#this was approximately 2 and a half weeks ago

[yoon-kooks]

paired & puppy-eyed | jjk

⛓️pairing: hotnerd!jungkook x popular!reader

⛓️genre: smut, fluff, college!au

⛓️summary: When Jeon Jungkook agrees to be your partner for a class project, he doesn’t realize what that might escalate to until you show up at his door in a teeny-tiny crop top and cling to his tattooed arm like his naughty little kitten.

⛓️word count: 4.6k

⛓️warnings: dom!jk, sub!reader, daddy/kitten undertones, dirty talk, reader calls herself a sl*t one time, dick tattoo, many rounds of sex off screen😔

⛓️p&p masterlist⛓️

a/n: if you're looking for the ✨filthy✨ smut version, read paired & pierced from the reader's pov! this one takes place in the same 2 days but from jungkook's pov without explicit smut😔 if you read both, lmk which version you preferred! i personally like this one more bc we get more catdad!jjk heh

Jungkook doesn’t always have a goal for the day, but today is different. He’s running on approximately zero hours of sleep and would love to get a nap in before class starts. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.

Unfortunately for him, that won’t be happening today because there are at least ten girls huddled next to his desk when he walks into the classroom. An onlooker might assume that these girls are gathered around for a chance to win his heart over, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. In reality, there’s a queen bee sitting a foot away from him, and she’s the one everyone’s always drawn to. 

That queen bee is none other than you.

As Jungkook quietly takes his seat, he overhears something about that Loudmouth Jim who sits on the other side of the classroom. Apparently, you were hanging out with that guy at some party. A girl like you can do so much better than Loudmouth Jim who always needs to make everything about him. He couldn’t accept it when his ex broke up with him, so he turned it around on her to make it seem like he was the one breaking things off with her. Now he’s made it his mission to make her jealous by flirting with popular girls like you. Jungkook swears he only knows this because his tattoo artist loves to spill the tea he hears from his other clients.

“Is he as big as they say?” All the girls look so wide-eyed and eager to hear what you have to say about Loudmouth Jim’s cock. They talk about shit like this all the time, and as much as it makes Jungkook want to bang his head against a brick wall, he’s also lowkey disappointed that they’ve never once wondered about the size of his cock. He wouldn’t mind if that seed were planted in that pretty little head of yours.

As it turns out, you haven’t seen Loudmouth Jim’s cock. Thank god. And from what it sounds like, you didn’t want to see it anyway. Good girl. In fact, when Jungkook takes a peek next door, you don’t even look super engaged in the girl talk. You nod along and smile a bit, but you’re a lot quieter than one would expect for someone so popular. It’s kind of cute.

Eventually, class begins and Jungkook lets out a sigh of relief. Now the girls have to cut the chitchat and leave. At long last, he can finally catch up on some sleep. This wouldn’t be an issue if not for the tiny demon kitten that wandered to his doorstep a week ago. Not only does she keep him awake at night by knocking shit down and chewing on his phone charger, but she also haunts him in his sleep.

He dreams of the little fucker swatting her paws against his back and wiggling her tiny body into his hood. When that isn’t enough to get his attention, she starts gnawing on his index finger.

“Hey Jungkook.”

The boy opens an eye and the first thing he sees is you bent down in front of him as if you were about to do something indecent under his desk. He immediately shakes that thought out of his head, though he still has no fucking clue why you’re down there looking up at him with such needy puppy dog eyes.

“Wanna be partners?” you ask him.

Still half-asleep, he looks around the room and sees everyone pairing up and talking about a project of some sort. Fucking hell. He absolutely despises any and all projects that aren’t individual. Even the ones where a super pretty girl is asking to pair up with him. But before he can decline, he notices you checking over your shoulder and sees Loudmouth Jim on his way over. Ah, it all makes sense now. You’re just using him to avoid being partners with that asshole. It’s a matter of picking the lesser of two evils. Understandable.

“Sure, I guess.” As much as Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, he wouldn’t have had it in him to say no to you anyway. Not with those puppy eyes.

“Good, good.” The smile on your face is too much. Why are you smiling that big for something as small as agreeing to be your partner? It’s really not that deep. But it is really cute. Fuck. See, this is what happens when he doesn’t get enough sleep—his mind develops some sort of irrational softness that won’t go away until he either lets his body rest or rubs one out. He’ll do whatever it takes to get that nasty soft feeling out of his system.

Seeing how the classroom isn’t the best place to have his hand in his pants, he opts to fall back asleep before class ends. Hopefully he won’t be disturbed by any more kitten nightmares.

Ten seconds later, Loudmouth Jim enters the scene, and Jungkook can kiss his nap goodbye. Still slumped over, the sleep-deprived boy listens in on the awkward exchange between you and Loudmouth. Bro apparently can’t take a hint that you want nothing to do with him. Jungkook would step in and tell Jim to fuck off, but he wants to see you do it yourself. That would be kind of hot.

“I’m actually partnered up with Jungkook, sorry,” you say in an apologetic tone. You probably get taken advantage of all the time because of that compassion. There’s no need for you to be so nice to everyone you interact with, and especially not to shallow people like Jim. That must be exhausting.

“That kid asked you to be his partner?” Loudmouth spits. Kid? Jungkook does his best not to snort while pretending to be dead. When he takes a peek, he sees you nod. “And you said yes?” 

You nod again. This time, however, you don’t give him the gentleness you’re known for. With a furrowed brow, you almost look bothered—something you probably feel all the time but never show. It’s so rare to see your emotions out in the open like that. It’d be quite intriguing to see how you look when you’re genuinely happy, sad, mad, horny—

Nope. Jeon Jungkook is not going to let his sleepy mind wander there on a Friday morning. It can at least wait until he gets home.

After Loudmouth Jim is gone, Jungkook sits up and stares at you. Your face has already softened back up. Fuck it. He’s never seen anyone so cute in his entire life, through sleep-deprived glasses or not.

“Why didn’t you just partner up with that other guy? It sounded like he wanted to work with you.” Kind of a dick move of him to ruffle your feathers when he already knows about your distaste for Jim, but Jungkook is genuinely curious to hear what you have to say. And he’s not one to be curious about other people’s affairs.

“That’s not what he wanted,” you say. They don’t call him Bad Intentions Jim for nothing.

“What about everyone else? Aren’t you friends with everyone here?” Perhaps “friends” isn’t the best word to describe the rest of your classmates, but it’s clear that they enjoy being in your presence.

Apparently, you feel a bit more detached than that. According to you, no one’s going out of their way to save you from a hypothetical burning house. Jungkook probably would. But there’s no way in hell he’s admitting something like that. He’d sound like a simp!

“Who would you save?” he asks. Surely you have someone you’d put before anyone else. Anyone would be lucky to be your number one.

“No one.” 

Jungkook knows he shouldn’t feel a certain way about your answer, but he can’t control how his lips curl into the slightest smile. Your response is proof that the two of you aren’t as different as it seems. He might even like you for it.

Heck, he might even offer to do the whole damn project by himself and still give you credit for it! That’s the plan he has cooked up for his antisocial self—until you keep insisting on working together. Something about meeting up on the weekend. Maybe he should stop playing hard to get and just say okay.

“I’m busy.” He immediately hates himself for saying it. That’s his default response for any sort of social gathering, and his dumbass went on autopilot for no reason.

“Busy with what?” The way you flutter your eyelashes at him is both innocent and seductive. Are you actually flirting with him? Because it’s working.

“My newborn,” he utters out of panic. It didn’t entirely come out of his ass, though. The vet did say his kitten is around eight weeks. That’s basically a newborn, and she’s definitely been keeping him busy.

But then your eyes get all big and sparkly. “You have a child?”

How the fuck is Jungkook supposed to respond to that? You’re so excited over a human baby that doesn’t exist, and now he has to be the bringer of bad news. He normally doesn’t feel bad for others, but this makes him feel like absolute shit.

“If it’s easier for you and the little one, we can work at your place?” you offer. Why the fuck are you so gullible and trusting in him, and why is that a huge turn-on for him?

“I was just fucking with you…” he finally comes clean. You look exactly like the surprised Pikachu meme, and yes, it’s adorable. Fine, you win. He gives you his number and address and invites you over. 

All that for a fucking project.

When Jungkook returns home, a sleepy kitten waddles its way over to the door to greet him. She yawns her fish breath in his face as soon as he picks her up for a kiss. Ungrateful little demon.

She doesn’t stop there, either. With a burst of energy and a bushy tail, she flicks her eyes around, looking for a wire to chew on. The computer cords must be quite appetizing because she keeps trying to eat them.

“Hey, that's dangerous, Lucy.” Jungkook peels the kitten away from the wires and sets her down on his bed, but she just runs right back into the danger zone. “Lucinda, you little shit.”

Twenty minutes later, the boy makes a run to the pet store and returns with a few peace offerings. He’s not much of a cat person, so he has no idea what all the young kittens are into nowadays. Hopefully they like mouse toys and pink bunnies.

Like the new father he is, Jungkook spends the rest of his evening teaching the kitten how to play fetch, rocking her to sleep, and tucking her in with the mouse and bunny. Finally, the demon has been tamed.

By the time he gets into bed, it’s already past midnight. He’s exhausted and should probably get some sleep, and yet his mind is still wandering. He can’t quite shake that image of you getting down on your knees at his desk, just begging for his attention. For a second, it looked as though you, the most popular girl on campus, were lusting after his cynical smartass self. The mere possibility of that lures his hand into his pants to address that ache he’s been enduring all day. But before he can get any relief, he hears a set of paws back on the prowl.

Jungkook hobbles out of bed and turns on the light. To no one’s surprise, the naughty kitten is caught red-handed with a wire in her mouth.

With a sigh, he collects the kitty, sits her down in his lap, turns his computer on, and opens up the code for the partner project. It’s going to be a long night.

The funny thing is, the assignment itself doesn’t require much time or effort. What takes up all his time and effort is this silly kitten. She’s adorable but so damn needy. Kind of like you. If you were here to work on the project with him like you’d fought so hard to do, you’d surely be much too big of a distraction. No work would ever get done when you bat your eyes at him and giggle over the tiniest things.

It takes a good few hours between modifying and adding lines of code and keeping an eye on the troublemaker, but Jungkook eventually gets it done before the sun rises. As an added bonus, the naughty little wire fairy has finally worn herself out. She curls into a ball on top of Jungkook’s chest and falls into a deep slumber. The boy is out a minute later.

It’s around ten in the morning when Jungkook wakes up and checks his phone. You’re supposed to drop by sometime today, aren’t you? He wishes he knew when to expect you, or if you weren’t coming at all. It’s up to you to message him, though, since he gave you his number and not the other way around.

Just then, he hears a knock at the door. His first instinct says it’s you. But then he checks his phone again and sees no new message from your unknown number. Surely you’d shoot him a text before heading his way.

It’s probably just the special package of kitty toys he ordered a few days ago. He’d get up to check, but he’s not trying to disturb the little rascal from her slumber. She’s still resting peacefully on his chest, and he’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.

But what if the package gets stolen? Jungkook spent a lot more money than he’d like to admit on those kitty toys, and he’d be pretty pissed if someone took that away from his child.

Groaning, Jungkook slowly lifts the sleepy kitten off his chest and places her on the warm spot where he’d been lying. She stretches out her tiny limbs but otherwise continues her snooze. Perfect.

The first thing he sees when he opens the door is your bare tummy because you’ve apparently decided to show up at his door unannounced in a micro crop top. It’s so short your pretty tits might pop out if your arms were held above your head. Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t mind seeing a little underboob if that’s the look you’re going for today.

Then he notices you staring at him like he’s a stranger. You haven’t even greeted him yet. He watches as your eyes travel up his bare arm to his face and messy man bun, and then back to his arm. That’s when it hits him. This is the first time you’re seeing any of his tattoos and piercings. 

The quiet studious Jeon Jungkook at school doesn’t look like the type to have a full sleeve or this many piercings. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself and prefers to keep a low profile. Life is just easier that way. That’s why he always takes his piercings out and covers his tattoos with a hoodie when it’s time to go to class. 

Seeing him now in a muscle tank must be quite shocking to you.

“Why do you look like that?” You have the audacity to point the finger at him when you’re looking that good in your little crop top. “I mean, if I’d given you a heads-up, would you have thrown on a hoodie and removed all your piercings before I got here?”

Oh? You sound kind of upset at the fact that he’s been intentionally hiding his body art in class. Like you’ve been missing out.

“Maybe,” he answers as he leads you inside. Your curious eyes are still glued to his tattoos. You ask why he hides it all, and he mentions his distaste for compliments and small talk. 

He does it to avoid the exact things you’re so good at attracting.

“Fine, I won’t talk about how pretty I think your tattoos are.” You bring out a pouty lip to combo with those puppy eyes. He wonders how you make your pupils so big like that. And what the fuck are you so whiny for? You want to admire his body art that badly? Fine.

“I’ll grant you permission to give one single compliment.” Without a single thought, he lifts his tatted arm for you to grab onto. Your hands are so soft and warm as they slide across each tattoo. It’s in times like this that Jungkook wishes his entire body was covered in tattoos for you to trace with that angelic touch.

After what feels like forever, you still haven’t said your one compliment. It seems like you’re just using this as an excuse to latch onto his arm like his little kitten. 

“Well? Are you gonna fangirl over my tattoos or just keep fondling my arm?” He’d give you a nudge but his arm is too busy being fondled.

“I wish I could see all of them.” Your eyes meet his as your tits press into his arm. The compliment is innocent at face value, but the implications behind it sure as hell aren’t. Oh, you definitely want to fuck him.

If you think you can just waltz into his home with that crop top, drool all over his tattoos, and ask for sex so shamelessly, you’re not wrong. His body is aching to squeeze those tits, to feel just how tight you are, and to make you squirm until you squirt.

“Ooh kitty.” Like an easily distracted toddler, you toss his arm aside and move on to the next toy that fascinates you. The kitten drops her mouse in front of you and sniffs your hand when you scoop her up. Jungkook watches from afar as his own kitten steals you away from him. She even presses her pink nose to your cheek. That little fucker.

Jungkook has to bite his tongue at least five times to stop himself from asking if you’re done playing with his cat. He’d come off as jealous and needy for your attention. Instead, he acts like the mature father he is and puts her to bed in that pink new donut cushion he’d bought for her the other day. She kneads her paws on the bunny until she can’t keep her eyes open anymore and settles into the loaf position. He’s convinced she’s only behaving like an angel right now to impress his lady friend. 

“So what’s this project again?” The boy has no intentions of actually working on the project, but he’d prefer it if you weren’t so focused on his cat.

“You’d know if you were listening!” You turn back to the cat again. He could’ve sworn he heard you whispering something into her triangle ears like, “Your daddy is so useless.”

Hearing that name come out of your mouth is confirmation. Confirmation that you’d be so submissive if he were to spread your legs open and make you his little plaything. And he kind of likes the sound of that.

“I’m just fucking with you again. I already finished it, by the way,” he hums. Since you seem to be the stubborn type when it comes to project participation, he sits you down at his computer with the finished code to prove that daddy is not in fact useless.

He expects you to be all wide-eyed and impressed by his work, but you simply sigh as you run the program. Great. It appears he has yet another ungrateful little thing on his hands.

But then you start adding in a bunch of stuff “for the aesthetic” because although he’s “quite possibly the nerdiest boy you’ve ever met,” there’s still room for growth when it comes to “the fun shit.” And by “the fun shit,” you mean coding in a cat doing some elaborate kpop choreo. 

Half an hour later, you run the final product again and submit it in its perfect form. Aren’t you the nerd here? Quite possibly the prettiest nerd he’s ever met.

“Are you sure that Jim guy wasn’t trying to be your partner just to get a good grade? Nerd,” Jungkook says before face-palming internally. Why does he always resort to name-calling as his way of flirting with people? This is why no one likes him and why he’d rather just keep his mouth shut. He’s going to ruin a good thing with you if he keeps that up.

But to his surprise, you throw the name right back at him with a playful smile on your face. “If that were the case, he would’ve asked for a threesome with you too, Nerd.”

“Not particularly interested in a threesome with him.” But a threesome with you? Sounds interesting.

You call Jim an asshole and don’t deny that you have a bunch of shallow relationships with the people in your class. When the boy asks you about it, you admit it’s intentional. It’s this mindset of surrounding yourself with a lot of different people until you run into the few you click with. 

And while Jungkook can’t relate to having that many connections to his peers, he understands the desire for someone who cares for you unconditionally and makes you want to do the same. He’s been waiting for that person to show up for him too. Idly. At least you’re putting yourself out there.

“Found anyone yet?” he asks, lying down on his bed. He stares up at the ceiling and not at the pretty person sitting less than a foot away from him. You’d joined him on the bed at some point to play with the kitten, but the feline was very quick to abandon you. Now it’s just you and him.

“There might be a boy I’m interested in.” Your voice is flirty and soft. The boy knows he might have a big ego at times, but there’s no doubt in his mind that you’re talking about him. You wouldn’t be on his bed eyeing him like that if that weren’t the case.

With that knowledge in mind, Jungkook decides to tease you some more. “I bet it’s Jim, isn’t it? You know, like a passionate love-hate type thing?”

“Fuck no.” Your face hovers over his like the moon during an eclipse, except you’re much more enticing to look at. He catches your eyes on his lips until they find their way up to meet his gaze. “Never mind, it’s no one.”

Liar.

“Really?” His body suddenly moves on its own, overcome with the lust that had been building up since you first showed him those puppy eyes in class. He pulls you beneath him and holds both of your wrists above your head. He was right. That crop top is indeed short enough to show him some underboob with you in that helpless position. And, much like how you said you wanted to see all his tattoos, he wants nothing more in this moment than to see the rest of you until he’s seen it all. 

Purposely keeping the tiniest distance between his lips and yours, he whispers, “I was under the impression you were kind of into me.”

As the afternoon turns to evening, you’re still at Jungkook’s place, still fondling his arm on his bed, and still obsessed with all the art and piercings that grace his body. The two of you had fallen asleep after getting a few rounds of filthy sex out of your systems, much to the boy’s surprise. He’s used to people leaving right after, whether it’s because the relationship was purely sexual or because it just wasn’t worth his time. You’re different, though. There’s something about you that he wants to keep holding onto.

“Did this one hurt?” You poke the metal sticking out of his eyebrow.

“Not as much as you stabbing me with your finger just now,” he frowns, running a hand through his messy hair. The man bun must’ve come out at some point in the midst of all that hair pulling and wrestling in the sheets.

“You must have really low pain tolerance then,” you giggle with your finger ready to poke him someplace else. But before you can do so, he closes his hand around yours and tucks your pointy finger away to put an end to your antics. “You’re no fun,” you pout.

“Really? You seemed like you were enjoying it when I let you s—”

“Where’s this one from?” You somehow dodge the accusation and free your finger from his grasp to poke the shark tattoo that you now know hides beneath his shirt. You’re so sneaky.

“Someone.” Aka the same artist he gets his gossip from.

“What about the… snake one?” Of course that’s the one that pops into your dirty little head.

“Someone else.” Aka the one he might have slept with a few times before she convinced him that the snake would look good on him there. She wasn’t wrong. “You’re nosy.”

“I’m just asking! Maybe I want a tattoo too!” you squeak. Jungkook has no doubt in his mind that you’d look pretty damn hot with any tattoo anywhere on that body. “Tattoos are attractive, no?”

“Be honest, you only fucked me for my tattoos, huh.” The boy knows this to be false because you aren’t the shallow type, but he just wants to hear what other good things you have to say about him. Because maybe he doesn’t hear that a lot from others.

“Obviously. It had nothing to do with how hot you are, or how easy you are to talk to, or how soft you are for your cat, or how perfect of a pair we made for that project,” you lie with the most charming smile ever, snuggling up as close as you possibly can to his body. Twirling his long hair around your finger, you tuck it behind his ear, and whisper, “I’m such a little slut for your tattooed cock.”

The boy gets yet another urge to tear your clothes off again and feel your bare body connect with his so perfectly. He’s just about to shove his hand into your panties (you gave up on pants after the third time) when you let out a tiny snicker.

“I take back what I said about you not being fun,” you say, lips flush against his neck. “You’re fun to tease.”

Him? Fun to tease? Maybe you’re forgetting about all the teasing and torture he put you through earlier. Maybe you’re in need of a little reminder.

“Hey,” he says in his stern parent voice. You look up at him with those big innocent eyes again. Oh great. It’s clear that you know his weakness and aren’t afraid to exploit it. Just like how his naughty little kitten knows she can get away with anything because she’s too cute to get mad at. “Behave or I’ll kick you out.”

“Oh?” His so-called threat catches your attention enough to get your ass in his lap and your hands tangled in his hair. You let him taste your lips, your tongue, your everything—a sweet taste he won’t ever get sick of. “Do whatever you please to me,” you purr as the soft kisses quickly become an unbearable heat of pure desire.

Between you and his kitten, Jungkook already knows he’s gonna have his hands full. The thought of caring for others would normally irk him, but it’s not like he could ever say no to you or the kitten, even if he tried.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts college au #nerd jungkook

[dear-ao3]

if anyone remembers approximately 2 weeks ago when i was actively giving up on a homework assignment well

half of the reason it was so hard was because i somehow managed to do the assignments out of order?

i got my grade back (a whopping 4/9) and the professor called my methods "extremely unorthodox" and i agree with her

#not a tag #from saph #educational fails are wonderful sometimes #and i am celebrating this one #reminder that i am not completing this degree im just finishing the semester cause i already paid for it #but even i wasnt it would do you all some good to laugh at your education fails #dont succumb to academic pressure have some fun #even if fun is crying over a coding assignment and giving up #double context: i graduated undergrad with several honors so im not dumb (tho this class is kind of proving that statement otherwise)

[songmingisthighs]

Feelings, Feelings

group : ateez

pairing : wooyoung × reader (platonic)

genre : oneshot, hurt/comfort

wc : 1.4 k

warning : shitty friends lmao

a/n : requested by anon

buy me coffee ?

You were not in the best mood and it showed.

The people who woukd usually greet and talk to you seem to avoid you because you looked like you didn't want to be bothered. If the look on your face didn't give it away, your hastened pace and rigid body language absolutely did.

See, you weren't having a bad day. You were actually on the verge of an emotional breakdown. It all started about a week ago when your group of friends talked about going for a night out, bar hopping or clubbing or something and they talked over you completely. One person actually had the decency to ask your opinion directly while the others only said things like 'oh she wouldn't like that' 'that's so not (y/n)' 'she'd just be in the corner being a bummer' and more. While you do realize they were just joking around and trying to be funny, it hurt you that they'd just talk FOR you. Sure, you really didn't like their plans but it HAD been a while since all of you met up and hung out.

So imagine your surprise to see your friends posting a picture of their drinks on their social media accounts.

You stood frozen in the middle of the grocery store when you saw one of their Instagram stories and you even had to sit in a corner as you scroll through your group chat that had been practically dead for 2 days, wanting to see if you missed any updates because as far as you know, they were only talking about a plan and not making actual plans. Now you know why those bitches were so fucking silent.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't 703," Wooyoung called, snickering to himself as he sidled up next to you who was waiting for the elevator. Usually, you wouldn't mind the younger guy because you had been used to his voice. How can you not? The first day you saw him was when he moved in for college. You had just finished your first week of internship and he had accidentally bumped into you. Literally, he dropped a thermos on your foot which prompted you to cry in front of a very confused and panicked 17 year old Wooyoung. Though he was unsure, he sat his boxes aside and just sat there while listening to you rant about how he shouldn't grow up, get out of college, and just go back to his parents' house because working and being independent was so overrated. Rather than focusing on how you were spewing your guts to a complete stranger, Wooyoung was more focused on why a 20 year old sounded like she had gone through 4 divorces and a public scandal.

It was odd how you were able to be vulnerable with him and it was even more odd to find him in front of your door that night with two packs of ramyeon and a huge grin on his face. He confessed he had bothered approximately every apartment on floors 1-6 and half of floor 7 looking for you because he wanted to make sure you were okay. You should've been embarrassed that a guy who's practically a child had to come and comfort you but you didn't. He made you feel comfortable.

Unlike now.

"Go away Wooyoung, I'm not in the mood," you sighed, shifting the grocery bags in your hands slightly. Wooyoung didn't listen, however, instead, he leaned his shoulder on the wall and ducked his head to meet your eyes which you avoided, "I thought you would've been busy with your friends tonight or something. I had to rethink of a new plan to make a move on you!" He teased.

The mention of your friends and hanging out, your blood boiled and your grip on the grocery bags tightened. "Wooyoung," you warned, jaw tightening as you felt your eyeballs burn. "I'm just saying, I thought my sexy little noona would've been out and about," he grinned innocently (despite the words he used).

You dropped your grocery bags and turned around, making way to the stairs. "Whoah, wait!" Wooyoung grabbed your hand and turned you around, "What's wrong?" He said with furrowed eyebrows, genuinely confused as to why you acted that way. He was even more confused when you yanked your hand off his grip and saw tears welling in your eyes.

"You can seriously shove whatever it is you think of me down your throat, Wooyoung," was all you said before you trodded upstairs to your floor.

It was a mistake for you to do that because once you finally made it, you were panting and the blurriness in your eyes was not only caused by your tears but also from the exercise. So you weren't sure if the sight of Wooyoung in front of your apartment was real or a hallucination. He even had your groceries in his hands.

"Go home, Woo," you sighed, sniffling as you fumble for your keys in your bag. This time he wasn't as vocal, only shrugging until you opened your door and slipped in together with you despite your clear expression of annoyance but you still let him in. You both were silent as you removed your shoes and settled your things, Wooyoung helping put things away which was how he noticed you buying your favourite cereal and milk, a comfort "dinner" for whenever you felt like your life was on the verge of tipping into pure chaos and you just don't have any time and energy to give a fuck about crap like dinner. "I'm not going to entertain you, Woo," you stated, voice cracking slightly as tears welled up in your eyes again all the while you tried to busy yourself by putting things away.

You hadn't noticed it initially but when you turned to kick him out again, you saw him with a bowl of your cereal and a soft smile on his face. "If what you need is me out, then I will go but not until I see you eat," he stated, putting the bowl on your counter and sauntering over to pull you so he could sit you down to eat.

In your head, you knew how ashamed you were for needing Wooyoung who's around 3 years younger than you to take care of you. But it felt nice to be tended to for once. Amongst your friends who were around the same age as or older than you, you were always expected to keep things together because they don't really have the time or energy to deal with what they labelled as "personal bullshit". Or maybe they're just a bunch of bitches dressed in fake prada and cheap jewellery that were slowly turning green with each wear. Wooyoung had once expressed how he doesn't like your friends because of what they were saying about you to your face even in front of him who was a stranger to them but they didn't seem to care. Heck, they seem to enjoy being annoying, catty bitches.

Thinking that you weren't going to eat in front of him, Wooyoung smiled and squeezed your hand once before turning to leave but this time, you stopped him. You grabbed him by the arm and with quivering lips, you looked up at him, "D-do you think y-you can accompany me eat on the couch? I-I think I'm gonna need company," you asked.

Without hesitation, Wooyoung nodded and pulled you into a gentle and warm hug. "Can this 'company' include watching A Man Called Otto? Because San watched it without me and he cried so I wanted to know if the movie was really THAT sad or if he was just being a bitch," he pulled away just as he heard you chuckling and felt you nodding, "Only if you have a bowl of cereal with me."

As you watched Wooyoung busy himself with getting his own bowl of cereal and making both of you comfortable on your couch, you realized that it was stupid of you to have been upset to be left behind by your supposed friends. Sure, it sucks to be singled out and heard how your friends make you sound so lame. But honestly? Being in your own home with Wooyoung loudly commenting about the movies as you spoon cereal and milk into your mouth, you wouldn't have it any other way.

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𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 (pt. 2) — 𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦

𝘱𝘵. 1 𝘱𝘵. 2 𝘱𝘵. 3

𝘫𝘰𝘩𝘯 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘹 𝘧!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 — 𝘢𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘢𝘯, 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦—𝘳𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘭𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘰𝘳𝘴. 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘯𝘴, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘺 𝘶𝘯𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘺. 𝘸𝘤 — 3.7𝘬

𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 — 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴/𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 — 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘴, 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘱𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘦𝘺𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘵 𝘣𝘤 𝘪𝘮 𝘰𝘣𝘴𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘦’𝘴 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘺 𝘦𝘺𝘦𝘴, 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 (𝘴𝘩𝘦’𝘴 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳)

author's note: i'm so sorry for the long wait alkdsjfslkdjf but it's here now!! also i know that this is just mostly fluff for now but i wanna build up a bit before we get to the… devil's tango ;) anyways, enjoy lovies!

weeks passed since you last saw him at the bar.

it was a strange thing that left you wondering in quiet moments with glazed eyes. moments at work where you’d zone out while a student was asking you a question, or when you were sitting on the grass in the schoolyard at recess. oliver, ever the rambunctious and curious kid, had prodded at your side with big eyes that had melted away your daze in seconds. he had held up a long piece of grass, offering to play a round of grass wars with you, which brought you straight back to the lazy summer afternoons of your childhood. the sweet smile on his face made sure you couldn’t refuse.

and once he was satisfied, running across the playground and wrestling with other boys in the field, you’d pick at the grass incessantly with your eyes trained on a distant point, not sure what exactly you were focusing on.

you remembered his silhouette like it was burned into your brain—tall, broad, rough at the edges but all soft and warm against you. you remembered him as clear as day and the solidness of his body—real and strong. but now, it was like he had disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

he wasn’t at the back of the bar like usual, puffing on a cigar, with a gruff exterior and eyes searing hot when they landed on you. instead, you were slipping back into a time vault—back to running from deadlines and running from the stressors of your life. back to square one.

it seems like your prayers weren’t answered.

that was the amusing thought that bubbled up in your throat, as you poured over some textbook materials splayed across the old desk you had thrifted ages ago. it filled up approximately half the space of your bedroom, and no matter how you thought you could rearrange it all, your meager apartment seemed to always be stretched to its max. being an elementary school teacher didn’t really pay the bills. not in london at least.

and that’s why you are in this master’s degree program: to further your career, to gain a sweet surplus in your salary, to move into a bigger apartment. not to daydream over strangers you saw at the bar—no matter how addictive.

it’s what you tried to convince yourself, at least, without much success. sighing as you leaned your cheek against the coolness of the desk, you looked out over your bedroom window.

it was raining, but you pulled open the window just a crack anyways. the soft patters against the glass were comforting—like the gentle ringing of bells into the night that clashed with the lingers of sirens and the loud chatter that crowded the streets below your apartment. the humid air poured into your bedroom, and usually the stickiness would bother you, but it only reminded you of home.

back in the rolling plains, where late nights were filled with jumping into bone chilling waters on humid nights like this. where the little lake nestled deep in the dispersed woods beckoned you, your friends, and the quiet twinkling fireflies.

you closed your eyes.

you remembered the words that lingered between your friends and family. it was a small town. she wants to move to london. it wasn’t a thing that they whispered—it was more of a hiss of disapproval. growing up, you thought you never liked that small town. grown up, you don’t really think that you liked the big city either.

but you’ve come this far. there was no way you were turning back now.

those were your last thoughts before exhaustion overcame you, pulling you into those familiar deep murky waters. and the next thing you knew, you eyes were flying open with a loud gasp.

you pushed yourself up with heavy arms, willing your slow legs to move from beneath you. you lurched, almost falling off your desk chair as you blinked sleepily. the rain had stopped. the loud, drunken laughter that bounced off the walls of the alleyway below had ceased, and sirens didn’t drone in the distance. instead, you could hear the rush of automobiles and the loud sputter of the city commotion. and it wasn’t night time anymore…

it wasn’t night time anymore.

you gasped again, this time with much more urgency. finally, you registered the light that streamed through your cracked bedroom window—which you didn’t even bother to close as you dashed through your room, picking up a random t-shirt and pair of blue jeans thrown haphazardly on your bedroom floor.

shit.

in the bathroom mirror, you stripped down the remnants of last nights sleepiness with a lightning fast shower, brushed teeth, and the new change of clothes. you ran through the living room, pulling your hair back into something simple and comfortable as you juggled your work bag and all its clunky items through the front door. 

shit.

you stumbled back into your apartment when you realized you didn’t even think to put on shoes. then you snatched an untoasted bagel off the counter last second.

shit, shit, shit.

the metro couldn’t seem to come fast enough and you were bouncing from one foot to the next, as you chomped on the bagel and pushed your way into the crowded train. crumpling in on yourself, you cringed every time a stranger’s shoulder bumped against yours on the shaky train. 

that fifteen minute train ride was probably the longest wait you’ve ever felt in your life. and you stumbled off the train, shoving the last of your bagel into your mouth, when you bumped into someone and their iced coffee came pouring down onto your leg.

for an awful moment, you stared at each other in silence before you took off again, shouting an apology over your shoulder as you ran up the stairs of the train platform. quick footsteps swallowed the distance between you and that little elementary school glowering on the far corner of a well-kept suburb.

you were almost never late to work. you tried to never be late to anything. but this wasn’t just work—you were fifteen minutes late to a parent-teacher conference.

pushing into the school with a quick key swipe, you rounded the corner of the tiled hallway, almost slipping on your way, and stopped dead in front of your classroom door. using the back of your hand to wipe away the dampness of your face, you hefted your bag further onto your shoulder as you steaded your rapid breath. you pressed a hand to suppress the quick rise and fall of your chest, closing your eyes before opening the door.

“oh my goodness, i am so, so sorry that i’m—”

shit.

you knew as soon as you locked eyes. dark blue. a steady strong gaze that unfurled warmth in your stomach, and a deep flush rose to your cheeks because you were flustered. 

for the first time, you weren’t seeing him through a drunken stupor or the hazy dark bar air, with long drawn shadows cast over his face, but in the clear-cut mid-afternoon sunlight. the gruffness of his face was softened in the bright morning light and you could make out the gentle lines and age of his face. you could see his eyes clearer than ever, and it made all the words die in your throat.

it was him, with a simple black beanie that cut down all those sexy facades about him. it reduced him to something sweet, and weirdly, something domestic. something you wanted to wake up to cooking in your kitchen every morning. something you wanted to tuck in your arms every night.

it was him, sitting at one of the small tables, with a little blonde head tucked under his arm. you swallowed when you saw your student—oliver.

“hi miss y/l/n!”

and suddenly it hit you.

a dark feeling sunk from all the way from your throat to your stomach to the bottom of your toes. your eyes flickered, and a spark of something twisted lit within you. disappointment. you were disappointed with the way you were reacting to this.

a child—oliver was his child. a single father?

or was he married?

old worn t-shirt and unwashed, greasy hair. iced coffee on your thigh. you knew looked like a mess, and you wanted to curse him out for seeing you at some of your worst moments. drunk, late to work. irresponsible. you knew he was thinking it, or at least you thought you did.

he was the opposite of you. older, more mature, more experienced, married with a child. he was above you in a way.

and you were here, young and irresponsible and struggling and still developing irrational crushes like you were in high school. developing irrational crushes on fathers.

for a long charged moment, you just stared at them, spluttering to find the words. but he found them first.

“pleasure to meet you ma’am.”

that low, pitched gruff tone sent a shockwave through you. a familiar low vibrato that rumbled through his chest and into your skin some weeks ago. he said it with aloofness, so serious it almost came off as abrasive. that familiar tug of his lips into that gruff smirk shot a nervous twinge through the pit of your stomach.

“jonathan price.”

you just nodded at his curt introduction, pressing your body to the door behind you, anchoring yourself to the small click of the door closing. for weeks, you had been looking for this man—his stern look, the smell of pine and ash on him, and the broad safety of his shoulders. and now, he had reappeared right before you. and right now, more than anything, you wanted to escape this room and never come back.

you chewed out your name in reply, body practically flattened against the door as your staring contest ensued. with the way he was looking at you—head tilted, eyes narrowed, just a slight pinch in between his strong brows—you wondered if he even remembered you. the expression he was giving you seemed… pained. 

swallowing, the pulse of your heart only rose and thrummed from your fingertips to your toes.

you had almost forgotten your student was still in the room, the innocent look on oliver’s face cutting through the tension spearing the air. the boy waved a small piece of paper above his head, almost falling out of his seat, wobbly, with a lack of coordination that only seven year olds could carry. 

“miss! i drew this for you,” he sang, eyes scrunched in a big teeth-baring smile.

jonathan steaded him with a strong arm looped around his waist as he leaned to you, wiggling the paper between his fingers. you strode over to him, managing a light laugh that bunched at the back of your throat, as you plucked up the drawing and studied it. 

hand in hand with an abstract orange and blue cartoon oliver, the sketch of you dawned an unhealthy shade of green skin and a loud shade of purple hair. a smile tickled your cheekbones, and the brewing mess of emotions in your stomach melted away.

“i love it. thank you, oliver, ” you said, feeling all gooey inside as you moved to pin it to the cork board at the front of the classroom. and as you looked back to smile at a cheery oliver, a blush bloomed up your neck when your eyes flickered to jonathan’s. he was giving you that look again. the one he did at the bar—guarded. heavy-lidded and dark. 

you bit your lower lip, moving to sit beside oliver as you desperately tried to ignore jonathan’s gaze hot on you. you straightened your papers on the table and began recounting oliver’s eventful year as a second-grader. because that’s what you were here for, you reminded yourself like a burrowed tick in the back of your brain. for your profession.

you tucked free strands of hair behind your ears with nervous, twitchy hands.

“oliver’s very proficient at reading and writing. he’s already reading some fourth grade level chapter books.”

you swallowed, lightly pausing, when the scrape of jonathan’s chair against the tiled floor interrupted you. he had moved closer to you, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw one of his arms bracing himself against the table, knee almost brushing against yours. but you kept your eyes trained to the paper in front of you. and he kept quiet. like he always does.

“he’s also doing well in math—maths. some initial trouble with multiplication but he smoothed that out pretty quickly.” you looked up to shoot a smile at oliver, who was puffed up with pride, and you had to resist the urge to reach over and just pat him like he was a puppy.

“overall, he’s doing very well in his academics. just one thing in particular—” your eyes flashed up to take in jonathan’s expression, and he was just staring down at you, and for a moment you wondered if he was even listening to your words, “—is that sometimes we struggle to keep our hands to ourselves in the classroom. we’re quite rambunctious and eager at times.”

his eyes lingered on you, a small smile overtaking his face, a dark twinkle reaching up to touch his eyes. “‘fraid that’s a genetic hand-me-down of the price’s.” he tousled oliver’s hair. “natural-born athletes, per say.”

you hummed, giving him a tight-lipped smile. “look, all i’m saying is that maybe some extra soccer, er football, lessons outside of school could do wonders.”

“soccer, eh?” he raised a brow and you just stared at him.

“yes,” you replied, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, before tacking on an impromptu: “mr. price.”

a little crease formed between his brows and he huffed a laugh.

“no, no, i get it. we’ll have a chat at home about it, right champ?” jonathan patted oliver’s shoulder and oliver nodded, seemingly undisturbed by your comments.

your pursed your lips, eyes flickering over jonathan’s tight expression. you felt like you had gone wrong somewhere.

“mr. price i—”

“it’s john.” 

he leaned a bit over the table, sliding closer to you, bracing his weight with crossed arms. you could see the warmth of his eyes. the light grayness lacing his beard. you could’ve sworn you felt his gentle breath brush the tip of your nose. you swallowed when his knee brushed against yours beneath the table.

“call me john.”

you nodded wordlessly, eyelids fluttering, as you squeaked out a small john, feeling a bit confused by the mixed signals flying around the room.

after a long moment of him just looking at you with that gaze that sent tremors up your spine, the one that sent embarrassing waves of ache between your thighs, oliver piped up. “can i go play on the carpet, uncle john?”

your eyebrows shot up, eyes flashing to oliver’s, then back at john. you barely murmured under your breath. “uncle?”

he smirked, leaning back, somehow seeming satisfied as he adjusted his beanie. satisfied about what… you didn’t know.

“sure thing, champ.” john nodded at the eager boy, oliver’s sparkling eyes turning to yours for a long moment before you realized that he was asking for your permission too. you huffed a little laugh, waving him off to let him play to his heart’s content.

then, you were shifting in your seat, trying to ignore the heat of john’s gaze on your face. and the silence that filled the small space between you. 

he just kept staring at you, making the blush in your cheeks intensify. you tried to brush the heat away in your face with your fingertips, a bit embarrassed by the tendrils of relief that laxed that tense spot between your shoulder blades. a bit embarrassed by the messy internal panic that had set over you just some minutes ago when you first walked into the room. uncle.

as if sensing it, john tilted his head at you.

“parents aren’t in town. luckily…” he shrugged. “i was.”

you nodded, slowly, chewing your next words just as slowly. a flicker of something darker seeped into your mouth—a flicker of those moments in the past couple of weeks where you were pouring your morning dose of caffeine, quiet and wondering, why his disappearance left a soft space in your heart. and why, in his presence, every ounce of self-control was thrown out the window, overpowered an unsettling sense of longing. want.

“and you’re in town for… how long?”

his lips twitched into a smile, and in a moment of self-indulgence, you let your eyes smooth over his face. it was easy to look at him. comforting. fresh, and relaxing. masculine.

“that’s need to know, ma’am.”

you huffed at little, suppressing the shyness you knew was creeping onto your face. he was teasing you.

you watched his face pass through a range of emotions, tightness, calculation as his eyebrows pinched together, before a rumbling laugh escaped him like a sweet afterthought. his voice was pitched deep and rich with laughter. the sound sent you into the clouds.

“it would be quite irresponsible tellin’ that…” he leaned forward, heat emanating off him in slow rolls, and the breath in your throat locked itself in when a large, warm palm brushed over your thigh. “...to my nephew’s favorite teacher.”

you shifted immediately up into his touch, and he tilted his head, like he was asking for permission. “right darlin’?”

your eyes slid shut, rolls of neediness twisting into a deep ache in your stomach, when his hand made a slow path up your thigh. he stopped just beneath your hip bone, fingers digging into the soft flesh there. your heart shot through your throat, relishing in the way his breath fell over your collarbone, and that familiar musky scent of cigarettes and dark green forest filled your nose.

then, he released you and your eyes shot open.

“right?” he repeated. you blinked up at him.

“depends,” you mumbled, leaning closer to him as if the proximity would intensify the warmth he was filling you with. and his face split into a smile. sweet and soft. a far cry to the onslaught of neediness that was rushing through your pulsing veins.

“god, you are…” he hummed as he trailed off, running a palm over his beard roughly, looking at you with a twinkle in his eyes that you couldn’t even begin to decipher.

suddenly, a childish whine broke the tense air between you. and your eyes fell on oliver, small and forgotten on the carpet. a twinge of guilt twisted in you, because somehow, john always had you falling and folding however he liked with just one glance. he had the power to drain every ounce of maturity out of you—like you were a needy teenager all over again—because you had forgotten that this was still a parent-teacher conference, and poor oliver was being neglected.

“uncle i’m hungry,” he whined, rubbing his tummy and your face scrunched at the adorable image. and whatever intoxicating sexual veil that john draped over you was lifted.

“right. sorry poppet,” john muttered, standing from the table as he moved to take up oliver’s small hand in his bigger one, moving to the classroom door.

you were still frozen in place, his touch on your thigh lingering with a searing heat, and you stared at the pair in a bit of a daze before you remembered yourself and followed them with a bit of a stumble.

you leaned against the doorframe, finding purchase for the slight wobble in your knees, as you cleared your throat, brushing back your hair and tugging at your shirt. the silence was charged, bordering on awkwardness.

for a moment, you thought john was going to walk off without saying anything at all, and you pursed your lips, eyes trained to the floor. disappointed.

but he turned suddenly with that pained expression on his face again, brows pushed together in concentration. calculating.

he looked down at you, the rise and fall of chest following the swell of his steady breaths, and you fisted your shirt in your hands. you thought, if he really wanted to, he was close enough to lean down and press those lips to yours, but you immediately brushed the thought away.

“you ever drink?” he hummed, nonchalant, and you wanted to laugh knowing what happened that night all those weeks ago. his soft lips brushing yours, the prickle of his beard against your cheek, and the strong arms that wrapped around you. and the uninvited ones. a thank you lingers in the back of your head, but you’re too taken aback by his comment to bring it that night. especially not at work. especially not in front of oliver.

your throat felt bone dry. “not on weekdays,” you managed.

he smiled, slowly shuffling away as an impatient and hungry oliver tugged him down the hallway.

“good thing tomorrow’s saturday,” he called out and you bit your lip. he didn’t even have to say when and where—you already knew.

“bye miss y/l/n!” oliver shouted down the hall with a toothy grin, and you waved with a laugh, watching john’s broad silhouette and oliver’s boyish frame grow smaller and smaller.

just before they rounded the corner, john sent you a long look, dark and knowing. it left the warmest feeling twisting in your stomach, filling you whole. the smile that settled on your lips was raw and genuine.

once they disappeared from sight, you leaned your head against the doorframe, closing your eyes dreamily, like a scene out of those corny romantic chick flicks. the ones that your mother used to hate whenever you played them in your cramped childhood living room.

a snort of laughter escaped you at the memory of your mom’s beet red face, turning back to your classroom when, across the hall, in a dark classroom that you thought was empty, a pair of eyes bore into yours.

your voice shook a little as you spoke.

“how much of that did you see?”

and the shit-eating grin that split across sally’s face was enough to make you strangle her.

“oh, i saw everythin’ babes.”

shit.

tag list: @louve-barnes @projectdreamwalker @neoarchipelago

#captain john price #john price #john price x reader #john price fluff #captain price x reader #captain price #cod mw2 #cod fluff #task force 141 #call of duty mwii #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #john price smut #captain price smut #cod smut

[hero-israel]

Last week, in my Discord group of about 60 lifelong friends (and I mean really lifelong, danced-at-the-wedding, phone-call-for-the-divorce friends), one person posted a "from the river to the sea" meme they'd found on Twitter. I made clear that it was a huge problem, that person apologized and deleted it, everyone else seemed supportive and understanding.

And surprised.

Because none of them - not ONE of them - had ever heard the term before, nor knew what the river or the sea were, nor had any clue it could possibly be seen as threatening. That included the person who posted it in the first place. These are all college graduates, some of them with post-college degrees, all liberal Democrats who agree with everything John Oliver ever said.

The discussion went as well and as supportively as it possibly could have, but I am still floored by how.... remote the topic was from all of their lives. Including how remote it was for other Jewish members of the group (though I can't help but notice that those other Jewish members are unaffiliated and don't have kids).

I bring this up because it shows that social media really can exaggerate the scale of threats we perceive and experience. And if you had told me that more than a week ago, I would have cut you off and said "Of course, I know that, I'm not naive" - but it still would never have occurred to me that it could reach such a degree. How constantly reading updates on war and hate and protests and threats really can give a distorted and inaccurate picture of the world.

One time on Reddit, I noticed a pro-Palestine account that was positively obsessed with the "boogaloo boys," a purported sub-set of white supremacists. This person mentioned "boogaloo boys" probably 80 times a week, in the context of how their racial civil war was about to begin and would target Arab-Americans first. And it really began to look weird - a focus beyond their importance. I'm sure nobody would ever want to meet a "boogaloo boy," of course, but I also think this person made more posts about that group than the number of members there are in the actual group.

Has anyone outside age 18-23 and outside a college campus ever met a member of SJP? They're pretty horrible people, but they go tabling right next to all sorts of splintercranks who dissolve once you graduate.

There is a real perceptual, emotional downside to seeking out hatred and threats so one can announce "Aha! Look at all this hatred and threats!". It is not only privilege that allows people to avoid some problems and conflicts - it can also be demographic, political reality. It is important to know who hates and threatens us - and also to remain members of "the reality-based community." Internet discussions are not real life, college campuses are not real life, internet discussions among college students are the least real of all.

Scott Alexander touched on this - how certain political beliefs can be avoided even without conscious effort:

According to Gallup polls, about 46% of Americans are creationists. Not just in the sense of believing God helped guide evolution. I mean they think evolution is a vile atheist lie and God created humans exactly as they exist right now. That’s half the country.

And I don’t have a single one of those people in my social circle. It’s not because I’m deliberately avoiding them; I’m pretty live-and-let-live politically, I wouldn’t ostracize someone just for some weird beliefs. And yet, even though I probably know about a hundred fifty people, I am pretty confident that not one of them is creationist. Odds of this happening by chance? 1/2^150 = 1/10^45 = approximately the chance of picking a particular atom if you are randomly selecting among all the atoms on Earth.

About forty percent of Americans want to ban gay marriage. I think if I really stretch it, maybe ten of my top hundred fifty friends might fall into this group. This is less astronomically unlikely; the odds are a mere one to one hundred quintillion against.

#Antisemitism

[lactosa2]

Hello! is been a long short time since the last time i did something, and whit the voice lines and the last cinematic is so much more information about Omen past and current situation. At this point this mf blog is only about Omen (im not complainin)

If you haven´t see the cinematic or the last voice lines of Omen and Sabine you dont gonna understand to much this drabble. This one gonna be fluffy and long btw. (4.262 words!!)

TALK TO ME (1/2)

Omen was pacing from side to side, angry and confused, his posture hunched as he looked at the ground, feeling dizzy and overwhelmed by the feelings he had tried for so long to appease.

he had just sent a voicemail to Brimstone, demanding that he understand her position and why the recent demands to see Viper and talk to her, he had to understand. Everthing all been a lie.

He felt used and manipulated, as if his current point of view didn't belong to him, but rather was what Viper wanted him to be, that his pain and confusion regarding his past and himself always had answers, he just never got them. The stress was bringing him to the brink of collapse, he felt the shadows beneath those bandages contract, erupting into a bright blue color while his hands trembled thanks to his anxious thoughts.

All the people he killed, everything he experienced, all his memories of a life and a name with which he felt no connection… Was it even him? Or at least there was something from the past to rescue? He can't understand why.

4:28 PM

You hadn't spoken to Omen since before his last mission, Sova told you about 5 days ago that he was under pressure, you didn't know what he was referring to but you assumed it was thanks to the same old thing, His lost memories.

You tried to leave him alone for a while, you didn't want to put pressure on him and you know him well enough to know that he needs to be alone for a few days, then he'll look for you and talk about what's bothering him, it's been a week and a half and he still hasn't spoken to you

You are worried but you keep insisting to yourself that he will talk to you soon, but the days went by quickly and your anxiety grew. Is he ignoring you? Is it too bad? Something you did made him angry and now he doesn't even want to see you?

You know that he would never go away for more than a day without sending you a message explaining that he needs to manage his emotions and see what to do in the future, he knows your insecurities and he is not going to hurt them more than they are. Usually he would explain to you in a brief summary what is happening and approximately how much time he thinks he needs for himself, the text or voice message would end by telling you that it is okay if you talk to him while and that he loves you, which would calm your heart formerly hurt and would have to wait for him, only a few days, but a week and a half has passed and he hasn't said anything after receiving that message

This time he didn't explain the situation, he just said that he needed time, he was stressed, and although the stress could be relieved with a cuddle session, he needed to organize his emotions and thoughts on his own, and then he would look for you.

You knew how he worked and his emotions, even so, as the days passed, the messages in the morning with him alone made you more anxious and needy to have him close, in person, you wanted to hug him and play with his hand while he let off steam, You wanted that little warmth, the temperature didn't matter, the closeness made the encounter feel unique and even if the panorama is not new

You couldn't resist the desire to be with him, not only because you missed him, but more than that it was the concern for his well-being, you knew that for the most part he was strong and could think coldly with ease, but his past had always been that weak point capable of carrying him to the mental and emotional explosion. So without thinking more than you already did, you went to his room, you knocked on the door even though the hand recognizer had already allowed access for you (Omen configured the detector so that it would also validate yours). The last thing you wanted was to surprise him in a moment of vulnerability, one where he would feel uncomfortable or embarrassed.

The door opened showing you a stooped Omen, his tall figure made the first thing you saw was his armor, you raised your head and saw that he had his head down, before you could speak he gently grabbed your hand and pulled you inside.

He pressed the button to close the door and instantly hid his head on your shoulder, both hands gently ran down your back before each one landing on a different side of your waist, hugging you firmly.

(This drabble gonna have part two and maybe part three, i dont feel whit all the motivation and i dont want the post to be more extence, plus my head hurt)

#valorant x reader #omen x reader #omen valorant #valorant #valorant omen #valorant omen x reader

[inquisimer]

People You Want To Get To Know Tag Game

thanks for the tag @shivunin! I love these type of tag games as a way to break the ice for people I've been circling in my notifs :3

Last Song: Dirty Laundry by Carrie Underwood (LOL I put on an old playlist that I could sing along to while I made bread)

Favorite Color: Purble 💜😌 although teal is a close second

Last Movie/Show: I've been binge watching Critical Role campaign 2 for the last week

Sweet/Spicy/Savory: GOD this is hard! I think probably Sweet > Spicy > Savory. It's pretty rare that I can't/won't eat something sweet and I only got over my childhood aversity to spicy foods in the last couple of years, but both of those ping my favorite foods before anything vaguely savory.

Relationship Status: Happy single mother to my puppy dog

Last Thing I Googled: "how to select by color in GIMP" bc I always forget and I spent the day messing with a new custom theme

Current Obsession: Dragon Age has been a persistent obsession for the last three years, but as far as obsessions in the foreground, I think it's probably the mighty nein (I forgot how insane they make me)

Last Book: The Bird and the Sword by Amy Harmon! I recently gifted a copy of this to one of my friends and I reread it before I did that and it absolutely holds up! It's a captivating fantasy adventure romance novel about a girl caught between various political machinations in a land where magic is persecuted to extinction. The worldbuilding is exquisite and the character growth and story arcs have me on the edge every time I read it, even though I already know how it ends. Highly recommend!

Looking Forward To: man it's 9:30pm and I decided half an hour ago to make some bread, so uh. Looking forward to a warm slice of that in approximately an hour and a half LOL

Tagging forward to: @stonebiscuit | @elfgremlin | @gaychocolatehomicide | @ammoniteflesh | @anderstrevelyan | @dragon--sage | @fadedsweater | @dungeons-and-dragon-age | @sylvanraindrop

blank template under the cut!

Last Song:

Favorite Color:

Last Movie/Show:

Sweet/Spicy/Savory:

Relationship Status:

Last Thing I Googled:

Current Obsession:

Last Book:

Looking Forward To:

Tag nine people whose answers you are interested in!

#tag game #about mer #thanks for the tag fren :3

[yanderelionwrites]

Look What You Made Me Do - (Male Yandere x Reader)

Here's a one-shot with my OC Lenn, in which the reader finally decides to make an escape attempt...

Content Warning: yandere, kidnapping, violence, blood

Word Count: 1.7k

You watched through the living room’s window as your captor, Lenn, waved to you from his car as he backed out of the driveway. You mustered up the most convincing smile you could and half-heartedly waved back, waiting until he was well out of sight down the street before you got moving. You rushed up the stairs to your shared bedroom, reaching under the bed to pull out the small duffel bag you had found a couple months ago that was hiding in the back of a storage closet. It was just big enough to carry the essentials, but you would have to leave your personal belongings behind. It would take your kidnapper about 20 minutes to get to the main town and another 10 to finish the shopping that needed to be done, so you had approximately one hour to pack your shit and bolt.

You ran back down the stairs after packing some clothes, bag in hand and ready to raid the kitchen. Rummaging through the cabinets, you found some snacks and other non-perishables to stuff your duffel with. You made sure to pack some water bottles too. Opening the drawers next, you were able to score a flashlight and some batteries, as it was well into the evening and you would need to be able to light your way to freedom. You stowed away some other essentials before slinging it over your shoulder, ready to get to work on the locks on the front door. You dug a multi-tool out of your pocket, one that you had stolen from a junk drawer a bit ago and had been saving for this moment.

Flipping to a thin and sharp blade, your hands shook as you picked the locks, your heart beating as you listened carefully for any possible sign of your kidnapper returning. You shivered at all of the different ways he’d react if he caught you, and it was all the more reason to hurry the hell up. The last lock dropped to the floor and you stuffed the multi-tool back into your pocket. Your hand grasped the doorknob and it turned with a low creeeeak, and suddenly you were feeling the cool blow of the wind hitting your skin for the first time in months. It was dead silent, except for the shaking of the trees’ leaves that surrounded the house for miles. Despite the circumstances, you felt a small smile creep onto your face as you stepped outside, away from the porch and onto the grass and dirt. You could finally be free. You took one last look at the place your captor so desperately wanted you to call home, yet you only ever saw it as a prison. 7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days.

“Later, asshole,” You spat, taking off down the road and concealing yourself behind the trees and brush.

* * *

Lenn hummed as he parked his car in the driveway, breaking out into a full-on whistle as he approached his house, spinning his keys around his finger while carrying a plastic grocery bag in his other hand. He was so ready to crash at home and cuddle up with his baby for the rest of the night. Just thinking about their sleeping face and cute snores put a smile on Lenn’s face. They had been especially good lately, meaning they must finally be starting to warm up to living with him! Hopefully, they’ll appreciate the small treat he had bought for them at the store.

He stopped dead in his tracks the minute he stepped onto his front porch, his good mood immediately vanishing like a flame blown out from a candle.

The door was open.

It was just slightly ajar, a sliver of light from the foyer leaking through the crack, but Lenn took notice of it right away. Pushing it open with his knuckle, he was greeted with the picked locks that had been dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. He breathed out a long, heavy sigh as he stepped over them, heading to the kitchen so he could put his newly bought items away.

“(Name), (Name), (Name),” He shook his head as he dumped your treat into the trash. “You were doing so well….” A humorless chuckle released from his lips. “Just when I thought you were finally getting accustomed to living here, you go and pull this shit. Guess I should have seen it coming.”

Making a quick sweep through the house just to confirm you were truly gone and not hiding somewhere, Lenn headed back outside to start his car. Well, this is a major setback. He thought as the engine roared to life once more, speeding off down the dark, forest-surrounded road.

* * *

A small yelp escaped from you as a tree root nearly tripped you for the fourth time. The flashlight was weak, you could barely see in front of you. And you’re sure running would only get you a mouthful of dirt. You just needed to stick to the side of the pavement, hidden behind the thick brush that ran for miles, and you’d reach civilization in no time. 

You tensed as the increasing sound of a car driving down the road filled your ears. Flicking off the flashlight and sneaking behind the nearest tree, you waited until it was out of sight before continuing on your path. If you could, you would jump out in front of the car and ask for a ride, but on the off chance that it could be your kidnapper, you decided against it. You’ll make it on your own.

The vehicle didn’t pass like you hoped, however. It parked on the side of the street just a couple yards away from your hiding spot, its headlights dimming and engine coming to an abrupt halt. A man steps out, and even in the dark of the night you could tell who it was. Lenn.

“I know you’re there, (Name). Come on out,” He said. His tone was calm, casual, but you knew that he was just acting that way to coax you back into his tight grip.

Your lips stayed sealed, and you did your best to relax your breathing, but you’re sure he could hear your heartbeat from where he was standing. The flashlight in your hands shook within your grip as you knew what your next move would have to be.

Lenn sighed as he took a few steps closer. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t want to make this harder than it has to be. Don’t make me the bad guy here.”

You were always the bad guy, you bastard. You seethed, toes curling as you clutched the duffel bag in your sweaty palms. Just a little closer.

He was nearly right next to your tree now. A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “There’s no need to be so scared, honey. You know I would never hurt you, so why don’t you just-”

WHACK

The bag slammed right into his face, the unexpected assault making him stumble backwards. It wasn’t heavy enough to do a lot of damage, but it was enough to discombobulate him so you could escape. You dropped the duffel onto the dirt ground and took off in the other direction. At least running through the woods gave you the advantage of being able to stay hidden. Lenn shouted your name, and the heavy footsteps behind you motivated you to pick up the speed. Come on, (Name)! Faster! You’re almost there! No matter what, you refused to stay a caged pet any longer.

Tears formed in your eyes, whether it was from fear or the fact that you could see the main town, you didn’t know. You’d finally be able to go home, see your family, hang out with your friends, and never have to worry about Lenn or his stupid cabin in the middle of nowhere. You wonder if people were still looking for you. You could only imagine the state of your parents right now. Despite the current situation, a smile grew on your face as you imagined their tearful faces, welcoming you back home.

Oh, how nice it was to dream.

Thick, strong arms wrapped around your waist, and suddenly the wind was knocked out of you. Your body collided into the dirt and mud, flashlight flying out of your hands and far out of reach. You struggled and squirmed with all your might, even hitting him with your fists, but Lenn was relentless. His arms curled even tighter around you, his chin digging into your back.

“Let me go!” You shrilled, flailing your arms around.

“Stop struggling, (Name)! You know it’s useless!” Lenn grunted.

You strained forward, eyes locked on the lit up town in front of you. It wasn’t fair. Was it so much to ask to be free? The fight was starting to die inside of you. He easily overpowered you, and you knew you would never be able to escape his death grip. That is, until you remembered something.

As swiftly as you could, you reached into your pocket and pulled out the multi-tool. Flipping it to the knife, you dug the blade into Lenn’s arm with no mercy. A pained groan released from the man, but his hold only loosened a little. He tried to wrestle the tool out of your hand, but you remained stubborn and refused to give it up. However, one thing led to another, with you not even seeing how it happened. Your palm was now bleeding profusely, the knife piercing through it and pinning it to the ground. Your scream resounded throughout the forest, the pain unbearable. Lenn’s face was a blur as fat tears rolled down your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, dear,” His voice whispered in your ear. “I didn’t mean to do that, but you left me no other choice. Are you gonna be good for me from now on?”

Everything ached. Your hand stung. You just wanted all of this to be over. Why couldn’t you have run faster?

“I’ll…I’ll be good…”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Lenn smiled, patting your wet and dirty cheek before standing up to peer down at you. “Take a good look around you, (Name). Because this is the last bit of freedom you’re going to get for a very long time.”

You commit it to memory.

And there you have it! Thanks for reading and have a good night y'all~

#yandere #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere oc x reader #male yandere #male yandere x reader #gn reader #OC Lenn #yandere x name #yandere x y/n #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere one-shots

[my-mt-heart]

Hey MT, Marketing Anon again.

Seeing all the Melissa and Caryl pics made my day! I’m so glad we’re FINALLY getting some confirmation.

But I’ve noticed a TON of confusion surrounding the spinoff since the snippet of the teaser a few nights ago. Then the subsequent internet explosion that occurred when my wish was granted, and we finally got some McReedus content (I may or may not have squealed with joy—you can’t prove this without witnesses).

I saw your post about the spinoff and the confusion around it. I figured I’ll add some info that may clarify why it all seems weird—MT, you hit the nail on the head with some points I’ll cover here. As always, this is my speculation, take what resonates <3

Why Does the Eventual Caryl Spinoff News Feel Confusing?

This may be a bit boring, but it clarifies a lot, so stick with me.

Season 1

Based on what we know about Season 1 of the spinoff—it's catered toward a younger male audience. It’s a fresh new audience that may stick around and won’t be resistant to new storylines, characters, villains, etc. So they can break the mould of the old show and veer into newer territory under the same branding umbrella, which over the years has garnered intrigue to pull a cold audience, aka those who don’t know what the content is but have heard of it. (How many times have you tried something because your friends raved about it? Heck, how many of you started TWD that way?) It’s FOMO—a tried and true method to pull cold audiences.

In marketing, you do market research to learn more about your target audience so you can create content geared toward them. IF used correctly, Reddit is an “untapped gold mine” of market research to help attract your target audience (source: pipeline.zoominfo.com/marketing/reddit-market-research).

Like you said, MT, 74% of Reddit users are people in their 20s who identify as male. Half of that audience is based in the US (source: blog.gitnux.com/reddit-user-statistics). This fits in with the criteria of attracting a younger male audience. And many Redditors from this demographic are resistant to Daryl being paired with a woman his own age that he has clearly been in love with for a decade (marketing anon, your Caryler is showing). You’re welcome to look it up on Reddit and see for yourself. So they’re not married to Caryl and are open to having new female leads on the spinoff.

So if I were marketing that show, that’s where I would go for research.

I suspect nightclubs and nuns were part of that strategy, but they added the young male kid in to show Daryl’s fatherly side. Absent father figures may be a major pain point for the audience they want to reach in S1—because, sadly, approximately 12 million boys in the US grow up without a father (source: rb.gy/o72re). It fits the demographic they're trying to attract. And it’s also a good way to preserve the ‘Daryl we know’ to hook the old audience while attracting the new.

Unfortunately, the reactions by that audience to S1 have been mixed—which, as I mentioned in a previous anon, is a marketer's worst nightmare. So you either change your content/strategy or find an audience that engages with and wants your content/strategy. It’s obviously too late to redo S1 since it has wrapped filming. The only option is to modify it as much as you can to appeal to an audience that is engaging to them—Carylers.

Which brings me to…

Season 2

Season 2 is a whole other strategy—it's completely catered toward Carylers and Melissa fans. They’ve used Caryl content to attract the attention of Carylers for the last decade, they’re going with what they know. Think about the news in the last few weeks. How many of us wanted all of that? They KNOW how to attract us. So Season 2 is a no-brainer IF done correctly.

So How Does This Explain the Spinoff Confusion?

The information we have is extremely ambiguous—When does it air? Who is the main villain? Why are they shooting 2 seasons back to back? What does it mean by a complete ‘reset’? What’s the damn name—Daryl Dixon or Raise the Dead or Pilgrim or something else to fit Caryl?

To further complicate things, they have two sets of audiences that they’re trying to cater to, but only one is responding to them on social media. Just look at the trajectory of the news:

Bathtub leak (nothing)

Rumours of Carol returning (Melissa trends on Twitter)

Daryl “in production” teaser (nothing)

Melissa spotted in the wilderness (Melissa/Caryl trend on Twitter)

Daryl snippet and the promise of a teaser (nothing)

The next day we see Mcreedus and Melissa McBride (Melissa/Caryl trend on Twitter—I think Melissa is still trending 2 days later)

Yes, there were times Daryl was also trending, but if you looked at the top posts, they all had to do with his relationship with Carol or TF in some way. The news that is promoting S2 is getting more attention. Hence creating a cluster of fans (from both groups, S1 group and S2 group) who are confused about when Melissa is joining.

So without clarifying, they’re thriving on the confusion. And instead of doing separate promo for S1, they’re cruising on the buzz generated by all the Melissa and McReedus sightings and keeping people wondering.

That way, Carylers join in and watch S1 with the promise of more Caryl (more info in my previous speculation post to MT).

So What Is REALLY Happening With the Eventual Caryl Spinoff?

It's exactly that—an eventual Caryl spinoff.

S1 is still a solo Daryl show where he is a fish out of water—exploring France, meeting the nun and her nephew, fighting villains, and trying to find a way home.

Melissa McBride joins in S2 of the spinoff.

In S2, Caryl clearly join forces in a location that parallels Consumed.

S1 airs sometime in the fall (I’ve heard September thrown around a lot, but we may get confirmation of that and of Melissa’s return at SDCC).

S2 air date is still TBA.

That’s all the reliable source-backed information we have so far. Melissa may have a cameo in the S1 finale but it hasn't been confirmed. We don’t know if the romantic canon is in the cards yet, although they tried to tease it with that ring on Melissa’s finger. Again, a promise of what you get if you tune in.

Where Does That Leave You, Dear Caryler?

If you signed up for to watch Caryl together—there’s still time for that. S1 still seems to be mostly Daryl with the French entourage. But Melissa is back, and she looks extremely happy. For me, personally, that counts as a sunny day after a cold, hard winter of her absence, her brief SDCC sighting, and nothing but tearful pictures of her during the final days of TWD shoots.

Remember that the timing of every piece of news you got isn’t a coincidence. They’re doubling down on getting Carylers’ attention because they need you to tune in.

Your view has value, your perspective is important—and you deserve to withhold investment until YOU feel they’ve earned it.

You hold the power—No matter what they want you to think. Use it wisely. Caryl on. <3

That was a thorough breakdown, thank you!!

Catering to two (opposing) groups is making me want to rip my hair out. How do you maintain longterm viewership that way?? No one’s going to be satisfied, and I’m concerned I’m going to resent what they do with Daryl in S1 so much, I won’t have the heart for S2 anymore. So I’d really like that addressed somehow.

Panels may not happen this year, but still holding out hope for an official announcement on Melissa, Caryl, and that damn title. And I want language that emphasizes it’s Norman’s AND Melissa’s show. Not Melissa joining Norman’s show because that’s not true.

#caryl #caryl spinoff #carol peletier #melissa mcbride #darylneedscarol

[husbandhoshi]

[2:01]

“can’t sleep?”

you would say your roommate just standing there in the dim light of the kitchen counts as a jumpscare, but he looks too good for that.

“no,” you sigh. “we gotta stop meeting like this, you know.”

it’s a relief when doyoung smiles at your admittedly lame joke, but for some reason, there’s a tension in the air you can’t explain. it hangs off him like a wet towel, fills your lungs deep and heavy.

“you want tea? peppermint?”

you nod, ignoring the fact that he already knows your usual.

you moved in just two weeks ago—your previous housing plans fell through, and lo and behold, your brother’s best friend happened to have a spare bedroom.

unfortunately, your brother’s best friend also happens to be the guy you’ve had a crush on for approximately three years and two months, not counting the time you went to college and reminded yourself that other men do, in fact, exist.

now he’s big and tall and is a history grad student, and you actually considered splitting taeyong’s closet-sized studio with him instead of living in your own personal hell.

worse, it’s the fifth time this week that you’ve had these multi hour past-midnight conversations. yesterday it was wheat thins and existentialism, and the day before it was the ethics of the angry birds movie. you hate that he’s smart because it makes him that much hotter.

“you should really fix that sleep schedule of yours,” he says in that very doyoung way of his, pretty lips pursed with concern.

he hands you a mug, one that you very deftly note is one of his, even though you have plenty of your own. this is the kind of thing you read into when you have the most gut-wrenchingly stupid thing for a guy you will never pull.

“as if you have a better one.” you pick up the fat book he’s left on the counter—the history of the decline and fall of the roman empire—and admire the neat walls of post-its lining the pages. “what are you doing up?”

doyoung settles next to you, leaned up against the counter looking like some hot librarian with his specs, and you hand him the book with a weak hand.

your shoulders touch, and you notice he smells like pine.

“studying,” he admits. he takes a sip from his own mug (earl gray because it’s caffeinated). “and then i wondered if i would find you out here again, going through the cabinets like some kind of raccoon.”

he puts the book down, and you have the feeling that it is not a studying kind of night.

“it’s not my fault i don’t understand the weird marie kondo way you organized your pantry. who the hell puts the cereal in the bottom cabinet,” you tease, finding that you love the way his mouth folds up when he gets embarrassed.

“it’s a work in progress.”

he smiles and then you smile and then you look down at your cup and watch the little tea bag bob up and down because you can’t bear to make eye contact for another second.

“i—,” doyoung starts, clearly trying to find words, anything to say.

you turn to face him once more, choosing to not perceive the fact that he’s looking at you, that he’s been looking at you, almost like he can see through the big, linty sweatshirt you have on.

his eyes draw you in; it’s a cruelly magnetic force that pulls you to him until you’re toe to toe and you can swear your heartbeat is so fast and hard that you can feel it in the air.

it’s that same force that washes over you, fills you with a boldness unknown to you. and you do what the you of years ago couldn’t dare to do—you bring your lips to those perfect ones of his, and you kiss him.

his body tenses against yours, and you’re now confident that you’ve supremely fucked up. but then he places his mug on the counter and pulls back, only to kiss you again, slow and romantic, like he means it.

“thank god,” he says, half whisper because you’re still on him, and you’re glad it’s dark because you are most likely the color of a ripe tomato.

“i—i didn’t know,” you manage to squeak out, so close to him you can see your reflection in his glasses. you can’t help but look back down at his lips, so unfairly soft and inviting, and how they’re now glossy with you. “i wasn’t sure.”

“neither did i,” he laughs, and it’s almost like you can see the dignity flood back into his body, because he then follows it with, “i should’ve asked you on a date first, huh? or at least—”

“please shut up and kiss me again.”

he does.

#this is for you doyoung anon #sorry this is like so long and rambly and nothing happens #anyway. 🧍 #mine #doyoung #nct #doyoung x reader

[whump-me]

My Patreon is officially live!!

New whump writing is going up 2-3 times a week, with a focus on ongoing novel-length stories. Interrogation whump, spy whump, lab whump, sci-fi and fantasy elements, lots and lots of emotional whump… basically the same stuff I post here, but more of it.

There are three tiers available:

$3/month: Early access to everything that goes up here. The plan is to always have one story going, with new chapters being released 2-3x/week. Once the last chapter is released on Patreon, the first chapter will be released on Tumblr. For the average novel-length story, that means subscribers will be reading about two months ahead.

$5/month: Early access, plus side stories and bonus novels. Approximately twice as much whumpy writing as the previous tier. Stories released to this tier will be exclusive to Patreon for a minimum of one year.

$7/month: Cleanly-formatted downloadable copies of every completed story in epub and mobi format. (Epub is readable on most e-reading apps and readers, including Kindle. Mobi is a legacy Kindle format.) This is the easiest way to read if you prefer to wait until the story is complete, or if you like to reread.

And if you can't join the Patreon, or just don't want to? No worries! I'll still be posting loads of stuff here.

(Name note: for now, I'm publishing these stories on Patreon using the same name I've previously used to publish more traditional--read, less overtly whumpy--urban fantasy novels, while I decide whether to publish all my novels under the same name, or use that name exclusively for urban fantasy. These stories may be published under a different name in the future.)

Obscure, a Mind Games novel, is the first story I'm releasing to Patreon, and the first chapter is available there now. (You might remember the Mind Games setting from my Whumptober 2023 stories.) New chapters will come out 3x/week.

When Obscure is complete on Patreon (which will be in mid-March), I'll be posting it here on the same schedule: three chapters a week until it's done. (If you want to get on the taglist for when it's available here, let me know.)

The first Patreon bonus content--which will be the first half of Defect, another Mind Games story--will be posted at the beginning of February. (As with my Whumptober 2023 stories, these novels all stand entirely alone, sharing a setting but nothing else. They can be read in any order, and you don't need to read one to understand the others.)

Story descriptions under the cut:

Obscure

Forgetting is dangerous. Remembering is deadly.

Elias: the man sitting handcuffed in an interrogation room deep in a secret underground facility. On the surface, he looks harmless. But his mind is a weapon—he can erase memories with a thought.

Kirill: the man on the other side of the interrogation table. He has a weapon of his own—he can see inside other people’s memories. All he has to do is make them feel a strong enough emotion, and their minds are his. And no emotion works quite as well as fear.

Elias has worked for decades to save the Enhanced—people born with superhuman abilities—from being abducted and forced into black-ops work. Now his captors want the names of everyone who has ever helped him. If Kirill’s methods of persuasion don’t work, he’ll simply use Elias’s fear to slip into his mind and plunder his memories.

But he may get more than he bargained for.

Decades ago, Elias erased a set of memories that tie the two of them together in a way neither of them suspects. And those memories are about to come to light.

Obscure is part of the Mind Games universe, a series of standalone stories about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. This novel is 65,000 words long, or about 200 pages.

---

Defect

Their creators designed them to be the perfect weapons.

They forgot to make sure they could control their creations.

Sparrow’s explosive powers make her a living bomb. She spends her life locked away in a fireproof cell, brought out only when something needs to burn. But the longer you contain an explosion, the stronger it becomes.

All she knows is that she wanted to see the sky. Then came fire, and screaming, and death. Now she’s lost on unfamiliar city streets, hunted by her creators and the civilian authorities alike.

Mary went from being a failed experiment to a lab assistant prized for her intelligence and her perfect obedience. But after years without useful results, her lab is slated for shutdown. That means the dissection table for Mary. Unless she captures her creators’ rogue weapon and proves her lab holds the secret to controlling her power.

Mary offers Sparrow the thing she thought she could never have: freedom. Freedom from her creators, and from her own uncontrollable power.

It’s a lie.

Mary accepted long ago that there’s no such thing as freedom for people like them. There is only survival—and she’ll do whatever it takes to survive.

Defect is part of the Mind Games universe, a series of standalone stories about ordinary humans with superhuman abilities and the people who want to use or destroy them. This novella is 42,000 words long, or about 140 pages.

#my writing #my writing: Mind Games #my patreon #whump author boost

[vinceaddams]

top five clothing items you wish you'd wear more often, please! and the five you do wear the most, please!

Oh heck! I still have asks from that ask meme thingy I reblogged 2 weeks ago, sorry for taking so long!

Hmm, tough to choose specific things I wish I wore more often. I do have a bunch of fancy 18th century things that sit in my closet most of the time, but usually when I leave the house I'm either going to work or to the grocery store, and I don't feel like being super fancy for that. Cuff ruffles would get in the way of all the hand washing and such, and breeches would be annoying at work because I use machines with knee levers.

I guess I wish I wore my nice shoes a bit more often than just for photos, but they were expensive and I don't want to wear out the leather soles. Maybe I ought to get little rubber soles added.

Oh, and my embroidered monster waistcoat! I wish I wore that more, but it's from an older pattern that doesn't fit me very well. The embroidery is also a bit worn out in places, alas.

It's a bit difficult to know which things I wear most frequently, but here are my best guesses for right now. (My summer answers would of course be different.)

1. This brown wool waistcoat from early 2019. I wear it all the time in the cold half of the year.

Just like the monster waistcoat, it's made from a pattern I drafted before top surgery, so it really doesn't fit me anymore. It's also getting pretty shabby. I've been meaning to make some new everyday plain wool waistcoats for a while now.

(I wear that green shirt pretty often too.)

2. This cap. It's just two pieces of linen, and I made it in 2018. I like wearing caps indoors when it's cold, and also under my wool hat outdoors. It adds an extra layer of warmth, is softer than the wool hat, and protects it from my very oily scalp.

I have 3 of these caps, but this one is my favourite. It's also something I ought to make more of.

3. These pants. They're just plain black cotton fall front pants.

I could pretend I'm wearing them the most because they're fully lined and therefore warmer than my other pairs, but the fact is I've got 3 other pairs of pants with holes worn in them that I need to patch and have been avoiding for a shamefully long time. It's a pretty easy thing to fix, and I will likely put it off for several more weeks, if not more.

I feel the need to point out that not all of my wardrobe is in such a miserable state, I at least have a good amount of shirts!

4. I don't think I have any pictures of it, but my winter coat is just a plain medium grey modern (by which I mean at least a couple decades old) wool one. Here's an image I found on google of approximately the same coat.

It was my grandfather's, and is a bit too big for me, and the lining is getting pretty worn out. Someday I want to completely pick it apart, recut it, and re-sew it with a new lining, but I can't do that until I have a backup winter coat.

5. This poor flannel nightgown which has finally worn out! Just a few days ago it developed a huge hole in the back panel, and a small one by the button placket, so it's destined to be cleaning rags and/or firestarters.

The buttons might end up on another nightgown though. So I guess this is no longer a thing I can wear frequently :( In the linked post I actually made 3 nightgowns from the same pattern, and that was the medium weight one, so now I'm down to the very heavy fish print flannel one and the light rayon one, and need to make more. (A very common theme with my wardrobe things, alas. I am slow.)

But I did just finish a new nightgown this week, made from a completely different pattern that I'm quite excited about! I'll get some pictures soon!

#ask #ask meme #me #clothing

[suicide-siblings]

A sneak peak at a TCOAAL fic I've got cookin'. Coffincest/Gravescest because I'm a freak.

"Are you fucking kidding me? Are you trying to make us go broke?"

"I've not slept in a comfy bed since we were at mom and dad's place and that was 2 weeks ago! My back is starting to hurt like a motherfucker all the time, I need this!"

The silence of the otherwise dead diner cuts right through the conversation for a brief moment.

The Graves siblings were fighting again. The same song and dance over and over again. The duo have been in the clear for a whole week and a half, approximately 8 more days than Andrew though they were going to go before karma finally caught up on them one way or another. The days have been tense and the anxiety has slowing been eating him from the inside out.

"I've already said, pretty much every hotel is gonna want to ID us. I've TRIED, Ashley."

"SO IT ISN'T ABOUT THE COST!" She was always quick to retort.

"No, It's also about that too! I want the cash to last us as long as possible. Every robbery is another opportunity for us to get caught and more evidence to our crimes."

"Come on! Have you really looked EVERYWHERE? Are you ABSOLUTELY sure every single last hotel near us is gonna ID us? I know you want a decent place to stay as much as i do. So why suffer another shitty motel when we have the cash for the next couple days?"

"This is the same shit you pulled back at the apartment with the tomatoes. Always thinking about the immediate and never the future."

"You're still holding onto that? You are one pathetic son of a bitch, Andy."

"You keep that name out of your mouth and you just MIGHT get your way again."

"I always do with you."

Andrew let out one of his signature groans. One that struck a perfect middle ground between being laboured enough to express his anguish in the moment while being concise enough not to drag or sound like he's overselling it. Ashley lit up slightly at this. Chances are she'd successful worn him done once again.

"Fine. We'll check out what hotels are around."

Ashley smirked.

"Y'know, You just need to learn to give into your impulses a little. This "pragmatic" approach has only made you miserable."

"As if that approach hasn't been the one thing that's kept us alive."

"I'd say my visions have helped more in that department."

"Whatever you say."

Andrew retrieves some money out of their ever depleting reserves and places it on the table. Ashley begins to shuffle out of her seat, eager to get going as soon as possible. Andrew, after a second of deliberation over the regret he may or may not have over what he's going to spend tonight, follows suit.

TO BE CONTINUED.

#My work #the coffin of andy and leyley #andrew graves #ashley graves #tcoaal fanfic #coffincest #gravescest #fanfiction #amateur fanfiction #criticism welcome

[paralleljulieverse]

This Week in Julie History: Coronation Night Gala Supper Dance and All-Star Cabaret, Cumberland Hotel, 2 June 1953

Seventy years ago, in June 1953, London pulsated with the exhilarating energy of Coronation Week. Just as witnessed during the recent ascension of King Charles, crowds thronged the flag-bedecked streets of the capital, hearts ablaze with patriotic pride, waiting for a glimpse of their new young Queen Elizabeth II.  Numerous celebrations filled the Coronation Week of 1953, ranging from quaint neighbourhood street parties to grand, opulent balls. Almost every hotel and restaurant across the city curated special coronation-themed events. Among these, the Cumberland Hotel, located in the upscale Marble Arch district, offered a notable highlight with a magnificent Gala Supper Dance and Dinner. 

Tickets for the gala were priced at 5 gns—approximately £200 in today's terms—so it was clearly a high-end affair. But for their money, guests were indulged with a gourmet six-course supper featuring suitably coronation-themed dishes such as Le blanc de poularde Reine Elizabeth -- Queen Elizabeth chicken breast -- served with Windsor Pearls and Royal Potatoes. Enhancing the experience, guests were also treated to a cocktail on arrival, half-bottle of vintage champagne and after-supper liqueurs.

A superbly curated All-Star Cabaret performance served as a delightful accompaniment to the evening's supper. Compered by celebrated magician, Billy McComb, it featured a line-up of top variety entertainers including comedian Reg Dixon; radio impressionist Peter Cavanagh, the singing duo, Jack and Daphne Barker, and ‘Britain’s youngest soprano’, Julie Andrews.

That Julie was contracted as one of the gala’s headliners attests to her rising professional stock in the era. Now aged 17, she was fast moving beyond the child star persona of her early career and events such as this cabaret marked a pivot to a more mature and sophisticated style.

Unfortunately, as she relates in the first volume of her memoirs, Julie didn’t actually make it to the Cumberland Hotel that night due to a car breakdown:

“There were many glamourous events and galas during the time of the coronation, and my mother and I were invited to perform one evening at a hotel on Park Lane. We set off in Bettina, our trusty car. There was a low bridge on the way to London, where the road took a huge dip. We were decked out in our best attire, and as happens so often in England, it was simply teeming with rain. Ahead of us, under the bridge, was a vast body of water. “Oh, just plow through it,” I advised Mum. “If we go fast enough, we ’ll come out the other side.” Mum gunned the engine, and Bettina came to a hissing stop right in the middle of the pool. Her motor had completely flooded. Dressed in our finery, we waded out of the deep water and stumbled to a garage to ask for the car to be towed to safety. We never did make the concert” (2008, 154).

There is no record of how Julie’s absence was conveyed to the crowd at the Cumberland or what their response was...but we’d have been crying into our five guinea half-bottle of vintage champagne!

Sources:

Andrews, Julie (2008). Home: A memoir of my early years. London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson.

Bartlett School (2023). Survey of London: Vol 11 Histories of Oxford Street. Bartlett School of Architecture, University College London.

Cumberland Hotel (1953). A souvenir of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth II. London.

Evening Standard, 27 April 1953: 2.

Copyright © Brett Farmer 2023

#julie andrews #coronation #queen elizabeth ii #cumberland hotel #marble arch #london

[prismatic-bell]

Nina's "Thank You, Diamond" Barbecue Sauce

So a couple of weeks ago, I made a post about how, after searching a ton of mommy blogs for a decent barbecue sauce recipe, I turned in desperation to Tumblr and said "I need a Black person to teach me how to make barbecue sauce." A Black woman named Diamond answered this call, and taught me some tricks of the trade and base ingredients. Then she told me to go forth and experiment, because to actually teach me how to make her barbecue sauce she'd need me in her kitchen. And a few weeks ago, at long last, I'd finally put together something I liked.

Several people asked for the recipe, which put me in a fix because I, like Diamond, grew up knowing of measuring cups as things you either used for baking or took as suggestions. But I'm making barbecue chicken tacos for work today, so I pulled out my measuring cups and got to work translating my "yeah, that looks about right"s into actual measurements for y'all. The amounts listed here will provide enough sauce for two chicken breasts, in a consistency thick enough to baste on if you're grilling. (If, like me, you're slow-cooking, just add a little water to thin it.) THINGS TO KEEP IN MIND: --all measurements are approximate; I dolloped "the right amount" into measuring devices, rather than actually measuring. Don't assume any measurements are exact.

--adjust to your taste as needed. --I have a gas stove and cooked this on low. You may need to adjust for electric ranges. --if you're the kind of person who eats habanero salsa, you won't find this spicy. If you're the kind of person who uses mild sauce at Taco Bell, you will. Adjust as needed. Be aware that nothing in this recipe adds spice for spiciness' sake, and the flavor profile will be altered if you remove all of the spicy ingredients. --taste frequently. You want to build a knowledge of what it tastes like at each step so you can check on it, plus this will help you adjust to your personal tastes. --yes, if you don't live in the Southwest you'll either have to find an international grocery or order chiles de arbol online. Don't whine, as the TikTokker who does the Glam Kitchen says, "put in the effort, Kyle!" ON TO THE RECIPE! 4-6 cloves of garlic, pressed or chopped 1/2 sweet onion, diced 1 tsp fresh grated ginger Bloom your garlic in some olive oil in a two or three-quart saucepan. You want just enough oil to lightly coat your garlic. Once you start to smell the garlic, add the onion, and some additional olive oil--again, just enough to coat the onion. Cook until onion is soft. KEEP STIRRING. Onions are like boiling milk, if you look away and blink they burn (yes, even on low heat). Add your ginger. Stir until you've got a decent mix of everything. Next, add: 1 cup ketchup 1/2 cup brown sugar, not packed Stir this well. Your ketchup will start to turn ever so slightly brown. Not by much yet, but you should see a difference from plain ketchup. (When I measured the sugar, I did it by tablespoons. DuckDuckGo tells me I actually used about 3/5ths of a cup, but find a measuring cup that does that.) Continue by adding: 2 tbsp apple cider vinegar 2 tbsp red wine vinegar 2 tsp balsamic vinegar 2 tbsp honey Stir well. If you taste at this step to learn the flavor profile, don't try to adjust anything, because all you're going to taste is acid. It's okay--it'll balance and mellow as you continue. Continue by adding the following, stirring in each ingredient as you go and tasting frequently: 1 tbsp yellow mustard (the kind you put on hotdogs) 2 tsp cocoa powder 1 tsp onion powder 1 tsp cumin 1/2 tsp turmeric 1/2 tsp ground cloves (go easy on these, add more if needed) 1 bay leaf 1 tsp chili powder 1/2 tsp smoked paprika 1 chili de arbol; remove seeds first Adjust as needed. (I added roughly 1/4 tsp mustard and another half a chili de arbol.) If you want a tangy sauce with more sweetness, add more honey; if you want just plain more sweetness, add more brown sugar. If you feel it's not smoky enough, add more of any of the following: mustard, cocoa powder, cumin, paprika. If you feel you need more tanginess, add a bit more of one of the vinegars. If it's not spicy enough, add more chili powder or chili de arbol. If you're the kind of person who likes your barbecue sauce spicy and you don't want to alter the flavor profile, add some of the chili de arbol seeds. Be aware that these may cause "spicy pockets" in the sauce and you're going to want to stir the absolute motherlove out of it to distribute them evenly. Also be aware, if you decided to taste the chili de arbol first, that the heat of the pepper itself is nothing compared to the seeds. The pepper is tasty, but the seeds make me unable to feel my lips. Simmer as long as you like on low to let the flavors meld, but be sure to add a bit of water if you do (you'll be amazed how thick this is). Say a quiet thank you to Diamond, the Black lady who went "sure, I'll take this in good faith and teach this random white person to make barbecue sauce." Baste or marinate your meat, or add meat and slow-cook. Serve with a vegetable of your choice and some good homemade fries. Enjoy. Life is good.

#recipes #cooking #barbeque #barbecue

[icedmetaltea]

I think ima have to look for a different therapist. Not only do I feel like I've been making little to no progress but her memory is horrible. We agreed to an appointment a week ago, 2 weeks from our last one, but she forgot and seems to think we have it scheduled 2 weeks from NOW like?????

Like she's a nice woman but I need more professionalism. She communicates about scheduling through text and types everything like "R u ready?" I'm not here to chat and deal with rough scheduling approximates I'm here for professional help and guidance. I've had two therapists before and I know I started making much more improvements within a few months... it's just all fucky rn. My place is a complete mess and I'm back to not being able to cook food or clean similar to how I started.

It's so frustrating bc I've been seeing her like half a yr and I'm scared I won't be able to find any sliding scale ones that go that low. Ughhhhhhh

#irl stuff #vent #mental health