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1427 · 2 months

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When the Levee Breaks (pt. 1)

Daryl Dixon x OFC

The one in which a stripper that used to know Merle and Daryl shows up at the Atlanta camp. Daryl’s feelings are complicated but mostly he hates her. Right?

Chapt. Setting: Atlanta camp

Chapt. Warnings: degrading and sexist language, season 1 Daryl, he’s not nice in this, probably won’t be for a while.

Word count: 1600

A/N : (aka authors warning) this is written in Daryl’s POV soOo idk. Probably not everyone’s bag. Maybe it’s no one’s bag. These first three chapters are kinda rough and I’m sorry but I can only proofread my own stuff so many times before I either post it or delete it forever.

masterlist

17+ mdni for the whole story

After stringin’ a few squirrels for dinner I figure I should get back to camp. ‘m breakin’ through the tree line, and that’s when I see her. Beatle. Beatle, for the first time in… shit, who knows? Definitely years, I’m not exactly sure how many. Beatle, just fuckin’ sittin’ at my fire. Like somehow she knew it was mine and showed up just to take it from me. Just sittin’. Smile on her face like she belongs there. She doesn’t. She doesn’t belong at this camp, with these people. Shit, Beatle doesn’t even belong alive if I’m bein’ honest.

No one in this fuckin’ camp can hunt worth a damn. They’re gonna expect me to feed ‘em, ain’t they? Eventually. Eventually the food’ll run out and it’ll just be me feedin’ fuckin’ everyone. M’not doin’ it. I’m not doin’ shit for ‘em anymore. Why should I? Left my brother on that roof to rot. Naw, I’ll hunt for my damn self. Don’t even know why I’m still fuckin’ here. Should be out findin’ Merle. Honestly, don’t even know why I’m not.

Even before the dead started walkin’. I figured her days were numbered since the first fuckin’ time I met ‘er. Drunk as hell, eyes glassy, loud annoying voice barkin’ like a damn dog. Just yap yap yappin at Merle and me, tits half hangin’ outta her bikini top. Ones cinched in the string like she’d just forgotten to take ‘em out from her last time around the bar. A dumb drunk bitch, Beatle. Stupid fuckin’ stripper name. Who’s dick gets hard over a stripper named Beatle?

I watch her, just for a second, checkin’ to see if maybe it’s not really her. But it is. ‘Course it fuckin’ is.

Shane’s the first person I see that’s not doin’ anything, going through some clothes in a duffel bag in the back of a van, figure he might know, “Where the fuck did she come from?” Pointing toward Beatle, her back to us, fifty yards away. Stupid purple hair blowing all over the damn place.

Shane looks to see who I’m pointing at, but who the fuck else is new at camp? His eyes finally land on Beatle before looking back at me like he’s trying to fight the smile on his damn face, “Why? You interested?”

I’m tryin’ not to lose my shit that she’s even fuckin’ here. “Nah…” I shake my head, “I know ‘er.”

Shane looks up, surprised maybe, and then not. Looking from Beatle back to me again, eyeing us up. “Yeah, makes sense.”

I squint back at ‘im, “S’that supposed ta mean?”

He shrugs, making a face, before smiling again, folding another shirt into his pack, “Just that you look like you might know eachother.” He doesn’t say more but I know what he’s not sayin. “Is all.” He adds on the end just to reiterate.

He means we’re both fuckin redneck trash to anyone who looks at us. I look back over at her, startin’ to get real mad at this jarhead dickhead. Not for her or nothin’. Even if he’s right, he don’t gotta say it. Or maybe it was the way he said it. Or the way he didn’t say it. Like a fuckin’ pussy.

A part of me feels like standin’ up for myself. Hell, a part of me feels like stickin’ up for Beatle. But, shit, it’s not even worth it.

I cough up a lougie and spit it close to his foot. “So where’d she come from?” I’m fuckin’ repeating myself. I hate fuckin’ repeating myself.

“Think she just wandered in. Must’ve been lost in the woods or something. Ask Rick. He seems to know everything.”

Can’t keep myself from crackin’ at his petty comment. Always so fuckin’ loud with his contempt, makin’ the situation obvious to anyone with eyes. Messy.

I decide I’m gonna ask ‘er. She’s gonna see me eventually. Better I approach her first, right? Don’t need to get football tackled in the middle of doin’ somethin’ else when she sees me for the first time. So I pull out a cigarette and start walkin’ over.

She’s talkin’ to Andrea. She fuckin’ would. Both of them loud dumb bitches. Talking about all the dumb shit they miss since everything’s turned to shit. Not talkin’ about people or nothin’ important. Just bullshit like getting your damn nails done, and eating fuckin’ ice cream.

“Where’d you fuckin’ come from?” Sayin it louder than I meant. More aggressive than I thought my voice would sound. Usually fuckin’ is, though. The laughing between Andrea and Beatle stops and they look over at me, just standing there waitin’ for it to register. Waitin’ for Beatles reaction. Starin’ ‘er the fuck down like she doesn’t fuckin’ belong here. She doesn’t.

Beatles eyes light up, getting up from her chair and runnin’ over to me like she’s never been more excited to see someone in her whole damn life. I try to brace myself, but she still rocks me backward as she jumps on me, “Daryl!” Should have stopped her, could have moved just right out of the way. But nah, I let her.

I don’t hug her back though, just push her off and let her own feet catch her. Dumb bitch doesn’t know personal boundaries. Her voice so close to my ear, “Damn, don’t look so happy to see me.”

Happy to see her? I’m not. Didn’t think I could be so unhappy to see a familiar face in my whole fuckin’ life. But she wasn’t letting that stop her, never fuckin’ did. “I was lost, found this camp. They said I could stay.” She explains, her voice high and happy and annoying as it ever was. At least she’s not drunk.

Everyone around the fire had gone back to what they were doing. Not watchin’ us anymore. They could probably see as well as Shane that it was obvious how we knew eachother. Well, maybe not exactly how. But they probably had a good idea.

I dunno what to say to her explanation, so I don’t say nothin’. And she just stands next to me, too close, clearly not gettin’ the hint that I didn’t really wanna talk to her. Just wanted to know why she was here. Now I know. She wasn’t gettin’ that she could and should just go back to her conversation with Andrea about ice skating, or cocktails, or what the fuck ever.

“What about you?” Her voice quieter for fuckin’ once.

I shake my head, blowing smoke out, “Merle and me, met up with everyone...” I don’t feel like explaining it, so I don’t.

Beatle’s lookin’ up at me, her big eyes all wide and excited like a dumbass deer too stupid to move out of traffic, “Merle’s here?”

This coil of disgust, I feel it snaring it’s way through my abdomen. Yeah, that’s the feeling Beatle usually gives me. Back like it never fuckin’ left. “Nah, not anymore. Sorry to dry your cunt.”

Beatle says “Ew” fast. Like she’s so disgusted by my vocabulary. Like she isn’t just as crude, the things I heard that little mouth of hers say.

“He’s not…” she means dead.

“Nah, hes not dead.” Usually this is where I talk something nice about Merle, about how he’s a tough sunuvabitch or some other shit. But not to Beatle. Beatle already knows, and for some reason talking about Merle with her makes me.. fuck… whatever.

Glancing over, it looks like Beatle’s finally got the hint that I don’t wanna talk to her. She probably really was excited to see me, and I almost feel bad for a second. Before she puts her grubby fuckin’ hand in my face and asks if she can have a cigarette. Needy fuckin’ bitch.

I laugh right in her face. At the gall of her. That at the end of it all, of everything; she was still trying to get some fuckin’ handout. “Naw.”

“Oh, come on, Daryl, please? I haven’t had one in days!” As if I give a shit what she has or hasn’t had. Hasn’t seen me in years and wants to ask for favors?

I keep draggin’ on my cigarette, blowin’ the smoke out, and m’not smiling anymore, “I said naw. I don’t see your tits out, why would I give you anything?” Fuck repeating myself.

“You wanna see my tits?” She says it like it’s actually a question. Like she really fuckin’ believes that I’m askin’.

“You’re a dumb bitch, Beatle, y’know tha’?” I shake my head at her, laughin’ at her again. She’s fuckin’ ridiculous. Taking another drag I realize the cig is trash, and I almost throw the butt into the fire but decide to hand it to her instead.

She takes it, with needy fingers like I knew she fuckin’ would. Trying to hide my smile at how fuckin’ pathetic she always seems to be. Watching her take my trash like it’s fuckin’ gold. She drags it once, I can smell the filter burning and she throws it in the fire. “Next time maybe you’ll share one with me?” Her voice is so sweet it makes me sick. Like I didn’t just call her a dumb bitch to her face.

Saccharine and fake, that’s how she’s always been. All her cute little movements and motions, all just tryin’ to work me up so I’ll share my smokes or listen to her dumbass whine about anything and everything. Annoying.

“Prolly not.” And I’m already walking away from the fire. From Beatle. Going back to my tent and praying to god, Jesus Christ, don’t let her follow.

Chewin’ on what she said. Lost, huh? See? Didn’t even belong alive.

pt 2

#twd daryl #daryl dixon #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x oc #Mean Daryl

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purity-in-heart · 1 year

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[Please Read] I should not have to explain this

People, if you're going to chat with me, please, for the love of god, tell me your honest age. And don't lie, either, cause that's just worse in some ways.

Ok, so, I wound up chatting with somebody who I will not specify by as much as I can. We were having a cardiophile chat and we decided to take it to video so I can hear her heartbeat with a mic. Now, the thing is, I feel incredibly stupid right now. I mention wanting to see her chest, but only out of the expression of a wish cause I know a lot of people aren't always comfortable. To my surprise, she says yes and, her face, I won't give a single detail about especially of what made me tilt my head a bit but something made me think, 'wait, how old is this girl?' only to settle on the idea of, 'oh, maybe she's older than she looks', and for the love of god, I don't think that lightly, I had a reason to think that. Later she goes brb. She admits her parents caught her.

Jesus- alright, read carefully, yeah? I'm not gonna shift or place any full-on blame. At least by a little bit, this girl was the victim of being young and dumb, however she should not have done anything that would expose her identity or herself. And admittedly, I was stupid for not seeing the first potential sign. Don't ever even slightly think you could be wrong if it could mean the person on the other end is actually under 18. This girl never explicitly gave a sign or hint that she was underage, either, but that's not always a good excuse. Meanwhile, last I had a chat, I unintentionally made somebody uncomfortable as far as I can tell and I felt so guilty that I took a small break to sit on what I had made somebody feel. I finally get back into the swing of things with a new rule of only having a cardio-chat if somebody messages me first and this is what happens. I was really wrestling on how or even if I should post about this, but one thing I realized was that not saying a thing is probably worse.

I won't take another break for being just as foolish but I'm definitely gonna sit on this for a minute. I hate how it took me a minute to accept that she was a minor. I found myself thinking of every possible reason to tell me she was actually an adult at first, including if I should not think about it at all.

Again, for god's sake, be honest, responsible and tell your age first. I will not chat with minors. I will, however, post this under the risk that I'm not relaying my sincerity well enough (That's really one of my biggest fears when making a post like this, that I won't be able to verbally explain and show that I'm legit being serious and not trying to cover my own ass with a fake sense of remorse or something - but it's a fear we all have to face). I don't wanna look like a liar or like I'm shifting the blame or anything. But my final message in this post is about more than about taking responsibility for your actions and to tell me your real age before chatting with me or frankly, anybody: People who are growing up need to know that it's ok to explore and experiment, it's part of growing up, and of course it's fun - Hell, even I did it a little, I wasn't always an adult, you know, it's how I found the rest of my rhythm as a cardiophile - but Jesus H. Christ, we need to educate and teach them that there are lines to draw, like, don't chat with strangers - especially on anything sexual, be careful, make sure they know which lines not to cross or cross yet, and seriously: DO. NOT. SHOW. YOUR. FACE. The internet isn't the safest place yet. What's more important? How hard you drive the message home or what you relay and how you do it?

#cardiophilia #cardiophile

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queenburd · 11 months

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okay okay here’s a rough outline for the hypothetical fic, like 3/4 developed, in an order that makes sense narratively. it’s kind of a mess, because it’s bits and pieces of what I’ve talked about on my blog, but in a Narrative structure.

If I had the mental capacity I would write a whole TSP fic that gets severely meta and Stanley and the Curator are the only ones in on just how meta it is

I definitely wanna preface that this thing isnt a completely 100 percent developed story, its like. 70 percent? idk. but my thinking, or hunch, is that this whole thing started because the Player came back and did a Real Person run. it’s been a long, LONG time since they showed up, so when Suddenly Stanley isnt responding the the Narrator, the fellow cant inhabit his model and is forced to be a voice that run (after a long time of the pair of them by themselves, doing what they like), it shakes them both up pretty badly.

so the Narrator decides that since he can inhabit a model, he’s getting Stanley to that escape pod to get the hell out of dodge.

alone.

the narrator is not planning on coming with him.

and this…. doesnt go over well.

So a big theme about this whole story is the fear of abandonment. The Narrator is terrified of it, 432 has experienced it, Stanley feels like that’s what the Narrator is doing to him with the whole Escape Pod thing. (Stanley may also have some. unprocessed feelings abt the collectibles ending and epilogue.)

and this is all the Narrator’s fault btw. he made a bad decision early in the fic out of fear so he and Stanley have been dealing with that the ENTIRE TIME.

When the Narrator makes the decision to “let Stanley go”, Stanley doesn’t take it well, and 432 projects onto him pretty strongly–it’s hard not to! There’s a lot of overlap. That, plus the fact that the wheel has to keep turning, spurs 432 into action. He acts out in what he thinks is mutual anger both he and Stanley feel towards the Narrator.

They’re doing it because he’s projecting onto Stanley big time, under the assumption the Narrator made this protagonist and is now going to throw him aside and make a new one. This falls in line too closely with their memories.

Memories including a Narrator who wanted to make a big story about mind control and choice and freedom. Who jumped headfirst into a project that he only half-completed, because he got lazy and didn’t want to put all the work in, so he dumbed his story down.

Memories of half-finished NPCs disappearing and changing halls and a protagonist, designed to solve a mystery, instead becoming paranoid and disappearing.

432 is a sympathetic….. antagonist. not a villain lmao but an opposing force to the narrator in the sense they find the narrator to be lazy and probably stupid.

The narrator even describes himself pre-Parable as a person who got lazy, and made a character to make decisions for him, because decisions are complicated and difficult. He made the bucket instead of rewriting the game. he made a bunch of gags in the hope it would be a story.

As for 432… well. I think the narrator had initially planned a more complicated true ending. NPCs, a more complex storyline to figure out the mystery of mind control, and an inquisitive protagonist designed in game to be allowed the mental freedom to question. Documents and lore abt 432 show he was an exception for the mind control experiment.

But the narrator was finding this story and the choices too unwieldy. Making all these 2dimensional npcs, outlining this complicated storyline, he found it was not what he wanted. It was hard. So he cut it down a lot.

But 432 was not designed for this much simpler environment. The inquisitiveness turned to paranoia. The self awareness turned to game awareness. He knew what his role was but he didn’t fit it anymore, not the way the narrator needed him to.

And then he disappeared.

Did the narrator erase him? Did he find his own way to slip into the code? Who can say? But the narrator’s memory of 432 is fuzzy at best, and he made a new protagonist, one much simpler. One who wouldn’t ask hard questions unless prompted. One who simply desired happiness.

And then, of course, like any good protagonist, Stanley changed.

432 is, sadly, a lil bit of a hypocrite, because they too don’t want to go through making an entirely new video game. that’s hard. but, it also has to be said that it was not their job to make a video game, it was their job to be the protagonist. It was their job to play the game, again, and again. Keep the wheel turning.

they make the door to the skip button disappear. they make the door to the steam reviews, that they know will drive the narrator mad. they are the time keeper, and time between skip presses increases and increases.

but they bring the parable back, as well as push it “forward”.

the narrator is prone to fixate, get stuck, and not progress, without a protagonist. 432 knows this. when Stanley is frozen in the Skip, the narrator keeps playing and playing and playing it all over in his head until he decides to try to make decisions for himself again. even then, he cannot do it. he wants to play one more time.

the wheel must keep turning.

In truth, Stanley wants freedom. The narrator want Stanley to be free, but he also wants to tell his story, and I don’t think he INTENDED Stanley to become self aware and aware of the multiple endings and restarts, etc etc. I think he expected Stanley to be like a normal game protagonist, wiped clean, and it should be easy because Stanley is supposed to be a simple character.

432 on their part wants to keep the game functioning. He, like Stanley, became aware of his role of protagonist, but unlike Stanley, 432 doesn’t want freedom. 432 wants the loops. Wants the eternity. They’re right, the game is not a sacred thing that needs to be frozen in time. They want to play AND change.

They honestly would be the ideal protagonist for the narrator if he hadn’t goofed it so bad. or if they didn’t want to antagonize him so bad.

432 at one point becomes the storyteller, forcing Stanley and the Narrator to do the story, only “new and improved” (and the worst part is the story 432 makes IS more compelling than the narrator’s and it’s upsetting!!!)

I want to emphasize that 432 does not at any point harm a single character and is actually quite chill even as the antagonist. they LIKE stanley, and want to be friends with Stanley, even if there’s a lil bit of envy. it’s not Stanley’s fault they’re in this mess anyway.

they tell a compelling story about mind control, choices, abandonment and power grabbing. the story this parable SHOULD have been from the start.

they spend a lot of the time just telling Stanley a fun story about mind control and stuff (just to rub it in the Narrators face

and all the while they tell Stanley, just make whatever decision feels right. we’ll have fun with it. there’s always something new to learn.

they dont do anything to physically hurt the pair of them, but they consistently question Stanley’s choice to support the narrator after everything, and eventually he and Stanley make a bet that in a moment of high pressure the Narrator will/will not be able to make a decision. and if 432 wins they get to use Stanley’s model for a run.

and then they sabotage the choice to make the narrator so cripplingly scared of his choices that they win.

when 432 snags the model, he doesnt impersonate Stanley–he’s more interested in using Stanley’s face to taunt the narrator.

432 while in Stanley’s body (and Stanley has been made into a consciousness that’s just stuck in the museum for a run) just consistently makes the Narrator doubt that Stanley could ever really properly care about him, because the Narrator is a bad person, who can’t even make a choice when everything depends on it, and gosh, he really thinks Stanley could love him after everything?

the Narrator wont even let him leave the parable, despite having a body and being able to leave now! does he really think Stanley’s going to want to be with him forever?

no. they need to get back to the story. tell the story with me, narrator. this is all you’re good for.

so let’s just generally say that 432 gets to have a run in Stanley’s body more than once, and DOES give it back and only takes it when it’s been discussed beforehand (like the bet)

432 starts breaking Stanleys model pretty entirely unintentionally until the narrator desperately reminds them that they swore they wouldn’t hurt Stanley. They choose to end that run and their round with Stanleys body.

also there might have been a run where 432 puts the narrator through the skip button again. idk

So the Skip button is the most visceral example of this concept. (A theory is that 432 is the one that made the time between skips get longer and took the door away.) They’re doing this for catharsis. They’re doing it to emphasize this is how it feels.

it wouldn’t be a 1:1 experience of how we or Stanley experience the Skip button. The Narrator wouldn’t have the same rants, or the same reactions. his deterioration would be obvious through clothing, physical tics, stuff like that.

432 is immovable. At least until the reset, and Stanley is NOT HAPPY.

anyway when Stanley is booted out of the model entirely he doesn’t take it too well! it’s not a nice time being alone in the settings! but the curator, being able to see the entirety of the story and seeing this has gone WILDLY OFF TRACK, pulls his code out of the void and makes a copy of his model that she drops into the museum. it’s…. like it’s BETTER but it’s not GOOD. he’s pretty panicked about everything tbf.

uncertain as to if the Skip happens while he is in the Museum with the Curator, interacting with the comments, or if those happen the same run. the answer would change the specifics of how the run functions.

if he’s in the museum, than Stanley is aware of it. The Curator tells him it’s happening. for them, time moves the same way it would for the player, not for the Narrator.

If he’s dealing with the comments, then he’s probably on some level aware of it and is trying to prepare for the worst and the resolution. time passes for him equivalent to how it would pass for us the readers (like, update schedule wise. if it take a week for a new chapter, then he’d experience a week in the comments. only he wouldn’t have a full awareness of the time, bc that’s not really a thing in the void he’s working in.)

either way, he doesn’t have the power to stop it.

The Curator’s job is to oversee the Museum, and she knows the truth of the game, and the meta aspects. As the fic nears its climactic point, she’s the one who reveals this all to Stanley-

Diegetically, the narrator “created” the parable, the story, Stanley, 432, the skip button, etc etc. he’s a godlike entity who made a video game for the sake of art. He has full control of the parable, save for certain key moments.

Nondiegetically, a video game company named CrowsCrowsCrows made the video game called the Stanley parable, and hired kevan brighting to voice a character. The video game company developed every aspect and asset. The narrator is nothing more than a character.

And yet, diegetically, this is acknowledged in several places in story. The most obvious aspect is the Museum ending, though the Confusion ending is also a pretty big one. The new “bottom of the mind control facility” ending also acknowledges these developers who had to resolve the bug.

The clash between diegetic and non diegetic, the insertion of non diegetic into the diegetic, is one of the most beloved points of the game, since from its immediate loadin, the narrator (an aspect that is nondiegetic in most other stories that have one) is inserted into his own story. He’s breaking his own “in-story” consistency.

So you have a story within a story within a story. The narrators story/video game he is telling and trying to make, the story of the narrator clashing with Stanley/the player, and then the real world application of CrowsCrowsCrows making this video game abt all of it.

How fucking confusing is that? Me just trying to explain all of this as simply as possible. That’s why it’s been so hard to figure out how to talk about it. But all of this has to be covered for this next part to really make sense.

Because I’ve talked about how I think the implication is the narrator made 432 but then changed his story and 432 didn’t fit anymore, and this led to 432’s disappearance and their own condescension of him.

Memories which are, unfortunately, false. Because in the end, all of them are just a fiction. All of them are simply in a game made by Crows Crows Crows.

But by the time this finally gets out, 432’s sunk way too much anger and hurt into this. Doesn’t really feel like they can go back and still feels secondary. So they don’t intend to stop.

That they’re all just in someone else’s story, and always have been. Even she and the Narrator are not above Stanley, and never have been. She’s always protected that truth, and she only ever makes sure its assets stay safe–which is why when Stanley gets booted out of his model, she intervenes.

she sympathizes with all of them, but she doesn’t (can’t?) intervene, so she just watches and hopes.

and that one of these runs, Stanley would get to have a go at talking to the comments section of the fic. which would be integral to the climax and resolution of the fic.

me thinkin abt fic every night like '432 would be an incredible antagonist to write all they want is to show the narrator that they shouldnt have been left to the wayside so they go out of their way to prove they can make a better story than he can all while being not actually hostile but just an opposing force that makes stanley and the narrator doubt themselves and each other and at the end of the day 432's frustration is that they dont get to be a protagonist people know or care about and then of course the entire fic itself would get super meta because the curator would reveal the full meta narrative to stanley and then any fanfic comments and reactions would be something that he finds a way to share with 432 because 432 IS LOVED BY THE DANG WEBSITE' I am a massive sap every day of my life.

I think my own stubbornness is shouting “there has to be another option. there’s always another way” to the idea that the only way to beat the game is to not play. i think my brain keeps going back to the idea that the game is meant to be loved by its audience, because in its self awareness, if it can know it’s a loved thing, it knows it can be changed.

“to be loved is to be changed” “transformative nature of love” listen. Listen.

432, in the climax of the fic, learns about the audience/comments or the fic and realizes how absolutely adored they are and that they aren’t alone. They’re seen. And that is what they wanted and how they make peace and get closure.

Which would lead to them helping stanley and the narrator in their escape while making sure the parable still runs, because it has to

With the implication that they would do the story with the help of the audience from then on

Stanley and the Narrator escape the Parable after making arrangements with 432, who takes Stanley’s place as protagonist so the wheel can keep turning, and has the narrator tapes, but like I dont know how satisfied i am with that cos 432 by themself makes me sad but the curator does not want to narrate the whole game

but anyway 432 uses a Stanley model but tweaks it only a little

(you made it to the bottom of this post! Good Job, you did it! Good Job, you did it!)

#The Sparrow Parable #tsp #im sorry to everyone who wants this i am only a small bird.

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eddieschains · 1 year

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Escape

Eddie Munson X Fem! Reader

A/N: massive thank you to @choke-me-eddie for your help on this one 🥰 and yes this is only part 1 don’t you guys worry

TW// 18+, alcohol and drug consumption, sexual conversations, asshole! Steve, mentions of weapons and violence, let me know if i missed anything !!

You and Eddie were always the outcasts, the freaks, the ones no one wanted to be remotely close to. That’s probably why you two got on so well. That and your similar taste in music, and well, drugs.

Your favorite pastime was playing music together and smoking weed. As if anyone could’ve guessed different.

You’d even begun helping him with his little ‘business’ of selling. It allowed you more time to spend with him, and the extra cash wasn’t too bad either.

One day, Hawkins High beloved King Steve wandered up to you in the hallway. Preparing to get hurled with insults, you pretend you don’t see him in your peripherals.

“Hey, Y/N.” He shouts as he saunters up to you.

You turn your head, locking eyes with him but not saying a word. He stands close to you, hanging his arm on top of your locker while looking down at you with that ever so charming Harrington look.

“I’m having a party tonight.” He blurts out.

“Okay? Don’t you have parties every Friday night?” You raise your eyebrows at him, not really caring about him or his stupid parties.

He chuckles. “Well yeah, but I want you and Munson come.”

Why on gods green earth would Steve Harrington be inviting you and Eddie to his dumb popularity show?

“Why? So you can take me to your bedroom and get another notch on your belt while your buddies dunk Eddie’s head in the toilet?” You slam your locker, nearly closing his fingers in it.

“While that sounds like fun, I was really just hoping you could help supply the party. If you know what I mean.” Oh. He wants the drugs.

“Well that makes more sense.” You mumble as your face softens. “As much as I hate you and your friends, we’ll be there. But I swear to god Harrington… if you guys try anything… I will not hesitate to put a knife up to your throat.”

“Kinky. See you at 7?” He asks. You nod your head as you walk away. “Hey! And if you want to see my bedroom I can definitely give you a tour!” He snickers. You put up your middle finger, not looking back as you make your way to the parking lot.

Making your way to the parking lot you ignore all the snide comments people throw at you on your way. You look across the street to see Eddie leaned up against the van smoking a cigarette.

“Hello darling.” He smiles, throwing the but on the ground and stomping on it. He pulls you in for a hug, never complete without a forehead kiss. “How was your day? Despicable as always?”

“You know it.” You open the sliding door, throwing your bag in the back as you hop in the passenger seat. Eddie starts the engine, backing out of the parking space so fast he just narrowly misses a passing student. He speed off, soon approaching the road back to his trailer.

You turn the blaring music down, forcing Eddie to look over at you. “So… you’re gonna hate me.”

He raises an eyebrow, pursing his lips as he speeds down the road to the trailer. “I could never hate you. But, what did you get yourself into this time?”

“Steve Harrington.” You groan, throwing your face into your hands.

The tires squeak as he slams the breaks in the driveway, putting the van in park. “Steve Harrington?” He turns to face you, wondering what on earth Steve could’ve done to you now. “Did you fuck him or something?”

“No! Ew, god no Eds.” You chuckle, hopping out of your seat and grabbing your bag from the back seat. Eddie locks up the van, ushering you inside.

“Good. I was worried I lost you there for a second.” You slap his arm, making your way into his bedroom.

You both bounce on to the mattress as Eddie reaches for a joint for you to share.

“Steve’s having a party tonight.” You say. Eddie mumbles something incoherent, probably something along the lines of who cares. “Anyways… he asked if you and I could come and help… supply.”

Eddie whips his head around towards you, eyes nearly popping out of his head. He really hopes you didn’t respond the way he thinks you did. “And you said… yes?”

You crack an apologetic smile, squinting your eyes. He jumps out of the bed, yelling your name. “Think about it Eds! This place is gonna be crawling with stuck up rich kids who don’t know anything about weed. We could give them the cheapest shit and sell it for twice as much and they wouldn’t know the difference.”

You see the wheels turning in his head. He paces back and forth, rubbing his chin in between his fingers for dramatic effect of course. “You’re diabolical. And I love you for it.” He rushes to the hallway, searching for his stash to see what he has.

He runs back into the bedroom, holding a small baggie in his hand. “We’re gonna have to call Rick.” You giggle, following him into the living to make the special call.

It was just past 7, when Steve told you the party was starting. Eddie parked down the road like Steve had requested, not wanting to bring more attention to the party.

You and Eddie both knew he just didn’t want people thinking he was friends with trailer trash, but to be honest you didn’t want people thinking you were friends with Steve Harrington either.

“You nervous?” Eddie asks, walking down the road towards the house.

You shake your head. “No. You?” He cracks a small smile, not wanting to say how he really feels. “I brought my knife… just so you know.” You chuckle.

“Always prepared, aren’t you?” Eddie laughs. You smirk as you make your way to the porch.

You can hear people outside laughing and screaming as the music blares throughout the house. You giggle to yourself as you go to raise a fist to knock on the door. Who knocks on the door for a party?

You walk inside, Eddie trailing behind you, as you both are immediately met with glares and indistinct whispers. Eddie asks where Steve is, and they point you to the kitchen.

Their faces look a bit scared, probably thinking you two were here to start a fight.

“Go! Go! Go! Go!” You walk into the kitchen to see a crowd of people chanting and whooping as the beloved King Steve takes his place on the throne of a keg.

You stand in the doorway, watching as you wait for him to finish. He stands back up, high fiving the people around him before landing on you and Eddie.

“Ah! You made it.” A smile appears on his face. “You can set up outside or whatever you need to do. I’ll let people know where to find you.” You start to make your way towards the pool before Steve calls for you again. “Oh, Y/N. My room is on the second floor… first door the right. You know, in case you changed your mind.” You roll your eyes as Steve and his friends burst into laughter.

About an hour goes by of you and Eddie sitting by the pool smoking joint after joint and conversing about everyone at the party. A few people swept in to buy from you guys, but definitely not as many as you had hoped. You sat around talk and laughing about random shit, as if you were just hanging out at the trailer, while someone inside is singing Madonna karaoke in the background.

“This music is shit.” Eddie laughs, coughing as he blows smoke out of his mouth. “I should get up there and do Metallica or something.” He chuckles.

You whip your head to face him, the wheels turning in your head.

“Y/N… no. Fuck, no.” He laughs, putting the but of his joint out.

“C’mon Eds, it’ll be funny. I’ll get up there with you.” You plead, looking for some kind of entertainment while you’re stuck here. He dramatically crosses his legs, putting his hand up to chin to ponder your idea.

“Okay, deal.” He stands up to look inside the house, seeing the person singing is almost done with their song. “You distract Harrington and i’ll queue the song up.” You click your tongue and point a finger gun at him as you both make your way inside.

You catch Steve in the kitchen, thankfully alone, as he’s filling up his cup. You turn to see Eddie making a b-line to the karaoke machine.

“Hey Steve.” You say, a flirty tone rushing through your voice. You walk up to him, placing your hand on his shoulder.

“Hey… did you change your mind?” He responds, a smirk appearing on his face.

“Actually, yes.” Steve raises an eyebrow, as you see the wheels turning in his brain. “You know… I hear all these stories. How great you are in bed, and I think I should experience it before we graduate.”

“Well, stories are true.” He winks, taking a sip of his drink. He hands you a shot as you stand there for a second, trying to think of your next move until you hear the beginning notes of Eddie’s Metallica song playing. “Oh shit, sorry Harrington but this is my jam.” You giggle, downing the shot as you run into the living room.

You see people’s heads start to turn as the loud sounds of guitar and drums fill the room. You stand in front of Eddie as he starts singing along.

Feel no pain, but my life ain’t easy

I know i’m my best friend

You start bobbing your head as he begins to draw a crowd. People are booing and yelling to turn it off, which only makes you laugh. You run up and join him as the chorus starts.

One with my mind, they just can’t see

No need to hear things that they say

Life is for my own to live my own way

“Who let the freaks up there?” You hear someone yell across the room. It doesn’t take long until people are throwing empty plastic cups and yelling for you guys to leave.

You look at Steve to see if he’s going to do or say anything, but he honestly seems to be enjoying the show by the smirk on his face.

You and Eddie finish the song, as people are still screaming at you guys to go away. Of course Eddie wouldn’t be able to leave before leaving a cheeky comment for Steve. “Shit party, Harrington. Had a better time in your moms panties last night.” You gasp as he drops the mic on the floor.

“The fuck did you just say Munson?” Steve yells from across the room. He sets his drink down on the table before gathering his friends and running after you two.

“Run.” Eddie chuckles, grabbing you by the arm and racing out of the house.

“Get back here, freaks!” Tommy shouts as you and Eddie race down the street. You look behind you to see Steve and Tommy stood in the driveway, watching as you two run away.

“Holy shit.” Eddie laughs as you make it to the van. You’re pressing yourself against the hood as you catch your breath. “You sang pretty fucking good.”

“Yeah?” You ask, as Eddie nods. He walks closer to you, his face close enough that you feel his breath caressing your nose.

“Looked good doing it too.” A nervous giggle escapes your mouth. Before you have a chance to respond, his hands are cupping your cheeks as he attaches his lips to yours.

The shock of your best friend kissing you stills your movements for a second, until you fall into him. His lips are soft, plump, the perfect fit for your own. You reach your hand up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you reciprocate the movements his lips are making with yours.

He pulls back, still holding your cheeks in his hands as he examines your face. “Eddie…” You whisper. He raises his eyebrows, mumbling a questionable hmm. “Take me home.”

#eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson

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34saveme34 · 2 months

Note

The latest smg4 episode was really cool! Fun fact, I had absolutely no idea that Tari has a new VA until I was scrolling through the comments. I couldn't even discern a difference!

You could tell Lottie was really enjoying playing her- it also makes sense she got a new one, because I can guess that Celeste has probably gotten just too busy to voice new lines, as they've been reusing a lot of her old ones in previous videos.

Also, interesting detail: When Clench was saying, "...and I'm pretty sure you came from-" his voice got all muffled, and when Tari said, "Wha?", he replied with, "Yeah, you came from-" only to get cut off again with more muffled speech, so he followed up with the quip, "Whoops, guess I'm not allowed to remember that." Which... is very interesting. I don't believe it was a one off joke- I think this arc may end up giving us some lore in regards to the SMG4 version of Tari.

(another note: is it just me, or did the animation and/or expressions seem a bit more cleaned up/smoother than usual?)

Oh yeah I noticed her new voice actor, even before! The tone of voice is very similar, like the VA has Tari down, what gave it away was the accent, it's different from the original

also I wasn't saying that she won't 100% have an arc, I just find it weird that literally one episode happens with her and I see many many people immediately jump for the TV

like Idk, this might not age well but I don't think it's that

I also don't think this is a one off episode, obviously, but I think it's more for showing that Tari is gonna have development, which is nice to see, I hope they'll do something similar for Melony as well, in some way at least

Like my mad little comment isn't me being mad this wasn't a 3 episode, it's just that 3 will literally have a breakdown and people will call it boring when that is definitely development from him, he barely likes to open up, and this- has been going on for long

which is why I doubt we will rn immediately get a Tari arc, when 3 has a lot of problems currently which was a big focus like.... I wouldn't Just do that for nothing and then immediately start a new arc like... that just sounds very dumb to me, sorry

another idea is they might develop more storylines at once.... which would honestly be great! it would be the best way for more characters to show up and feel more alive

so I like the idea of some others showing up and having the developments of their own, while 3 having a mental breakdown in the background

AS I SAID, if the 3 centric episodes are genuinely just filler and nothing else, it would be the worst gotcha moment ever, and also a lot of time just, yknow, wasted

and for what? for people to keep commenting how they are bored of 3?

#asks #smg4

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synthshenanigans · 9 months

Text

Really Stupid Theory Idea:

(Ive totally definitely cracked the code)

Thinking about this bit from TSE

Soul says the brain is what split them up in the first place (i doubt hes talking about Mind). Going into "Someone help me understand what's going on behind my eyes. Doctor I can't tell if I'm not me" shows how much his sense of identity has been jumbled up since the "brain" is split into three he doesn't know whats happening in his head nor what hes supposed to be. The beginning half of Cacophony has Heart & Mind fighting over Soul/who should control him/take his place, not even trying to view him a person or having his own identity. Especially with Storm & a Spring, Mind saying "A Soul so deep, and dark, and eternally cold and an oath, formed from us both that it would stay whole" saying that THEY are in charge of Soul and are the ones keeping him Whole. So by the time Soul has his song he's 1. Trying to keep the other two from tryin to kill the other again/stop their arguing and 2. Trying to figure out who he and what hes supposed to be. And since in the end of TSE Heart & Mind are still fighting and has no idea what hes supposed to be, he gives up and views tridental regicide as the answer. Its only till Heart & Mind attempt to see the others viewpoint that he can make his own viewpoints about himself and his identity.

Where am I going with this? Well its obvious

(im not going anywhere with this I just wanted to rant about Soul and I made a stupid theory out of it)

I was always confused why Soul looked like this

But also this

Like whys he half colored in Light but other times hes not?

Speaking of Night&Light, who tf is thie fella??

Are you Whole? Are you Soul? Well ladies, gentlemen and the technicolor rainbow in between the answer to that is Yes but also No

That shadowy figure is totally definitely

Soul 2

Now you may say "KJ, soul 2 isnt real, it was just the way CJ was mixing his music/lyrics and he just forgot to fix it"

And I say stfu you're WRONG and im gonna TELL you why you're wrong.

(All lyrics im getting from are specifically from CJ's videos that indicate who says what)

As i said before the line from TSE in the forst photo up top says Soul can't understand whats going on behind his eyes/in is brain/head. He also says this line:

"Open your window look out and see them. Tines stabbed through eyes that the sides have condemned"

While this lyric is usually used for how heart went blind theories, its odd that it says "The Sides have Condemned" the sides being Heart & Mind. And as we know by the lyrics " Heart Mind Slay Soul" and "Fathers of fathers, I know that I'm vile. Let's see how long it takes to murder me. Neither is wrong, yet neither is right. Condemn him to the infirmary" Soul uses their own lines against them and knows how their fighting is a threat himself (also shown by the lyric in Dream). He tries to show that neither side is Good or Evil (the thing they only come to terms with in VoaC) but the very thought of working together and seeing the others side, is said that the person deserves to be Condemned. Which is exactly what the line from Night. A person with another perspective (from the window), and the sides (Heart & Mind) condemn that idea.

However the lyric in Light "Open the window, look out and see me, that sad, sulking mess, this human you're being" is said by the black shadowy character. But thought Soul was in the window? Unless the Shadowy Guy

IS THAT DARKER HALF OF SOUL

Is that idea dumb? Probably BUT you have lyrics like in Two Wuv "The person you see is a dark divided man". Divided can mean both Heart & Mind but also the fact that Soul is divided into 2 colors. But thats up to interpretation you say, well what about the fact that this line from Night (that have {} which are indications of when Soul is singing)

ARE SAID BY THE SHADOW MAN AND NOT SOUL.

Along with this, Soul & Shadow Pal can both say Me when talking about themselves specifically. But when trying to say Me as in all together/Whole, they glitch out and cant say it. Because neither of them are Whole. But are technically the same person/entity

(Two Wuv is also the song where you can point out the parts when which half of Soul is singing. Depending if talking about the point of Cacophony/HMS or the perspective of Whole/Soul 2 when writing about/making the songs themselves. However i dont have enough room for that atm so thatll have to be a separate post (if i make it lol) )

The ending of Light has all of them singing together while physically being overlayed as well.

But you have this one at the final chorus

You see Heart & Mind with the lighter split of Soul together but ALSO the Shadowy Man/the dark half of Soul. You can tell by the fact that none of them are holding a microphone but Shadow Bro is.

Now this has all probably been sad before (i cant remember if anyone did a theory for this honestly i have a bad memory)

But im going further.

So much stupidly further that im claiming these lines in The Whole World And You

Are not mind & heart singing but instead soul & the other half

But maybe technically are?

At that time, the () & [] werent indicating whether Heart & Mind were singing. They were just spitting up the duet lyrics to be more readable.

Yes, the Mind voice is there but the lyrics are more talking about having to be Whole again. Soul & Other One are talking about how them two split and eventually become Whole again. "I hope you're happy now ive merged dark and light" is especially talking about how dark & light/heart & mind are now together again. So the person singing isnt either of them. It sounds more of Whole talking to himself about being split and coming back together again. But the voices still sound like Heart & Mind as well as the lyric colors in the video being black & white (but spining into the opposite colors). Unless,

And this is quite stupid so much so that i dont rlly believe it and wont accept as canon when drawing them

But, at least at that point, the halves of Soul ARE Heart & Mind.

In a way at least. Soul is also his own person/self as well shown by how he talks in TSE & Two Wuv. But he also has lines like "I can feel them stew" in Night or "I won't hesitate to kill my Heart & Mind. I will abdicate these deviants sat inside" or the entire 2nd verse in Two Wuv. Its why he's called the vessel as well, Whole spilts into Heart & Mind leaving Wholes Identity & Self behind. Soul IS his own self (being Wholes identity) but also your emotional & logistical side are apart of your identity as well. Which is why the combined photos in the end of Light are at first split color soul are each halves/are on the sides of Heart & Mind, but also one of all 4 of them being overlayes together with the halves of Soul as full bodies. (Also goes into to the fact CJs original name for Soul was Body a bit as well) . Also why the album cover is Heart & Mind as 2 halves with Soul as the Mask & Whole being the hand that holds it (shown by the nailpolish colors)

Okay im done i originally just wanted to rant about Soul & Two Wuv cos i relate to them a lot. But i had a silly idea and wanted to type it out.

So in an incomprehensible conclusion, there might be 2 Souls/2 halfs of Soul (one of them might sorta be Whole) but they also might be Heart & Mind finally agreeing with the other.

Or something idk im tired and i find this HILARIOUS so im posting it hi

#writing this when my brain isnt properly working so ignore any spelling mistakes or incomplete thoughts #also if anything is contradictory to what CJ said in the QnA #shush hes wrong/j #chonny jash #chonnys charming chaos compendium

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dabisqueen · 1 year

Note

Awe imagine finding out you’re pregnant with rockstar Dabis kid.

We’ve already established you and dabi are that grossly “too opened” type couple who will literally do anything and talk about anything to each other and not care how gross or off the thing is or request is. Since y’all are so open you two have weird sense of humor as well where one of you is always like “I’m gonna fucking vomit all over you if you say something that dumb again” and one day you say something around the lines “I’m about to vomit” to that man and he laughs at first thinking you’re joking until he sees you try to quickly hop up from the couch but not making it and spewing just everywhere. He’s literally so horrified and is like “WHY DID YOU ACTUALLY PUKE” and you’re whining like “I don’t know! I told you I was gonna puke” and it’s a whole moment.

Little moments of sickness would be looked over because dabi and his s/o is definitely the type who is like pfft us having baby? Please- we are so safe and never gonna have kids and literally in the same breath will be raw dogging it in the back. Like be so fucking fr right now.

Anyway it would probably start to worry him when you start not going to things with him anymore like you use to because you’re too tired or don’t feel good. Usually you’re always down to have a few drinks or maybe smoke a little weed or just fuck or running around town just doing stupid shit and running from cops or paparazzi but you’re just been laying up in bed.

Some how Dabi probably knows you’re pregnant before you do and just shows up to y’alls little apartment with a few bags and Is like “I don’t know what color you wanted or even if it matter but I started buying stuff” and you’re like “?” And when you open the bAG THERES LITERALLY BABY CLOTHES IN IT??? and this stupid fuck is like “what? You’re pregnant aren’t you?”

He’s also definitely so ready to meet the baby. When they are born he will be talking to it and making it dance or move their lips to make it look like they are cussing or something. Like he just thinks it’s so funny. He’s definitely a really really good day and surprisingly does extremely well with kids and babies. He’s constantly feeding the baby. Like if that baby isn’t feeding off of you it’s taking a bottle and he’s holding them so close to his heart while just staring at the tiny little bABY AH! ❤️

Aaah nonny! We have the baby hots now 😫

Thank you for this, I love Dad Dabi. He would be the best dad ever - at least he would everything possible to be one!

💙💙💙😘😘😘

#queen answers #dad dabi #dabi #bnha dabi #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia

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bohemian-nights · 6 months

Note

did emma really say that this was the beginning of the end for daemyra when they asked about the hanging scene? because i completely agree, I don't think it was for free just to shock the public, Daemon being the example of an abusive partner who assaults her and calls her dumb and then is meek to break the news that her son has died

First anon so people know what this is about.

Emma probably did(someone fact-check me if not. I’m too lazy to go googling right now🫠) and it’s probably in the companion book to the show since a lot of what was said in that had people in an uproar.

Daemon has really shown himself throughout the show so while the choking scene might be shocking at first viewing(and it’s definitely not book canon), if you really pay attention to what’s happened it makes a lot of sense.

Daemon is more neglectful and violent than his book counterpart, and despite what some Dumbnyra stans like to say, Dumbnyra hasn’t been made out to be the OTP of the show(you don’t keep abandoning your soulmate🫠). Daemon choking Rhaenyra out falls in line with what show!Daemon is about🤷🏽‍♀️

Now Rhaenyra kind of deluded herself into thinking she was some exception or something to Daemon’s BS, but in the choking scene, you can see that she’s legitimately scared(and Ryan has confirmed this in the behind-the-scenes book). It’s the first time she realizes Daemon is crazy(and not crazy about her). They aren’t coming back from this:

#hotd #bnasks #bnask #anti daemyra

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stutterfly · 2 years

Text

Swipe Right 06 | Overheating | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 6.7K ish (I’m doing smaller chapters going forward)

Last time on SR05: Tension is at an all-time high, a side effect from crossing some lines and flirting indiscriminately. It complicates your newfound friendship with Jungkook. Things are definitely more blurry since you woke up alone in his bed.

CW & Other Tags: slow burn, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, sexual tension, grinding, daydreaming about that sweet sweet fantasy baby

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (6/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Six in the morning. Six in the morning on Monday. Whose idea was this?

You’re on your final lunge and you feel your stance wobble once again as you begin to sink down. Fuck past you for suggesting this. This is terrible. You hate everything.

“Slowly,” Jungkook is quick to remind you. “You got this.”

Despite his optimistic tone, his voice is an unavoidable irritant. Formality hasn’t been in question, no that’s not the problem here. He’s been a total professional: no wandering hands or eyes, just a firm encouraging tone with a laundry list of tasks, all of which seemed designed to drain you of all energy before the day has even begun.

You’ve been at this for a while on your own, but obviously lenient with intensity. Of course you’ve ignored bodyweight exercises. You’re at the gym. If you wanted to just do push-ups and lunges, you’d be at home not doing them. He’s the one with the muscles, so maybe he’s right as much as you hate to admit it. Maybe personal trainers are certified for a reason. As you struggle to maintain your balance and nearly topple over, you surmise the reason being they need everyone to know they basically have a degree in sadism.

With a quickness that shows your guilty need to be done with this activity, you bring yourself upright far too fast for his liking. He frowns, arms crossed as he watches your form, or lack thereof.

“Hold on. One more time.”

DEMON.

“Slowly come up. Like this.” He demonstrates again, eyes focused ahead. You watch as the exposed thickly carved muscles of his calf tense, awe overtakes envy in a rush to your brain. He pauses, his knee hovering above the floor before looking at you and gesturing towards his leg as he rises at a careful pace. “It’s about control.”

Pfft. I hate control. Look at my life. You think I have any of that?

“One more,” he says again. “Just one.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you do it like he demonstrated, albeit less stable.

“Nice work.” He holds his hand up for a high-five, which you tap if only to signify an end to this session. “Now we stretch.”

He’s already taking a mat out for you before you can protest. If he senses your irritability, he doesn’t let on. The difficulty you’re having keeping your energy up is a contributing factor, but the source remains your own emotional attachment to the man himself. Sunday morning you woke up alone with the foggy memory of trying to seduce him. There’s enough shame swirling around your body to steep and brew into a giant pot of dumb-bitch juice. The more you focus on the memories you can’t change, the more you start to panic.

All this dumb bitch juice makes it hard to focus... But isn’t it made from concentrate?

Your internal joke brings a small smile to your lips. It pushes the panic into the past where it can’t hurt you now. Humorous deflection is a coping skill right? As you finally drag yourself over to where he’s waiting, you notice Jungkook smiles like a big puppy. Your insides churn. He probably thought you were smiling at him. You purse your lips and follow his lead into performing cooldown stretches.

It's not until you're down on your back with your ankle on your knee that you allow yourself to glance at his face. He’s focused on his own stretching, which gives you a heartbreakingly beautiful view of his profile. Instead of using this time to deepen your own stretch, you study his features. Beads of sweat behind his ear, the loop and stud embedded at the base of his earlobe, and the several empty holes above them and you quickly count them. Does he really have six? The sharp outline of his jaw leads your eyes to his chin, where they quickly follow the slope of his deep-pink parted lips up the flat tip of his nose and the large curve above it.

“Alright. Last stretch.”

There’s no time to think about the implications of such a shape because Jungkook hops to his feet. You sit up, eager to block his view from such a vulnerable double-chin position as he rounds the mat you’re on.

“Ah, no. Lay on your back. You’re gonna raise your leg,” he coaches.

You tick your jaw and lean back on your elbows, not allowing yourself to fall completely on your back when he’s standing right there. Slowly your bent leg rises in a half-assed attempt to please him. He grabs the bottom of your pitifully hovering sneaker.

“Straighten,” he says, guiding your leg up with a hand on your knee to keep it in line. “Like that.”

The burn travels up your hamstring. Skepticism erodes as your muscles relax and you lay flat against the mat. He’s been professional this whole time. It’s just your own stress and confusion getting the better of you. It’s not his fault your mind is in the gutter. Everything is fine.

“Feel okay?” he asks, leaning forward to meet your gaze.

Strands of hair fall out from behind his ear as he looks down at you. Suddenly everything is not fine. Your cheeks burn and you forget how to articulate your thoughts as lurid fantasies begin to creep into your brain. So this is how he’d look, huh? Great. Way to give your inner crush some fuel for that fire. You might as well be back in his room, sucking on his fingers.

If he leaned over he’d look like— He’d sound like— Oh fuck. He knows. Stop thinking about it. Stoppit.

“More? Less?” he guesses aloud while gently pressing your leg further towards your chest and then letting up. “We’re trying to find the sweet spot.”

Is he fucking with you? He must be.

“Shouldn’t be painful,” he continues, lightly testing the tension in your leg. “Just a satisfying stretch.”

Every word makes your face hotter and the blood rushing through your ears even louder. He knows how this sounds right? He has to know.

Your silence causes his big brown eyes to regard you with curiosity. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“It’s good,” you say, all too quickly for it to be genuine but it seems to satisfy his concerns.

Finally he lowers your leg and motions for you to lift the other. One of his hands clasps around the back of your ankle while the other supports your knee. He starts to carefully press your leg towards your chest but lessens the pressure the moment you inhale sharply through your nose.

“Bodies aren’t symmetrical. Sometimes stuff works differently on each side and that’s okay. It’s about finding the spot that works for you. If it’s tighter on this side that’s okay. Is here good?”

“Little more,” you mumble, trying your best to ignore the fire in your face. When he adjusts the position, you feel that sweet perfect stretch he’s been talking about. “Oh, right there.”

His fingers tighten over your knee and dig into the soft flesh of your thigh for a brief moment. It’s gone before you can guess if you imagined it or perhaps it was some sort of spasm in your own muscle.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He’s said that line a lot to clients over the years during sessions, but for the first time he’s speaking to himself. Immediately you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and it serves to cover his own exhale. There’s a complicated tension between the pair of you and there has been for a while. This certainly isn’t helping assuage it right now, but he’s hopeful with time it will get easier to navigate.

“Alright, that’s it. Nice work. You made it through.”

He offers his hand and you clasp your own in it with a smile. Although it seems effortless, his biceps bulge as he swiftly brings you to your feet. It takes active brainpower to immediately release his hand instead of holding on for comfort. The way you snap your hand away while emanating such a warm smile is a perfect example of the dichotomy wrestling your psyche. If he notices, he says nothing. The water bottle nearby doesn’t seem to be enough to quench your thirst. Unsurprising, considering the way your mind wanders.

“So, what do you think? Same time tomorrow?” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet when you look back; it’s hard to draw the line between enthusiasm and anxiety. Maybe he notices more than you think. Maybe you’re reading into his fidgety nature far too much.

“Sure.” You pop the lid closed on your bottle and flash him a half-smile. “I’ll text you later?”

He gives you a nod and the warmth of his smile lights his face. “Looking forward to it.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

There’s an awkward pause as you consider going in for a hug. Then you mull over the possibility of a handshake, high-five, or a fist-bump. Instead you land on a delayed, dorky wax-on wax-off “wave.” Cool. Gonna be thinking about that awkward karate kid exchange all day. Can the floor please melt your legs down to stumpy bones so you’d have something else to think about? That’d be great.

He crosses his arms with a sense of pride as he watches you hurriedly make your way towards the lockers. That could have gone much worse. You didn’t even ask for your sweater. Good. He didn’t bring it.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You look down at your hands and knock your gloves together, trying to make sure your fingers are positioned correctly within. It’s hard to get used to the cumbersome coverings. They weigh your hands down and draw attention to the lack of strength in your wrists. Even though you know the basic motion, the multiple warnings you’d received about damaging your wrist are all you can think about. You decide it’s best not to practice the motion until you can watch someone else do it first.

The class is bigger than expected, which only adds to the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. For some reason the lack of shoes makes you feel more exposed. You don’t need strangers looking at your feet. Thankfully there are a lot of bags for you to choose from and the back corner of the room seems relatively secluded. You awkwardly let your water bottle roll away from your armpit and trap it between your gloves to set it on the floor nearby. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the mirror at the front of the room and wait for the instructor to arrive.

Ignoring the chatter of other attendees’ conversations, you do your best to tell yourself no one is looking at you and no one’s talking about you. You’re not interesting enough to talk about. You repeatedly chant this to yourself, but still you feel like the subject of every conversation surrounding you. Why couldn’t Jennie or Namjoon just come to the one class with you? It seemed so doable after work, especially with how good you feel after this morning’s first session with Jungkook. But now you’re not so sure you should be here.

Confidence, you remind yourself. You’re doing this to instill confidence. Embracing change and exploring the unknown has never been your forte. It’s unsettling to try something new by yourself. All your life you’ve felt like an outsider when performing any physical activity. No matter the sport, you always seem to feel like you’re doing it wrong. A combination of grade school bullies and unempathetic PE teachers steered you towards a different path in life, a nerdier, less physically active life.

Any time you start to veer back in this direction, your body has a very visceral reaction. You get defensive in your discomfort, burdened by memories too embarrassing and upsetting to properly process. It’s no wonder that even as a full grown woman you still feel like that girl who’d cry in a bathroom stall after gym class. Your pulse quickens, your face heats up and tears threaten to spill from behind glassy eyes. Why did you make yourself do something sport-related? Morning training is one thing, but is this really something you think you can just do by yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you begin to count the bags in the room; it’s all you can do to keep yourself from bolting before the class even starts. Punching things is probably just what you need to deal with these feelings. Just as your eyes reach the bag nearest the door, a familiar face walks past the threshold.

Jungkook is clad in a black muscle shirt and basketball shorts to match, and his hair is tied back into the world's tiniest, pristine ponytail. While he grins and greets the other students in the room, you slink behind the hanging bag you’ve chosen to be your partner for the night, hoping it will block you from his sight. He doesn’t teach kickboxing; you checked. Attempts will be made to combust on the spot if he announces he’s covering for the instructor.

There’s an unmistakably Jungkook cackle. You peek around the bag just in time to watch a girl punch him in the arm. He feigns being hurt, whining that he needs an ice pack for the pain. She feels up his arm and gives his bicep a squeeze, calling him out for faking. He grins that stupid grin you hate so much: the one where he shows off his teeth and his nose is outlined by wrinkled skin.

She offers to make it up to him with dinner and you tune out the rest with a sigh, feeling irritated that everywhere he goes women seem to throw themselves at him. You’re mad at yourself for letting it bother you. It’s not her fault he’s so attractive. It’s not her fault he didn’t fuck you this weekend. It’s all so complicated with him, and it’s not her fault, but still. You’re jealous.

There has to be a way forward, a way you can let this go. Let him go. He was never yours anyway. Another deep breath escapes your mouth. At least your rooted anxiety over the newness of this class seems to be replaced with a comfortable irritation. Maybe you can channel that energy into this activity.

People are already starting to warm up, delivering soft punches and kicks to their bags. You awkwardly stand behind yours without a clue as to what you should be doing other than waiting. Much to your dismay Jungkook crosses the room, the pads of his bare feet silent until he stops two bags in front of you. He sets his water bottle down, a focused look on his face as he begins to wrap his hands in a pretty black and red band. He expertly covers his hand, entrancing you with the circular motion.

He paces as he wraps, sparing a quick glance towards the back of the room. He does a double take, frozen in place as he stares at you. For a second you think he’s imitating a statue, but then he blinks and a cloyingly sweet smile graces his lips. It makes you wish you’d walked out when you had the chance.

“Princess!” His exclamation draws far too many eyes to your corner. “Surprised you’re here after this morning.”

You don’t dare look around the room to see if flirty girl is giving you the stink eye. It’s enough just to feel the gaze of others heating your face like a million laser pointers.

“What are you doing here?” you grumble, hiding behind the bag.

He laughs, holding his unwrapped hand up as if to proclaim his innocence. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been coming to this class for the last two years. You’re the newbie here.”

You purse your lips, feeling foolish. Of course Jungkook takes advantage of the training programs offered here. He has his own schedule that has nothing to do with you. Still…

You stiffen as you watch his eyes rake over your attire. He hums thoughtfully.

“W-What?” Insecurity clings to you in all the places your clothing does too.

“Mm. Nothing.”

“What.” You make sure to enunciate the word for maximum transparency of your irritability.

“Didn’t peg you as a boxer. First time?” he asks while flexing his fingers to test the fit.

You fold your arm across your chest and hug your elbow with your giant glove, offering a small nod. He briefly pokes his tongue into his cheek. Is that a sore spot? He got a small taste of your confidence level regarding exercise this morning, or lack thereof. Maybe that’s something he can help you with.

“Don’t worry. It’s really fun. Addicting.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and his smile puts you at ease.

The instructor walks in and introduces herself, sparing you from having to say more. She turns on some high energy music and has you all doing burpees as a warm up. You already want to die. Apparently you’re not the only newbie here today so she teaches the class how to stand while performing the three main techniques for throwing a punch: jab, cross, and hook.

You make yourself as unassuming as possible as you try to get the hang of each technique. Ten minutes in, you’re out of breath and sweating buckets. The instructor, Dara, watches you a couple times and fixes your weak elbows, asks you to use more force on the bag, and tells you “don’t forget to breathe,” like you’re not out here gasping for air.

When it’s time for a water break, Jungkook turns to look back at you. He looks every bit as sweaty as you feel.

“Doing okay?” He picks up his water bottle and puts his whole mouth over the wide opening to drink.

You nod between heavy pants and free one of your sweaty hands from the confines of the glove. “Yeah… Fine… You...?”

You focus on your own bottle. It’s like you can’t get the liquid into your mouth fast enough. You try to breathe it in like oxygen and subsequently choke out a couple wet coughs. He looks up from his shirt, which he’s folded up to wipe the sweat from his face. The set of heavy glistening creases lining his stomach claim your attention. You choke again for another reason entirely.

“You sure?” he asks, concerned with your apparent inability to breathe like a normal human.

“Just tried to inhale my water. It’s fine,” you joke, walking around your bag until you can no longer see any part of the sculpted perfection that is his body.

“Ah, I’m tired,” he groans. He circles his bag, smoothing unruly wisps of damp black hair from his forehead. “Halfway there though.”

“Hah, only half?” Despite your best attempt to sound confident, your breathlessness betrays your tone. Thank fuck he pulled his shirt back down.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna give up,” he teases, reaching across to poke your sweaty arm.

“No!” You’re quick to put your glove back on just as the instructor starts the music again.

“Good. You’re doing really well.” He makes sure you can see his smile and wink before he turns back to his bag and starts running through the combos again.

Your anxiety heightens when the instructor tells everyone to find a partner to practice kicks. You’ve been circling the bag to get the hang of moving while hitting, so you look over your shoulder and purse your lips. Jungkook’s eyes are as big as they are nervous when you find them. Being that he’s the only person you know, he seems the logical choice. You don’t want to talk to a stranger. Plus, if you’re being honest you’d rather pair with him before flirty girl can snatch him up.

He’s frozen. He’s used to pairing with the teacher: the teacher that can easily bench twice her bodyweight. You’re giving him those deer-in-the-headlights eyes and it’s hard to look away. He’s never been more terrified of hurting someone.

“Jungkook, do you wanna…?” The uncertainty in your voice makes your own ears flush with the same heat radiating from your cheeks.

Everyone else is already kicking away. He looks uncomfortable even as he nods and forces a smile. He holds the bag steady for you as you practice, though his eyes look vacant. You practice for a few minutes but the exertion has taken a lot out of you. Aren’t you supposed to trade off?

“Kook.” You sigh when he doesn’t respond, delivering your combo to the bag without a care in the world regarding your form.

Bap-bap-bap.

“Jungkook.” Again you practice the combo, this time clumsily adding the two kicks at the end.

Bap-bap-bap… Bap... Bap.

The chains linking the bag to the ceiling rattle but the bag itself barely sways with the way he’s holding it. Why is this so hard? Wiping the sweat from your brow, you tap his arm.

“Hey.”

He snaps out of his daze but continues to stare blankly at you. “Hmm?”

“Can we switch off?” you ask, fighting through your wheezing.

He nods, wetting his lips and moving around the bag. He looks pissed when his fist makes contact. Part of you shudders at the intensity of the motion, the other part fixates on his face as you’re pushed back by the force. Luckily the instructor swoops in at the last minute to keep the bag from smashing you in the face.

Jungkook seems to visibly relax at her intervention. After showing you how to hold, she lets you take the bag back on your own. He starts delivering heavier blows that cause the bag to sway slightly, but you're determined to keep it as steady as possible. You can take it. You want him to know you can absolutely take it.

By the end of class you're on the floor pretending to stretch but in reality you want an excuse to lay down and never get up again. As the rest of the students file out one by one, you're left staring at the flood lights above with a thigh crossed over your knee. Your chest is on fire and it feels like your ribs are going to crack open, chest-burster style. You think you're alone until Jungkook's voice calls out to you.

"You should sit up." His face blocks out the light as he peers down at you, strands of his hair. He offers a hand but you wave him off.

"Just let me die here,” you wheeze. “How can my chest be so sore? My arms should be sore, right?"

"You're not breathing when you hit."

You furrow your brow and turn your head as he walks away. “What?”

"Every time you hit you have to exhale. Like this." He takes a moment to demonstrate.

You hadn't heard them with the loud music and other sounds of practice filling the room, but now they're clear as day. Each time his fists make contact with the bag, he releases a tiny exhale that almost sounds like a breathy, restrained groan. Each one feels like an impact to your own gut.

"It's why some people yell when they hit. You were holding in every breath, every sound. I could tell. You gotta let it out."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you mumble, slowly sitting up and scooting back against the wall.

"Dara told you to breathe but you weren't getting it. I made the same mistake when I started. After that first session, I never made it again. You won’t either, right?”

You raise your eyebrows and nod in thoughtful agreement. Breathing is way too difficult to be an automatic thing right now so you force the air through your lungs and watch him take a few more powerful swings at the bag.

“You know, the reason I've stuck with this class for so long is because it makes me feel free. Weightless. There’s so much that used to make me feel weak and now it’s like…” He hums thoughtfully and presses an open palm to the bag. “I don’t carry it with me every day. It all spills out so I don’t have to.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” you say, legs outstretched.

“I’m not some character with a tragic backstory,” he says with a laugh, softly tapping against the bag a couple times. “Waiting to be revealed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. I just mean there’s no real secret,” he interrupts your fumbling words. “I used to be really timid and shy.”

You scoff and bring yourself to your feet. “Yeah right.”

“For real.” He pauses to let you take a few swings at the bag and notes your form. “Try to relax your stance, though.” He performs the motion slowly to demonstrate. “Confidence only came when I started considering who I am, who I want to be, and merging them together.”

“And you figured all that out?” you question, trying to mimic his posture. “Sounds fake.”

He shakes his head, rounding the bag to stand beside you. “Not at all. It’s something I’m still working on. Like you and that left hook combo.”

Self-consciousness sinks in with him so close, and you show off what little you’ve gleaned from watching him. You push past the clunky unnatural feeling in your limbs to force them into a fluid motion.

He cocks his head to the side. “Slow it down a bit and show me again?”

Swallowing down your pride, you go through the process again, this time painfully slow. “Ah, right there. Try to drop your shoulders a little, and keep this up.” He lifts the tip of your elbow with the pad of his finger.

“Like this?” you demonstrate the motion with uncertainty.

He hums a pleased sound. “Better.”

You fall into a pattern of sharing jabs at the bag.

“So, how did you go from shy guy to…”

“To...?” he wonders, landing a soft combo against the firm surface while quirking a brow at you.

“To someone who makes bets,” you pause to release a couple blows of your own, “about getting into girls’ pants.”

A loud sound forces its way through the ring his lips make. “Long story short? I grew up and girls paid more attention to me. I got used to it.”

There has to be more to it so you take your turn and ask the burning question on your mind. “Can I hear the short story long?"

His elbow drops a bit as he lightly taps the bag, clearly caught off guard. You reach out for his arm just as he’s retracting it.

“Slow down and show me again?” you interject before he can find the words to begin.

When he extends his arm again you press your finger against his elbow similar to his earlier motion. As soon as his eyes are on yours, his face relaxes into a warm smile.

“Helping me keep it up?”

Licking your lips in response is unintentional, but it undoubtedly makes no difference in his perception. “Just returning the favor.”

He sweeps the back of his wrist over his forehead and sighs, mumbling something indiscernible under his breath.

“What?” you ask, truly wondering.

He looks from the bag to you and shakes his head. It’s a dangerous line to walk yet you’re both sprinting toward some imaginary goal anyway. He doesn’t even know what that goal might be, but it seems you’re both eager to reach it first.

Maybe you want to push him over the edge, maybe he’s hoping the same from you. It doesn’t matter. He knows this is the part where he’s supposed to answer and reveal whatever kind of tragedy you think might be lurking amongst his past. The problem is it doesn’t exist.

Still. He flirts, and you flirt back. Normally he’d know how to take it from here, but there are rules in this case. He’d break every one of them if it meant relief from this tension. If he could indulge in you tonight and say fuck tomorrow without consequence, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Future Jungkook’s problems tend to have a lasting effect on present Jungkook so he reasons there’s benefits to reap from abstaining from impulsivity. Keep walking those fine lines.

“I was just curious. You don’t need to tell me,” you offer, trying out another hook against the bag. Still feels weird. Weirder than this dance with Jungkook.

“Shoulders and hips should be down,” he mumbles again, instinctively reaching out to fix your form. “Like this.”

His palms perch on your shoulders and gently press down. When your back stiffens, so does he, an apology already at his lips for invading your space. Before he can step back you stop him.

“No, it’s fine. Show me.” You lift his hand in yours and aim towards the bag. “Guide me?”

Lines. What are lines? How does he feed them? How does he not cross them? You don’t seem to have a problem. So why does he? Perhaps he could defuse the bomb of his frustration with a heartfelt story, or distract with some kind of history you might find relatable. Instead he finds himself considering how best to blow it all to hell.

Sweat-drenched clothes be damned. He slides his hand over your shoulder and taps the back of your calf with his big toe. “Move this forward a little.”

Your foot inches towards the bag while his arm leads yours in a slow swing.

“Like...”

Bap.

“...this.”

His fist makes contact with the bag with yours secured beneath. His other hand slips over the sheen of your knuckles, directing another slow hit to the bag. The effortless glide of his wet skin against yours should feel disgusting. The heat should feel unbearable. You’re so tired, so overheated, so out of breath, and sore, and sickeningly slick in more ways than one. Your body should be telling you to rest, yet it’s taking everything you have to not give in to the instinct to rub yourself against him like some kind of horny slug.

The weight of his hot, sticky chest clings to your back. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “See the angle of your wrist? You turn it like this. Strong elbows, strong wrists, relaxed shoulders.”

It’s hard to tell if your legs wobble because of the unfamiliar stance, a lingering weakness from the intense workout, or just your lingering weakness for him. You don’t deny yourself the pleasure countering the weight of his chest with your back. He doesn’t pull away. You don’t pull away. It feels so… intimate.

“Is that all there is to it?” you wonder with a not so subtle wiggle of your ass.

Wetting his lips, he drops his chin down and lowers the tone of his voice.

“There’s also … relaxed hips,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your waist.

The statement is pocked with grit, reminiscent of a sleepy morning in bed. Avoiding the sun. Rolling over. Curling up beneath the warmth of sheets. The weekend comes rushing back in an instant. His arms around you, leg propped up over yours, clinging to your form like he'd never let you go. His fingers in your mouth, bobbing ever so slowly while you suck on them. The shaky breath at your ear, wishing he'd fuck you like that. Nice and slow.

He thumbs your shirt and drums his fingertips over your hips. He slots a thigh between your legs and all but dares you to rest your cunt there. “Strong legs.”

“How strong?” you ask, a slight waver in your tone.

Everything is jelly. You might as well give in to your inner slug. The bulging muscles above his knee welcome the heat of your cunt. The entire room feels like a thousand degrees. Can he tell the difference between your sweat and arousal? While you can’t be sure of the ratio at this point, the urge to feel him beats any embarrassment into submission. It feels good. It feels so good.

“Very.” His fingers dig into your sides and press your hips down to better connect with his thigh.

He can feel you. Hot. Sweaty. Breathless. There’s no time to think or dwell on the best way forward. His dick is hard and you’re here. You’re so fucking hot like this. He rocks his hips in time with yours and watches with satisfaction as your lips part like you’re about to make noise. All he wants to do is spin you around so he can fuck you against the bag. That’s crossing the line though, isn’t it? Not the time. Not the place. If it was…

He drags his nose along your neck with a deep inhale. “I can show you.”

You whimper his name so quietly, so needy, and fuck he’s hard. It would be so easy to take you to his car and give you what you both want. Suddenly he knows he’s in trouble. Where’s the line? Where’s the fucking line? He doesn’t want to stop, but that probably means he should.

“We should go.” He half-groans, half-sighs as he steps back.

The embarrassment hit is immediate. As he shifts, you compose yourself into a publicly appropriate stance. Where does your self-control go when it comes to him? It’s like he’s magnetic. You know better, but you’re drawn to him. You want him. Surely he can’t hurt you twice, especially now, right?

“It seems like you got it now,” he says quietly.

You clear your throat as though it might cleanse the heat from your face. You regain your footing well enough to spin around and assess the situation. Jungkook is already facing away but you can tell he’s adjusting the waistband to his shorts. Proof. Your stomach soars like you’re on a rollercoaster. There’s a certain power you only feel when you know for a fact you’ve caused a boner.

“Don’t want to get locked in after dark,” he jokes, gathering his things.

Don’t you? It’s a thought you share, but refuse to say aloud.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “That was…”

“Fun,” you finish at the same time he says “dumb.”

His eyes widen and he looks down at the floor, a coy smile curling the edges of his mouth.

“Dumb,” you attempt to cover. “I said dumb. No, I—Same. Bad. Hormone. Dumb things. We— Y’know… Let’s just… forget about it. Cool?”

“Cool,” he says, desperately trying to not burst into laughter. You’re so endearingly awkward and cute and wonderful. Listening to you speak after you get embarrassed is becoming his new favorite hobby. It’s adorable.

You kneel beside your bag, awkwardly putting on your shoes at a weird angle. No way you’re sitting with your legs spread open right now. “I’ll keep practicing.”

“Practice is good. Just…” he pauses thoughtfully, “remember to breathe. This is one of the few places where you can make as much noise as you want. Take up space. Let out whatever is bothering you and leave it at the bag. Stop worrying someone is judging you. Just let it out. We all need this for different reasons. We're all focused on relieving our own stress. And this works. You’re welcome here. This is your space. Claim it."

Blinking a few times, you’re nearly awestruck into silence. A nervous weak laugh escapes you. “That sounded almost wise. Where did Jungkook go?”

He wipes down his slick face with the inside of his shirt with a laugh. It doesn't really help this time since it too is covered in sweat. If you didn’t know better you might guess he’d just climbed out of a pool. Yet the proof is in the tiny puddle of sweat surrounding the bag the pair of you shared moments ago. Your eyes instinctively dart to his waistband. Are you disappointed or relieved to find nothing but a thin line of hair trailing down from his navel?

"Ugh, I need a shower," he mumbles while stretching his feet out in front of him. He looks over at you suddenly and wiggles his eyebrows. "Wanna join me?"

You scoff. "And there he is."

The longer you sit, the more the adrenaline slows for your body to remind you of its exhaustion. The floor is starting to look like a good place to nap and your arm feels like it might not keep you upright much longer if you stay.

He jumps to his feet with a light chuckle and offers you a hand. "Kidding. You know I’m kidding. Come on. You're gonna need some sleep if you're gonna make our 5am sesh tomorrow."

You roll your eyes and grasp his hand with both of yours. "Ew. Don't call it a sesh."

He brings you up faster than anticipated. Your form collides with his, legs definitely more jell-o than flesh and bone right now, knees threatening to immediately buckle when he starts to let go. His laugh gets caught in his throat. Sore muscles flex tighter, warming his chest with a new shot of adrenaline.

One hand is still firmly clasped around yours, trapped between your bodies. His other hand gropes your sweat soaked shirt, long fingers digging into the small of your back. Your legs threaten to stay formless blobs the longer you remain so close. Even covered in sweat he looks so good. He smells so good. Why does his gross sweat smell so good? Pheromones be damned. That’s just not fair.

"… You good?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

His hand remains at your back and you let it. Swallowing down a wave of butterflies that threaten to spring from your throat, you hum a weak sound of affirmation. His thumb kneads against the fabric of your shirt, massaging gentle circles into the flesh beneath. The butterflies gladly change course and head straight down to your cunt.

Goosebumps erupt across your body. Can he tell? An uneven breath struggles past your lips. The circles stop abruptly and the weight of his meaty palm meets your back. He doesn’t pull you closer, but god you wish he would at least once more tonight.

"This is a good shirt," he mumbles, his breath close enough to mingle with yours. "It's soft."

"Thanks. It was six dollars."

Why is that the only thing you can say? Lightheaded and anxious once again, you reach for his shoulder but your hand falls short, resting flat against his chest. His shirt is soaked through with sweat and you can feel the taut muscles beneath. It’s disgusting. It’s wonderful.

He laughs through his nose. ”Feeling mine now?”

Kiss him. Do it. Get it over with. Maybe this feeling will stop if you just—

"Gross. You should shower," you blurt, using his pecs to propel yourself backward with a push. Gelatin legs or no, you need to extricate yourself from this now. You’ve already done enough tonight.

"Wow," he scoffs, then laughs. “That’s true.”

“I mean I should shower too. Oof—” Chains rattle as you knock into one of the bags. You briefly regard it like you’re about to apologize, but quickly focus back on him. "We should shower.” You reach out to steady the bag so the chains aren’t so loud. “I mean. Not-Not together. Obviously. Like, separately. We both. I..."

“Yeah?”

He watches with raised eyebrows, bottom lip trapped beneath his teeth as he tries to hold back his smug grin. “Oh, go ahead. Finish your thought,” he encourages, allowing his grin to spread.

"I’m good. Good-Oh!” You back into another bag and reach to stop it from shaking as you scurry past it. “Night.”

"See you tomorrow!" he brightly calls after you.

How the fuck are you so cute?

Working out is a high in itself, but the one he feels right now is different. He almost feels invincible. Almost feels like it’s the right thing to do to chase after you. Almost like nothing can go wrong if he just gives in. Catching a glimpse of a dopey smile in the mirror gives him pause. It looks like trouble wearing his face.

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and pulls out his phone, searching for that dating app he downloaded. His chest may be light and buoyant, keeping him afloat in a sea of endorphins, but his legs are heavy with the weight of reality’s anchors. Distractions seem like a better option than mistakes.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #swipe right

324 notes · View notes

shadows-coffeebeans · 3 months

Note

Okay, so, ask game: 4, 6, 15, 21, 22, 28, 30, 45, 55, 56, 61, 62, 69, 88.

yippee!! (beware of the many not knowing how to answer lol)

4. how did your elementary school teachers describe you?

They usually described me as quiet but usually a good student

6. pastel, boho, tomboy, preppy, goth, grunge, formal or sportswear?

I mean, if I had to choose one, probably grunge

15. favorite book you read as a school assignment?

The Giver. I don't know why but I just enjoyed this book so much and was so happy when I was reorganizing my bookshelf and found out i had it in the stack of books handed down from my mom's boss' kids to me.

21. obsession from childhood?

considering I am still a minor, I'm just gonna choose from elementary school

i think the biggest is definitely cats

i somehow keep finding more cat related things in the depths of my room

22. role model?

i.. dont know?

this question has always been so hard to answer to the point i just avoid answering it when i can (now imagine how much this question has been asked to me in school >:[)

28. five songs to describe you?

Hmm..

Does it make sense to say I don't feel i know myself well enough to be able to choose??

30. places that you find sacred?

Not really?

45. which genre: sci-fi, fantasy or superhero?

Fantasy.

I've never really been into superhero stuff (though of course there are a few exceptions) and i find sci-fi really confusing a lot of the time (IM DUMB, ALRIGHT??)

55. favorite fairy tale?

I think my favorite might be the little mermaid for many reasons..

56. favorite tradition?

posadas

i really like holding candles and just watch them melt. the atole we recieve at the end is good too

61. favorite line you heard from a book/movie/tv show/etc.?

"What goes up must come down, Yet my feet don't touch the ground" from Sonic Heroes. Not quite sure why but I just really like this line

another one is "what? no, I'm the devil" from the shadow the hedgehog snapcube dub. I love it so much

62. seven characters you relate to?

Barry the Quokka (sth), Luca Paguro (Luca 2021), Luigi (Super Mario), Franky Fetti and Felix (tffs), Varian (tangled) and Libby Stein-Torres (tgamm)

69. a fun fact that you don’t know how you learned?

I dont have a fun fact but i somehow learned how to shuffle. I know for a fact I didn't know how cause i struggled whenever i tried but then suddenly i knew how??

88. your greatest wish?

i want to leave this fucking household please

she keeps threatening to put me up for adoption saying that no one is going to be as "patient" as her but i know for a fact id do much better if she actually did

that, or therapy

yeah, thearpy's good too

#hashtag ask shadow™#insert shadow noises™#thatwordybirb #finally that damn fourth chaos emerald™#sorry for the mini rant toward the end D:#mother's been pretty annoying recently #this took so long to answer lol 😭#friend ask :]

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prettyboykatsuki · 2 years

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beloved, could you please expand on poly krbk

ohhh man

i have A Lot of thoughts on krbk as a dynamic bc i take issue with how it is portrayed but i think the best way to describe your relationship to them is sooo very hot and cold. like dfjsksd it is so stressful in the sense that you NEVER know what your relationship standing is with them completely. every time you see them its something new.

tenatively you are definitely friends. but like. logistically? who fucking knows! not you and definitely not them. i think a lot of this has to do with how long krbk had been dating. until like other dynamics who i feel really don't date until well into adulthood, krbk has been dating since highschool. and they've known about each others feelings and tenatively explored them together since like... first year at least to me.

so in that way, krbk is the most inseparable of the poly dynamics. they grow as individuals sure - but they're so intertwined with each other it's hard to expect one without expecting the other. they've had the same friend group, same goals, same life for so long that it really is the hardest dynamic to snug yourself inbetween. they befriend you in complete earnest, though. like they both just happen to really vibe with you.

like i said, tentatively you are FRIENDS. they enjoy your company, and you hang out with the two of them. they're "the couple your friends with." and for a long time - there's no need to change that relationship. what makes it so difficult is that they both notice changes in each other, maybe far before you do and that inevitable disruption really fucks w their relationship.

krbk doesn't really know life without each other. for them, it was life before each other and life after with no real breaks in the middle. so something like a third person completely breaks the both of them for different reasons. it's all very messy and everything SEEMS fine and it is fine. in a way.

what happens is probably something along the lines of - you get into an accident or situation of some sort -> they disagree on how to handle it -> huge fight ensues. and sure it's about the situation but it isn't. not really, anyway. it's a very messy situation, lots of breaking down and anger but they realize they both want the same thing which is you and they have 0 clue on how to handle that. luckily for you, they have this big fight RIGHT in front of. so yk. you are right there to help mediate.

it's like a talk where you're going all night long and everyone is really getting to have a heart to heart even bkgs fussy ass. after you resolve, bkg is the one who rlly puts himself out there in terms of being your bf officially bc he really wants to show out and give room for the new dynamic. it's very different but not in a bad way, but you can tell they're not being as careful around you. kirishima is adorably nervous the whole entire time </3

he will at least ask for stuff like hugs and kisses but w bkg u just gotta spring it on him cause he's TOOO embarassed otherwise. they really struggle with how they're supposed to proceed now though like. if you have to inevitably return home and they're back to being w each other they suddenly realize how weird it is WITHOUT you around and are like "damn we're idiots" and they're antsy to see you again. dumb cute. kirishima is very clingy naturally and enjoys showing off how absolutely huge he is to you every single day. bkg is the same but with the size of his triceps lol they compete a lot for attention.

AND THEY'RE ATTENTION HOGS LMAOOO please. like they always leave first bc they are besties but you have like . other friends and that makes them so annoyed ESPECIALLY bkg like what do u mean u care about other ppl. they should die. so cute lol.

the sex is overwhelming to put it lightly. kirishima is unintentionally rough but bkgs commitment to pleasure kinda softens the blow a bit. a very switchy dynamic but bkg is a bit of a bossy bottom. kiri is LETTING him do that but sometimes when he's pissed at bkg he'll fuck the attitude out of him and let you do what you want. kirishima is much more lenient w u than he is w bkg and the inverse is true for bkg LMFAOO it's craziness. you are always worn out.

#return to sender #poly!krbk #a.krbk #poly dynamics my beloved

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linearao3 · 1 year

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Not a direct ask but @rainstormdragon put in a comment for a BTS of Serves You Right. This is a little tricky because it’s hard to pick a favorite scene and also because most of the scenes are so damn long. But here is maybe some fun stuff about the opera scene? Mostly dumb trivia but maybe some interesting stuff at the end.

I have a really bad habit, when I need Ravkan extras, of just butchering the names of Chekhov characters, and I’m afraid that’s fully on display here with composer Trovimov and tenor Medvedyenko.

I’ve been to the opera twice, once in LA and once in NYC, and the opera that I saw in LA did have its costumes held up in customs for like a month. So. True opera adventures!

My idea is that Ravkan theater is basically divided into opera (in what I guess is the conventional sense of the word) and small traveling theater troupes, many of whom are probably Suli, doing stylized folk theater which probably combines improv humor and dance with traditional texts. Whereas in Kerch, we hear of several kinds of theater — the Kommedia, which seems to be related to Comedia Dell’arte, with stock characters; penny-plays, which seem to be a bit Grand-Guignol, and then the “respectable” Opera in the Lid, which seems to also do straight plays since Jesper describes people who work there as actors rather than singers. I imagined that in hyper-commercial, industrialized Kerch, opera is basically Gilbert and Sullivan (fun, clever lyrics that are easy to understand) and that the higher class straight plays are like American popular theater of the 19th century — tearjerkers, melodramas, and a focus on special effects or gimmicks (like, for example, a real! Live! Fjerdan! Wolf!).

I am constantly troubled by how little history the Grishaverse seems to have, and I noticed that Alys, not a person who seems very interested in foreign affairs, still knows what a prince is, and doesn’t use a loan-word like tsarovitch. So I made up “the Bankers’ Wars,” which deposed the Kerch monarchy a few centuries back. I made up a lot of other history too, but it doesn’t show up here.

The plot of the opera they watch is basically Turandot with the genders reversed.

The opera house is full of mirrors, both because it’s a popular trick of theater-builders for making it seem like everyone is at your show, and because this fic is very much about seeing, being seen, and how you see yourself. Introducing mirrors to a stage or film set is notoriously tricky because it’s very hard to keep track of what they’re going to reflect to whom. Even Kaz, who is trying to mastermind all this seeing, briefly forgets that Inej can see him, and lets his feelings show. And his misery at watching her easy affection with her “husband” is a reflection of the nobleman/merchant character watching the princess he loves marry another man. The more common spy trope is “fake married” rather than “fake servant” but Kaz has chosen to fake connections between Inej and two other men besides himself while he follows her around as her loyal servant, so really he’s put himself in that role voluntarily. But I think Kaz definitely went to that play every night to pick pockets and definitely wanted to cry every night for the merchant who loves his girl so much. (And I’d say the line “he wants her to have what she wants,” is pretty telling.)

#asks #serves you right

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demadogs · 2 years

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am i the only one that doesn’t have hope anymore? like at all? i don’t trust the duffers anymore and i feel like us(the bylers) created all this byler thing in our heads and we just looked too much into the details in the show :(

i dont blame you for not having hope bc volume 2 for byler definitely was a disappointment and i understand not wanting to look between the lines of the monologue and get hopes up only to be disappointed again but DO NOT think we just made all this up!! if byler doesnt happen i genuinely think that it was their plan originally and then they trashed it.

its not like theres two or three potential hints towards it. there are dozens and dozens of clues and subtext from the dialogue and actions of the characters but also the cinematography, the lighting, the score and tracks they use, the parallels to other couples on the show, the placement of their characters, and probably so much more we havent even noticed yet. we did not make anything up.

after volume 2 i wasnt that sad or mad because more than anything i was just VERY confused. because none of mike wheelers actions make sense unless hes deeply struggling with internalized homophobia. there will be genuine plotholes in the whole show if they stick with mlvn til the end.

lets look at mikes actions alone. can you answer ANY of these questions with an answer thats NOT related to his sexuality?

why did mike not let el touch her when they were kissing at the beginning of s3?

why did he say “its not my fault you dont like girls” if thats not projecting?

why did he say he loves her out loud to everyone else but then pretend he didnt know what she was talking about when she brought it up again?

why did he look so confused when el kissed him and said she loves him and why did he keep his eyes open and didnt kiss her back at all?

why didnt mike have any indication of even having a gf in his room besides the letter we saw him read, while el had a whole shrine and a “book of letters” from him? why did, instead, mike have wills drawings up all over the basement and has a while binder for them that we saw in s1. book of drawings.

WHY on earth wouldnt mike hug his best friend who he hasnt seen in months at the airport? its not because he knows wills feelings, the duffers and finn and the script itself have confirmed hes oblivious to his sexuality and feelings for him.

why did mike look so nervous to ask will about the painting? if it was just because their friendship was kinda dying i think he would have said it as if he was bored or didnt care but instead he looked like he cared a little too much and was trying to hide it. this is right after reading el’s letter that said that will might be painting for a girl.

why did mike barely even look at el as they were walking out of the airport and why did he wear something very different for mike as if he’s portraying someone he’s not?

why would mike emphasize so much “WE’RE FRIENDS!!! we’re friends!” will didnt mean it in a romantic context but mike took it that way.

why was mike kinda an asshole to el and didnt comfort her after the bullies at the rink? “she didnt look fine?” what the hell.

WHY COULDNT MIKE SAY OR WRITE THAT HE LOVES EL!!!!!!!!!!!!! WHAT IS THE POINT OF THAT SCENE IF HE ACTUALLY GENUINELY DOES LOVE HER??? why didnt he say it right then if he did?

why was that “i feel like i lost you” scene so god damn flirty? he’s never looked at el the way he looked at him here.

why did he nod when will told him that its scary to open up to people especially if they dont like the truth? why did finn say that this “psyches him out”?

why did mike say “its not fate, its not destiny, its just simple dumb luck” about first meeting el and then claim to her that the moment he say her in the woods was love at first sight? we know that this is a blatant lie and will should know this too.

why did mike look at will like THAT during the painting scene!!!??? (i will admit tho this could be finn wolfhard just wanting his character to be gay so he plays him gay but they could have used shots of him not looking at his lips but they kept them in.)

WHY DID WILL HAVE TO PUSH MIKE TO CONTINUE TALKING TO EL!!!!!???? HE WASNT GONNA SAY HE LOVES HER BUT WILL PUSHED HIM INTO IT!!!!!!!!

and thats just his actions alone!!! now lets look into the more technical film choices theyve made when it comes to mike wheeler. again, can you answer any of these questions with an answer thats not related to him having internalized homophobia?

why did they make it clear that max and lucas at day of the dead were having a date (“im spending romantic time with my girlfriend”) and then choose to place mike and will together but not with them, as if mike and will were on a date too.

why did they film mike and el’s break up in s3 so playfully and humorous with bright lighting, lots of colors, an audience, max and el laughing, and fun music after vs mike and will’s fight which was very dark and blue, pouring rain, harsh shadows, and played an emotional original score track?

WHY the eye witness parallel?

why would they frame mike in a closet in s3 during that awkward unreciprocated kiss? this is the biggest thing by far for me that makes me think he’s gay for sure.

why did they frame mike reading el’s letter so that theres a literal fucking one way sign pointing to an open closet?

why did bouncy upbeat music play when he and el reunited at the airport? they could have made it emotional but they made it light and playful as if its more friendly than romantic.

WHY DID THEY PLAY A TRACK CALLED “IN THE CLOSET” WHEN MIKE STARTS SPEAKING!!!!!!!!!!!! NOT WILL!!! this is also right after he said “we’re firends we’re friends!!” no its not just because el is in a literal closet here, the track starts during mike and wills fight.

why did they play a track that is EXTREMELY similar to the track eulogy during mike and el’s fight, a track thats only played when someone dies.

(emotional, tender music). why. its only used in romantic contexts. we see it used with byler, lumax, jopper, and once with mlvn when theyre at the pizza place.

why did they frame will out of focus in the middle of mike and el when they reunited!!? at first i thought this was just to emphasize will’s pov but now im thinking it might be more symbolic of will getting in between mike and eleven. he himself isnt doing that at all though, quite the opposite actually- he keeps giving mike relationship advice and hes the reason mike told el he loves her, so it must be in reference to how will is disrupting mike and els relationship because of mikes feelings for him.

why did they keep will in the frame when mike said he loved her? the only other time we had a similar one on one emotional monologue delivery to someone was in s2 when joyce, jonathan, and mike were trying to reach will and mike told him asking him to be friends was the best thing hes ever done. that was shot as if there were no one else in the room it was very centered around just will and mike, whereas this monologue shows will in the same frame as mike as well as will and jonathans reactions to what hes saying.

and lastly, WHY did they frame every couple so dramatically paired off together in the final shot while el was all alone. joyce and hopper, mike and will, and jonanathan and nancy. theyve done this in the past but this was the first time they made it excruciatingly obvious.

damn i wasnt gonna list out every thing i know when i first started answering this but thats what i ended up doing. anyways, again, i understand giving up considering how disappointing volume 2 was, but absolutely no way was it all in our heads. look at all that.

i still have hope just for the sheer fact that not only mike wheeler as a character, but all their film choices surrounding mike wheeler make no fucking sense unless hes gay and DEEP in the closet.

#jeuss thats a lot #im gonna think of another huge one i forgot right after i post this i know it #i could have included s2 but i wanted to compare it with el a lot and theyre barely together that season #thats not even all of it i only included the ones i know had to be intentional #there are so many others that im still kinda on the fence about #i wanna be convinced about mikes arrow on his heart always pointing to will but im not 100% sold yet #byler #stranger things #eden answers

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