towering over you in order to tie your wrists to the chair with the lasso. Jesus Christ how were you already so turned on? He hadn’t even touched you yet. You leaned back a little, wanting his warmth - only to find that he was already gone.

“Color?” he asked, grabbing something from the table.

The rope was secure, but not painful. “Green”

He came behind you and moved your hair over your shoulder gently. Fingers trailing along the length of your spine - you shivered.

“God- aren’t you a sight….desperate , needy - carved by the fuckin’ gods.”

Boots kicked your feet apart. The leather of what felt like a riding crop smoothed over your ass and trailed along your inner thigh. “Twelve hits- four for each, count em’ for me sweetheart-”

Jack reeled back and brought the crop down on your ass. It made you jump but it didn’t hurt, “one.”

He hit you again, this time on the back of the thighs “two.”

“Still think Ginger could do better?” he asked.

“...yes-” you mumbled.

“What was that babygirl? Say it a little louder for me-”

“Yes” Hit “three.”

“And Tequila? What about him?”

You paused, and laughed a little. “Yes” Hit “Four.”

“Color?”

You could already feel the desire pooling in your core. If most men were sparks, then Jack Daniels was a whole goddamn barrel of gunpowder. The way he played with you like a game of chess, expecting your defiance and using it to his advantage - was thrilling.

He already knew that he had you in his clutches - knew it as soon as you stepped into the room. What Jack wanted was to make you think that you were the one in control. He wanted to break you down strike by strike until you surrendered to him. It was never about pain, it was about power…..you were his fierce little prize to be won.

“Green.”

“Good.”

You watched as he placed the crop down and took up a flogger. Strong hands gripped the neck of the tool, testing the weight of it in his hands. You felt your hands on the chair tighten as he walked towards you.

“You know what I found the other day? Just sitting on the bathroom counter- next to your makeup bag?”

“No,” you said honestly.

“This nifty little contraption right here” he withdrew something from his pocket and held it up in front of your face.

It was your bullet vibrator, you hadn't even had a chance to take it out of the box yet. You were saving it for something like this….

“Now, you’re gonna do me a little favor and keep this right here till I'm done.” He clicked the button on the toy, then reached down the front of your panties to settle it against your clit.

You gasped at the sudden sensation and wiggled your hips a little. He had placed the toy on the lowest setting, meaning that it was winding you up but not giving you nearly enough simulation for release.

He stepped behind you again, “alright honey - new question. What’s my name?”

“Jack.”

The flogger swung through the air, each little strip of leather connected with your ass. It stung a lot more than the crop did. “Try again.”

You wracked your brain for the answer he wanted, “sir?” An immediate sting settled across your thighs, you winced.

Jack noticed the way your legs were starting to shake, “color?”

“Green” you moaned and rubbed your thighs together. If only the toy could just press a little harder-

The leather bands of the flogger trailed your back, you sighed and leaned into the delicate feeling.

God how you wanted him to touch you- A soft yelp escaped from your lips as the flogger snapped against the meaty part of your shoulder.

“Legs apart or I'll shut it off” he warned.

You sighed and did as you were told. The pleasure that was building in your core faded back into that teasing ache.

“There you go honey bee... now what about that name?”

As your body got more frustrated your brain got more hazy. All you could focus on was that feeling between your legs….“Ja- no fuck wait- W-whiskey? Whiskey-”

Hit

“Agent Whiskey” you gasped.

He hesitated, you braced yourself for the next strike, but it never came. Instead his hand came up to smooth over the marks he had just made. You relaxed into his touch, the sting subsiding a little.

Music sounded from the corner. Both of you turned your heads to look- the musc was playing from your phone. He set the flogger down on the seat of the chair and walked over to look at the caller ID - just in case you needed it for work.

He laughed a little then flashed you a grin that made your stomach drop to the floor. At that moment, he looked downright wicked.

Jack pressed the answer button while he walked over to the table, “hello?”

You stayed silent, trying to hear who was on the other line-

“No this is still her number, unfortunately she’s a bit tied up right now.” He winked at you and took hold of the whip. “But can I take a message?”

The cowboy approached you again, placing the phone against his shoulder then shifting the whip in order to give himself a free hand. He continued to listen to whoever was speaking while he reached into the front of your panties and clicked the vibrator to the highest speed.

“Sorry, real quick - what was your name again? Peter did you say?”

You gasped- wrists yanking at the restraints.

It was a combination of pleasure flooding your core, along with the realization that Jack was speaking to your ex fiance….. The one who had cheated on you. Jack had been very vocal about the things he would do to this guy should he ever meet him face to face.

“Jack wha?-”

His hand came to clamp over your mouth. “One second, just let me grab a pen and paper-” he put the phone on mute so he could speak to you. “Alright, colors this time darlin.”

He maneuvered the phone back into his left hand and shifted the whip into his right. Although he had disappeared from your view, you could still hear him speaking behind you. “Yep I’m ready. I’m gonna repeat it back just to make sure I got it all.”

Jack was smiling like a kid in a candy shop, he couldn’t have asked for a better situation...

The vibrator pressing against your sensitive bundle of nerves forced you to slip deeper and deeper into bliss. You had to shift your weight onto the chair a little more, your legs starting to go weak.

He cracked the whip once, signaling to you that he was about to start. “You were calling to speak to her because you wanted to see if she still had your grandmother's ring-”

Your head snapped back and your entire body twitched as the thin leather instrument seared your flesh. “Fuck” you whined, every muscle starting to tense up.

It felt like everything was being magnified by a thousand, you couldn’t pick any single sensation to focus on.… although it didn't even matter- you simply had to take it. “Green”

Jack chuckled darkly “oh that? One of the mare’s we got is in heat. Crack a whip a few times-” he snapped it in the air again “-and it usually settles them down-”

Hit.

It came down on you harder this time. You were unable to stop the obscene cry that tumbled from your mouth. Hot tears stung the corners of your eyes. You had been edged all morning and you just needed some release. Your hips bucked forward into the air - the natural instinct for friction taking over.

All you desired in that moment was to be touched. You wanted to feel him hold you down, to bury himself inside of you and fuck you senseless. To have his hot breath tickling your shoulder, weight pressing you firmly into the mattress - nails racking across your flushed and trembling skin. The chair groaned beneath your ironclad grip... “Green.”

He kept speaking into the phone: “Since the ring is a family heirloom you thought that it should stay in the family-”

Another snap of the air and a hot lash on the back of your thighs. By this point you had completely surrendered to him. Tears rolled down your cheeks as nonsensical moans fell freely from your lips.

The pleasure between your legs had built to a dizzying height, god you wanted it so badly. You wanted to cum so badly - you were so fucking close-

“- And if she was ever in town again, to call you - so you could grab coffee.”

Jack didn't warn you this time, he just let the leather fly and brand you with a fiery mark. You struggled to breathe as you fell apart, knees giving out and hitting the ground hard. A mixture of agony and complete earth shattering euphoria took hold of you and dropped you down into its depths. You choked on your words “Red! Red! F-fuck, jack stop-”

You didn't hear him get off the phone or jog over to you. Your mind was overcome with endorphins. Your entire body trembled- walls of your pussy fluttering around nothing.

No man had ever come close to what Jack just achieved. He had force fed you a red pill in the limits of your body….and you loved every single fucking second of it.

You were slumped awkwardly on the floor - hands still pulled upward onto the back of the chair.

Once he undid the restraints and you wasted no time reaching between your legs and pulling out the vibrator. Over stimulation was starting to take hold and you couldn't handle it anymore.

Your pretty lace panties were soaked through completely.

The device fell to the floor with a click and stopped moving.

Jack took you up gently in his arms…. you were exhausted. You looped your arms around his neck and pulled yourself up, burying your face in his chest. He peppered sweet little kisses to your cheeks.

He was so warm, and you loved his touch…..fuck. Fuck. You had tried so hard not to love him these last few weeks- you knew he didn’t feel the same way - and that it was setting yourself up for heartbreak. However you just couldn't help it. No matter how pathetic and miserable it was - you loved him. You loved a man who told you that he could never see you in that way-

Large warm hands laid flat across the skin of your back and rubbed soothing circles. He shushed you gently and nuzzled his nose into your hair.

You hiccuped - stuttering and trying to formulate sentences-

“Relax, sweetheart just relax. You're fine. I got you…... You did so good baby girl - Christ, you were absolutely incredible.”

The two of you stayed like that for a few minutes until your senses calmed down. He brushed your hair behind your ear and pulled back to see your face. Those big doughy brown eyes looking at you softly. “How do you feel?”

“Good” you smiled dreamily. There was pain, but it was a good throbbing pain. The aftershocks of adrenaline were still giving you a slight high….“exhausted.”

He matched your smile. “I’ll bet. I didn’t overstep?”

“No!” you assured. “Not at all- I was putting the conversation with him off because- well honestly I was scared. I didn’t know what he wanted.”

Jack leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, “if he ever calls you again, give the phone to me and I’ll take care of it. You understand?”

You nodded.

“Good, now how about I carry you upstairs, run you a bath - then after we watch that show you were talkin’ about? What was it? The square?”

You laughed “The Circle.”

“Right, that one…. Waddya say?”

“I’d like that- Oh and for what it's worth, Ginger and Tequila could never.”

“And don’t you ever fuckn’ forget it.”

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