#from the producers of “Would They Love You If You Were a worm” | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

Tumblr has 4 main sources of revenue.

#from the producers of “Would They Love You If You Were a worm”

oozedninjas · 2 months

Text

The orange peel theory

You saw this trend on TikTok, and now you must try it with your boyfriend. Would they pass the test?

General verses / sfw / ninja guys are late 20's

"Honey, I was wondering if you could help me peel this orange," you say before sitting next to him on the couch. His favorite show was about to start.

Leo looked at the orange, then at you, before taking it with a sweet smile. "Gladly."

This man never misses an opportunity to impress you.

Leo peeled a fragment with the sharp end of his katana, then removed it entirely with precise movements. He stole a few glances at you, wearing a flirty smile.

"Thank you, Leo."

He grins. "It's always an honor to help you."

"Babe, are you busy?"

Raphael turned, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you.

"I was just about to go on patrol. Why?"

"Would you mind helping me peel this orange?"

He tilted his head. You weren't one to ask for help with trivial stuff. Yet, Raphael shrugged, minding the way your eyes seemed to sparkle. It brought a smile to his face.

"Sure! Pass it over."

Raph peeled the orange, mindful not to bruise it as you admired the strength in his hands and his clumsy attempt at gentleness.

"Here you go."

It looked ridiculously tiny in his hand. You giggled. "Thanks, babe."

"Thanks?" Raph leaned over the wall, trapping you between his plastron and the bricks. "A kiss is the price to pay," he teased.

"Hey, love, I was wondering if you'd help me peel my orange?"

Donatello tuned to you, adjusting his glasses over his nose. "Of course, I'd be happy to assist," he gave you a sweet smile before cleaning up his hands.

"Would you like the orange peeled only, or do you want it sliced into wedges? I can put it on a plate— I think we have some little toothpicks around here; they'll help you eat it more comfortably," He said, moving through the place.

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or thinking out loud, but it mattered not. He definitely passed the vibe check. You were with the right man and couldn't be happier.

"Mikey baby, would you help me peel this?" you said, handing him the orange.

He was thrilled anytime you made him feel needed.

"Sure thing, angel. Watch and learn from the master of orange-peeling!" he said in an attempt to show off.

He's probably waving unexisting brows.

You sighed in that endearing way that only surfaced when he was around. Mikey eagerly peeled the orange and then bowed to present it to you.

"Thank you, mister."

"Anything for my baby!"

He'll be happy if you ask to eat it together.

751 notes · View notes

satorusugurugurl · 1 month

Text

The Princess and her Knight

Pairing: Knight Geto Suguru x FAB Princess Reader

Word Count: 3,383

Warning: Fingering, cursing, making out? Talking of royal politics, voyeurism,

A/N: This gave me the brain worms. I love fantasy. Plus Geto as a knight in leather?! 🫠🥴 yummy!!

“What a waste! I pity anyone who gets stuck marrying her! I've never been insulted! Good luck marrying her off!” Geto smiled, tilting his head as your latest suitor stormed out of the gardens.

That makes ten suitors so far. All of which have left either furious, like this one, or very disappointed. “He’s gone, Y/N,” Suguru called out with a chuckle.

Upon his words, you poked your head out from behind the large willow tree in the garden. You grinned, stepping out of your hiding place, happily humming as you smooth out your long lavender gown before standing before your knight. Geto Suguru shook his head, offering you his arm.

“Your parents are not going to be happy.”

“Well, I'm not happy!” you stuck out your bottom lip, looking up at your guardian. “Suguru, they want to sell me off like cattle! I’m a person, not a thing! Don't my feelings count?”

“They should, but you’re of age. It comes with the territory of being a princess.” Suguru’s stoic voice had you rolling your eyes. “You should try to get to know some of them, Y/N.”

You didn't want to get to know these strange men! You just wanted to know Suguru on a more intimate level. Peel back the layers of leather, steel, and cloth. What was your dark-haired knight hiding under professionalism and attitude? He certainly wasn't a fan of these strange men coming to see you. You had seen the look each time one of them took your hand. It was a subtle twitch of the eye, nothing any other person would notice. But you, you knew him like the back of your hand. Your knight was jealous.

Suguru would never make the first move because of two things. One, he was your knight, and two, he was of common birth. You couldn't care less about that! If he would continue to observe without acting, you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Why bother? Every single one of them is disappointed with my naivety. They say there’s no point in getting to know someone if I don't know how to kiss properly.”

Suguru stopped in his tracks, dark eyes snapping in your direction. “What did you just say?” Perfect, he was taking the bait.

“I said, all these suitors are running off because they said I don't know how to kiss.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. “That's the problem with royal families; they simply tell you to produce an heir. They don't teach you about your body and how to seduce others. I suppose my family name will die out.” You could feel every muscle in Suguru’s body tighten with your words. “All because no one taught me how to kiss.”

“I-I see—!” This is the only thing Suguru had to say in response to your very open invitation. How much more of a hint could you drop!?

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Suguru groaned, looking down as you hugged his arm. Your perfect breasts were brushing against him. “Suguru, do you know how to kiss?” The sparkle in your eyes and faint flush that dusted your cheeks had Suguru fighting against himself.

“I do,” seeing your excitement, he flicked your forehead, “do not even ask.”

Despite being a young adult, you whined like a child. You were hugging his arm tighter, pressing yourself harder against him. You were not backing down! Not this time! If your parents wanted to sell you off for procreation, you were going to have fun!

“Isn't it your duty to protect me? To protect the crown?”

“Yes, but kissing you is not in my job description.”

“Suguru.” When he looked down at you, he was met with teary eyes. A sight he had not anticipated seeing. “Please.” Inhaling sharply, Suguru watched as those big tears streamed down your cheeks. “It's bad enough I have to marry someone I don't love. All of my firsts are being sold off to the highest bidder. Is it that bad that I want to give my first kiss to whomever I choose?”

“Y/N, don't.”

You released his arm, pressing your hands on his chest, staring into his eyes. He was everything to you: your protector, friend, and first love. Geto Suguru is the man you would choose to be your everything—husband, king, lover.

You wanted to be everything to him as well.

“Suguru, please, I want it to be you.” You stood on your tiptoes, closing the distance between you. “Will you please teach me?” You glanced at his lips through your lashes before leaning in closer. His heavy breathing mingled with yours. An unfamiliar sensation began to flutter in your lower stomach. “Sugu—”

A millisecond before your lips touched, Suguru’s hand shot up, covering his mouth. His reaction felt like a dagger to the heart. He didn't want it. Meaning he must not want you.

You thought what the two of you had was more. That your relationship wasn't merely knight and princess, friends, that maybe deep down beneath the vows he'd taken, he felt more than his duty. All the laughs you shared, the late-night strolls, afternoon naps in the garden. It wasn't; it wasn't just a lie, unrequited love.

But how could it be more if he reacted like this?

Embarrassment washed over the desire you had felt seconds before. Leaving you feeling numb and empty. “I-I have to go,” you whispered, turning on your heels for the palace.

You didn't have a chance to move. Your wrist was grabbed as Suguru began dragging you towards the hedge maze. Suguru didn't say a word as he pulled you deeper and deeper inside. His vigilant eyes searched every corner for any sign of life. He was always watchful, but now, more than ever.

Once he had you as far away from the palace and servants, he turned to glare down at you. Bracing yourself for a lecture, you shut your eyes tight. You didn't have the courage to face him. You didn't want those hopes to be over just yet!

“Don't!” Hands flew up, pushing against his chest. “Please don't break my heart. Let me hang on to the thoughts of us just a little while longer, please! They're the only thoughts that make me happy!”

Suguru’s harsh words never came. Instead, his hands reached down, gently holding yours. “You're not that bright sometimes, are you.” His soft tone had your gaze snapping towards his face. “But then again, that's one of the things I like about you.” Suguru brought your hands to his mouth. “Oblivious and passionate.” Lips, his lips brushed against your knuckles, sending your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“B-But I-I don't understand. You covered your mouth!”

“Because you choose a spot in the wide open to come onto me.” Shaking his head, Suguru gently released your hands. “Just how would you explain this to any prying eyes?”

“Huh, this? What do you mean thi—”

Suguru’s hands cupped your face, pulling you into a deep and passionate kiss. They were soft, softer than you ever dreamed they'd be. You melted into him, kissing him back with the same gentle tempo. Feeling your lips against his, Suguru groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as one hand moved to the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shirt, hanging onto him tight as you matched his movements as best as possible. This had to be the best first kiss anyone had ever experienced. It was passionate and sweet, like the pastries you would sneak from the kitchens. The entire world had stopped around the two of you.

You were the first to break the kiss; the both of you panted, mouths practically still against each other. “That was, wow.” Suguru chuckled as your words murmured into his mouth.

“Yeah, wow.”

“Again.” Was the only thing you said before crashing your lips against his. He stumbled back, falling onto the grass. “Mmm,” You moaned, eyes shut, eyebrows knitting in concentration.

He tasted sweet, like the strawberries you two had shared before you had to meet with the baron. Sweet and tangy, a taste you craved more with each kiss. Suguru’s hands gently gripped against your hips as he leaned back against one of the hedge walls. Feeling his hands, those strong, calloused hands on your body in a way no one had touched you before, had that faint fluttering sensation returning to your stomach.

Suguru felt the way you twitched under his touch, eyes slowly opening to watch your reactions. You were flushed, eyes shut tight, as you kissed him back. It was utterly adorable. He watched you, trying to figure out what you liked and how you were supposed to move. The gods were so good to him. Giving him a chance to not only protect you but also to touch you in ways you'd never been touched.

You pulled back, gasping for air. Suguru could see the hunger in your eyes, the desire for him. So he decided to give his darling princess a hand. Grabbing your hips, Suguru repositioned you so that you were straddling him. Following his lead, you pulled your skirts up a bit, allowing your legs to rest on either side of his body. Your bodies were so close to each other, only your undergarments and his pants separating you.

“Are you okay?” Suguru’s voice was hoarse, lips swollen from the intense kisses.

“I-I feel strange, like my body is on fire.” You knew all about sex and what came along with it. You had read plenty of books, ones your tutors would never approve of. But experiencing it firsthand, words failed in comparison to actually feeling another's hands on you. “I don't know what to do; this isn't covered in my lessons.”

Tensions grew between you, thick and heavy, as Suguru hummed. Half of his dark hair cascaded down his back, while the rest was tied in a bun, allowing you to see his flushed ears. It seemed as though you weren’t the only one feeling the growing heat simmering between you. You knew he wanted this as bad as you did. But to what extent was he willing to go?

Clearing his throat, Suguru gently squeezed your hips. “That's the problem with royals. They always tell you to be obedient and take care of your partner's needs.” rough handles slid down to your thighs. “They never explain your body to you. Or how to please your partner.” Dark eyes seared through you. “Luckily for you, I know how to take care of you, how to make you feel good.” Words trailed off as his blush darkened. “Could I try?” Your face turned red.

“Y-Yes, please.”

Suguru slid his hands up, gently grabbing and massaging your breasts in his hands. “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped out, arching, pressing yourself closer into his palms. “Your hand is so big.”

“Oh Princess,” Suguru purred, his head leaning in, trailing kisses down your neck, “You sound so fucking pretty.” Fingers began rubbing circles over your hardening nipples.

That hot foreign feeling in the pit of your stomach spread, settling between your legs. “Suguru~ oh Suguru, it feels so good.” Fingers gently ran through his hair, tangling in the dark strands of silky hair.

Encouraged by your sounds, Suguru kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, before he gently tugged the front of your dress down. You'd opted out of a corset today, thank the gods, making it easier for Suguru to pull the brassiere down. Your perfect breasts bounced. With a glance around, making sure the coast was clear, Suguru hummed before taking your nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, gods! You clasped a hand over your mouth, I

In an attempt to silence yourself. “Nngh S-Sugu, that feels weird but good at the same time.”

“Do you like how it feels?” Suguru’s mouth turned to your other breast, giving it the same loving treatment. Tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, making you whimper in turn.

You gripped his shoulders, pressing your chest further into his face. “I-I do! I, oh gods, I had no idea I was capable of feeling like this.” It felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. Every touch, every lap of his tongue, had you craving more. You wanted more, but not for yourself. The desperation of making Suguru feel as good as you did had you feeling confident. “Can I make you feel good too?” Suguru’s eyes widened before unlatching himself from your breasts.

“Y/N, you have no idea what this is doing to me.” When you could finally look into his eyes, you noticed how heavily he was breathing. He looked so out of it like he had gone off the deep end. “I need more of this; don't worry about me.” behind the lust and the need, you could also see the love and adoration. He shifted under you, pressing his hardening bulge against your core before massaging your breasts once more.

Feeling it had you tilting your head back, eyes widening. “Oh fuck~!” Your curse had Suguru groaning, fighting the urge to rock up against you. “S-Suguru~ feels so good, but I uhm—” You felt wet, sticky, and warm between your legs. The foreign feeling had your cheeks burning.

Upon hearing the hesitation in your tone, Suguru pulled away instantly. “Feel what? Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” His genuine concern had you falling for him even harder.

“No! Not in the slightest! I, well, I feel wet between my legs?” Your answer was formed more like a question. You were unsure how an average couple would mention this. Instead of continuing to speak, you leaned back slightly, lifting your skirts. “Do we, do we need to stop?”

Suguru hissed through his teeth. The sight of your lacey underwear had his pants growing tighter. But it was the dampness forming on them, your arousal glinting in the rays of sunlight, that had him throbbing. His sweet, innocent princess had left a wet spot on his pants. Fuck, he didn't think he needed anyone as bad as he needed you. You gifted, feeling hot under his gaze as he licked his lips, eyes glued to your dripping sex.

“N-No, gods no, that's supposed to happen when you're feeling good and aroused.” His voice was deep, cracking with need. “Do you want to stop? We can.”

“No! I don't want to stop.”

“Ok, just lean back a bit.” Following his instructions, you put both hands behind you, resting them on his knees. With shallow breaths, you watched as he slid his hand between your legs, his finger slowly pressing against your covered core. “Oh my gods,” Suguru growled, biting his lip. He curled his finger under the fabric separating the two of you before dipping his finger between your folds.

“Ah!” You squeaked out, covering your mouth. “Oh gods, oh gods, Sugu.”

“You're so wet, Y/N.” Gentle fingers moved up and down, feeling your folds before they traced around your entrance. “Who knew my princess was so,” he smirked, leaning forward, nipping at your earlobe, “sensitive?” The second that last word left his mouth, he pushed a finger inside of you.

Your entire body lurched; Suguru’s free grabbed your hip, helping steady you. Your mouth was wide open as so many sensations hit you at once. Shock, pleasure, and desire, the feeling of Suguru’s finger pumping in and out of you slowly, god, it was better than kissing.

“Feel good,” you kissed his forehead, “feels good Sugu.”

The pretty sounds from your mouth made Suguru’s throat dry. Swallowing hard, he began pumping his finger in and out of your tight cunt. Your walls hugged him so tight, trying to prevent him from moving. But Geto Suguru wasn't going to let that stop him. Not when you breathed out his name like it was a prayer to the gods. He pumped his finger faster, curling it in before he slid another finger into your heat.

“Oh fuck.” A tightening sensation formed in your lower abdomen. “Oh fuck, Suguru, Sugu~!”

Your knight closed the distance, kissing you deeply. “Shhh, Y/N, don't be so loud. What would people say if they saw you like this?” His fingers curled inside of you.

“They’d say lucky princess!” you moaned against his lips.

“Yeah?” Suguru scoffed against your swollen lips. “You're honest, I'll give you that.” He tilted his head, thumb brushing against your clit. “I think your honesty deserves a reward.” His thick fingers pushed deeper, rubbing against a spot inside of you that had you seeing sparks. Knowing the reaction you would have, Suguru kissed you to swallow the moan that ripped through your throat.

The pleasure felt so good; you wanted to be loud, to let the whole kingdom know how good your knight made you feel. Suguru was right. You had to be quiet, at least until you two could sneak off to his quarters. You would rather die than allow this to be a one-time thing. For now, you kissed him to muffle your whimpers and cries.

When Suguru felt your pussy twitching, contracting around his fingers, he smirked. How lucky was he? Not only was he your first kiss, but he would also get to be the first one to make you cum. And if he was lucky, and the gods were gracious enough, he'd be the only one to do so.

A broken “Sugu” was the only final confirmation he needed that you were going to cum. His hand sped up, fingers fucking into you as your hips rolled, chasing the strange feeling that was fluttering inside of you. You rocked and rolled up, and the coil inside of you snapped. You screamed into Suguru’s mouth as you gushed around his fingers. Your first orgasm had your toes curling, your heart racing, and you trembling in your knight's lap.

“Holy fuck.” Suguru moaned out against your lips. Watching you squirm on his lap had his cock throbbing. “Fuck Y/N.” Shuddering sighs shook your entire being as you pressed your forehead against his, Y/E/C boring into dark eyes. Licking your lips, feeling more confident than ever, your hands reached down, cupping his erection. “Nngh!”

“Suguru, let me help you.”

Just as you learned away, Suguru’s eyes began to follow your other hand, trailing over his shoulder, when a shape caught his eye. He moved, throwing you off his lap and putting you behind him as he drew out his sword. The shape stepped closer, and Suguru clenched his teeth.

“Stop, right fuckin’ there. Don't move a muscle.”

The sudden shock wore off, and you quickly readjusted yourself before scooting back against the hedge. Your heart was thundering again, this time not because of lust or excitement but because of fear. Shaking, you and Suguru watched as the shape stepped out of the darkness and into the glimmering rays of sunlight.

“Relax, I was just enjoying the show.” your eyes trailed over fine clothes of dark blue, embodied with silver threads. “I was surprised to see Princess Y/N, the so-called naive and stuck-up princess, getting finger fucked.”

“Stop!” Suguru commanded, taking a step back towards you. “Don't move any closer, and state what business you have here at the palace.”

“My family dragged me here.” The stranger didn't heed Suguru’s warning and stepped further into the light. “They keep dragging me to meet stupid princesses. They’re so insistent I find a bride and father an heir. After hearing all the rumors about your princess, I hid here before meeting. But by the gods themselves, who would have imagined I found the princess here? And she's not as naive as the rumors stated.” Another step closer towards you.

“Who are you?” You asked, standing up, peeking from behind Suguru.

The stranger chuckled, stepping entirely out into the light. Cerulean blue eyes glittered behind white eyelashes that narrowed as he smirked. “Gojo Satoru, Prince of the kingdom of Fontaine.” Both you and Suguru’s hearts dropped into your stomachs as the prince chuckled. “And I think I just found myself a bride,” his eyes focused on Suguru, “and a husband. The gods are good!”

320 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 24 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

6K notes · View notes

diejager · 2 months

Note

First of all HEYYY I love ur work smmmm I read almost every. single. day. So I have anemia (iron deficiency) and I'm always super cold and pale. Like my body barely produces any heat. Sometimes I don't even realise how cold I actually am like I just look in the mirror and realise my lips are blue and I look like a zombie. So I was wondering if u could do like a Ghost x cold reader like with the blue lips and nails and everything ykkkk?? And to be sum like they end up having to stay in a safe house together cause they're snowed in and the radios don't work or wtvvvvv and the heats brokennnn OMGGG and there's only one bed😭😭😭😭🤌🤌 I would love that sm tbh and again LUV UR WORK

Cw: fluff, humour?, anemia, snowed in, mention of hypothermia, cold, one bed trope, tell me if I missed any.

You hated the cold as much as you hated snow despite how lovely you remembered it was, to feel the soft and cool flakes fall on your face and staring off into the landscape. You couldn’t help feeling some sort of aversion towards the cold when your condition made you nearly vacant of any heat, extremities turning blue or purple if you didn’t regulate your own tempature. But the thing you hated the most, was being stuck and snowed in a safe house without any communication from Laswell and a broken heater.

At the very least, you had company, sent off to Siberia with Ghost by your side, a man that burned higher than anyone you’d ever met. Perhaps he was the best option out of everyone, someone you got along with and enjoyed his jokes. That left you shivering under many layers of warm blankets, a bundle on the single bed that the safe house had. Oddly enough, it had enough food to feed a team of ten powerful and hungry men for an extended amount of time, space for many to roam around, but it had one single bed in the whole facility.

Not that it minded you, you were as close to him as you were with the other men, a gentle friendship that often led to idiotic decisions and humourless jokes (more so on his side than yours). You watched him move around the room, securing the windows before he did the same to the rest of the house, checking the locks and insuring that both of you would be safe for the night; and when he was sure everything was secure enough, he climbed into bed, slipping under your pile of blankets. Ghost held you against his chest, an arm under his head and the other around your waist, keeping you close to him to share his heat with you, to relieve you of your shaking and shuddering, and breath coming out in frozen vapour.

“Tell me a joke, Ghost,” you quipped, wanting to take your mind off the numbing cold and your low iron count.

“What does a doctor ask a snowman?” He started after a few seconds of thinking, a lightness in his tone.

“What?” You raised your brows, burying your face into your blanket burrito and squirming until he got tired of it and tightened his hold on you.

“And you say you’ve been erect for 4 hours?” He ended with a low chuckle, laughing at his own joke. He was shamelessly proud of it, apparently.

You blinked owlishly, lips pursed as you mumbled lowly, huffing through your nose with a quick sigh, worming around to stare at Ghost. Even with the mask on, you could see the softened expression through his eyes, his darkened eyes gleaming with mirth and innocent joy.

“That was bad,” you pouted, narrowing your eyes a him.

“Oh? But you laughed,” he grumbled.

“Because it was bad.”

“Yeah, now shut up and sleep.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @cassiecasluciluce @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @infpt-zylith @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #mw2 ghost #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #simon x reader #ghost simon riley #simon riley

364 notes · View notes

drchucktingle · 4 months

Note

Howdy Dr Chuck! It's kinda late but I keep wondering what was up with that deer on the Camp Damascus archery range? I think Rose noticed something was stuck to it or dragging something but I don't think I ever found what was going on and I wondered if you might have an answer you're willing to share? Ps. I LOVED the book and got Bury Your Gays pre ordered!

CAMP DAMASCUS SPOILERS TO FOLLOW: this is a funny one because when i wrote this part i thought it was obvious but i get asked ALL THE TIME about this (maybe most common question about camp damascus besides what is saul listening to in his big scene). so you are NOT ALONE in wondering.

really goes to show how delicate balance is as author when you are wondering HOW MUCH TO SAY in the text. i think my balance was WAY OFF and you are correct in wondering, or maybe its good to keep as a little mystery i do not know

anyway here is answer: as with NEWS ARTICLE about someone finding a worm in the woods at the beginning of book, the 'ligeian worms' are to blame. during breeding program of worms we know that SOME still produce a natural lifecycle while others have had aging bred out of them. those flies escape into the woods from the lab and then grow into ligeian worms that kinda just make this dang timeline their home.

so the deer was confused from its memory loss and the 'deflated football' hanging from its leg was a ligeian worm that had not retracted its dang proboscis. there are a few later on that do this with dr smith it is not common but it happens.

ALSO in case you were wondering they are called ligeian worms because they are a reference to THE CONQUEROR WORM by edgar allen poe but more specifically the story where this poem appears called LIGEIA about a woman with the same name. this story has heavy themes of transformation and most importantly MEMORY LOSS

also since it is left up to the reader to question wether or not the worms and the demons are the same species, i will say THEY ARE NOT.

they are two different natural species from the same other timeline, which is a place we would call hell

THANK YOU FOR ASKING this is great question. LOVE IS REAL

#ligeia #edgar allen poe #chuck tingle #queer horror #tingleverse #camp damascus

224 notes · View notes

sunnyseungup · 1 year

Text

Skz reactions; headcanons | fic recs pt2

Pt1

masterlist

[ updated 230612 ]

finding out you are touch starved

You skip a stray kids song

s/o sleeping naked

tropes that fit each member

pouting kisses

you call them from a police station

Denying them kisses for a challenge

kissing them about of blue

waking them up during the night

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

3racha as your plug

random texts

you get hurt

when they realize they like you, like you

strictly platonic

kisses

touch starved and greedy for affection

skz habits that shine through when they get comfy with you

their crush going to their gym

falling asleep on them (3racha)

when you asked him for a dance

faking out a kiss

worm tales

insecure about big boobs

embarrased s/o doing aegyo

s/o having big boobs

skz as hybrids

finding your inner child with skz

accidentally calling them your husband

spin the bottle

s/o picking up an Australian accent

calling you a pet name for the first time

they notice you are uncomfortable

How they would propose to you

getting them a gift they only mentioned once

Having a movie night with their crush

Their s/o falls asleep beside them

They realize they want to marry you

you introduce them as your boyfriend for the first time

Giving them a massage

sitting on their lap

Their so sleeps with stuffed animals

s/o picking up an Australian accent

skz treating your skzoo plush

s/o getting someone else on a stray kids soulmate quiz

sitting in your lap

puppy love

how they act when they are jealous hyung line

skz being a fanboy for idol!reader

taking care of drunk skz

you fall asleep on their lap

skz and nicknames they love

you spaced out

how skz cuddles with you

love languages

accidentally upsetting you

treating wounds

not together but nor friends

pepero

giving them flowers

partner privilege

playing chicken

they realize you are the one

producer s/o

s/o having a lot of natural aegyo

Lovesick boys

accidentally breaking s/o’s important item

breaking your favorite mug hyung line

they forget it’s Valentine’s Day

their crush complimenting their muscles

spoiling their s/o

not giving you attention

oddly specific love languages

your college boyfriends

you snoring @/hearts4sungie

oddly specific love languages @/astraystayyh

you getting your period @/ar0undth3w0rld1n365

when skz says no @/outro-jo

Skz as sporty boyfriends

NSFW

Obsessed with their thick so

Skz as subs

them as sugar daddy ( bangchan&Lee know )

Christmas headcanons

giving them your panties in public

skz as subs

initiating sexy time

not dating, but not just friends

positions

love language and sex hyung line

When you cry during sex

Valentine’s Day

Texts

“they are busy” prank on bf @/hyunsllvr

special delivery to jyp building @/chan4evurrr

“do you ever wish you were taller” @/gyusangels

Talking contact names @/imagine-a-life-like-this

Best Friend!Reader asking skz for a divorce @/imagine-a-life-like-this

Telling ex bf!skz you think you’re pregnant @/imagine-a-life-like-this

Note: please let me know if the links are not working ! I’ll try to fix them as soon as possible ^^

#stray kids #stray kids reactions #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #stray kids recs #lee know #bang chan #lee felix #han jisung #yang jeongin #seo changbin #hwang hyunjin #kim seungmin

665 notes · View notes

neverinadream · 1 year

Text

Little Bird

Summary: Just like you, Birdy is terrible at sleeping through a thunderstorm.

Pairing: Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader

Requested: Nope

Song Inspo: Little Bird - Jonas Brothers

Warnings: dad!christian, soft!christian, not edited, my writing

Notes: don't even know if this any good but i listened to this song for the first time today and got the tiniest, and i mean tiniest, slither of motivation to try and produce something. burn out isn't fun people. anyway, feedback is always appreciated

Birdy's nursery was alive with noise at such a late hour of the night. Only the heavy pelting of raindrops hitting her bedroom windows and the loud cracking of thunder could be heard over her cries. The first rumbling of thunder had disrupted her and, after leaning over to kiss your cheek and to tell you to go back to sleep, Christian trudged tiredly into the newborn's room, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with one hand, fixing his hair with the other, and yawning loudly as his feet walked across the soft carpet over to her cot.

"What's this about, huh?" He asks, with a calm and soothing voice, leaning into the cot to scoop her into his arms. Big, watery brown eyes stare back at him, the loud cries turning into quiet whimpers as he now held her in his arms. "It's okay. You're okay," he coos, "daddy's got you." A big rumble of thunder causes one big cry to escape her tiny lungs, spilling fresh tears down her face. It ached his heart to see her so frightened.

It came as no surprise to him that Birdy should find trouble sleeping during a thunderstorm. You were the same. He had heard plenty of tales from your parents about you diving under their covers as a young child, hiding away from the thunder and finding comfort and safety in your dad's warm embrace. And had experienced it first-hand, staying up late with you, talking nonsense as you both waited for the weather to settle. Never in the twenty-something years had he been on this planet would he ever thought he would be asked if he would still love someone if they were a worm. Or listen to the 'fascinating' story of a pigeon you once saw as you took a shortcut through a park.

"It's just a bit of silly thunder," he cradles her closely into his chest, balancing her carefully on one arm so he could gently caress her chubby cheek with the back of his finger, "I promise you that it can't hurt you." He lowers to kiss the top of her head, the thick wisps of brunette curls tickling his face. "Nothing will ever hurt you," he whispers the promise between them like it was a secret made only for the newborn's ears, "not a single thing or person will ever hurt you, not whilst I'm around."

"Unless it's a spider," you interrupt him, making your presence known to both of them, "then he'll scream like a little girl, run away and leave to defend for your life on your own."

"That was one time and, in my defence, it was a big spider," you listen to him plead his case to your daughter, who had now gradually calmed to the soft tone of his voice, "but I did not scream like a little girl."

"He did."

"I did not."

"He did," you both bicker like children, "but you're in safe hands with this one, baby." You reach out to touch her hand, smiling lovingly down at her as she instinctively wraps the chubby fist around your finger. "When your daddy makes a promise, he makes sure to keep it," you turn to look at him, meeting his eyes that were already gazing down at you, "though I am waiting for that one promise you made me."

His eyes widen, "we are in the presence of innocent ears, babe."

"I didn't mean that one," you roll your eyes, failing to catch your giggle before it rolled off your tongue, "but thank you for reminding me about it. I meant the one about you promising me that we'll finally get a dog after Birdy was born." His mouth forms an 'o' shape. "Yeah, that one," you nod, "Birdy's coming up to a month and we haven't been to a single shelter yet; think of all the dogs that are desperate to find their forever home."

"Dramatic much?"

"Dramatic enough to make you say yes?"

"I really hope she doesn't turn out to be as dramatic as you," Christian gestures to Birdy, adjusting to rest her against his chest, her head tucked tightly under his chin. You watched her release your hand and bring it to him, brushing her fingers in a sort of grabbing motion against his chest. Every so often her eyes would open and close, fighting the inevitable slumber that she would soon have to give into. "If I say yes will you please go back to bed?" He pleads, after noticing you were also having trouble keeping your eyes open.

"I'll go to bed, but I can't promise I'll go back to sleep." He leans to kiss your temple, humming as you reciprocate the touch of affection with a kiss on his arm, too tired and too lazy to reach for his lips. You gently stroke your fingers over the back of Birdy's head, leaning in to peck the side of her face that was turned to you. "See you in five?" You mumble, finally pulling away from the both of them.

He answers without saying a word, nodding his head and glancing over his shoulder to watch you disappear into the darkness of the upstairs landing. With you now gone, he returns his attention to Birdy, cradling the back of her head in his hand and gently kissing the top of her head. "She's right, you know," he mumbles, his voice turning softer than it had been before, "I keep my promises."

He places her back inside the cot, being careful not to wake her as he removes her from his arms. "So, even when you're all grown up and you've got a whole life and a family all of your own, I will still be there to protect you from all the scary things that go bump in the night. Day or night. Countries apart from each other. Just say the word and I'll be there, with my sword and shield, ready to fight off any monster that scares you." He leans over to readjust the stuffed animal his sister had gifted to them. "But just promise me you won't grow up too fast, yeah? I don't want to blink and suddenly find myself walking you down the aisle, okay? For now, just be my little bird."

He waited around until he was sure enough that she wouldn't wake up again and when he returned to your bedroom, you were already asleep on your side of the bed, your hand stretched out to touch his pillow. Not wanting to wake you up, he carefully lifts your arm and drapes it over his waist as he climbs back into bed.

Feeling the weight of the bed change, you shuffle closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder, breathing in the smell of the body wash he had used in the shower earlier that night. It was now one of the many scents that resembled home to you. "If Birdy ends up being dramatic then it's only because she got it from you," you tiredly mumble agaisnt him.

"How am I dramatic?" He asks, with one eye open.

"I think some would say it's dramatic to propose to someone after only being in a relationship with them for a year," you argue, nuzzling your face against him.

"Okay," he rests his hand over the back of yours, feeling the gold band of your wedding ring against the underside of his fingers, "but you still said yes."

A happy sigh drifts past your lips. "Yes, I did."

---

Taglist:

@shanoontje @maseandkepa @theblxefox @blueathens @ofxinnocence @mrschilly @geek-and-proud @in-my-body-bag @laurasstufff1 @mountchilly @spicysainz @greykitkepa @thoseboysinblue @dinonuggiesforliferz @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @chelseagirl98 @notsoattractivearenti @swimmingismywholelife @lovelynikol16 @masonsrem @masonspulisic

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic imagine #christian pulisic fluff #christian pulisic blurb #christian pulisic one shot #christian pulisic x reader

379 notes · View notes

euphoricfilter · 11 months

Text

like crazy ~ part two

☆ﾟpart two of five

pairing(s): namjoon x reader, seokjin x reader, yoongi x reader, hoseok x reader, jimin x reader, taehyung x reader, jungkook x reader

genre: fluff || smut || angst || non-idol au || reincarnation au || friends to lovers || strangers to lovers || established relationships || regency era au || gang au || college au || slight yandere au? ||

summary: the story of how the universe sent you Namjoon.

word count: 9.3k

tags/ warnings: gang leader! namjoon, fluff, a lot more love, angst, namjoon is tatted up, death/ murder, mentions of blood, mentioned sex trafficking, mentioned drugs, obsessive relationship, smut in the forms of: dom/ sub themes— kinda mean-ish dom! namjoon, lots of hickies, spitting in a mouth :), biting, strangely feral sex, pussy slapping, unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), pull out method (again, don’t be stupid), doggy style, squirting, the briefest ass play, implied/planned aftercare!! because namjoon isn’t heartless

notes: not a promise but i'm going to try and get yoongi's part uploaded next week!! it's basically all written i just have to edit it all but this section of the story was getting way too long so i decided to just split it. again, feedback is always encouraged!! i really like this series and would love to know others' thoughts too <3

‘like crazy’ mini series masterlist || my main masterlist

🪐 🌠 ∘₊✧─── *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ───✧₊∘ ✧ ˚ 　· 　　 . 💫

Your third life was perhaps the strangest.

It had also been the shortest of all your lives, and perhaps the shortest of your loves.

You hadn’t loved Namjoon any less than you had Taehyung or Jimin.

Stupid, undying love had wormed its way into your heart; maybe without you even realizing this time. And then once again, you found yourself sinking with no escape and more heartbreak than you knew what to deal with.

When you truly think about it, the universe had been a little crueller in this life.

And in hindsight, she probably had taken pity on your poor soul for all the stories that follow this one.

From the day you could produce a coherent thought, you’d known everything.

There was no life-changing realisation that you’d had with Jimin, no obliviousness to what your life had once been or everything you’ve ever lost.

You’re pretty sure your whole world would have been different had you not been aware of your previous life, the butterfly effect is a real bitch when the knowledge you never asked for is thrust into your hands and you aren’t exactly sure what to do with it.

At eighteen you’d moved out. Because as much as you’d tried, you’d never truly felt anything for your parents in this life.

It wasn’t hard to play the role of a doting daughter, not when your parents never paid much attention to you anyway. Or how you knew attaching yourself to people that would eventually pass was a whole new wave of pain you weren’t ready to put yourself up for.

There was no guarantee that once you died in this life you’d come back for a fourth time, there was no guarantee that if you did ever make your way back into this world that you’d ever gain the knowledge of what once was. But it was a risk you had never been willing to take. If you’d lived another life, come back again and again, then what was there to say it weren’t to happen once more?

You often wondered how your old mother must have felt, finding out the only family she had left was murdered. How horrified she must have been after hearing the news. Or if she’d been the one to stumble across yours and Jimin’s cold corpses.

You doubted she was still alive either way, time hadn’t exactly been on your side, the world so much different than when you were last alive.

So much more advanced than it had been. You had so many more rights as a women than you had in your previous life. Everything seemed so new, the smallest glimpses of the past peeking through the new age that you found yourself living in.

The story of you and Namjoon starts where you and Jimin had ended.

You look up at the set of apartment buildings. The land that used to be the foundation of your home no longer what it used to be. The garden was buried under cement, and all your secrets that had seeped into the walls were probably rotting somewhere in the landfill.

What was once a small house for two had been reconstructed, and built so much bigger and better. Better than anything you could have imagined your home to be.

It felt a little patronizing, the land you’d died on morphed into something so much more spectacular.

You remember how hard it had been to simply own a house of your own. How hard it must have been for Jimin to save enough to buy it. How you felt as though you’d finally achieved something in your pitiful life the day the two of you had moved in.

How when you look at the building stood before you, it didn’t seem like such a wonderful place anymore.

It wasn’t special. It wasn’t yours.

Once again, it was so far out of reach, so different, the familiarity, the warmth, all of it had died along with you and Jimin.

Yours and Jimin’s lives had been so insignificant that no one had thought to keep the land your sacred burial ground.

You don’t resent the world for stripping away such a large piece of your life away. (even less so when the change had been the sole reason you’d found Namjoon. Or rather how he’d found you).

Meeting Namjoon had become somewhat of a blur. Words slipping off your tongue as the wind dug its nails into your cheeks, and your fingers and toes felt numb from the cold. Grey cottony clouds had been stuffed in your ears and your mind had been so far from your body. Perhaps seeping into the gravel, slipping between the frost and the soil as your mind reels with every little moment you’d ever spent on this very piece of land.

Jimin had been the spring, but Namjoon had been the winter.

You see, Taehyung and Jimin had been the gentle things that wandered in the sunlight, flowers and warm afternoons, sweet kisses and heart-swelling love. Namjoon is what lurks in the shadows, and ugly thunder storms or gnarly bite marks imbedded into tender skin. He was every rough edge and anxiety filled heartbeat, his touch gentle as poison seeps into every pore he traces over.

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snaps in the direction of Jimin’s voice. Words catching in your throat, your mouth opening and then closing and then falling open once more.

Your eyes widen only for prickly disappointment to drown your heart when you’re met with the face of a stranger. Jimin's saccharine voice echoing through one ear and out the other.

You lips fall shut, heat creeping up your neck to your cheeks as your eyes meet those of the stranger.

“I used to live here” you point to the block of flats. And although that may not exactly be true, you don’t bother elaborating.

(And Namjoon doesn’t bother to tell you that no one had lived in that building since it had been built. It was his land before it had been constructed and he had no plans of ever renting out any of the rooms.)

He takes a step closer to you, maybe only an arms length away, “It’s not safe in this area”

You turn back to look at the building, “That’s a shame” you hum, “Maybe I should get going then”

A weird sense of guilt runs through your veins. Guilt because you weren’t at all scared. And maybe it’s because after being killed twice, the idea of death doesn’t scare you all that much anymore. Not when you were tired of life, not when you could come back and have the chance to live all over again as a whole new person.

“I never caught your name” he says, mild curiosty dancing in his eyes.

The air is frigid as it fills your lungs, “Y/n”

“Namjoon” he holds a hand out for you to shake.

You look at his hand, debating whether to risk it, wondering if he had plans to grab you, erase you from existence. You’d tell him it were useless if that were the case, that you’re estranged from your family and you barely had any friends that would risk themselves for your own safety. That he’d be wasting his time more than he would be yours.

His lips curl up at the corners as you shake his hand, “Want me to walk you home?”

You meet his gaze, pulling your scarf tighter around your neck, “No. I’m quite capable”

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“I think there’s someone staring at you” your friend nudges you, hand cupping your ear.

As much as you wanted to live a life of solitude, unprepared to face another life that ended in heartbreak, it was hard not to befriend someone along the way.

The both of you would have probably quit this deadbeat job if it weren’t for each other. And luckily the place was run by an old woman that didn’t mind your shifts being practically identical. The income helped with rent and you got most meals free with the job, so really you had no plans to move anywhere else.

Somehow, platonic love was a little easier to let go of, a little easier to mend, soothe until it doesn’t hurt as much and the memories fade like a painting left in sunlight for too long. You’d never wanted to come off as cold either, and what was one friend when you had a whole life ahead of you?

Because as much as you liked to slip into your own world, replay the stories of Taehyung and Jimin until tears slip down your cheeks and you had half a mind to pull your aching heart out of youe chest, the strange sort of catharsis that hurts as much as it heals— having a friend wasn’t all that bad.

And maybe you’d be upset if one day the two of you were to wander down separate paths, only to never meet at the crossroad and continue on with life like you hadn’t trekked for miles together; but maybe that hurt was worth the risk if it were easy to heal later on. A selfish thought, but you’d learnt that humans were simply built that way. That being selfish wasn’t all that terrible.

You look up at her, dropping the mug and cloth behind you in favor of leaning on the counter, arm to arm.

“Who?” your head falls on her shoulder.

“The guy over there” she nods her head in his direction. You follow her line of sight, eyes meeting the strangers’ very briefly before your gaze flitters out the storefront window.

“Do you know him?” she asks, your head falling off her shoulder as someone stalks up to the counter.

You squint as she takes the order, watching as the curious stranger flicks open a newpaper.

You weren’t sure if he was simply confident or overly arrogant. His posture that of a man who gets his way, the kind of man you try to avoid when the sun sets. The kind of man you try to avoid when you go out for drinks and they offer you a night you’d never forget.

His shoulders were lax, open. One leg crossed over the other. Chest broad and arms bulging under his thin dress shirt. He was handsome. Very handsome. And you knew he was aware of this fact, especially with the way all eyes were on him as people left the cafe. Their unrelenting stares doing nothing to deter his relaxed demeanour.

“I don’t think so, no” you shake your head, turning back to grab a to-go cup, “Maybe he’s one of those creeps that have a thing for baristas”

She frowns, hip knocking against yours with more force than intended, almost sending the cup you were holding flying. “Don’t say that, what if he’s a rich CEO and wants to take you on a date?”

You can’t help the laugh that spills from your lips, “Doubt it. I don’t think rich CEOs drink cheap coffee on this side of town”

She hums, “His suit does looks pretty expensive”

“It does” you agree, meeting her eyes.

“French make?”

You tilt your head, taking another glance in his direction, “Italian”

“Freshly pressed?”

“Definitely”

You slide the hot coffee across the counter, bitter annoyance creasing your eyebrows when you don’t even get a thank you.

“I mean, there’s more ways to get money than just being a rich CEO” she tilts her head, eyes squinting ever so slightly.

“Maybe he’s a doctor” you run a finger over your bottom lip, and she throws her head back in laughter.

“Maybe he does shady gang related stuff”

Your nose scrunches up at that, “Like sex trafficking? What if he sells drugs?”

She bites her lip.

“You fiend” you laugh, “There’s bad boy, and then there’s just straight up criminal”

She gives you an exasperated sigh, “What if he’s a nice? What if he wants true love, and cares about his family?”

Your mouth falls open in disbelief, “I don’t–” you swallow, “You have strange preferences” is what you settle with.

“Okay?” she laughs, “And what about you?”

“A gentleman. The sappy ones that believe in true love”

“Doesn’t seem to be many of those around anymore, not in this area at least” she nods, “Maybe we both have unattainable types”

Your lips quirk up into a smile, “Maybe. I’m not really looking for love”

“Why not? Add something fun to your life”

Both of your attention is snatched by the door swinging shut, the stranger that had been keeping as eye on you slinking down the street, newspaper tucked underneath his arm.

“I’m happy where I am”

“You don’t go out” she deadpans.

Your eyes narrow, “I do. For work, groceries, you know all that kinda stuff”

It’s barely a laugh that puffs out of her, more an exasperated sigh, “How are you ever going to meet the love of your life?”

Something bitter coats over your tongue, and you will yourself not to frown. You think your heart slowly starts to sink inside your chest, an ugly weight that has your eyes stinging a little.

“I don’t think everyone has soulmates” you turn away from her, picking up the mug you’d put down earlier.

“You’re so cynical sometimes, you know that? Besides, it’s not like you have to find a soulmate per say, just— a fling or something”

“Yeah” you look at her over your shoulder, “Wanna go change? I’ll lock up today”

She hums, “Are you sure? I don’t mind helping”

You shake your head, pushing yourself onto your toes to place a mug back on the shelf, ‘I’ll be fine, you have somewhere you gotta be right?”

“Yeah. My dad’s in the hospital again, I don’t know how I’m gonna pay the bill this time”

You tuck your hair behind your ear, “Sorry to hear that” and truly you were. But as much as you wanted to offer to help her pay off the bills, you had your own utilities to pay for, a life to live.

And maybe you were a prime example of a selfish human.

She shrugs, “Life is shitty sometimes, not much I can do about it”

She waves before she leaves, the door clicking shut behind her. You watch as she walks, only blinking when she’s out of sight.

You stand there for a moment, time inside the cafe stopping as the world continues to move outside.

You can barely hear the chatter, muffled through the glass, though you see people’s smiles, watching groups of them laugh. Or two people holding hands. You see lovestruck looks in people’s eyes. Eyes that don’t seem to hold much emotion at all. Distress from someone on the phone. The smallest hint of happiness from someone listening to music.

You fall back into reality when one of the boilers in the backroom rumbles, your attention quickly snatched as you duck under the counter to wash the tables. Your world now quiet enough for your thoughts to amplify. They fill up the room like thick smog, skipping around you with quick steps you almost stumble over your own feet.

Some days you found yourself wondering what Taehyung would think of you now, how the both of you might have danced around the cafe, a piano piece playing in the background from a jukebox as you closed up for the night. Or what would happen when you’d finally go home to your one bedroom apartment and Jimin would be sprawled across the sheets, hair damp, and skin still damp, wet from just taking a shower.

You startle when someone approaches you just as you lock up the door, “Willing to take my offer to walk you home this time?”

With widened eyes you turn to meet the stranger, acute terror tickling your mind as you think he must have been hanging around the shop since he left earlier, just waiting for you to lock up, “Excuse me?” Your voice breathless.

“It’s pretty late, and girls like you don’t fare well when the sun goes down”

You slip the key to the cafe into your pocket, “I think I’ll pass” your shoulder barely brushes his as you slip past him, though you don’t miss the thump of footsteps behind you. Too close, yet not close enough for you to do anything about it.

You stop, “What do you want?”

“Come on, Y/n, We’re past that, I’m just making sure you get home safe” you watch as a dimpled smile tugs onto his face and you pull your coat tighter around your body, unsure if the shiver was from the cold or from him.

Your eyes narrow, skeptical, “How’d you know my name?”

Something akin to a scoff vibrates from his chest, “You’re fucking serious? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already?”

You bite your bottom lip, eyes glazing over his face, memories playing like a strip of film in your mind, click click clicking until you pause when you catch sight of his face, a little blurred but his eyes are hard to forget. “Ah–” you sigh, “Namjoon”

You will yourself no to smack the shit-eating grin off his face, rather turning back around, starting your walk home.

“So i’m not that forgettable?” his steps fall in time with yours. No longer walking behind you, all caution thrown out of the window.

“It took me all day to remember. Why were you just hanging out at the cafe? Don’t you have better things to do?”

“No” he shakes his head.

You don’t open your mouth the rest of the way home, and neither does Namjoon. Not until you’re stood on the step of your apartment building, slightly looking down at him.

“Thanks for walking me home” you rock back and forth on your heels, “You don’t need to do it again though”

Namjoon wets his bottom lip, pulling his scarf a little tighter around his neck. Condensed air whispering into nothing as he open his mouth to speak.

“I want to see you again” Plain. Simple. Straight to the point. But not what you wanted to hear.

You sigh, back of your throat drying as you inhale frost riddled air, “That’s a bit too forward, don’t you think?”

He runs a hand over his chin, “I wouldn’t say so”

“Whatever it is you want, Namjoon, I don’t want it” you tell him, hoping that by some miracle, your little hint penetrates his thick skull.

“And how do you know what I want?” His arms fold across his chest.

It doesn’t apparently, and you are so close to losing your tether.

“Dating. Marriage. Sex. Simply a fling. I don’t want any of it”

It irks you how he laughs, “Marriage is a bit too soon, I barely know you. But I’m not opposed to the rest”

“But I am”

“We’ll see about that” he waves you off, “i’ll see you around, yeah?”

You choose not to reply, willing yourself not to look back as you push open the door to your building.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

“Do you fuck on the first date?”

And for a moment you think your mind short circuits, neurones working overtime to piece together a coherent thought. Sparking against one another as his question replays in your mind.

Everything with Namjoon was always so quick. What had been him walking you home had somehow melted into him taking you out to dinner on the nice side of town for a date that truly you hadn’t had any interest in. That was until he’d shown up at your door out of the blue barely a week after the two of you had met.

You’d never told him your apartment number, and it had left you mildly curious as to who you’d gotten yourself involved in. You could only hope that if you came off dull enough he’d choose to go and flirt with another human that was willing to spread their legs for him on the first date.

“I haven’t before. So, no”

Namjoon hums, hand running over his jaw in thought.

“How charming” he muses, and you’re unsure if it’s a laugh that rumbles from his chest or a scoff, perhaps a mixture of both. “They must have been true gentlemen. Let me know what I’m working with”

You raise an eyebrow, and he nods for you to continue.

“The first guy.. I suppose we never exactly had a first date. The second…we ate by a lake and talked about dreams and the universe, and then he made me a flower crown so I made one for him”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Men like that exist?”

The corners of your lips quirk up, wistful memories of still-there emotions seeping back into your heart. “No. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here”

“They’re dead?”

You swallow, breath catching in the back of your throat. Namjoon’s head tilts, expectant.

“Something like that” is all you can find yourself to manage.

“You kill them yourself?” his eyebrow raises, though you think the both of you know the answer. And maybe that had been the moment you’d gotten an inkling of what Namjoon did for a living, and how utterly fascinating it was to talk about death so freely with another human being.

It had always been so taboo. But it was simply the end of life, the end of a story. Everyone were to experience it one day, so why would no one ever talk about it?

“No” you shake your head, “And this isn’t about them”

“It’s not” he agrees, “I’ll leave the sex for next time as well”

You cover a laugh with a cough, “How thoughtful of you”

“You don’t seem upset” he points out, piercing eyes making it a point to hold eye contact.

“About you wondering what happened to my dead lovers?” And he nods, “You’re understandably curious. I’m not going to hold that against you” you shrug.

Your finger runs over the seam line of your dress, some small part of you on edge, always wondering what Namjoon’s next words would be. He was always so calculated. And a small part of you was scared he’d ask things you had no intention of mentioning.

“And you’re not curious about my past relationships?” he asks, somewhat surprising you.

You shake your head, “I think I’ve made it clear that I’m not interested in a relationship. So I really couldn’t care what your past endeavours were like”

You sit up a little straighter when his lips quirk up into a smile, “I wonder why you’re here then. If you truly wanted nothing to do with me”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip, “You’re awfully similar to a parasite, you know?”

He raises an eyebrow, “Elaborate”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“That doesn’t answer me” he shakes his head, “What does destiny have to do with parasites?”

“You’re like a parasite because no matter where I go, you cling on to me like it’s all you know” you say, “For the last week since we’d met that one evening all you do is sit in the cafe all day while I work, walk me home and show up at my door on my days off even though I told you I’m not interested”

“And destiny?”

“I said yes to today, because destiny is a bitch. And maybe it had been her that had sent us to one another”

Namjoon leans back in his chair, “I do believe. To answer your earlier question”

You sigh, “That doesn’t mean I want to dive head first into a relationship with you”

“But you’re not opposed to the idea of us getting to know one another?”

You bite your lip, maybe trying to hide a smile, “I didn’t say that”

“It was implied though” Namjoon’s own lips curl upwards.

“Was it?”

Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow, “Don’t start acting like a brat now”

“Or what?”

He leans over the table, lithe fingers taking a hold of your jaw before he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, “Are you willing to play that game, love?”

“Maybe one day, but I have a shift soon so I better get going. Thanks for dinner, I’ll make sure to add a complimentary cake with your coffee tomorrow”

Namjoon’s fingers fall loose around your jaw, “You want me to visit tomorrow?”

You push yourself to stand, chair squeaking against the tiled flooring, “Something like that”

“When does your shift start?”

“I open up tomorrow”

He nods, “And you’re closing up tonight?”

“Mmhmm” you hum.

“I’ll come pick you up after I get some work done” he calls out to you, and you simply wave over your shoulder as you weave through tables towards the exit.

Everything about life with Namjoon was fast paced. So quick you often found yourself stumbling after him as the both of you wander in the dark, no clear destination in mind. But as you stray away from him, he always seems to find where you are.

Arguable coincidences turning a little more purposeful. You never thought much of it when you’d run into him while shopping, or out drinking with your friend. Never thinking it was weird how no matter where you seemed to be, Namjoon would be there too. Always there to find you, always there to bring you home.

He loomed behind you like a shadow, an obedient guard dog that lurked in your shadows.

When you truly think back to your time with Namjoon, every moment together was clouded by rose tinted glasses that you seemed to have refused to take off.

It wasn’t long after that first encounter with one another that you started dating. And merely weeks after that, somehow Namjoon had convinced you to move in with him. He always told you how he didn’t like the side of town you lived on, how worried he got dropping you off at your door.

Because he knew what happened when people slept, and the world was a little quieter. When the light of the moon didn’t spill into the dark corners of alleyways and brutish men think they run the streets that belong to him.

“I have a lot of people’s blood on my hands, you understand that right?” he tucks a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

You blink up at him from where you’re sat on his bed, “Yes” you nod.

“That if you accept me like this– wholly me– there is no going back for either of us?”

Your tongue wets your bottom lip. “I understand”

The corner of his lip curls upwards, “Good. Because I had no plan of letting you go”

And maybe that’s when you should have turned your back on him. That through the misted veil of sickly belief that fate had played a game with you again, you’d stayed– evidently leading to another tragedy.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Namjoon was the epitome of obsession, it coursed through his veins just as much as blood did.

He was comparable to a magpie, though his form of treasure was delicate little beings like you that he liked to lock up. And watch as you dance for him behind the bars of a cage, eyes piercing into your very soul until it melts and he mends you back together again.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” Namjoon frowns, slouching back into his chair.

You lay the book over your chest, heart-wrenching deja vu tickling your insides. “It’s just work. The old lady that owns the place is lowering our pay”

Namjoon hums, “Why don’t you quit?” he takes off his glasses, hand running over his face.

“Quit?” you sit up, eyebrows furrowing, “I probably have enough saved for a couple of weeks but after that I’m done for. It’s not like I’m paying rent anymore”

Namjoon pushes himself to stand, slinking around his desk to stand before you, “That’s why I’m here. You don’t have to work anymore, I’ve got the both of us”

You shake your head, “Namjoon I can’t do that” you tell him, leaning into his touch as his thumb caresses your jaw.

“And why not?” He crouches down, head tilting in a way that is so very much Namjoon.

“It’s unfair on you. Plus, I’m capable of taking care of myself”

He runs his thumb over his bottom lip, “I know you are, but why have all the added stress when I’m more than happy to do this for us”

Some days Namjoon seemed awfully normal. Integrated perfectly into society, just like the rest of human kind. And some days you found it scary how ordinary he seemed when you knew of the things he did. He always seemed so in control of his own mind, thoughts easily articulated into convincing words, dressed proper, a kind smile.

It was unnerving how someone so perfect was so very much the evil that you fear as a child. The grim reaper who melts into the darkess, takes a life and thinks no more of that pitiful being’s existence as he stalks through the night ready to chew on another soul.

Maybe it was blissful ignorance that had chained you to him. If he were the being that men feared then it was only smart to latch onto him, to pretend he didn’t do all these bad things and let him squeeze his way into your heart. For you to be docile and quiet and everything he wanted from you. Even if his love hurt, thick shards of glass piercing their way into your heart and your mind and your body and your soul.

It was suffocating. Emotions too hard to decipher when he treated you as if you were the only thing that mattered in this cruel world. His love having a tiny semblance of your previous lovers. Foolish in the way you clung on to the smallest parts of them that you could, even though you knew it was never going to be the same. Namjoon was so far from being Taehyung. He was never going to be Jimin. His love a new type of raw, skinned alive and thrusted into your hands without much thought.

Namjoon’s finger’s slip between your own, grass prickling the bare skin of your arms as you shift, “Sirius”

“Pardon?” you tilt your head to look at him, the softest smile on his face as he looks up at the sky.

“You’re my Sirius” he closes his eyes, smile still lingering.

“I don’t–” you start, mouth falling shut when he turns to look at you, eyes an endless abyss that you find yourself falling into. Every bad thing he’s ever done, suddenly no longer that evil when he looks at you like this.

“If Sirius is the brightest star in the sky. Then you must be my Sirius”

You blink, utterly baffled as to where this had come from.

“Are you ill?” you dare ask, breath catching in the back of your throat. Warm, gentle, love heating your cheeks the lightest pink, though you doubt Namjoon would be able to see it in the light of the moon.

A laugh bubbles from his chest, “No” he shakes his head, “Love turns us into fools sometimes”

You push yourself up onto your elbows, fingers slipping from between his own.

“That wasn’t foolish” you tell him, “Surprisingly profound. And incredibly sweet”

“Is that the way to your heart? Sweet words and a pretty face?” he teases, sitting up. And you fall onto your back.

“It seems so” you say, “Though you’ve already found a home in mine”

“Is that so?” his hands run over your thighs, fingers teasing the hem of your shorts.

“Mmhmm” you hum, eyes flickering back towards the sky.

“Then it is lucky you’ve also found a home in mine” He leans down, arms caging your head as he presses a plush kiss to your cheeks, following the slope up to the tip of your nose before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Not here” you murmur just as he pulls away, curious hands wandering over whatever bare skin he can grab onto.

“But how is the world to know you belong to me?” he asks, warm breath fanning over your lips.

You swallow, “I’m sure they’re all aware by now. More than a few men have lost their lives because of me”

Namjoon pushes himself to sit up, frown morphing on his face, “I told you their blood is not on your hands, but mine”

And he had told you that. Many times. Between kisses of reassurance, where his hands wander down for back as you cling to his suit jacket, guilt chewing away at your mind until you couldn’t take it anymore and begged him to stop his merciless ways when it came to you. Because in truth, no matter how many times he’d told you, their deaths are your fault. And will latch onto your weary soul.

And maybe one day when death knocks at your door, he will open his book and list out every man that had ever died because of you, and then he will tell you the devil is waiting downstairs with the door open and a spare room just for you.

Never once had you asked him to slip out of the bedroom as you slept, slaughtering every man that dared lock eyes with you for longer than Namjoon deemed necessary. Or utter your name from mouths made of filth, or gawk at the small sliver of skin you would show at dinner. Skin that was wholly his to touch and defile and bite at until he’d become the artist, painting you red only for flowers of purple to bloom across unblemished skin.

“That doesn’t change the fact their premature demise wasn’t linked to me”

“None of that” he hums, helping you sit up, fingers raking through your hair. “Angels don’t have human blood on their hands, it is above them”

The day you’d kneeled before him, begged for him to stop killing on your behalf, that he didn’t need to do more than he already was, that those men didn’t mean anything at all to you– he’d never mentioned another instance where he erased the existence of another human.

That didn’t mean you were naive enough to believe he’d stopped killing. You weren’t stupid. It wasn’t hard to piece together the little things that happened when you’d wake up during the nights, sheets cold beside you and Namjoon nowhere to be seen until the sun had risen.

Familiar faces printed on the front pages of newspapers, gruely deaths typed out without a lick of sympathy, just another face, just another story.

And maybe it had been all your fault, bringing up such trivial things like destiny. Uttered how you thought fate had brought the two of you together, solidifying whatever little budding obsession Namjoon had for you. And it was ironic, how even after the tragedy of this life, the little flicker of hatred you held for fate herself was blown out, because as fucked up as it was; you had no regrets when it came to Namjoon.

He’d built you up into an entirely new person. So different than you had been. Shown you a life that was so different from what you’d had before. So fresh. And new. And exciting.

Impossible to hate.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

A choked moan catches in the back of your throat when Namjoon’s teeth clamp around your nipple, his chin spit-soaked as he lathers his tongue over your flushed skin.

“Fuc– Namjoon” you huff, hips rutting upwards, desperate to chase after every lick of searing pleasure as your clit rubs against the soft fabric of your panties.

Your pelvis knocks against his stomach, head tipping backwards as he kisses over your tender skin, tongue soothing over every divot that his teeth had left over your body.

His hand slips down between your bodies, awfully mean as he hooks his fingers in the waist of your panties, tugging them upwards until the crotch is tucked snug between your folds, soaked fabric rubbing deliciously against your throbbing clit.

“Yeah?” he laughs when you moan out his name, tears gathering along your waterline as you rut upwards. A feral sort of pleasure consuming your entire being, emotions rubbed red-raw, heart thrusted for Namjoon to chew on, to consume like it were his only life force.

You whine when he lets go of your underwear, pleasure fizzling out, orgasm ebbing away. Your poor clit sending barely-there pleasure up your spine— utter frustration wracking throughout your body.

You tug his face parallel to your own, fingers digging into his jaw, “No, no– Namjoon please” you whisper against his lips, fingers slipping to tangle into the hair on the back of his head.

“What do you want?” he asks, fingers dancing across your thigh.

Your mouth drops open in another shaky moan as his fingers dig into a hickey on your thigh, perfectly crafted; almost a hollowed heart shape. Proof of the rawest lust that’s mixed between your sweat slicked bodies, and his salvia that drips into your open mouth, tongue already out to catch his spit. You swallow, prickly heat dusting your cheeks as he smiles down at you, so proud as your tongue laps up the remanence of his saliva from your bottom lip.

“You– want you so bad” your hands wander, anywhere they can grab on to him.

Nails that dig into covered biceps— muscles flexing, over his pecks, sinking into the plush skin; perhaps some small part of yourself hoping that you could carve a chunk out of him to keep for your self, a part of Namjoon that will always be with you for when he’s gone.

A strange desperate sort of need that has bloomed into your body and mind. Slithering through each valve of your heart, sinking its claws into the muscle, just Namjoon

Namjoon

Namjoon.

He’d consumed your life, your every thought. Your skin alight as he touches you, your mind constantly buzzing with thought of him him him when he’s gone and just more more more of him when he’s with you.

“Yeah?” he kisses your jaw, teeth nipping over the skin, sucking hard enough that you know you’ll be littered in marks of his lust for days to come.

“Yeah” you nod, thighs clamping shut as you try and relieve some of the ache, beyond desperate for some form of release. The sort of release that you know only he would ever be able to give you, the feral sort of release that you never knew were possible if not for him.

“My poor baby” he croons, sitting back on his heels. Goosebumps prickle the skin of your arms, the heat of Namjoon’s body leaving you cold when he pulls away.

Your bottom lip is tucked between your teeth as he shucks his shirt off, you eye the ink that slithers up his chest, spreading across his arms. Deep black that stains his skin, bare hints of color peaking through.

“It’s rude to stare” he reminds you, unbuttoning his pants, underwear soon following the rest of his clothes on the floor.

“You’re just very pretty” you say, sitting up, chest heaving as you gasp for breath. Namjoon leans down, lips pressing against yours in a kiss that holds so many unsaid words, both from you and from him.

“Not as pretty as you” he whispers, one hand taking a hold of his cock. He lathers pearly beads of precum down his length, his other hand slipping between your legs, thumb running over the length of your still-covered slit.

“Take these off for me?” he asks, catching your attention that had been on his thick cock, “How precious” he whispers as you fall onto your back again, bare and wholly his to take.

Your hair fanned out beneath you, teeth marks littering your skin and hickies that he doubts you’ll be able to fully cover; the whole world knowing that you’ve been claimed by him.

You wriggle under his sharp gaze, eyes raking down the length of your body as though it were the first time. (He had every little dip of your body ingrained into his mind, though nothing would ever been the tangibility of you spread bare like before him)

You thighs fall open, silent temptation— a silent invitation for him to fuck you senseless.

“Turn around for me, darling. On your hands and knees, I plan to absolutely ruin you tonight” he runs a hand down the length of your thigh.

You roll over, lifting your hips for him, cheek pressed against the duvet. Your outstretched hands grasp onto the pillows, though you doubt they’ll be much help if Namjoon does exactly what he had promised.

You wiggle your hips, breath hitching in the back of your throat when a warm hand ghosts over your asscheeks.

“Precious” he kisses the back of your thigh, sharp inhale from him causing your cheeks to flush the darkest shade of red.

This thumb parts your folds, barely dipping into your hole before he’s trailing wet fingers upwards; free hand pulling your cheeks apart.

He teases over your puckered asshole, nail raking over the delicate skin. “You’re a slut sometimes you know that?” he laughs, choosing to dip his index finger, nail deep into your ass.

Your breath hitches, something similar to a moan spilling out and onto the sheets as you rock backwards.

“Not a slut” you tell him, slick dribbling over your clit.

“No?” he croons, pushing his finger further into you, empty cunt clenching around nothing as he teases a second finger around your ass hole.

“No” you breath, fingers digging into his pillow.

“Not a slut, but you like you like me toying around with your ass?” he laughs, finger slipping out as he finishes.

A watery moan follows, asshole clenching around nothing as he toys with your pussy. Pulling your folds apart, and you hear it before you feel it, wet slap reverberating off the walls, sting following soon after.

Your mouth falls open, fresh wave of arousal slipping from the entrance, dripping onto the sheets.

“More” you beg, thighs quivering as you try to hold yourself up, “Please, more” you try to get a look at Namjoon from over your shoulder.

You hear a mocking laugh rumble from his chest, squeak of surprise punched from your throat as he lands another harsh slap over your cunt, string of slick snapping as he pulls his hand back towards his body.

His next slap lands on your clit, pain morphing into a strange sort of pleasure as you feel it wrack up your body, mind muddling into a mushy mess that has you rocking your hips backwards; desperate for at least one more measured slap to your flushed pussy.

Namjoon groans, wetting his bottom lip as he gets a glimpse of your puffy folds, so wet and messy he’s awfully tempted to lean down and lick you clean until you’re pleading for him to let you cum, only for him to push you over the edge so many time that you have to beg him to stop, and maybe if you start crying, delicate little tears cascading down your pink cheeks, then he’d take a little mercy on you.

Another wave of arousal dribbles onto Namjoon’s cockhead as he runs it through your folds, blunt head pressing against your hole, walls stretching to accommodate his girth.

“Oh” you whine, back arching a little deeper as he feeds an inch into you.

His hands fall onto your hips, fingers sinking into the meat of your hips, ragged crescents far from majestic digging into your skin “Feels good” his hips stutter, your body jolting forwards.

“Fuck– Namjoon” you cry when he loses all resolve, pelvis smacking against your ass, impatient to have your walls fully wrapped around his cock, the closest he’ll ever be to sinking under your skin and becoming one with you. The closest the two of you would ever physically be.

“Fuck” he groans as your walls clench around him, your hand slipping between your chest and the bed, down to your stomach.

It felt as though Namjoon had weaved his way into your body, so far inside of you, you wonder if he’d sunk into your stomach. His cock touches places you never knew felt this good, pleasure buzzing up your body with every unintentional sway of your hips.

He barely pulls out, cockhead dragging deliciously through your walls before he eases himself back into you fully.

“Faster, please, Namjoon” you swallow, throat awfully dry– and Namjoon hums.A hand leaves your hip, tangling into the hair on the back of your head.

His cock drags through your walls, tip still wedged inside of you. You’re unsure if it’s a moan or a garbled scream that leaves your lips when he tugs you back by your hair; back arching uncomfortably as his hips snap into you.

Arousal seeps onto the sheets past his cock and down his ball that barely brush past your swollen clit.

“Ah–” you cry, fingers gripping onto the pillow as he punches back into you.

“Like that? Yeah?” he grunts, the hand that was on your hip slipping underneath you, keeping you propped up as his finger leave your hair to press down on your shoulder.

Tears dance across your waterline, raw pleasure consuming your entire being until all you feel is Namjoon’s thick cock dragging rapidly against your cunt, mind so wholly consumed by him you’d forgotten where you were. Who you were. What you were.

His hands burn where they hold you, your ass red from each wet slap of his pelvis against your ass and the backs of your thighs.

Your moans somewhat harmonise, pleasure coursing through both your bodies, rush of dopamine clouding any sort of sanity you thought you had left.

“Play with you clit for me” he groans, tugging you back onto his cock, position causing his cockhead to hit your g-spot perfectly from this angle.

Your hand shakes as you bring it to your clit, swollen and pink, the barest touch enough to sent you lurching forwards; though you don’t get very far, Namjoon pulling you back with the grip he still has on your waist. Making sure he’s buried deep inside of you, making sure to hit that little sweet spot that has white dancing behind your eyes.

“Oh” you cry, staccato of noises spilling from your lips as you toy with your clit, messy as your nails drag over the bundle of nerves.

Namjoon feels you clench around him, ready to tip over the edge with him.

“That’s a good girl”

You hiccup a sob, “Gonne cum. Joonie I–”

“I know, darling” he huffs out a laugh, “Cum for me, all pretty”

Your thighs quiver, and you’re sure you would have collapsed by now if it weren’t for your boyfriend holding you up.

You peel the pressure build in your stomach, fingers messy as you try to keep the stimulation up on your clit. Climbing higher and higher towards your peak.

“Oh– Fuck” your free hand clamps over your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as you tip over the edge, squirting onto the sheets, soaking the fabric, little squeezes of watery cum tumbling past your fingers as you ride out your high— hips stuttering forward with each soft drag of your palm over your clit.

The insides of your thighs shine, wet with your release, Namjoon’s balls seemingly just as wet when they smack against your clit.

“Shit” his head tips backwards, and you cry as he slips out of you, sudden emptiness causing your cunt to clench, another spurt of cum dripping onto the sheets below you.

Namjoon’s hand is rapid around his cock, pulling your ass cheeks apart he groans one last time before he shoots his seed over your red ass.

It drips over your hole, dribbling down to your messy pussy; mixing with the mix of your cum and arousal.

He smears his cum across your puckered hole, rubbing it across your folds and down to your clit. A low groan rumbles from Namjoon’s chest at the sight, your labia creamy white and shiny.

“No” your thighs give out under you, his finger still smearing his cum over your sodden clit, throwing you into a less intense orgasm that has you trembling, sob catching in the back of your throat.

“You’re so good, my darling” he whispers, wet fingers sliding over the expanse of your back, rubbing his release into your sweat slicked skin, “How about a bath?” he smiles when he catches sight of your closed eyes, “Hmm?”

You nod, “Drink too” you whisper, voice hoarse and Namjoon traces over each hickey, feeling the dips in your skin that his teeth had left and over the swell of your ass.

“And a drink too” he nods, “can I go to the kitchen to get a drink? Or would you want to come with me?” he asks.

Your tongue slips past your lips, wetting your bottom lip as your muscles relax, “Come with you”

“Yeah?” he laughs, “I’m gonna pick you up, okay?”

You hum, rolling yourself onto your back. Your eyebrows furrow when your ass is met with wet sheets. “Clean sheets too”

“Of course” he brushes the wet hair from your forehead.

─── · 。ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The day Namjoon had acted on impulse, your story had reached its climax– and it had been downhill after that. That is how most stories go after-all.

And for the first time your ignorance to what Namjoon did behind your back had come to bite you in the ass. A sick little reminder that you should have listened to yourself all those months ago. That you should have never gotten involved with Namjoon. Should have just lived this life through with no hiccups and hopefully finally lay to rest at the end of your cycle.

And somehow you found yourself here.

It should have been nothing more than a night out together, nothing more than drinks and hands that wandered in intimate places under the table, no one any the wiser. Clothes imbedded with cigarette smoke and cheap liquor, Namjoon’s lips on your neck and yours on his cheek before he wandered to the bar for refills.

All it had taken was one man to bring you both to downfall. One lingering, sweaty hand, five chubby fingers and two beady eyes that had no respect; one unruly man for your life to once again fall to shit.

You’d never seen Namjoon anything but level-headed. He always had such control over his own life, knew how to control a room, his people, part of the city. He was always on top. It’s always been Namjoon’s world and you were simply living in it.

A small whisper in the back of your mind had told you that surely— surely a man with that much power would one day snap. Perhaps not at you, but you’d placed yourself in his line of fire. Dominoes stacked up one after the other and no matter how fast you ran, they would always catch up to you, knocking you over with them.

And you knew. You knew that a story with you and Namjoon was sure to be another tragedy. And maybe you wanted to believe that he was invincible, that death wouldn’t rattle at behind him like it had the last two of your lovers, and you suppose he didn’t.

Death was after you.

Death was scared of Namjoon, but not you.

“I told you” you whisper, eyes flitting back to your lover when you catch the attention of an officer, “I fucking told you not to do it, that we could sort something out later but you just had to–”

He had to kill him. Well, he didn’t have to. But he did.

“I’ll sort it out” he takes your hands, “Don’t stress too much”

You exhale, chest deflating, utterly defeated, “And how do you plan to fix this?”

“I’ve got a good lawyer” he tells you, leaning into the table a little more.

And you want to tell him his lawyer was shit, that there was no way for him to plead innocent when so many people had seen him slaughter someone out of pure rage, no matter if it were in the back of a club, in a drunk daze, you doubt many would forget the shrill cry of a man slowly losing his life. You doubt many would defend a man that was known for chewing up the lives of any man or woman that he deemed unworthy.

“You trust me? Don’t you?” He interlaces your fingers, squeezing.

You nod, swallowing hard as an officer slinks past your table. Unnerving as you eye the weapons strapped to their belts and the haunting jangle of keys.

“Yes. Yes I do”

“Good.” he nods, “I need you to do a few things for me while I’m held up”

“Okay” you whisper, foot tapping anxiously against the floor. Palms flushing in a cold sweat.

“Pack your bags, there’s money under the bed, go away for a while”

Your eyebrows furrow, “What?”

“I need you to leave the city for a while until I’m out of here”

“Namjoon I don’t–”

He tucks your hair behind your ear, smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Ever so gentle, a lame attempt at reassurance. Though you only find your heart rate picking up, hands trembling ever so slightly. And you wonder if he can feel it; your fear. You wonder if he can taste it on the tip of his tongue.

“A lot of people are going to be after you now that I’m not around”

You shake your head, mouth opening to say something though you’re unsure what.

“I have a lot of enemies” he says carefully, slowly, “And they all know about the delicate little flower I hold, and they’ll want to pluck her and tear her petals off one by one”

You swallow, “Namjoon” tears threaten to fall to which he brushes a thumb over your cheeks.

Shaking his head, “None of that” he smiles, “Soon we’ll be together again, and everything will go back to normal, and we’ll be happy”

You flinch as a bell rings, hands trembling when chairs scrape against the laminated flooring. You swallow down the lump in your throat, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you simply stare at Namjoon. Curious to see how long it would take for you to get lost in his eyes, to be able to wander his mind and simply live there., Safe, happy.

He told you that you’d be happy. ,

“Go” he nods behind him, “I’ll see you soon, yeah? I think I can have one more visit before trial”

The both of you stand, Namjoon pulling you into his chest. He kisses your forehead, displeased scoff tumbling off his lips when one of the officers towers over you. Eyebrow raised and expectant.

He lets go, and you clench your jaw. Your chest expands, lungs stinging with the rush of oxygen— and you will yourself to look up at Namjoon, painting every little crevice of his face into your mind before you’re slipping past him towards the door. Unable to say anything.

Because you know if you did you’d break down. And you wouldn’t do that to him right now. Not when he’s told you how much it physically pains him to watch you suffer, how your tears should never fall, how your heart should never hurt.

“Sirius” Namjoon calls out and you look over your shoulder, “Remember that. My brightest star”

You wave, swallowing down the sob that claws up your throat.

And you’d barely made it halfway home before your life had slipped from beneath your feet for a third time.

Stem snapped, and petals picked; a rotting rose left to decompose on blood-soaked concrete, with the regrets of not even leaving Namjoon behind with a final ‘I love you’. And a faint wish that life after you would fare him a little better.

thank you for reading!! <3 🌌

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

158 notes · View notes

lucidreamer-uwu · 2 years

Note

i love your writing! and i saw your asks were open! so would it be too presumptuous of me to ask for a fluff piece of luci x mc after a long day at RAD? <3 thank you!

Ticklish

Pairing: Lucifer x gn!MC

Genre: fluffy fluff

"EY! EY MC! MC MC MC!!" You hear Mammon's voice from down the hall. You were surprised to see that he was strung up from the ceiling in front of his own room.

Beside you, Levi snorts at the state of his older brother. He takes out his D.D.D. and snaps a few pictures.

"Oi! Don't take pictures! Have a little respect for your older brother!" Mammon struggles under the tight hold of the ropes, making him wiggle around like a worm. "Pft, older you might be, but stupider too" Levi gives Mammon a couple of pats and heads off to his room.

You two were the last to arrive home from RAD, and Mammon hanging from the ceiling wasn't exactly what you thought you'd encounter.

"Where's Lucifer?" Was the first thing that came out of your lips. A fatal mistake that caused the second born to throw a fit. "Nice to see ya too" he frowns. All you could do was lightly giggle at his classic response and offer to help him down once he told you where your boyfriend was.

"He's in the music room being a total grouch!" Mammon complains, wiggling some more, causing him to sway around in midair. "The second he sees me he strings me up like this! I haven't even asked him anythin' yet!"

When Mammon gives you the information you needed, you let him down gently and headed straight for the music room.

You were worried about Lucifer. He's been grouchy all day. In the morning you thought that it was just natural that he was a little cranky, since he wasn't such a morning demon. But throughout the day, with all the tasks and student council work he's had to take care of, his temper tantrum only got worse.

So, despite feeling exhausted from a day's work at RAD, you decide to go and check on him.

As you neared the doors to the music room, you could hear faint melodies of the piano being played. The beautiful notes danced through the halls, keeping you entranced to the tune.

You find that the doors to the room was open, so you quietly slip in and lean on the wall next to the door, inside. Lucifer's back faced you as he moved with such elegance and grace while he was playing the instrument.

It was always soothing to watch Lucifer play the piano. He performs delicate touches that produce wonderful sounds. And you'd always catch yourself smiling softly while your eyes rest closed.

The music stops abruptly after a few more seconds of you being inside the room. He knew you were there, he just let you think he didn't.

"Did you need something?" He turns around to face you, still sitting on the piano bench.

You offer an affectionate smile and walk towards the worn out demon. "What you doing here, being all dark and brooding?" you ask, threading your fingers through his hair at the sides of his face, pulling him closer to you for a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

A relieved sigh escapes his lips as you planted your kiss. It relaxed him to feel your touch.

He leans on your chest, just below your collar bones, letting you pet his head tenderly, leaving his arms to dangle in between his legs.

"You push yourself too hard sometimes. You know that, right?" You continue when he said nothing in reply.

Lucifer didn't have the energy to answer you just yet. And since he found comfort in the beating of your heart and the sound of your voice, he used them to recharge. After a few moments, he pulls back and looks you in the eyes, taking your hands in his.

"I could say the same to you, MC. You've done a lot today, haven't you" He says as more of a statement rather than a question.

You were surprised he even noticed how tired you were. But then again, this was Lucifer after all. That being the case, he got up and lead you to his room, hands entangled in each other's.

"You strung up Mammon again" You brought up casually as you paced. "You promised you wouldn't take your anger out on him, remember?"

Lucifer let out a small chuckle at your words. He did promise not to pick on his little brother anymore, but this time was different. He tells you that he caught him ditching classes again earlier and only gave him due punishment. The way you pouted though, that's what really brings out his smile, no matter how faint it was.

When you arrive at his room, he urges you to take a rest on his bed while he heads for his desk, eyeing a stack of papers on it. But just before he could let go of your hand, you tighten your grip and pout at the first born when he looked at you questionably.

"Yeah, I don't think so" You call him out and pull him towards yourself so that the both of you fell into bed together before he could even utter a comeback excuse.

Lucifer held his weight over you with his elbows on either side of you, looking down into your eyes. He was flustered for sure, but he did his very best not to show it.

"I could've squished you" Was the only thing he managed to say, which made you laugh. This side of him that only you were allowed to see made you all tingly inside. He was another demon when you two were alone, and frankly, you loved that.

You two roll over when Lucifer takes you into his arms, forcing you to be the little spoon in the sudden cuddle session. "Ah-! L-Lucifer!" You try to break free from his dominating hold, but to no avail. "Is this not what you wanted?"

Spending time with Lucifer was definitely what you wanted. Cuddling? Sure! Being vulnerable to tickles? Not so much. He's done it before, and now was the perfect time when he could potentially do it again. In the position you're in? He could totally go for it. It was an accident how he found your ticklish spot before, but ever since then, he exploited that spot to its fullest, enjoying every moment of giving you the tickle torture treatment whenever you misbehaved or were giving him the silent treatment for something you were upset about.

Fortunately, that wasn't the case. He didn't seem to have the intention to tickle you today. Instead, he snuggles his face right into your neck. He loves how warm you feel, it contrasted his cold nature.

"You are lovely" he whispers soundly and you get flustered at the gesture. Lucifer always seemed to have a way to calm you down even after a stressful day. He then proceeds to plant little chaste kissed all over your face and head, which you enjoyed immensely.

Lucifer's breathing was steady and monotone, but the way he held you this time was different from other times he did, which gave him away despite desperately trying to hide his exhaustion. He was still tense after the day, so you offer to massage his shoulders.

At first he was reluctant. He wasn't so sure letting you massage him was a good idea after you also had a tiring day at school. Nevertheless, he gave in and let you kneed his shoulders as he lay on his stomach on the bed.

Lucifer melts at your touch. He could feel himself unwinding and all the knots in his muscles untangled themselves at your command. How were you so good at this??

"Is that good?" You smile, already knowing the answer.

He intended to praise you for your meticulous methods, but a strange feeling arose from the base of his neck, where it met with the tops of his shoulders.

"Ah" he held himself back before the rest of his little chuckles spilled out. He couldn't believe it. Was this unfamiliar feeling... the feeling of ticklishness?

Despite him hoping that you didn't notice, of course you did. A mischievous smirk had already formed on your face and before Lucifer could move to defend himself you had already clawed your hands tightly into his newly discovered ticklish spot and hopped onto his back so that he couldn't get away so easily.

"-!" Lucifer was squirming under your hold while you enjoyed every bit of the moment. "Luci! I never knew you were ticklish here!" You'd laugh, and he would hold in his own laughter. "Actually, scratch that. I never knew you were ticklish, period!"

You managed to get a few good snorts out of the demon until he turned the situation around, making you the subject of tickling now.

"W-wait, what are you-?!" You exclaim and fall into his flawless, and inescapable tickle hold. "Ah-! L-Lucifer wait-!" You cackle uncontrollably. He showed absolutely no mercy.

"What was that, MC? Please speak properly or I won't understand you" he says with a straight face as if he weren't about to make you explode. You could already feel your eyes bulging out of their sockets because of how hard you were laughing. The sadistic demon had no intention of letting you even breathe in between chortles.

"I-! I said I was s-sorry! Please have m-ercy on me!" You finally manage to giggle out after about five minutes.

Afterwards, when he let you off of the hook, you pout at him. "You're such a sore loser"

He would take a second to let you finish your sentence, and would smile lightly afterwards. "How can I be a loser when I'm with the most perfect human in all of existence?" He asks. "Does that not make me a winner?"

His smooth flirting, and sly words catches you off guard and makes you heat up, looking anywhere but at him. But he pinches you by the chin and leads your gaze back to him, sealing the movement with a kiss.

"I love you, MC" he says after the tender kiss he just pulled away from. "You look out for me despite the fact that I don't need it. And for that, I thank you, love"

You smile back. "Of course I'd look out for you. Who else would?". You both giggle at your remark and settled down. And with that, your evening continued in each other's arms, soundly snoozing until dinner time when Satan walks in on you two.

"Hey Lucifer, it's time for din-" Satan's voice wakes the both of you up.

He takes a moment to look at his brother in disgust, then turns on his heal. "Absolutely revolting"

Once he was gone, you and your demon share a little laugh.

I'm so glad you like my writing!! And tysm for the ask! Though I'm extremely sorry that it took this long to post :,) school got the best of me and I was pooped. But anyway, here's the fic! I hope it was worth the wait and that I didn't disappoint!

~ Em ♡

698 notes · View notes

kit-williams · 2 months

Note

Okay I am going to hell for this *deep breath* SO! Vauth may be a bastard but he’s a horny techno bastard and that speaks to me. You can eroticize the hell out of repairs and upgrades. Having to touch sensitive cables and ports while fixing Byte’s busted pieces, inking her skin where new parts might go and tracing his fingers against the lines imagining just how pretty her shiny new improvements will look. Literally being able to connect to each other with mechadendrites and don’t think I forgot you mentioning him fuckin with her sensitivity levels and hormones. He can crank the horny knob as high as he wants but he then can also make it impossible for her to actually get off at all at the same time. Either as punishment or to get her to do something (or just for fun lbr) he can make her get so so so torturously close and ride the edge for literally as long as he wants until his condition(s) are met. I had these worms infect my brain and now so too must you!

woe be unto thee ❤️,

Specs

@bispecsual You sly dog you

@egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

tw: SMUT, dubcon, Vauth being the monstrous Iron Hands we love

He didn't need this... he was above the desires of the flesh. He still felt a twinge upset when Byte shut her optic off and closed her eye turning her head away as they were plugged together. Her flesh hand twitching and clenching slightly as he worked away on her. He could see the way tears were moving down her cheek. He didn't need this.

The way her eye shot open and clawed at his hand letting out a binaric sob as she screeched with need and his heavy mechadendrites pinned her down as smaller delicate ones were moving their cabling against her own. The way the metal of the connector got close to her own pushing in and making the connection. How she arched under his hand screaming at the datasteam that just flooded her mind as it felt like she was drowning but it was all Vauth.

Her teeth itched as her mask was open and she was licking what tasted like copper... as she could feel the electrical current rush through her flesh shooting straight to her core. She was naked upon the table... she was certain he could smell her... he still had most of his face and those elevated senses still... she was also certain there was a puddle of her arousal pooling on the table as she could feel how wet her buttock was. But she could feel the way it all went to her core as she worked on the wiring and the smell of ozone mixed with the spike of pleasured pain as connections were made and he held her leg down as it spasmed as he diligently worked to strengthen the connections.

Vauth looked to her with such uncharacteristic laziness about him as he could feel her trying to adjust her hormone levels and it was him who dictated everything... she was trying to climax in pleasure but Vauth would keep ripping it from her... hence why she was crying and he kept her hand away from her mess of a core. He watched the way her cunt fluttered and tightened around nothing... he couldn't help himself from pressing the calloused tip of his middle finger against her sex and watched all of her vitals spike as she screamed in pleasure. It was just a simple swipe... she still didn't orgasm from it as he lazily licked the wet pad on his finger.

He didn't need it... it would be better to be rid of the flesh between his legs but that small whisper in the back of his mind persisted telling him how ridding it would be a waste of a source of naturally produced testosterone. She lays there quivering with need as his rough fingers move over her sensitive sweat glazed skin as it was smearing the marks upon her skin.

+Say thank you+ His deep voice penetrated her entire being as her digital reply was so soft and weak...

+thank you... Brother Vauth Marlos+

She screamed as his hips were suddenly flushed with hers. He snarled out as the motto of how he didn't need this was drowned out by the screaming priestess underneath him. Her words long failed as she was like an electric screaming animal. Vauth dared not share the cacophony of sounds and packets of data she let out leave the room. Her hands clawing his arms as she screamed for release and he gave it to her finally allowing her to reach those orgasmic subroutines and he felt her fluttering around his cock as she orgasmed with a scream. He followed not long after her burying his genetic blueprints deep inside of his Byte.

He watched how his hips moved as he came as if to mark into the gummy walls of her sex what was his. And the other curious habit of pushing his cum back into her leaking sex... his mind already coming up with something to plug it... he'd have to make it but that was later. He knew there was no need for him to push the excess material back into her but it elicited something deep inside of him an enjoyment. He finished up working on her for now as he had a contact to meet... getting Byte off world would be hard but not impossible.

Before she passed out she could feel his lips brush against her forehead as the darkness took her and she hoped... this was all a bad dream.

#warhammer 40k #yandere #yandere space marine #space marine #yandere Iron Hands #Iron Hands #oc: Vauth #oc x reader #space marine x reader #Mating Press March?#tw: smut #tw: dubious consent #tw: dubcon

34 notes · View notes

ourshadowstallerthanoursoul · 3 months

Text

An audience with... John Paul Jones

(from Uncut, April 2010 - link)

You’re stuck on a deserted island, you have one instrument you can bring. It is: a) piano, b) bass or c) mandolin? (Gary Attersley, Ontario, Canada)

Oh… that’s horrible! I’ll probably get Hugh Manson – the guy who builds all my bass guitars – to build me some monstrous instrument that encapsulated all three! Hugh and his brother Andy Manson once actually designed me a triple-necked guitar with 12-string guitar, six-string guitar and mandolin on it! Andy also designed a triple-necked mandolin. But I guess if it really came down to it on a desert island, it would have to be the piano, because you can do so much on it. You’re a whole band. The bass is not much fun on your own.

John, it’s so good to see you so engaged with today. Any advice for old farts who can’t move on? (Andrew Loog Oldham)

Who are you calling an old fart? I dunno, Andy, you tell me! Ha ha. He’s done a good job of staying up to date. Andrew, of course, gave me the name John Paul Jones. I was John Baldwin, until Andrew saw a poster for the French film version of John Paul Jones. I thought it ’d look great in CinemaScope, as I wanted to do music for films. I imagined it saying “Music By John Paul Jones”, over the whole screen. I never realised then that he was the Horatio Nelson of America!

I know that you’ve been getting heavily into bluegrass lately – who are some of your favourite bluegrass artists of all time? (Ryan Godek, Wilmington, Delaware)

Apart from Bill Monroe, you mean? Oh, there’s loads. I’m friends with the Del McCoury band, I love that style of classic bluegrass. I love Sam Bush’s Newgrass stuff. And of course there’s Nickel Creek, Chris Feely, Mike Marshall. I love it all, really. One thing I like about bluegrass is that you don’t require amplifiers, drums and trucks. You can pull an instrument out of a box and get on with some instant music making. I carry a mandolin around wherever I go. I also like the fact bluegrass musicians play more than one instrument. There’s a tradition of them swapping instruments. In bluegrass bands I swap between double bass, fiddle and banjo.

One Butthole Surfers anecdote, please? (Dave Grohl)

Ha! I was brought in to produce the Butthole Surfers’ 1993 album, Independent Worm Saloon. I guess it was to give it a heavy rock vibe, but it didn’t work like that. They were actually incredibly hard-working in the studio, but I do recall running up a phenomenal bar-bill at the San Rafael studio. And then there was Gibby [Haynes, Butthole Surfers’ frontman] and his… eccentric studio behaviour. Gibby did one vocal take shouting into his guitar. He held it out in front of his face and screamed at it. Ha! He was trying to find out if it picked up through the pick-ups, which it kind of did. And that was pretty good.

How’s the violin coming along? (Sean, Berkshire)

I started about three years ago. With the guitar, or the piano, you can sound OK quite quickly. With the violin, it takes much longer. Once you get past the first six months of scraping, of muttering to yourself, “What is this fucking horrible noise on my shoulder?” you get the odd musical bit, and you think, ‘Oh, this is starting to get good.’ And you continue with it for a while. I’m getting into country fiddle playing, Celtic folk songs, a bit of swing. Basic stuff, but very satisfying.

Why not record a second ‘Automatic For The People’ with REM? (Franz Greul, Austria)

They haven’t asked me! But doing the string arrangements for that album was a great experience, actually. They sent me the demos of their songs, and we went into a studio in Atlanta, with members of the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. They were great songs, something you can really get your teeth into as an arranger. And I’ve been good friends with them ever since.

How did you first meet Josh Homme? And is he still a notorious party monster? (Rob Hirst, Kippax, Leeds)

Well, I think we’ve all calmed down rather a lot. Dave introduced me to Josh at his 40th birthday party. It was a ridiculous themed place where they have jousting with knights. As Dave said, it was like somewhere you’d have your 14th birthday party. Or maybe even your 4th. Anyway, Dave sat Josh and I together for a blind date. Which was reasonably embarrassing for both of us, surrounded by people going “prithee this” and challenging each other to duels. But we survived the trauma and went into the studio the next day, and just started jamming. And I knew immediately it was going to be something special.

If Them Crooked Vultures had Spice Girls-like nicknames what would they be? (Paul Jones, Liverpool)

Dave would be Smiley Vulture. He can’t stop grinning. Josh would be Slinky Vulture. He’s a slinky kinda guy. And I’d be Speedy, I guess. Or Jumpy. So there you go. Smiley, Slinky and Speedy. Or does that sound more like the dwarfs?

I remember you being a pretty funky bass genius back in the day! What memories do you have of those sessions? (Donovan)

The sessions with Don and Mickie Most were great, because we were given a free hand. I usually got leeway, because I was the sort of Motown/Stax specialist, so producers in the mid ’60s would get me in for cover versions of American records, and none of them could write bass parts convincingly enough, so I was London’s answer to James Jamerson, I guess! And I was certainly encouraged to get kinda… funky when I worked with Donovan.

How did it feel to see Jimmy Page and Robert Plant venture off in their own project in the ‘90s without mentioning a word of it to you? (Danny Luscombe, Hull)

Oh yeah, I was pissed off about it. The surprise was in not being told. It’s ancient history now, but it was a bit annoying to find out about it while reading the papers. It came just after Robert and I had been discussing the idea of doing an Unplugged project. Then I’m on tour in Germany with Diamanda Galás, I turn on the TV and see Robert and Jimmy doing it, with someone else playing all my parts! I was pissed off at the time. You would be, woudn’t you? But… it’s all in the past, isn’t it?

Did you listen to much work by Josh Homme or Dave Grohl before you were contacted in relation to joining Them Crooked Vultures, and if so, how did you honestly rate it? (Ralph Ryan, Lisronagh, County Tipperary)

I did like the Foo Fighters and Queens Of The Stone Age, before I’d met either of them. There’s a tendency for people – especially musicians from my generation – to say that there has been this terrible decline in musicianship, that today’s bands haven’t got the chops, blah blah blah. But that’s not true at all. There’s always some people for whom technique on an instrument isn’t necessary. They can get their ideas across without being able to have the chops. But Josh really does have the chops, he just doesn’t feel the need to flash them about all the time. In fact, there were a few riffs he gave me that I had to simplify, because they were bloody difficult to play. I really had to work at it, where he could just flick it off. He is an astonishing musician.

Were you serious when you told Peter Grant that you wanted to jack it in to become choirmaster at Winchester Cathedral? (Brian Fisher, Manchester)

Ha! That was a tongue-in-cheek joke, although I was serious about leaving Led Zeppelin in 1973 unless things changed. But Peter did sort things out pretty quickly. What kind of choirmaster would I have made? A bloody good one! Listen, any way that they’ll pay you for making music is just the best situation in the world. I’d do it for nothing. I don’t care what music it is. I just love it all. The rubbing of notes together. I love it all. I would be very passionate about whatever I decided to do.

What was the worst session you ever did as a jobbing session player? (Adam Burns, Castleford, West Yorkshire)

I generally have fun memories of that time. I’d criss-cross London playing two or three sessions a day, going between Trident and Olympic and Abbey Road and Philips in Marble Arch, you know. You’d be backing Shirley Bassey, Cat Stevens, Lulu, whoever was paying you. The worst experience was a Muzak session. With Muzak sessions, the music was deliberately boring. I distinctly remember one session where I embellished the bass part a little bit, just so that it wasn’t so boring for me to play. They said, “No, you can’t do that. Any interest in the music will distract people’s attention from when they’re meant to be eating.” Or standing in a fucking lift. For fuck’s sake! So I was like, “OK, thanks, bye!”

#john paul jones #jonesy #led zeppelin #robert plant #planty #jimmy page #pagey #john bonham #bonzo #60s #70s #70s rock #70s music #rock music #ourshadowstallerthanoursoul

37 notes · View notes

laceratedlamiaceae · 1 year

Text

OFMD characters if they were worms

(and whether or not I would still love them)

Izzy: Pseudobiceros hancockanus

Also known as "Hancock's Flatworm," it has a distinct black coloring and is part of a genus known for engaging in "penis fencing" for reproduction, which I like to imagine is something Izzy does too. Obviously I would still love him; I don't think there's anything that could make me stop loving him.

Stede: Sabellastarte spectabilis

Also known as the "feather duster worm." It's popular in squariums because of its flamboyant plume of tentacles, which are almost as ridiculous as Stede's hair. If anything I think I'd love him more as a worm.

Ed: Eunice aphroditois

Also known as the "sand striker" or "bobbit worm." This thing is a horrifying monster that feeds on fish unfortunate enough to come near it with its sharp mandibles. The rainbow iridescence is pretty though. Sorry Ed but I've read too many horror stories about these; I would not love you if you were a worm.

Calico Jack: Trichuris trichiura

Also known as the "whipworm," which is the only reason I chose it. Unlike Calico Jack, I wouldn't want one of these in my large intestine because they're the cause of trichuriasis, a parasitic infection. I'm not that into parasites so I'm unfortunately going to have to pass on loving Jack as a worm.

Roach: Hirudo medicinalis

One of a few species of "medicinal leeches." Leeches are still used for medical purposes to this day because of the beneficial secretions in their saliva, and they're also cool as fuck. They're like vampires except they're worms, so obviously I'd still love Roach as a worm.

Frenchie: Lagis koreni

Frenchie is a "trumpet worm" because that was the only worm I could find with a name related to music. Also the tubes they build for themselves to live in are super cool and I wanted to include them somewhere. I would for sure love him if we was a worm.

Wee John: Megascolides australis

Also known as the "giant Gippsland earthworm." Because he's big, get it? 10/10, would still love him as a worm.

Lucius: Spirobranchus giganteus

Commonly known as the "christmas tree worm." The two spiral things on either side of its body function both as gills and to capture food, and they're also gay as fuck. Love that for him, and I'd absolutely love him as a worm.

Jim: Bipalium kewense

Jim is a "hammerhead flatworm," mostly because it kind of looks like it's wearing a hat but also because it produces a deadly paralyzing neurotoxin. Obviously I love that, and I'd love them if they were a worm.

Oluwande: Maritigrella crozierae

Commonly known as the "tiger flatworm." I chose this for Oluwande because they apparently often live together in pairs and Jim/Oluwande is the best couple in the show. You already know I'd still love him if he was a worm.

Buttons: Plagiostomum vittatum

Not much is known about this mysterious species of marine flatworm aside from the fact that it's native to the Atlantic ocean (by which I mean there isn't a Wikipedia article for it and I can't be bothered to do more research). I do like a mystery so yeah, I'd love him if he were a worm.

Fang: Hermodice carunculata

The "bearded fireworm," like Fang, looks soft but is also deadly. It's namesake white bristles are capable of penetrating skin and injecting a powerful neurotoxin. I would love him if he was a worm but I'd keep my distance.

Ivan: Arthurdendyus triangulatus

Known as the "New Zealand flatworm," it fades into the background a bit but it's still cool. Apparently they roll up when they rest which would be really cool if I could find a picture of it. Anyways yeah I'd love him as a worm.

The Swede: Caenorhabditis elegans

C. elegans is a species of nematode notable for being the first multicellular organism to have its entire genome sequenced, because it's so simple. I'd definitely love him as a worm.

Black Pete: Lumbricus terrestris

The common earthworm. It's a bit plain, but it plays a vitally important role in its ecosystem. Of course I'd love him as a worm.

Mary: Riftia pachyptila

Also known as the "giant tubeworm," it's capable of surviving in the extremely hot, toxic environments of deep-sea vents, which is almost as impressive as Mary being able to survive living in a house with Stede. Obviously I'd still love her as a worm, she's an icon.

160 notes · View notes

ecoamerica · 24 days

Text

youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

6K notes · View notes

singlesablog · 5 months

Text

A New Cool

“West End Girls" (1985) Pet Shop Boys Parlophone Records (Written by Tennant/Lowe) Highest U.S. Billboard Chart Position – No. 1

There are two lines of thinking concerning the debut pop single for the seminal electronic pop band Pet Shop Boys; one, that the song is atypical of all of the hits they would ultimately create (and are still creating over 30 years later), and the other is that this is their signature song. I am of two minds, that it is at once very them, and conversely not them at all; in some ways their first hit was a makeover of the band, whether by design, or not. It is undeniable that in 1986 it was enormously successful, an evocative ear worm, and that the single introduced the strangely beautiful tenor voice of singer Neil Tennant, and ushered in one of the greatest pop duos ever.

Neil Tennant and Chris Lowe met in a hi-if shop in London on Kings Road in Chelsea in 1981, and discovering a mutual love of electronic music, formed a band. Tennant was at that time an assistant editor at Smash Hits magazine, and Chris a college student studying architecture. Immediately, they began writing songs together in Neil’s bedsitter apartment (which I believe translates as a studio in the US). They signed with American producer Bobby O (who oversaw rather crude Miami-tinged 80s dance music) in 1984/85; together with him they produced for the first time many of the songs that would appear on their debut Please, and the follow-up LP, Actually. “West End Girls” was released in 1985 as a 12” disco version that was much cruder and sparer; it was a minor hit in Europe and a “Screamer of the Week” on the influential 80s radio station WLIR in Long Island, New York (who's djs had a nose for new wave talent). Nevertheless, it sank, and they spent the next year extricating themselves from Bobby O and signing with EMI, relinquishing to him some of the future royalties on many of the soon-to-be famous songs they had already written, including “West End Girls”, “Opportunities”, and “It’s A Sin” (all of which were re-recorded and eventually went top ten in the United States). It would seem that the Imperial phase for any great band must always begin with a lawsuit.

“West End Girls” was re-released by the band in late 1985 in a much different version produced by Stephen Hague, and it immediately conquered the world, selling 1.5 million copies. Where the Bobby O version squawked and squealed and sounded dated even then, this new track slithered on to the airwaves with a newer, more insinuating quality. Rather than a club banger, this was now a highly suggestive track, with droning, floating synths, every effect modulated downward into an expression of cool detachment. It was an important single not only in introducing this idea of bored aloofness from the duo, but also by permanently stamping them with the image. No matter how hard they would try in the future to produce bombast (say, on “It’s a Sin”, a truly bezerk pop hit) they would be forever labeled as sardonic, stand-offish, bored, or sarcastic. These are words that really translated into one idea for me: that they were actually gay, and smart, and therefore happy to play along with any narrative the public chose for them as long as people continued to buy their records. The song’s lyrics, written by former history major Tennant, apparently reference Eliot’s “The Waste Land”, which sounds hilariously high-toned, but for the then 19 year old that first experienced it, it was clearly a coded story of gay boys clubbing on the wrong side of town, because the gay bar is inevitably on the wrong side of town, and that perhaps West End Girls is a clever wink at describing gay men crossing over. On top of all of these suggestions was a very fey British man successfully talk-rapping lyrics (a rap I can to this day successfully recite), telling a story with no obvious conclusion, because, well, you know. It is a coded song about a coded world. And while the Pets didn’t invent the electronic pop song, like couturiers they certainly tailored it to the measure of some very strict gay signifiers, and when I fell in love with the hit (and the band) I was already acquainted with those ideas and understood them instantly. Of course, I did not experience the duo as detached; instead, they were stylistically and artistically brilliant, and their songs were clever, propulsive, and unique.

Please as an album can be examined as a cohesive slice of queer nightlife in the 1980s: escaping to the city (“Two Divided by Zero”, “Suburbia”), sneering at society (“Opportunities”), fighting oppression (“Violence”, “I Want a Lover”), and, finally, reconciling to life and love, whatever that might mean (“Later Tonight”, “Love Comes Quickly”, “Why Don’t We Live Together?”). I am sure “West End Girls” does reference “The Waste Land”, but somehow, just perhaps, Neil, the master of collage, is actually speaking more allusively to the mating habits of the male homosexual circa 1985. Chris Lowe, for his part, made absolute certain that the songs would be played were they belonged, which was in the club, his complete obsession in every way; the electronic sounds he produced are essential to the texture of what Pet Shop Boys ended up doing better than anyone else, which was to document gay lives by dropping clues and signals to fantastic disco music while leaving out the specifics. And this is possibly why the original Bobby O version was so awfully wrong, and not really them: the duo must have discovered that they didn’t need to bang bang bang, that they could be better than that. In fact, they actually didn’t need Bobby O at all; they could conjure up these subtle and delicious scenes all by themselves.

Sadly, Bobby O still got the money. Kind of just like a Pet Shop Boys song, isn’t it?

A little cynical, but true.

*The title of Please, which I always found entertaining, I imagined was a reference to gay men chastising one another with "Oh, Please", or "Girl, Please." This has never been substantiated. Instead, Neil was quoted as saying it was a little joke, so when a customer asked for it, they would be forced to say I would like Pet Shop Boys, Please. Hmmm. Regardless, this would still qualify as a double entendre.

Dropping a hairpin (verb, gay, archaic slang term): to reveal one's sexual preferences by dropping broad hints; thus keep your hairpins up, and maintaining a 'normal' mask.

Who, who wants a cocktail? (“Opportunities (Reprise)”)

Someone spread a rumor. Let’s run away. (“Two Divided By Zero”)

In every city, in every nation, from Lake Geneva to the Finland Station. (“West End Girls”)

You may not always love me I may not care But intuition tells me, baby There's something we could share If we dare, why don't we? (“Why Don’t We Live Together?”)

And you wait 'til later, ‘til later tonight. 'Cause tonight always comes. (“Later Tonight”)

Neil Comes Out

In the early 1990s, Jimmy Somerville, formerly of the very out, gay 80s band Bronski Beat, accused Neil and Chris of Pets Shop Boys of exploiting gay culture for career purposes, and of not putting anything back.

Neil came out officially in 1994, and commenting in print on the matter, said that he resented anyone telling anyone how out they should be, or just what constituted a “contribution” to gay culture:

“I do think that we have contributed, through our music and also through our videos and the general way we’ve presented things, rather a lot to what you might call ‘gay culture’. I could spend several pages discussing the notion of ‘gay culture’, but for the sake of argument, I would just say that we have contributed a lot. And the simple reason for this is that I have written songs from my own point of view…”

He pauses again. “What I’m actually saying is, I am gay, and I have written songs from that point of view. So, I mean, I’m being surprisingly honest with you here, but those are the facts of the matter.”

Having finally got all that off his chest, Neil Tennant pours himself a glass of mineral water and takes his sweatshirt off. He is looking distinctly pink around the gills. Maybe it’s the effect of suddenly admitting that for all these years he has been singing nothing but the truth. Or maybe it’s just the unbearable heat in here. “Well,” he says, in a voice which carries a distinct [air of]‘moving swiftly on’, “what’s your next question?”

Source: Neil Tennant in Attitude Magazine, 1994

#west end girls #pet shop boys #1980s #pop #disco #electronic music #Please #music history

21 notes · View notes

matt0044 · 11 months

Text

So... “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” is a bop, right?

It’s firmly supplanted “Let It Go” as Disney’s latest ear-worm until the next one comes along but it’s more than just a catchy ballard. It spells out how the Family Madrigal view him as a blight on their family name, especially when they’ve been a pillar of their community.

It also describes how rather than dealing with his problem and maybe helping him through it, they opted to just let him retreat into his room never to be seen again. Better to sweep it under the rug. However, this also proves to be a root in while the house is coming undone.

The message is clear: a family can’t stay as one so long as they can’t talk about their problems with each other. It’s why Mirabel doesn’t get a gift so she can be the outsider looking in.

Where is this going? Well... somebody just finished Voltron: Legendary Defender... and enjoyed it.

Here me out before you scroll away.

I had finished up to Season 7 along with Teen Titans three days before Season 8 dropped. I knew that fandom discourse would be a bear and opted to let the season simmer before I viewed it for myself a few Watch Lists down the road.

What I couldn’t have known was this overwhelming hate for Season 8. I was on Twitter where handles were being altered to include #FuckVoltron and the like. I glimpsed spoilers of what happened in the finale without getting into the dirty details.

Thus I decided to put it off until the heat died down. A whole half decade at that. With Fandom Drama down to near non-existent, I decided to return and engage with Voltron on its own terms from the start. No shipping drama, no expectations for how it should go, no accusations of problematic behavior and no Purple Lion conspiracies.

And... I liked it. I highly encourage those scared off by the drama or felt Season 8 did it dirty to give it a(nother) shot. It deserves a full on renaissance the way Twilight got.

Why? (spoilers ahead).

I was sold on Allura and Lance’s relationship. I loved how he went from being a flirt to genuinely admiring Allura as a leader and Paladin, encouraging her in the season 4 finale without trying to get anything out of it.

I liked the tonal shift around Season 7 where the ultimate Golion homage is made with the Space Explorers coming home to a war ravaged Earth.

I liked how human Lotor and Honerva were as villains coming after Zarkon. I can see why there’s a whole ass conspiracy framed around him actually being in Season 8. Also them taking that “Your mother was an Altean bitch” like and running with it for Hagger was brilliant.

Keith becoming the Black Paladin after Kuron’s reveal was well done and felt weirdly natural in retrospect. He feels like he can’t measure up to Shiro and learns more discipline from

Allura sacrificing herself to restore all realities felt a lot better with the knowledge of spoilers. It helps that the ending went with a more noble feel than angsty, showing how the Paladins strove make sure that her actions set an example for years to come.

I love that they got creative with the multiple alien species and kept the Alteans from being just humans in space like in the original. It really took inspiration from Vehicle Voltron with more aliens in the mix.

Shiro the Hero, as Crazy Coran put it. What can I say except that he’s the kind of character you call a Mary Sue if he wasn’t a guy. Always calm, always perservering, putting the mission first and being a pillar the team can lean on. He even creates his own Voltron out of the Atlas

Honestly, the whole Adam thing isn’t something I fully blame the writers given the producers pushing back. Mind you, I feel like Keith would’ve made a good endgame pairing with him if they had even out their ages when they first meet, both as teenage proteges.

Studio Mir was amazing, especially with the space battles. Honestly, if Robotech managed to make a comeback, I could totally see them being tapped to match the classic Anime style.

So... yeah. Voltron good actually.

59 notes · View notes

http-tokki · 2 years

Text

Even as a worm?

~ bakugou katsuki x reader ~ tags/cw: aged up bakugou, canonverse, fluff, interview circuits, life as a pro hero ~ wc: 480

You've been on the interview circuit all day with Katsuki. The clock now reaching seven pm, your aching cheeks and growling stomach were begging for this day to be over, and as if the gods heard your silent prayers, you were both informed this would be the last interview of the day.

Katsuki sighs next to you and slumps into the couch that had been your home for the day. As if forgetting where you both were, he reaches out to play with your hair. Wrapping a lock around his index finger, Katsuki twirls the hair before pushing it back behind your ear with a softness only shown behind your apartment door. He trails his fingers over your cheek and down your jaw, palm flattening over your skin to cup your face, and only after he moves slightly forward as if to lean in for a kiss does he stop and pull back.

"Did'ya wake up?" you tease the now blushing pro-hero. Katsuki shakes away the haze that had filled his head, blinking a few times before dragging his hands over his face. "I-fuck. I'm so tired."

"If you keep doing that, you're gonna get wrinkles." You wrap your fingers around his wrist and try to pull them away, but Katuski doesn't budge.

"If I get wrinkles, will they stop making me do these stupid interviews?" His voice is muffled.

You hum as if thought before finally answering. "You'll probably get more. You'll be seen as a wise old hero who appeals to all ages of fangirls."

Katsuki groans and pulls his hands away from his face. Your hand slips from his wrist to entwine with his fingers. The rough calluses and scars from years of raining and work are comforting as you squeeze his hand.

"But would you still love me if I have wrinkles?" Bakugou turns to you.

"I'd love you even if you were a worm," you swear and push up from your spot to press a loving kiss against his cheek.

Katsuki scoffs. "Really? A worm?"

"Mhmm. A slimy, old, wrinkly worm."

He turns his face to yours. Eyebrows furrowed in disbelief before bursting into giggles. "You freak" He kisses your nose. "Worm fucker”

You start to laugh even as you kiss him quickly. Katsuki returns the kiss, now laughing with you as you giggle into each other's mouths.

“Alright, love birds, we're on in 30. Either keep going on national tv or stop it" The producer's voice cuts through your moment.

Bakugou kisses you once more before pulling away. He lets go of your hand but places it gently in your lap before settling into his spot on the couch.

“I'd love you too," he mumbles.

"As a worm?" you tease, a smile forming on your lips.

"As a worm," he confirms and winks at you, which has you beaming up at him.

"Alrighty. Live in 3, 2, 1."

783 notes · View notes

thefrenchydude · 6 months

Text

Murderous Lust - Chapter 3 (part 1)

(Had to divide it, too much work :''') sorry, the other part will come out this week) (AND I didn't had the time to correct it neither ;-; sorry, I will do it soon.) (AND I will also complete some part of this chapter soon)

As they continued their journey deeper into the mountains, Reader's unease grew. The city of Auroria was gradually fading from view, and Reader couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. His gaze remained fixed on the distant city, almost as if he feared it would vanish in the blink of an eye.

Lex, ever perceptive to Reader's emotions, noticed the growing distress in his beloved's eyes. He tightened his embrace around his love, drawing him closer, as if to shield him from the mounting anxiety. With a tenderness that only deep love could inspire, Lex caressed Reader's arm in an effort to bring warmth and comfort in the chill of the mountain air.

Reader sighed softly, leaning into Lex's touch and finding solace in his embrace.

— I just can't shake this feeling, Lex. Reader admitted, his voice tinged with worry. Leaving the city behind like this, it's unsettling.

Lex pressed a gentle kiss to Reader's temple, his concern evident in his eyes.

— I understand, my love, he whispered reassuringly. But remember, I will stay by your side at every moment. Nothing can happens to you.

Reader slowly calmed down.

The winding mountain road led Reader and Lex higher into the magnificent mountains, where the air grew crisper, and the world seemed to be painted in hues of green and gold.

All around them the plains stretched as far as the eye could see. Reader had never traveled too far from the city. In fact, he'd never been out before. Too scared? No, just not suicidal. If the city was safe enough, the surrounding area was much less so. Reader had heard many stories of cargoes being attacked by demons. There were always few survivors, and the rest were often used as meals by demonic entities. And the kings did nothing about it. They had sworn to protect the city, not what layed around it. So the city had to adapt, trying to produce everything itself: fields for food, factories… Outside deliveries were rare and always very rough.

Reader was already thinking about how he could bring this problem to the kings, imagining that he could talk to them, which is no guarantee. Perhaps they invited him just to be polite, so Lex wouldn't end up alone.

The gaze of the two monkeys came back to him.

Lex tightened his embrace. Reader relaxed.

o0o

They crossed the water curtain and were led to the reception halls, where they knelt before their majesties Sun Wukong and Macaque. Immediately, Wukong raised his voice and ordered them to stand up.

Without waiting, he announced the start of their audience. Well, Lex's, since Wukong asked Reader to wait outside the courtroom. His voice had become softer as he spoke to Reader.

Lex gave Reader a reassuring look and Reader took a step back, worried at the thought of having to leave his side. Eventually, he left the room.

The doors closed, leaving Reader alone outside.

o0o

Wukong was struggling to contain his impatience.

It was just them now.

Him, Macaque and the homewrecker who'd stolen their peaches.

They wanted to break his neck, break every bone in his body for daring to touch what belonged to them.

But Macaque was right, they should try to approach the peaches slowly. Just as they had done in his other life. Killing Lex and stealing Reader would provoke many years of hatred and conflict. Especially since they were married. Not for long, Wukong thought, clearly annoyed by what the worm was telling him. He was discussing the future of the lower town, as if he cared. They'd already destroyed this village, they wouldn't mind doing it again. It would have saved them from having to go and save their miserable lives when the demons entered the city.

— Your Majesty? asked Lex, uncomfortable with the king's gaze, which grew darker and darker as he spoke. Is there something bothering you?

Wukong hated the sound of his voice. Oh, how he wanted to take his staff and bash that worm over the head to make his brain burst.

It took all his patience and strength to answer a simple "no" and not to jump at him.

Macaque, who was clearly more capable of restraint, remained silent as a grave. He watched Lex, wondering "why did Reader choose him?".

o0o

Not wanting to give in to the anxiety that was killing him, Reader decided to wander the corridors of the palace cave. But walking didn't help him to calm down, in fact quite the opposite. That's when he saw an opening to the outside. The same one they'd entered through before.

Reader decided to take a deep breath of fresh air and went to the gardens.

The gardens were magnificent. Peach trees rested in the vast, peaceful grounds. Reader wanted to taste the fruit, but didn't think it wise and refrained.

Then a chirping sound caught his eye: little monkeys were stirring, watching the newcomer from the branches. Little rhesus monkeys, Reader thought, remembering what he'd read about this mountain.

He watched them for a moment. The sight of being so cute soothed him. For a moment, he felt at peace - not completely, he couldn't forget that his husband was alone and so was he.

That was before Macaque arrived and greeted the reader.

Taken by surprise, Reader jumped up and turned a panicked gaze on Macaque, who immediately tried to reassure him. Assuring him that he hadn't trespassed and that he doesn't meant any harm.

Reader really couldn't hear him coming, and it bothered him a lot. He didn't like being surprised.

Macaque sat down beside Reader. He remembered the first meeting with Peaches' first reincarnation.

Macaque talked to Reader. At first, Reader was very uncomfortable. But somehow, as the conversation progressed, he managed to relax.

The two of them ended up speaking frankly to each other, Reader even taking the liberty of making a few jokes which always drew a sincere laugh from Macaque.

At one point, Macaque paused, his gaze fixed on Reader's right hand. Macaque gently grabbed it and pulled it closer. There was a mark on it.

— Ha, it's a birthmark.

— It's shaped like a bite mark, marveled Macaque.

Macaque was on the verge of tears. It reminded him of the first time they met...

After that, the two continued chatting.

o0o

Wukong came slowly towards them. He'd learned from his mistakes - for once - this time, he wouldn't be landing right in front of Reader. Last time that had frightened him. No, this time he'd settle for a less remarkable entrance, walking right up to him.

Reader tensed, but didn't panic.

He'd simply asked where Lex was, and Wukong replied that he'd sent him to write down all his ideas and plans for the city.

They talked for a long time, and by the time they'd finished, it was dark.

Before going to dinner, the two kings asked Reader if he wanted to visit the palace.

He wanted to decline. Politely. Claiming he had to get back to his husband's side. But it would have been impolite to refuse, and it would surely have affected their relationship with Lex.

Perceiving his hesitation, the kings insisted, assuring him it wouldn't last too long.

And so Reader agreed.

They went from room to room. There were so many, Reader suddenly felt as if he was in a labyrinth.

As they walked, the three of them were having a wonderful time. The kings were so friendly with Reader that he even forgot what they were : Powerful demons king.

They ended their visit in one of the palace's largest rooms.

— The vault?!? exclaimed Reader.

Mountains of wealth stretched far beyond view.

Wukong puffed up his chest, a flamboyant, charming smile on his lips. He knew this room would amaze him. Who wouldn't be fascinated by so much wealth?

— Several thousand years of treasures and relics have been amassed here, Macaque explained, caught by Reader's look of wonder.

Wukong moved closer to Reader and put his hand on his shoulder.

In reality, Wukong was burning with the desire to simply grab him, put him in the pillows nest, cover him with kisses, mark him with his burning bites, hold him against him, make him his own.

— Your Majesty? Reader asked, seeing Wukong blushing.

Wukong cleared his throat.

He had to stick to the plan. To make Reader fall in love with him and Macaque.

The visit finished, they walked to the diner room.

— If it's not inappropriate, may I know a little more about the one you loved? Reader asked, feeling quite at ease.

Wukong still remembered the sound of crushed bones as the demon devoured Reader's remains. A few seconds, just a few seconds, and they'd lost everything. It would never happen again.

Macaque told an idyllic version of their life with Reader, omitting the kidnapping, the fights and her horrible death.

The meal went by without Lex, who must still have been busy.

Then he was shown to his room, a single bed, where he would sleep alone tonight.

Reader slept extremely badly, he was used to Lex's arms holding him close.

At dawn, the sun awoke Reader.

A monkey guard came to inform him that Lex was leaving for the city. An emergency. So urgent that Lex hadn't even had time to notify Reader of his departure. Lex would return as soon as the emergency was resolved.

Reader felt very worried and alone. What could this emergency be? Had Lex arrived in town safely?

Someone came to inform him about breakfast.

(This chapter, story and au, is inspired by the Twice as bad au from @semisolidmind) (I hope y'all liked it, sorry for the delay again, have a great day/night)

#lmk mk #monkie kid #fiction #yandere wukong #twice as bad au #murderous lust #sorry for the mistakes #i'm still french

25 notes · View notes

eoieopda · 1 year

Note

hello my dear jade, heard you were summoning the hyung line girlies 🫡 how about 'feel the same' by the millennial club for one mr. kim seokjin?? (and congrats on 1k!!! ✨)

i have ABSOLUTELY listened to this song (and this artist tbh) on loop since you brought them to my attention 💕 also, jin is a doctor for no reason other than “because of course he is.”

listen here

maybe this is heaven, or maybe it’s just you / i don’t trust my judgment ‘cause i’m just 22 / my mind is running circles, my heart’s out in the rain / i know that this is sudden, but do you feel the same?

ft. fluff, seokjin m.d.’s pov, getting together au, and the most rom-com shit my brain worms have likely ever produced

Kim Seokjin was, by all verifiable accounts, an adult.

He could drive, drink, and be reaped by the draft. He had an investment portfolio and a license to practice medicine, for fuck’s sake. So, why did he — an adult man — swoon like a school kid whenever you called?

It was the same every night: Your name and contact photo would pop up on his screen with a chime. No matter what he was doing, he would drop it. Then, he would drop himself onto whatever flat surface he was nearest to. Whether that was his bed, his couch, or his floor, it wouldn’t matter.

Seokjin needed to be horizontal, but he couldn’t explain why. Maybe a cozy position was necessary in order to properly appreciate the warmth of your voice. Maybe his knees — fully-grown and alarming achy, if he was being honest?— got a little too wobbly whenever you laughed at his jokes.

Whatever the cause, he had to brace himself for the effect: when you eventually — tragically — hung up, he had to stare up at the ceiling until his racing heart got a fucking grip.

In his profession, this kind of cardiac event was called tachycardia. Although this occasionally required immediate medical attention, it often resolved on its own. Unfortunately for Seokjin, the fluttering in his chest couldn’t be shocked away with a defibrillator. The prognosis for this mystery condition was bleak.

Your phone call that night produced familiar symptoms, though the presentation felt different. Novel. This time, the two of you talked for hours longer than usual. Chronic, not acute. About nothing, about everything. No obligatory small talk, just any and every thought that came to mind. Generalized.

Most confusingly, when a sudden call from your sister required you to hang up, you sounded as disappointed as Seokjin felt. Communicable? He was starting to get hopeful and that felt dangerous. After all, they called it a crush for a reason. If he was truly out on this limb alone, he’d crumple. Terminal.

Did you feel the same?

Seokjin couldn’t get that question of his mind. He’d spent every minute since you’d hung up pacing in his living room; so preoccupied that he didn’t notice the crop circles he’d worn into the rug. If he didn’t ask you tonight, he wouldn’t know a moment’s peace.

So, he decided, he’d ask.

This could’ve been a simple call back, but Seokjin was nothing if not dramatic. You were you and you deserved a grand gesture. Something memorable, something cinematic. Something he’d figure out on the way, because he was already tugging on his coat and walking out the front door.

Your apartment wasn’t far from Seokjin’s. In fact, his adult knees had successfully gotten the walk down to a cool nine minutes: ten blocks to the North, then one to the West. As he sped down the sidewalk, the restaurant across the street caught his eye. Like he was greeting an old friend in passing, he smiled fondly over at it.

Though it was an eyesore, the hole-in-the-wall ahead served the best fried chicken in Seoul. The two of you often swung by after late nights on-call, swapping french fries and war stories from your night in the emergency room. Part of him felt inclined to stop over there, to incorporate your ritual into his gesture, but he was riddled with doubt:

Did fried chicken adequately communicate I’ve loved you since you sat down next to me in that introductory anatomy lecture six years ago?

You were a reasonable person, unlike him. He couldn’t reasonably expect you — or anyone — to open a take-away container and decode the secret messages written in grease. The risk was even greater than the reward.

Instead, he opted for a clearer metaphor: a single red rose from the florist’s nearby stall. This, he hoped, proclaimed you’re beautiful, even with someone else’s vomit on your scrubs. Or, at the very least, I wouldn’t want to remove foreign objects from a stranger’s rectum with anyone else.

With his heart on his sleeve and his metaphor in hand, Seokjin continued on his mission. He made record time, even with the detour, and walked through the front door of your building a mere eight (8) minutes after exiting his. He made a mental note to brag about this achievement after you each exchanged declarations of requited love.

Too eager to wait on the elevator, Seokjin said “fuck it,” and chose to take the stairs. The first two flights were a cakewalk; the third was pushing it. With four flights down and one to go, he wished he had the schoolboy endurance to match his schoolboy crush.

But he didn’t, so he was both embarrassed and out-of-breath when he finally reached your door.

He didn’t hear any movement after knocking the first time, so he waited and tried again. There was no telltale shuffling of tired feet in fuzzy slippers. Accordingly, Seokjin did what any grown man would do:

He knelt on your doormat, leaned in towards the crack underneath your door, and squinted as he searched for signs of life. Nothing. He groaned with his whole chest as he clambered from the floor to his feet.

Alone on your doorstep, Seokjin was a deflated balloon. If you were home — and you were simply ignoring him — you likely heard his poor heart whizzing and whining down the hallway before dropping unceremoniously at his feet. He glanced down at the flower in his hand and prayed that you hadn’t.

As he turned towards the elevator, Seokjin stole a glance at his watch. With a rueful laugh, he realized that he’d set a second personal record that evening: getting his own hopes up and letting himself down in only thirty minutes. For a hopeless romantic with disappointment in near-permanent deferment, this feat was impressive.

Not one he’d brag to you about, though.

It was dark by the time Seokjin made it back to his own building and he was grateful for that fact. With the sun down, he could convince himself that it wasn’t too early to go to bed — to put this day in the discard pile and draw again tomorrow. And when he went to work in the morning, he’d see you and think of a better way to determine whether this something was mutual.

Turning out of the elevator and into his hallway, Seokjin realized that he wouldn’t have to wait until his sunrise shift to find out. There you were, sitting cross-legged on his doorstep, ten meters away.

“Jinnie!” You called out to him as soon as you saw him at the other end of the hall. The tone of your voice didn’t match the starlight in your eyes when you whined, “I’ve been waiting for half an hour.”

Wearing the cutest grin anyone’s ever directed at him, you lifted a take-away container from your lap, held it in the air, and giggled.

What you said was: I brought you chicken, but it’s probably cold by now.

But Seokjin heard what you meant: I love you, too.