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oneatlatime · 4 months

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The Guru

Happy 2024 everyone and welcome to the first time I managed to type 2024 without first typing 2023! Oh and also a write up of The Guru. That too.

Me too Iroh. Me too.

So Zuko is riding high on that post-crisis 'time to get my life together' buzz that, similar to 3 am life plans, should absolutely not be listened to. Wonder how long before he crashes and burns? There's literally 2 episodes left, so I'm guessing one and a half?

Poor Sokka. My boy's got anxiety.

I don't know if it's a monk thing, an airbender thing, an Avatar thing, or an Aang thing, but I envy his complete lack of nerves.

How is Appa ok with them splitting up for a week after JUST getting them back?

I paused in a funny place. Have bonk-eyed Appa.

I love them comparing heights. What do you want to bet that that guy on the right was one of the youngest allowed to go fight, and Sokka made a big deal about how they're almost the same age and surely that means he can go too, right?

A lot of these Southern Water Tribe people have dreads or braids. That's neat.

Bato's arm is still messed up. That's some good continuity.

I've found the source of Katara's cheek bones. I guess Sokka takes after his mum.

Ok I know this is a really emotional moment (and it is! Sokka's spent two seasons earning this!) but my brain fixated on the furs and briefly thought they were sky bison pelts.

"It's been a difficult week for me." This guy thinks the Kyoshi Warriors are there to provide him therapy. Someone please just crown the bear instead.

He just gave away literally every relevant plot point AND outlined how to make sure all these plot points don't succeed. Crown. The. Bear.

Maybe if these generals spent less time playing with their giant model Earth Kingdom and more time general-ing, the war wouldn't suck so much?

Pretty.

I LOVE LOVE LOVE the designs, the colour palette, the music, the sound design of this air temple. I love everything about it. If I had the chance to live anywhere in the Avatar universe, it would be here. Even in its ruined state it's such a refreshing contrast to the claustrophobia of Ba Sing Se. I can feel the freshness of the breeze through the screen.

"A spiritual brother of your people" an adult perspective on a near extinct culture! What a resource!

"and a personal friend of Monk Gyatso" an old as balls perspective. He's got to be at least 130.

Anthropology cul de sac time: this guy is so valuable as a resource on the Air Nomads. There's probably parts of Air Nomad culture that Aang can't ever accurately talk about, because he was a kid when he left, and there was almost certainly stuff that the adults kept to themselves, or only shared with the older Air Nomads. This Guru doesn't seem to be an Air Nomad himself, but there's a good chance that there is knowledge that he has, that Aang doesn't. Aang should be nerding out more about this. I'll do the nerding out for him.

Aang just breezes right by that Gyatso name drop like it's nothing. Huh.

Oh hey Toph. I'd forgotten she was in a box. Tweedle dum and Tweedle dumber really are quite the pair. What's their plan for keeping her fed and watered? Actually, these guys apparently don't know that maps exist, so it's probably never occurred to them that humans need sustenance. They'll rock up to the Bei Fong estate with corpse Toph and wonder why they aren't getting the reward money.

Mai gets called out in-universe for shopping at Hot Topic.

Ty Lee's buttering up of Azula is getting less and less subtle as the season progresses. It's a testament to Azula's lack of awareness that she's hasn't noticed that, and that Ty Lee can get away with it.

Azula's right that it's an extraordinary opportunity. The King gave them quite literally every piece of info required to overthrow his kingdom in a 25 second conversation. I can't blame her for taking advantage of such an easy win.

That's a very effective unimpressed face. And a very impressive beard.

It's funny to see a spiritual concept from the real world pop up in a show that includes things like bending and giant fish possession. The mention of Chakras kind of sticks out. They couldn't invent a Avatar universe version?

"Once you begin this process, you cannot stop until all seven are open." Well that doesn't feel like foreshadowing at all.

This episode should be called "Aang's self-care Journey." It's about time the kid had a me day that wasn't avoidance-based.

Fear: Losing Katara - makes sense. Losing control of his powers via fish possession - makes sense. The Fire Lord - makes sense. But the Blue Spirit? He helped. Doesn't make sense.

Guilt: Running away - makes sense, although I thought he'd worked through that with Katara in the storm. Nuking that idiot General's base - makes sense, but boy did he quite literally ask for it.

This guru is saying some wonderfully accurate, and realistic, things. I love that he's not taking the Katara route of denying anything is wrong. He's going for the acknowledge, then heal route. And yes, it's unfair of me to compare the emotional maturity of Katara to a century+ old spiritual expert.

I'm going to ruin the immersion here and point out that Sokka's dad's voice actor voiced a bunch of characters in season 1. He's doing an excellent job, but couldn't they get a unique voice for a character that's so important (albeit offscreen) to Sokka?

That's an incredibly roundabout way of avoiding pointing out that the Southern Water Tribe are active participants in a bloody war. Sure, we can show multiple characters with visible scarring from horrific burns, but heaven forbid we imply that the Southern Water Tribe sinks ships. The parameters for what is and isn't appropriate on this show sometimes make no sense.

"Aren't you listening? I said the rest of you men get ready for battle." He hasn't seen his boy in two years, but fifteen minutes in his company and he knows exactly what needs to be said and how. That's some top tier parenting. Dad of the year. Dad of the century. Only decent Dad in this show that isn't technically an uncle.

"Follow your passion Zuko, and life will reward you." Great advice for your eight year old audience. Also a great way to end up unemployed.

Positive Sokka creeped me out a few episodes ago. Now positive Zuko is freaking me out too.

Pretty.

Back to Chakras! Shame: Burning Katara - makes sense. But that's it? To have the inner peace of mind of a twelve year old who's somehow only ever done one thing that he's ashamed of.

Is there anyone in the earth kingdom who isn't stupid? Once again wondering at the network's standards. Visible burn injuries are fine, but Mai can't say 'Shut up." It's got to be Shush up. Although I do seem to recall of brief time in the early 2000s when Shut Up was treated as a curse on par with Shit or Fuck. Maybe that was just at my school.

Chakras again! Even for a show that often has an A, B, and C plot, this narrative is ping ponging around a bit much.

Grief: nothing major, just a whole nation. Makes a horrific amount of sense. but I don't buy that he can get over grieving the whole world as he knew it by thinking about his crush. That's way too high a pedestal for Katara to be placed on.

Lies: Not accepting he's the Avatar. Interesting that not accepting that he's the Avatar and not accepting that he's a firebender are two different problems.

I see you reusing the opening credits footage. Your blue filters can't fool me.

PRETTY

Illusion: So we're relearning what we learned in The Swamp. Aang's probably the person currently alive least likely to believe in the rigid separation of the nations anyway. This doesn't feel like an illusion he's subject to?

The way this episode dances between its narrative threads is so great. It's all woven in so beautifully. And this makes perfect sense! Toph's spent her life secretly doing things excellently that everyone says are completely beyond her capabilities. Life has taught her that the statement "you are not able to" doesn't apply. Of course immutable laws of bending physics are treated with the same respect as an adult telling the champion of the Earth Rumble that she's can't earthbend beyond breathing exercises. If you told her that humans can't fly, she'd figure out how within the week.

Plot collision incoming.

Interesting that Katara initially recognises Zuko by his voice rather than his scar.

I'm pretty sure that Zuko and Iroh don't know about the whole brainwashing thing, but wouldn't it be hilarious if Zuko introduced himself to Katara as Joo Dee, and his uncle Joo Dee, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon, can I take your order? That would throw Katara into one hell of a moral quandary.

Katara being framed as the solution for Chakra number four comes back to bite Aang, as she's the problem in Chakra number seven. I knew that pedestal was too high.

I've changed my mind. This episode should actually be called "Half a dozen reasons why everyone should just learn to keep their goddamn mouths shut already."

So is anyone going to let Zuko and Iroh know that they're now in immediate danger and need to leave, like, yesterday?

I think the Guru is going for the whole 'if you love them, let them go, and they'll come back to you' thing. Don't cling, in other words. But for the sake of the plot he's suddenly lost his ability to explain Chakras in a way that makes them seem like the logical thing to do. The only clunky bit of this episode so far.

May I introduce you to our Lord and Saviour Toph?

"I am the greatest earthbender in the world." Yes. Yep. Yeah. That's now a quantifiable fact, and it's correct. Look on ye mighty and despair. She's even got Bumi beat.

Earth Tongue Running is a bit wonky looking but it covers a crazy amount of distance.

What's the range on Toph's earth sense? Can she sense what direction Ba Sing Se is?

I hope those two idiots' horse bird is ok.

"You don't know how much this means to me dad." He does. Very much so.

Every word out of this guy's mouth is precision engineered to make Sokka feel like a million bucks and I for one think it's about time someone built him up. Also, seeing this makes me realise how few good parents there are in this show. It's a trope of kids' adventure shows that the parents fundamentally can't be there, but I also think it's a commentary on yet another thing that this war has messed up.

Hey look! Being a man is knowing where you're needed the most, and right now that's in Ba Sing Se, protecting your sister! I love narratives that tie their themes up with a pretty bow on top.

This is Azula laying a trap, right? Which means that Katara squealed to someone about the exact location of Iroh and Zuko's tea shop. Don't like the implications of that.

Photos taken seconds before disaster.

Final Thoughts

This episode was a lot! I mean that in a good way! But I felt a bit like the Maxell Blown Away Guy, the way I kept getting assaulted by yet another plot thread. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a criticism. I think the switching between plot threads and the amount of info in this episode worked 99% of the time. But I'm kind of in awe at the balancing act the writers pulled off and I'm sort of sitting here blinking a bit trying to fit all this stuff in my head. I'm probably going to forget half the stuff I wanted to talk about in this write up, so here goes nothing.

Given the Azula reveal in at the end of last episode, I thought that this would be the episode where the shit hits the fan. I was wrong. I'm glad I was wrong. An episode of set up is required and is nice breathing room, even an episode as busy as this. And I got to leave Ba Sing Se! But this does mean that next episode is going to be calamity after calamity.

Aang and his Chakras: I'm fascinated by this guru. I hope he comes back. That brings the total number of people who were alive before the war started up to three: Aang, Bumi, Guru Patik.

I'm impressed that the run through of the Chakras rarely felt like an info dump. The onion and banana juice thing didn't work for me, but I'm sure it worked for people in the target age bracket. Kids love burp jokes.

So many shows sprinkle in tragic backstories for flavour and then never have them influence the character in the present. It was a nice contrast to see a show take a whole episode to tell Aang "yeah all that sucked. It's ok to feel down about it. Here's how you move forward."

Sokka and his dad: Love it. Love it so much. I love seeing Sokka built up, and he definitely deserves it, but I wonder if this is the reward for a character arc well done, or the set up for a character arc that's about to start? Is his dad's praise his prize for crossing the finish line, or is it so he's built up with farther to fall?

I loved seeing more of the Southern Water Tribe. I loved the fashion. There's a lot of variety in accessories and variations on a few basic elements like those knee guard things. I loved their hairstyles. I loved how cozy and communal that command tent felt. I loved their ships. I wonder how often these guys work out, that they can make loading ramps that are presumably deployed and stashed out of the way frequently, out of whole logs rather than planks. I have a bone to pick with the child-friendly sea mine. But it provides a good set up for a dad joke, so I'll let it slide.

Zuko and Iroh: Of course the one time Zuko is allowed to be in a good place, it's so that he and Iroh both have farther to fall when the inevitable happens. Poor guy just can't catch a break. I'd be mad at Azula for the party crashing that I'm assuming she'll do next episode, but it's been established that Zuko has all nice things taken away from him as soon as he gets them, and I can't blame Azula for being a tool of the universe.

Azula & Long Feng: Azula's acting in Long Feng's prison cell was miles ahead of what Long Feng was doing in front of the Earth King, so I'm wondering if Long Feng has bitten off more than he can chew. Also: conspiring with the enemy to bring down your own city just so you can reinstall yourself as the power behind the throne that will presumably cease to exist as soon as the Fire Nation takes control? That is both treasonous beyond description and an incredible case of shooting yourself in the foot. What's Long Feng's plan here?

Toph and the Dunderheads: it says something about the consistency of Toph's characterisation from her introduction onwards that she breaks the universe this episode and my reaction was "that's neat." It's obviously a huge moment, but of course Toph can do that. Toph can do anything. More importantly, Toph knows that Toph can do anything, so Toph routinely does do anything, especially things she shouldn't be able to do. If you had asked me a few episodes back which character would be most likely to fundamentally redefine bending, I would have said Toph, since she's already fundamentally redefined bending with her earth sense sonar vision.

Also Toph just breaks stuff. Things that come into contact with her cease to function as intended and instead function as Toph requires. Look at the two idiots: both successful business owners, one also a successful hoodwinker of the richest family around. But they come into contact with Toph and their brains take an extended vacation.

Katara & the Generals: this plot was more like an extension of Azula's plot than its own standalone thing. You can't blame her for spilling the news about Zuko and Iroh to someone she honestly thought was Suki. Not much else to say about it, although it's cute that she asks for a table for two at the tea shop. Momo gets a chair!

I like that there's a theme this episode of things going wrong despite the best intentions. No one's acting maliciously here apart from the Antagonists. The Earth King is having an honest chat with people he thought were friends. Sokka vouched for people he honestly thought were the Kyoshi Warriors. Katara shares information about a presumed threat with people she honestly thought were her allies. You can quibble with the wisdom of some of these decisions, but there were all done with good intentions. The best laid plans of mice and men oft go awry and all that. It brings to mind that Star Trek quote about how you can do everything right and still lose. And this set up is going to hit harder when whatever goes wrong next episode happens. And something will go wrong. A few months ago I figured that the Season 2 finale would be a triumph, but all signs are pointing towards a tragedy instead.

This episode was visually stunning, the soundtrack in the Air Temple sections especially was very evocative, and I applaud the minds that could juggle that many plot threads at once without dropping any. This one is definitely going on my rewatch list.

#atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar the last airbender #the guru

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lockedtombtheories · 10 months

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Thanks! I think the biggest thing currently bugging me about HtN is why every surviving lyctor, with 1 single exception, was plotting to kill Jod? My understanding is that it was only when they saw cav!Gideon's eyes on the Mithraeum that they realized Jod lied about the existence of perfect lyctorhood. So why had they spent decades plotting with BoE to open the tomb and murder God? Only explanation I've read is "because he made them kill their cavs," which seems weak.

The short answer is: They at least suspected that he lied about it even before meeting Gideon. She was just the final nail in the coffin, so to speak. Plus, he did make them kill their cavs! Their siblings, their lovers, their closest friends! They dealt with that truth for far more than a lifetime, but they just so happens that they had a lot of time to dwell on it. It’s not really a surprise that it eventually got ugly.

Long answer under the cut, because I love my followers and don’t want them to suffer.

First off: it isn't just the surviving lyctors who betrayed God. Mercymorn, Augustine, Cytherea, yes; but even G1deon was willing to share a bed with the enemy. Either he or Pyrrha told Wake about the RB's and what they do to necromancers, thereby handing her an effective weapon against lyctors.

And then there's Anastasia, who's implied to have gone against John's orders by even founding the Ninth House. Cassie, who contacted BoE *6 000 years ago*. So who really knows what Cyrus and Ulysses were up to, or would have been if they'd survived for long enough.

As for why? We get two pieces of explanation in the text.

YOU LIED TO US

Could this refer to the proof in Gideon's eyes? Sure. But I'm not convinced that it wasn't the message Cyth always wanted to send.

Checking in with the other duplicitous sluts:

“You’ve offered us explanations for everything over the years. But—some of them didn’t hold up on examination … It was the power I could never get my head around, you know? I follow power back to its source, John. It’s the skill you asked me to perfect. And the longer I looked at yours, the less things added up.” “This has been troubling you for a very long time, then,” God said finally. [...] “You don’t get your power from Dominicus,” said Augustine. “It gets its power from you. There’s no exchange involved, no symbiosis. You draw nothing from the system. It relies on you entirely, as we all know. You’re God, John. But—as the Edenites are fond of pointing out—you were once a man. So whither that transition? Where does your power come from? Even if the Resurrection had been the greatest thanergy bloom ever triggered, it would drain away over time. And then Mercy said to me—in a moment of true Mercy vileness—she said, What is God afraid of? [...] I never wanted to believe it when she said, What if he didn’t really put down A.L.? And then—What if he couldn’t put down A.L.?” (HtN, ch. 51)

So: they knew that John didn’t have a tangible power source; and lyctorhood was the only kind of internal furnace they know about. Ergo: yes, they suspected that John had lied about perfect Lyctorhood. He made them kill their cavs. 10 000 years of guilt, literally chasing them across the universe, and for what? For whom?

What kind of God demands such a sacrifice? I think that's one of the central questions of these books. What kind of God demands it? (compare the Binding of Isaac - John) But also: What kind of God punishes it? (compare the Mark of Cain - the Resurrection Beasts)

But -

“Why would one of the Emperor’s Lyctors hate him?” “Hate him?” The voice of the girl whom Gideon had known as Dulcinea rose, high and intent. “Hate him? I have loved that man for ten thousand years. We all loved him, every one of us. We worshipped him like a king. Like a god! Like a brother.” (GtN, ch. 35)

They are Believers losing their Faith. They’re questioning the entire foundation of his divinity. Augustine and Mercy are still asking, still hoping that they're wrong - “All that effort to break open the Locked Tomb,” said Augustine, “only to have the answer we wanted wander up in the form of one dead teenager flaunting your genes." - but crucially, they are also lovers going through a messy divorce. You know, when people who once loved each other and were presumably capable of communication are suddenly throwing plates at each other? “Come, swear your loyalty, my son—my brother—beloved—Lyctor—saint.”

Possibly what Tazmuir is saying is, they're the same picture. But that might be conjecture.

(edited to add in links to other theory posts. call it the director's cut)

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #og lyctors #asks answered #captain-acab #I'll answer part 2 tomorrow!#mercymorn the first #augustine the first

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jeonqkooks · 1 year

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our beloved summer (05) | jjk

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn't as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader

genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, drinking, swearing, crying, Sad Boy JK Hours ??, valentino!yoongi bc that should be a whole warning 🥵 even though he's there and not really there for literally 2 seconds lol

rating: PG-15

word count: 9.5k

note: this is the most stressed out i've ever been while trying to post a fic 💀 argh anyway, 2 obs updates in one month ?? is this even real life !! consider this a (lunar) new year's present from me to everyone who celebrates it and also to everyone who doesn't !! idk i'm bad at notes and i'm delirious so that's it 😗

series masterpost / main playlist ; interactive playlist ; moodboards ; taglist

— as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Hey, I feel like if we gave it one night You'd hate me less and make it alright Just wish that we could fight now I'd hold you on the comedown

Rockland - Gracie Abrams

One thing about you, is that you don’t do well with change.

After you moved out of the first apartment you got as an adult, you constantly went back to your old neighborhood even though it wasn’t close to your new place. You kept walking those familiar streets, kept shopping at the stores where the workers knew your name. At night, you still pictured yourself living there, with all of your furniture and clothes and decorations that you’ve already emptied from those old bones. Then, you imagined what the new tenant was like, if they could feel the lingering love you had for that apartment. You wondered if they were putting the coffee table you left behind to good use, or if they thought that it looked out of place among all of their belongings and had already thrown it away.

Jimin called you weird for that, but he didn’t know that you always leave a piece of yourself everywhere you go. The biggest pieces, you think, are hidden somewhere in a closet in your childhood bedroom where your mother still lives, and in the tiny space of your dorm room where you spent most of your college years.

It took you more than half a year to finally start considering your new apartment home.

Because you hate change. Change is scary. Change is walking into a pitch-black tunnel with no flashlight, not knowing what awaits you in the darkness and not knowing if you’ll make it to the other side.

That isn’t to say that change is inherently bad. You’ve experienced good changes before. Arguably, Jungkook was a good change when he went from someone you couldn’t tolerate, to the love of your life back then. You were happy with him, so blissfully happy that for a while, you forgot what it was like to experience any other emotion.

Yoongi has always been your friend. It didn’t take you two very long to become well acquainted with one another and from there, develop a good friendship. You have never thought of him as anything other than a friend. Even when he was your boss, he still felt more like a friend.

As you sit next to him in a bar too empty for your liking – but seems right for a Tuesday night – you feel a palpable shift between the two of you.

When your phone vibrates with a notification, you glance at it only to exhale annoyedly – unclear whether this frustration is directed toward yourself, or the person blowing up your mobile; maybe it’s both. That’s the nth message that Jungkook has sent you in the last couple of hours, and you don’t need to read it to know that it’s probably another iteration of the same apology. How many different ways are there to say “Hey, I’m sorry for fucking the receptionist and then having the balls to tell you that you’re the unprofessional one when you didn’t even do anything.” Apparently a lot, because the texts just keep coming.

“Jungkook again?” Yoongi asks from beside you. Fuck. You’ve mostly been silently moping since he brought you here, too enmeshed in your own web of muddled thoughts that you forgot he’s someone you need to make amends with too.

You give him a nod but still continue to stare at the drink in front of you, trying to disentangle your Yoongi thoughts from your Jungkook ones.

Taking a sip of your drink, your face manages to keep a grimace at bay as the liquid ambushes your tastebuds. You don’t like whiskey, but you need something to hate more than yourself tonight. When you set the glass down, the alcohol sloshes around like a compact sea of your own amber-colored miseries.

“I’m sorry,” you say finally. “This is unfair to you. I don’t know what came over me. I just want you to know that this isn’t me responding to…” To your confession.

“If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I have to stop you right now.”

“Yoongi…”

“I’m not saying that you can’t turn me down, although I hope you don’t do that,” he chuckles. “I’m just saying that whatever you do, whether you give me a chance or reject me, I want you to decide after you’ve really thought about it, about me.”

You can’t say no to that; it’s only fair. Yoongi knows what he deserves. You haven’t looked at him in any other way, but that doesn’t mean that you can’t. Didn’t you say it yourself, that maybe you should start putting yourself out there? Well, here is someone coming to you before you even have to look anywhere. You may not have expected Yoongi, but then, you didn’t expect Jungkook either.

Yoongi could be the good change you need.

Nevertheless, you want to tell him you’re sorry for the other night. It should be fairly simple, but the words have a hard time dislodging themselves from your throat.

“I’m sorry about what I said that night at dinner… and what I did…”

Yoongi props an elbow on the bar top and leans forward to rest his chin in the palm of his hand, his eyes glimmering with mischief. “Remind me what it is that you did again?”

“Come on, I’m serious.” You are grateful that he’s trying to keep it light, though.

“I’m serious too. I seem to have forgotten.”

“Yoongi…”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You sigh, shutting your eyes momentarily. Recalling the moment makes you flush with embarrassment, bringing a splash of color to your cheeks which Yoongi always seems to enjoy.

In a quiet voice, you say, “I’m sorry for throwing salt at you…”

“You threw salt at me!” He tips his head back, laughing freely. The bartender spares you two a glance at the sudden disruption. “You shouldn’t go around throwing salt at people!”

“Stop laughing! I’m trying to apologize.” You punch his arm out of habit and for a second there, you forget that your relationship with Yoongi isn’t the same anymore. Changed forever.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop. Jeez, why are you so violent?” He rubs the spot where you hit him, muttering under his breath something about him bruising like a peach. “Apology accepted. No hard feelings.”

“Okay, good. But I still want you to know that if you were expecting anything from tonight…”

Yoongi ruffles your hair with a scoff. “I’m not that dense. Of course I’m not expecting anything.” When you peer at him with curious and unsure eyes, he continues, “Y/N, earlier you looked like you wanted to set the place on fire and Jungkook looked like he was about to shit himself. Tonight, I’m just a friend who’s here for you if you want to vent. We’re just two buddies having a drink, that’s all.”

He makes it sound so simple, while your brain is already going haywire.

Despite yourself, you chuckle at his words. You tell him how much you appreciate it, though you don’t really tell him anything about what happened this afternoon, just that Jungkook said some stuff that pissed you off. You can’t tell him exactly what Jungkook did to anger you without alluding to the confession for which Yoongi is letting you off the hook for now.

“Do you wanna come with me tomorrow?” Yoongi asks.

“Come with you where?”

“I have a shoot with Valentino in the morning.”

“You have a photoshoot not even 12 hours from now and you’re here drinking? Aren’t you gonna wake up puffy or something?”

“Yeah, my manager would kill me if she knows what I’m doing,” he replies casually, like his manager has a telepathic connection with him and she can sense him mocking her over a drink. When people see Agust D, they tend to only see the icy exterior that he dons. That tough, maybe even callous, image has sustained him in the entertainment industry for years. For many, Agust D seems intimidating and unapproachable. That’s how you felt when you first met him too. But after a while, you got to see Min Yoongi, and Min Yoongi is nothing if not warm and tender-hearted, even if he’s a little shit sometimes. At least, that’s what he has always been like to you. “She thinks I’m getting my beauty sleep right now.”

You lightly snort at that, telling him, “Yeah, you need it.”

When you start to yawn, Yoongi calls a driver to drop you off at your place. The ride is mostly silent, because you’re tired and because you’re not sure what to say to Yoongi in the presence of a stranger taking you home. The car pulls up to your building soon enough, and before you can step out and tell him goodnight, he offers to walk you up. He takes the elevator with you to your floor, how gallant but unnecessary. When you reach your door, you wonder whether you should invite him in for a glass of water or something. If this was a week – or even just a couple of days – earlier, you would’ve had no reason to hesitate. He doesn’t ask if he can come in but instead takes one of your hands.

“I see you’ve been giving yourself some TLC. They’re a lot better now,” he comments, smoothing his thumb over your skin. You’ve been diligent with your hand care routine since he gave you that lotion. It feels nice, and it smells amazing. Besides, your hands were starting to hurt anyway.

Silence descends upon the two of you as you become aware of Yoongi touching you, and the weight of the answer you’ve yet to give him. He must feel you stiffen, because he lets you go and smiles.

“Relax, princess. Get some sleep, you’re the one who needs it. I said I’ll let you think about it, didn’t I? Stop stressing so much.” His index finger taps your cheek playfully, so familiar yet so foreign at the same time. The wink that he tacks on makes you roll your eyes. You watch Yoongi make his way to the elevator, step in and press the button for the ground floor. He maintains eye contact with you as he waits for the doors to shut, and you don’t think you’ve really noticed before how Yoongi carries himself with such confidence and poise even when he’s off-camera. That’s just the kind of person he is and it’s… kind of attractive.

You can’t even fish around in your bag for your keys, you just stand there because he keeps your gaze trained on him. His eyes are alluring even under the shitty lighting of your building’s elevator. Before the lift closes, his voice carries over from the metal box to your door, and you don’t know if it’s the echo of his low timbre in the empty hallway that makes you shiver, or if it’s just Yoongi.

“I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?”

One week. This is a record for you and Taehyung.

You’re still baffled by his attitude that night, and no one has cleared anything up for you. He was right, but that doesn’t mean you were wrong. You stand by your initial reaction. Could anyone really blame you for that? In your defense, who the fuck could believe that a worldclass megastar has romantic feelings for them? Not to mention that the person whom the megastar in question has feelings for is you! You, the pathetic girl who can’t seem to get over her ex. Yoongi had to sit through a whole hour of you drunkenly crying over Jungkook, for fuck’s sake!

That really wasn’t your best moment, but it’s not like you even remember it anyway.

Your phone buzzes to life with Jimin’s face taking over the whole screen – a photo of your hand squishing his full cheeks until his lips jut out. “Hey Minnie,” you greet him once you’ve swiped to accept the call.

“Y/N,” he says, sounding out of breath. “Where are you?”

“I’m at home. Where are you? Are you doing pull-ups again? You know you practically hyperventilate when you do more than 3.”

“Shut up, I’m at dance practice. But listen, have you talked to Tae yet?”

You purse your lips at the mention of his name. “No. We’re supposed to go grocery shopping tomorrow like we always do, but I guess that won’t be happening.”

Jimin hums, like he’s in thought. He doesn’t speak again until his breathing has calmed. “Well, can you go to his place right now?”

“Why?”

“He’s sick and I’m kind of worried about him. He hasn’t answered my messages.”

You frown. “Tae’s sick?”

“Yeah, he must’ve caught a cold the other day. Could you go over there and check on him? I would go but I can’t leave for another few hours.”

You agree to go, because of course you would. Even if you’re stubborn and hot-headed, no amount of pettiness could make you ignore your friends especially when they’re unwell and need somebody. Especially when it’s Taehyung who’s been there for you so many times.

You stay on the call with Jimin for another ten whole minutes even after you have said you would go, because he keeps droning on and on about how shitty Taehyung looked yesterday.

Before you go to your best friend’s apartment, you stop by your regular diner to pick up some comfort food for him, and the pharmacy for some medicine. During the rest of the drive there, you start getting a little worried. When Taehyung takes care of a sick you or Jimin, he practically goes into full mama bear mode, making sure that you’re as comfortable as humanly possible and not leaving your side until you’re a functional human being again. But when it comes to his own wellbeing, Taehyung doesn’t seem to be that concerned. It’s not that he neglects his health, but you wish that he would show himself the same kindness that he shows you.

It feels weird to use the spare key that you have to his place, considering that you aren’t really on speaking terms. In hindsight, it feels so childish. How old are you to still be pulling the silent treatment on each other?

You ring the doorbell and wait a couple minutes until you hear Taehyung shuffling to get the door from the other side. When it swings open, he tenses up a bit, not expecting to see you at all. His hair is damp; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. Taehyung doesn’t look as bad as Jimin described though. Just some dark circles under his eyes.

You raise a hand and wave. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he parrots somewhat awkwardly. It’s understandable; neither of you thought you’d be the one to break the ice. “What are you doing here?”

Bringing your other hand up, you show him the bag you’re holding. “Brought you soup and cold meds. Jimin said you’re sick.”

His brows knit together in confusion. “Thanks…” he says slowly, “but I’m not sick?”

“But Jimin said you caught a cold and you’ve been wheezing like a dying fisherman and–” You purse your lips, catching onto what’s really happening here. “He tricked me, didn’t he?”

Park Jimin…

Taehyung tuts under his breath, shaking his head at the ground. “Mhmm.”

“He could go into acting. He sounded really worried on the phone, like you were on the verge of death.”

“No, yeah, he really could,” Taehyung agrees. “Jimin is bizarrely good at lying sometimes. We should be worried about that.”

You laugh, and that makes him feel like the air is relaxed enough for him to laugh too. It only lasts a few seconds before you’re left staring at each other again. You hate it. You really, really hate it.

You thought that the universe sent you a sign, gave you a reason to come over and make nice with your best friend. Turns out that “the universe” is really just Park Jimin and his scheming tongue. But you’re already here, and you have to talk to him eventually. Jimin might have lied, but you would’ve just waited for Taehyung to reach out first to offer an olive branch anyway.

“Well, can I come in?” you ask. It’s weird that you even have to ask.

“Of course,” he says absentmindedly, stepping to one side to let you in. He takes the bag from your hand and brings it to the kitchen while you kick off your shoes and change into the pair of fuzzy bear slippers that he keeps for you here.

You want to tell him what happened as much as you hate admitting that you were wrong.

“Have you eaten?” you ask, a sad attempt at delaying what will inevitably come.

“No,” comes his simple reply.

“Should we eat? I bought enough for two people.”

“But I’m not sick.”

“You don’t have to be sick to eat chicken noodle soup.”

Taehyung looks at you like the thought has genuinely never crossed his mind. “Interesting… Okay, then.”

You put on an episode of your favorite show while he heats up the food. When you both sit down to eat, it’s mostly silent while the TV continues to play. The most you and Taehyung thing that you exchange in these 30 minutes is him saying soup tastes like shit when you’re not actually sick, and you telling him to stop being such a hater. When you both finish, Taehyung rinses the bowls and puts them in his dishwasher.

Before you came over, you thought you would only be making him eat, take his meds, and sit there for a bit while he sleeps. If you had known this would happen, you would’ve prepared yourself for it.

But then again, you were tricked into coming.

Ugh. Just do it. You are so freaking dramatic.

“Well,” you start, keeping your voice light and trying not to stand around like you’re out of place in his apartment, “you were right.”

“About what?” Taehyung asks, wiping his hands on a towel.

“About Yoongi and… all that.”

“Oh.” His expression is one you aren’t too familiar with. There’s surprise – yes, that you’re making peace with him – in the way his brows slightly lift, but there’s something else too. Something odd that you can’t quite put a finger on, and it makes you slightly uneasy because you don’t like it when you can’t read Taehyung.

He’s pretty quick to mask it, and it makes you even more conscious that there’s something he isn’t telling you. Of course, this feeling is miniscule, practically a seed compared to the blooming garden of nerves that the events of these past few days have dumped upon you, so you can’t categorize it as a high-level priority to nitpick. You need to deal with your main concerns first, aka what to do about Yoongi and Jungkook, both individually and together, and then you can begin to inspect what’s going on with Taehyung.

It all sounds so easy in theory.

Taehyung goes to the couch and you wordlessly follow. You sit down when he pats the spot next to him – your spot. “How did you come to that conclusion?” he asks. “You know I don’t get to hear you tell me I’m right very often.”

Because you aren’t right very often, is what you almost say. It’s light and playful, and you both know it would diffuse the leftover tension, but you chuck the words aside in favor of something more serious. There isn’t that much to catch him up on, but there is a lot to unpack from the few things that did transpire over the last few days.

You give him a recap of what happened with Yoongi and subsequently what happened with Jungkook. Those are the two things weighing the most on your mind. You haven’t really processed anything; blame it on Yoongi for telling you that you have time to think things through.

One thing you love about Taehyung is that he doesn’t tell you what to do, but rather helps you sort things out on your own. Come to think of it, these conversations often take place on his couch. He’s like your own personal therapist at this point.

“Can you give me a hug?” You probably can’t ask a licensed therapist to do this, though.

He softens even more with a smile. Opening his arms, he says, “C’mere.”

You shuffle over to sink into his embrace. You sigh as you practically melt in his hold. Taehyung is a little bony, but hugging him feels exactly like hugging a giant teddy bear. He’s soft, and always knows how to hold you just tight enough, how to stroke your hair the way you like, how to be just the comforting presence you need amidst a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. And he smells like jasmine, though that might be because you keep deliberately gifting him colognes with scents that you like.

With your chin perched on his shoulder, you feel yourself start to relax, walls coming down if only briefly.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks after a moment.

You’re suddenly aware that you’re crying. You don’t know how it started, but now that the waterworks have begun, it seems like there’s no stopping. “No,” you sniffle. “Can I just…”

You feel him exhale. “Of course.”

Taehyung is one of the few people – oh who are you kidding? He might be the only one – whom you feel comfortable enough around to let yourself cry to your heart’s content.

You’ve been feeling it for days now, even before all that shit happened. Every cell in your body is constantly vibrating, with anxiety, with guilt, with a heaviness that sinks into your bones. You’re shaking even when your hands are perfectly still. People, memories, thoughts you keep only to yourself – they all phase through you, not giving you a single moment to catch your breath.

When it rains, it pours.

Everything is weighing you down like someone has tied you to an anchor and pushed you into the unrelenting, unforgiving water. Grief is an ocean and you don’t know how to swim. Your job, your friends, the unbridled mess that you call a love life… Everything is changing and you’re the same. You’re different, but somehow still the same. Deep down, you’re still that scared little girl who doesn’t know what to make of the world. Your knees are bleeding but your mother is telling you not to cry. Why can’t you cry when you’re hurting? Every minute feels like a lifetime but every day feels like it’s going by in two seconds. Things are moving so fast. Things are moving too slow. You can’t remember the last time you actually cried. Really cried. Bawled. Sobbed. Let out all the dirt until you can see your roots again. Until you originate back to being a blank canvas. Sometimes it feels like that’s the only way that can help you see things more clearly. Your vision might blur for a while but afterward, it’ll have washed everything away. At least a little bit. So you can get your footing again.

You miss clarity, or the illusion that you have any control over your life. You miss looking out the window and have something to look forward to, even on overcast days where the sun can’t be bothered to bring you light. You miss hearing your heart beat a melody that doesn’t ache, doesn’t rattle you to the core. Pieces of you have been held together by nothing but tape and glue for the longest time. Eventually, they’ll deteriorate, and you’ll go back to being skin and bones always on the verge of falling apart.

Some of your best writing was never meant for anybody to hear. The best lines that you’ve scribbled down are diary entries disguised as music, as poetry. They’re results of your lowest and weakest moments, it just happens that there was a journal lying around and you thought that if you had to keep all that sadness inside for a second longer, you would burst. Those immortalized lines represent your heartbreak, your self-hatred, your sorrow and your grief. They come from a lifetime of unshed tears, from the burden of having a heart that feels too much but is always silenced. Words are your escape when time rushes through you like a child skipping stones. Everything hurts all the time but no one knows and you don’t bother explaining to anyone how you wish you could be a different person living a different life because it seems like the universe has made a mistake with this one. How it feels like a divine power has miscalculated and misread your false stoicism as resilience. Just because a person carries it well doesn’t mean they have to carry it at all.

Sometimes you like to muse that if anyone could catch a glimpse of what it’s like inside, they’d think, Wow. How are you holding all of that weight? How are you so silent through it all? How do you live with an ache so allconsuming that I can hardly see you underneath it?

It’s the only way you know how to express yourself. But even then, when you’re screaming and burning, you’re still quiet. Those words are your heart on paper, raw and bleeding all over the place, covered in a million cracks that no one can see or even pay enough attention to notice. They’re there whether anybody likes it or not. They’re right there, red ink staining white pages, begging in a voice small like a child asking for love. Please see me. I’m here. Nobody taught me how to swim. Please see me.

But nobody does. They walk past you every day. They sit with you, smile at you and laugh with you. They leave you. They stay. They break your heart. Even when they love you, nobody sees you.

You love Taehyung, but you don’t think he understands. He knows you better than almost everyone in this world and he tries to help you in any way he can, but at the end of the day, maybe this isn’t something that a person can understand even if they want to. It’s worse, to realize that perhaps it isn’t because people don’t care enough to see it, but that no matter how hard they try, they can’t.

The only person who has ever come the closest is Jungkook, with his big doe eyes that always see through you and see into you. Sometimes, you think there might be parts of you that he could see but you still don’t. He knew things about yourself that you never want anybody to find out, and he loved you anyway. He went the lengths that nobody ever did because they all gave up after a while. Someone once told you that you felt like a fortress wall impossible to climb, that nobody had the time, the patience to wait for you. In other words, you weren’t worth it. Not worthless, just not worth the effort it would take to break down your walls.

But Jungkook showed up and tried, every day. The one person that you never saw coming. You might have resisted at first, but then you became his biggest supporter. You were rooting for him to know you, how fucked up is that? You were right there. He was so close.

And then he stopped.

You suppose that’s what makes everything awful now – to know that you should let go of him when he’s the only person who ever came that close.

You don’t know how long Taehyung has had to sit here, comforting you like this, but at one point, your stomach starts growling and you feel your best friend trying to hold back a giggle. Jungkook might have mastered the art of loving you, but Taehyung is an expert at comforting you.

“Shut up.” You wipe away the dampness on your cheeks with the back of your hand and push Taehyung off. “Crying makes me hungry.”

“Should I order us fried chicken then?”

“And soju. Get some soju too.”

Jimin is a strategic trickster. There was no dance practice. He just ran around his apartment ten times until his breathing turned ragged, which if you ask anyone, was completely unnecessary. He’s very extra, but at least it was effective.

After he got off the phone with you, Jimin immediately went to your shared phone tracker app – today was one of those times where it proves to be the most useful. He stared at the little circle with a silly photo of you as it moved from your address to Taehyung’s with a couple pit stops along the way. Jimin giggled to himself when he saw your circle meet Taehyung’s, because at that point you two must have realized already that you’d been swindled. Of course, there was always a chance of you leaving the moment you figured out you had come all that way for no reason at all, but when Jimin saw after a couple of hours that the two circles are still next to each other, he knew that you and Taehyung made up already.

Jimin sends a message to your group chat, a simple hello but Taehyung knows what he’s trying to get at. The text thread shared by the three of you lights up with a selfie of you and Taehyung each holding a chicken drumstick and wearing a content smile. In the background, there are some soju bottles, a box of chicken and some fries.

Jimin doesn’t question why your eyes look a little puffier than usual. He just replies with a smiley emoji and a thumbs up. The triumph of his mini victory almost makes him forget that there’s someone else in his home.

Jungkook peeks over Jimin’s shoulder to peek at his phone, curious to see what’s making his friend so delighted. When he sees you and Taehyung on Jimin’s screen, he sinks again, heart sitting in the pit of his stomach. The words you told him just the day before ring loud in his ears, as if they haven’t been stuck on his mind, playing on a loop.

You’re such a fucking hypocrite.

You weren’t wrong, but man, did that feel like a punch in the gut.

He goes to sit across from Jimin, taking note of every single sound that notifies his friend of a new message. For the first time, he feels like an outsider, like he’s intruding on a private moment.

“I fucked up,” Jungkook admits quietly, cracking open a can of beer and taking a long sip. It makes Jimin look up and put away his phone. “With Y/N,” Jungkook clarifies.

“Yeah, I’ve been informed. That was the stupidest thing you’ve done in a while.”

“In a while? When was the last time I did something stupid?”

Jimin doesn’t even have to think about it. He answers right away, “When you left her.”

Jungkook hums, unclear whether the noise is meant in agreement or just in acknowledgment. His tongue darts out to swipe across his dry lips before he breathes out. “I don’t know what to do. She hasn’t replied to any of my texts. I feel like a fucking asshole.”

“From what I’ve been told, you were a fucking asshole,” Jimin says lightly, his words emphasized with a chuckle like he finds Jungkook’s predicament so funny. “I can’t believe you would say that shit about Yoongi to her right after he confessed.”

Cue a pregnant pause, and a pair of doe eyes staring right into Jimin’s skull, unable to decipher if what he’s hearing is a joke or not.

“Yoongi– what?”

Jimin slaps himself internally. Shit. It slipped, he swears. “Nothing,” he sighs, but he knows it wouldn’t be dropped so easily.

“No. Not nothing,” Jungkook sits up straight and puts his chilled beer down on the table, missing the coaster entirely just to piss off his friend. “The fuck do you mean Yoongi confessed? Confessed what?”

Jimin sighs with pursed lips. “What else? What do you think he confessed to?”

Jungkook gulps, and blinks a few times. When? Why? Was that the reason you looked so distraught yesterday before all that shit went down between you and him? Who confesses to someone in a freaking break room?

Then Jungkook remembers that you and Yoongi went out for drinks last night. What did he say? What did you say? His stomach churns at the thought of something… happening between the two of you.

Jimin takes in his friend’s dumbfounded expression. “Why are you shocked?” he asks. “I thought you expected something like this. Isn’t it why you spewed all that crap about Yoongi flirting with her?”

“Fuck, I don’t know! It feels like the guy is out to get me for some goddamn reason. I thought he was just playing with Y/N to piss me off!”

Jimin shakes his head, looking thoughtful. “Yoongi wouldn’t do that to her.”

“How would you know?”

“Because when they first worked together, from the things that she told us, the stuff that Yoongi would do for her, Taehyung and I thought he liked her back then too,” Jimin says. “This has nothing to do with you.”

It sucks. It fucking sucks.

“Should I go over there?” Jungkook asks, a newfound sense of urgency in his voice that borderlines panic. He’s acting like this fact that Jimin just dumped upon him is unraveling just as this conversation is taking place, but in reality, he’s one of the last people to know.

“And tell her what? If you’ve said sorry a million times and she hasn’t responded, then saying it one more time won’t change anything.”

“What am I supposed to do when I see her tomorrow?”

“Nothing? Are you incapable of leaving things alone? If she wants to ignore you, let her ignore you. If she wants to yell at you, let her yell at you. If she wants nothing to do with you, let her do that too. Why do you keep making things worse for yourself?”

Jungkook runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “So your solution is for me to just let her hate me?”

Jimin levels him with a look, which just annoys him even more. “You had no problem with that before.”

“If you’re not gonna help me, should I ask Taehyung then?”

“Don’t go to Tae about this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t,” Jimin snaps, and it makes Jungkook falter for a few seconds before the petulance in him clouds his better judgment.

“Why? He’s her best friend. They’re practically joined at the hip. He’s gotta be able to help me with this.”

“You really want to go to Taehyung for advice on how to suck up to your ex-girlfriend? He’s the most protective of her. What makes you think he would be willing to help you?”

“He’s my friend too, isn’t he? Shouldn’t he want to help all of us be civil with each other?”

“Yeah, he’s your friend. I’m your friend and Y/N’s too. And you’re right, all of us should get along, but we shouldn’t be put in a situation where we’d have to try. You did that to us and nothing is going to be the same again. I don’t even know why you did it. You kept your mouth shut for years no matter how hard me and Taehyung tried to get it out of you. Now you suddenly can’t make peace with the consequences of your actions? Now you want us to help you win over the person you fucked over, who is also our closest friend? I don’t get you, JK. I’m starting to regret not letting Taehyung punch you back then.”

Jungkook stares at his friend. Is this shock that he’s feeling? He still remembers that night, because he doesn’t forget a lot of things. He can’t forget it. He had never seen Taehyung – who is usually so calm and cordial – get that angry before. His friend, who is a saint of a man, felt so much rage toward Jungkook that Jimin had to physically hold him back.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin asks. “You’re not used to me not being on your side all the time?”

He knows that. The only person who seems to be on Jungkook’s side is himself, and sometimes he isn’t sure if this is even true at all. What you told him at the dance studio’s opening party, what Jimin is telling him now, and even the things that Taehyung shouted at him a couple of years back – it’s all true. He knows these things already, but it feels different to hear them from other people. You’re all right; nobody is overreacting. To an outsider, it might come across as harsh, but to anyone who knows anything, it’s rightfully deserved.

Nevertheless, Jungkook admits quietly, “Actually, yeah.”

Jimin sighs, because he knows that his friend has no malicious intent toward you or toward anyone. Jimin knows that Jungkook doesn’t mean to hurt you, any more than he already has. Jungkook is even more crazed now that Yoongi is somehow a factor in all of this. It’s the insecurities bubbling at the surface. He’s panicking and he can’t even see straight. This is just his own stupid take on fight or flight. It was flight for a while, and now apparently it’s not. Jimin doesn’t really understand it, but he gets that this is his friend’s way of dealing with shit. “I tried, man. I did. But it’s really, really hard to have your back on this.”

Jungkook is well aware of it too – that to leave you alone is probably the best thing he can do at this point. Everything he says or does seems to backfire; instead of pulling you closer, all he manages to do is push you further away and make you hate him more than you already do.

But in a way, isn’t that a good thing? Better to have you hate him than be indifferent toward him. After all, there’s a thin line between love and hate. You yourself blurred this line long ago. You can do it again, can’t you?

Jungkook sits there for a while longer to finish his beer, even though he doesn’t have anything else to say. It’s clear what Jimin’s stance on this is, and no matter what he says, it’s unlikely that anyone will help him try and get back in your good graces.

Before he leaves, Jimin says something that makes him nauseous. Makes him want to fucking cry and kick something and speed over to your apartment just so you could reassure Jungkook that he’s still the one you hate the most. That all of your feelings, whether they’re good or bad, are still reserved for him and only him.

It isn’t what his best friend should tell him, but it’s what a good friend would say. It's not about Jungkook, it's not about Jimin or Taehyung or anyone else. It's about you, who has been hurt the most here.

“If she wants to choose Yoongi, let her do that too.”

[10:48] Yoongi: Attachment: 2 Images.

[10:49] Yoongi: got yelled at for showing up puffy yesterday

You tap on the notifications and the photos pop up within seconds. It’s Yoongi at his Valentino shoot probably. He never used to send you stuff like this, nor asked you to come watch him at his photoshoots. Why would he?

You zoom in on his face to inspect if he really was puffy, but you can’t really tell. Maybe if you were a makeup artist with a sharper eye, you would see it. But under your regular-person gaze, everything seemed fine. Yoongi looked handsome in the pictures.

[10:55] You: you don’t look puffy to me

[10:57] Yoongi: so how do i look to you? ;)

[10:58] You: the fits look good

[11:01] Yoongi: i wasn’t asking about the fits

[11:05] You: and i’m telling you the fits look good anyway

[11:07] Yoongi: what about the model?

[11:10] You: are you fishing for compliments?

[11:11] Yoongi: what if i am?

[11:14] You: the model looks Not Puffy

[11:16] Yoongi: you’re no fun ;(

You consider your next reply for a moment. It doesn’t seem like that big a deal. You want to send it. It seems innocent enough, and it’s the truth. A simple praise can’t hurt, right?

Your fingertips tingle just typing the words out. You’re suddenly so jittery for some reason as your thumb hovers over the arrow symbol that would whoosh away your message. It's a good kind of jittery. You might even say that you’re excited.

[11:22] You: the model looks good too

You put your phone face-down on the table, not even checking when it vibrates with Yoongi’s response to your latest text. It’s so weird that you’re feeling like this, maybe because it’s been so long since someone has shown an actual interest in you? Or is it because it’s Yoongi? If it were anyone else, would you still react the same?

It’s weird, but not necessarily weird in a bad way. You just aren’t used to it, or it’s been such a long time that you forgot what it feels like to be… wanted? You don’t think about it often but it’s true, you’ve missed the thrill of being chased.

“So… word on the street is you have a secret song.”

Seokjin’s voice makes you glance up, wondering who he could be talking to when the only people in the room beside him are you and Jungkook – whom you haven’t spoken a word to all morning despite him glancing not-so-subtly at you every two seconds. When you got here this morning, there was already a chai latte on the table with your name on it. The order was too specific for it to be Seokjin, but you didn’t say anything.

“The street?” you ponder for a moment, knowing exactly who the culprit is. “Is that what Yoongi calls himself these days? He’s been here for what? A couple weeks? And he’s already blabbed to you.”

“So it’s true?” Seokjin leans back in his chair, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yoongi said it’s real good. Top shelf kinda stuff. And you know he never says things like that.”

It’s not a song, or at least that isn’t what you would call it. Maybe more like an essay composed of sentences that go together like misfit puzzle pieces. You don’t think you would ever rework it and pitch it to anyone because it’s yours and it’s personal. You would never tell anyone about it, and Yoongi wouldn’t have come to know about its existence if he hadn’t stumbled across it in your journal by accident.

“Don’t listen to Yoongi,” you say. “At this point, I feel like you should know that Yoongi tends to exaggerate sometimes.”

“He never seems to be exaggerating when it comes to you,” Seokjin muses. You almost blush, thinking about what else Yoongi could’ve told Seokjin. He doesn’t notice the split second in which your cheeks redden just the slightest, or he doesn’t mind it enough to comment. “What’s the title?”

You shrug, saying nothing.

“You can’t even tell me the title? Damn, Y/N. Are you the CIA?”

“I’m not telling you because there is no title. There’s not even a song, just something I go back to sometimes. It’s mostly just word vomit. I promise you, it’s nothing.”

“Tell that to Yoongi. He told me whoever’s gonna get that song is one hell of a lucky bastard.”

Again, what is it with the praise? You know working with Yoongi and being associated with his last album gave your career a boost, but you weren’t aware that he was talking about you with other people. Maybe he only does it with Seokjin because they’re close, but still, it makes you itch with curiosity.

“By any chance are you gonna give it to… me?” Seokjin asks, and seems to immediately hear how flawed it sounds. You stare at him blankly, trying to bite back an amused smile, and even Jungkook turns his head to look too. Seokjin’s ears turn red in an instant. “Okay, that came out kinda wrong. I’m really, really sorry. But you know what I mean.”

You continue to stare at him until his face is so flushed, you swear he’s like a tomato that’s about to burst. You can see why Yoongi likes to tease people this way. “Okay, boss,” you acquiesce with a laugh, relieving Seokjin of the fear that he genuinely offended you. “If the song ever gets to see the light of day, I’ll make sure to ask you to lend your voice.”

“Ah, so you admit it’s a song.” He grins brightly at your empty promise, making you roll your eyes half-heartedly. He goes back to his normal shade in a minute, no longer ridiculously red like a cartoon character. “What’s it about?”

You ponder his question silently, missing the way Jungkook takes this moment to glance at you. When you look up again, he’s already averting his gaze.

What is it about? That’s a question that you yourself have never really considered. It’s about everything and it’s about nothing. It’s love, it’s loss, it’s the infinite in-between. You give Seokjin an answer that won’t satisfy him, but it’s the truth.

“I haven’t figured it out yet. I’ll let you know when I do.”

He tuts at you, like he was expecting the obscurity from you anyway. “You’re really not beating the CIA allegations,” he says.

You flip him the bird, which only compels him to stick out his tongue and make a face at you. Then, he diverts his attention to the person who hasn’t contributed anything this whole time.

“JK, why are you so quiet today? We’re not gonna eat you.”

Jungkook mutters something to Seokjin that you don’t quite catch because the words come out of his mouth like an inarticulate mess, which is so unlike him. He sounds jumpy, like he’s too nervous to speak in front of you. Seokjin’s eyes land on you again as he mouths a confused What?

You just shrug, and Seokjin has to take Jungkook’s weird response as him having an off day. The man checks his phone, lets out a quiet whine, then addresses the both of you. “I have a shoot this afternoon so you two will have to hold down the fort, by the way.”

You come back from your solo lunch date to an empty studio.

Well, almost empty. There’s something new that wasn’t there before.

Another chai latte waiting for you equates to another apology hoping to be acknowledged. The paper cup is still hot when your hand reaches out to touch it. You sink into your chair with a sigh. You could laugh at yourself for feeling so nostalgic at the sight of a beverage in the middle of a workday.

Jungkook walks in about 15 minutes later, and the air turns suffocating at his arrival. He feels it too, you know he does.

You chew on your bottom lip until it starts to hurt, bite down on it until it almost bleeds.

“Jungkook,” you say, catching his attention. It looks like he didn’t expect you to initiate any conversation. It’s not like you want to, but you have to. You keep having to do this, because he just wouldn’t listen. “Stop buying me drinks.”

It translates to: Stop saying sorry. Stop trying to make things right. Stop doing things you think would make me happy. Stop making me have the same argument with you over and over again.

“Because you wouldn’t hear me out,” he says, and proceeds to repeat the one thing that you’re sick of hearing from him. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing,” you verbalize it. “If it’s not about work, I don’t think it’s necessary for me to hear it, Jungkook. I don’t want to hear it.”

“You do need to hear it. Because I can’t function properly until you know how sorry I am.”

“Well, that sounds like a you problem.”

“Y/N.”

“What?”

“Hear me out,” he says, sounding a little firmer now but you still catch the crack in his voice. “Please.”

Jungkook must take the way you hesitate to shut down him as reluctant permission for him to keep going, because he stands up and moves to a spot closer to you. Not close enough that he could reach out and touch you, but enough for you to see the tiny mole under his bottom lip and how it quivers when he looks at you.

Fuck. You’re letting him win again.

“Okay, fine. Talk then. I’m listening. You’re sorry, right? You keep saying you’re sorry for everything, but what exactly is everything? What are you even sorry about? Are you sorry about annoying me right now, or are you sorry about being a prick the other day, or are you sorry about leaving me five years ago? When did you become this pathetic, Jungkook?”

“W–what?”

“When did you become so pathetic?” you repeat. “If you had to come back, couldn’t you come back as someone better? Someone who’s sure of himself and has a good life, not this… person who has to grovel at my feet for forgiveness. Even when you were at your lowest, you weren’t like this. I don’t even know who this Jungkook is. What happened to you?”

If you think that you saw him at his lowest, then you’re wrong. He didn’t hit rock bottom until he’d left you and had to live with what he chose to do.

“You’re right. I am pathetic,” Jungkook agrees, dropping his gaze to the floor like he’s ashamed. “But fuck, I’m trying to be worthy of you.”

It’s a truth that he doesn’t want to face, doesn’t want to admit how very real it is until you’ve just said it and it fucking guts him. He knows his friends pity him sometimes, even if they don’t want to view him as someone to be pitied. No matter how much of a front he puts up, he knows that Jimin and Taehyung see right through him. They won’t say it to his face, and for that Jungkook has gotten away with avoiding this fact for so long. But to hear it from you, to watch you spell it out for him, it hurts.

He wants to mention Yoongi, but he doesn’t know how to phrase it in a way that wouldn’t immediately aggravate you. After all, bringing up Yoongi is what got him into this mess, isn’t it?

Regardless, he wants to ask you a question that he already knows the answer to. What does Yoongi have that he doesn’t? The answer is: A lot of things. Yoongi has a lot of things that Jungkook doesn’t, one of them being the self-assurance to not run away when it comes to you and what you deserve.

He wants to ask, but he doesn’t, because he’s scared it might drive you right into Yoongi’s arms and Jungkook can’t compete with a man like that.

He can barely keep up even with just himself in the running.

There’s a big question mark that pops up in your head, along with a slight sting in your eyes that you blink away. You’ve never seen Jungkook like this before. This whole time, was it not only you who was miserable?

He looks so small that it breaks your heart. For once, you aren’t sad for yourself but you’re sad for him. It never occurred to you that he could’ve been lonely too, having to keep all of this inside because you know he didn’t share it with anyone else. You catch a glimpse of him again, like you did when you were making ramen together in your kitchen while a storm was raging outside. In a lot of ways, Jungkook is still that kid stuck in an adult’s body, lost and scared and loved you. It feels like you could’ve seen him in the same ocean while you were just trying to keep your head above water.

The sight of him, so vulnerable and astray, placates you. Your resolve crumbles, but not like it was ever that strong to begin with. You suppose you could see why he was being a jerk to you. Even though it doesn’t justify what he said, you understand just a little bit where he was coming from. You find yourself forgiving him for some of it. It’s part of letting things go, right?

But no matter how much you want to reach out and comfort him, you know you shouldn’t. What are you supposed to do in a situation like this? You’re confused and it feels like you two have been going around in a circle, looking for a solution that doesn’t seem to exist.

Coexisting doesn’t work. Telling him to leave things alone doesn’t work. What else can you do?

Why do you have to resolve a problem that isn’t even yours? Jungkook says he’s trying, but his efforts keep making your life harder and harder. You practically blew up in his face, then apologized for being harsh even though you were fully aware that you had nothing to be sorry for. You called him a hypocrite and now you’re ready to cave just because he’s on the verge of shedding a few tears. This constant back and forth between your anger and your reluctance to see that anger through is possibly the thing that’s hindering you.

You can’t – and shouldn’t – accommodate him anymore. You have to put your foot down, no matter how difficult it is with the lingering ghost of your past love.

Because you’re always weak when it comes to Jungkook.

Because you’re still holding onto something.

Because Jungkook will always be the first person that you have ever loved, and those four years meant a lot to you even if they didn’t to him. Maybe it’s even fair to say that you might never truly get over it, and that doesn’t have to be such a terrible thing. Maybe he was never the person you thought he was, or maybe you never meant as much to him as he did to you. Somehow, that’s okay. It’s manageable because it’s routine at this point. You’ve internalized it. The years have taught you that sometimes, things get shitty just because they can and you just have to deal with it.

The intrinsic pain of the human experience. C’est la vie.

What a world this is.

Is it bad that you’re thinking about Yoongi in a moment like this?

Yoongi could be your future, if you’d let him.

You should let him. Maybe this is your answer right here.

“Jungkook, let’s stop.” He looks at you with crestfallen eyes, but you have to keep going. The only way out is through. “Let’s stop. You want me to listen to you, but you haven’t been listening to me. I don’t have the strength to keep this up anymore, and I have told you that repeatedly but you wouldn’t listen. Jungkook, move on.”

You pretend not to notice how his lip trembles even more. “What if I don’t want to move on?”

This feels like a conversation that should’ve happened ages ago. Five years ago, you should’ve screamed at him, cried with him, held each other as you both fell apart. He stripped you of that right and gave you no say at all.

“You’re being awfully selfish,” you tell him, but in your head, you’re already thinking about what his words actually mean.

“Have you completely written me off then? Is there nothing at all that I can do? Because I would do anything if you asked. You know that.”

Your throat is so dry that it feels like you’re swallowing sand. You dig everything back up again until you find the memory of that day hidden at the very bottom.

It’s terrible. He’s making you relive it again.

“I remember calling for you and you didn’t even look back,” you say, but your voice breaks toward the end. “I can’t trust you anymore.”

Jungkook just stares at you then, and for the longest time, neither of you say anything. This is the first time that you two have addressed the problem, properly addressed it instead of half-heartedly sweeping it under the rug like you tried to do.

You breathe in, he breathes out. You hate the way you feel, and you resent the way he looks like he’s breaking down just as badly. There are tears in those eyes, tears that Jungkook doesn’t let spill because he defiantly wipes them away with the back of his hand after a moment.

When he speaks next, you want the world to end.

“Then I’ll earn your trust back. I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you. I will.”

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angelltheninth · 10 months

Note

Falling asleep on Nightwing's shoulder and staying the night with him?

So cute! So wholesome! I've been struggling to come up with a fic prompt for him.

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader

Tags: fluff, cuddles, kissing, sleepy confession, staying the night, literal sleeping together

Word count: 0.8k

A/N: Finally some more love for Nightwing, its usually always Jason and I love writing for him but sometimes I like to write for Nightwing too.

"Thanks for letting me stay over Dick, hope I'm not bothering you too much. I know you're tired too." It felt good to be out of your superhero outfit and into something more comfy, even if it was Dick's borrowed sweater pants and shirt, "And thanks for letting me use your shower, I really needed that."

Dick looked at you from the couch, a big bottle of water next to him and feed crossed over each other on the floor, "Anytime. I'm not gonna make you go all the way to the other side of Blüdhaven when my place is much closer. Feel free to relax, there's some pizza in the fridge if you're hungry."

He was being such a cute host you couldn't help but smile at every word he said, "No thanks, I'm just really tired right now. I just wanna cuddle up and sleep."

"C-Cuddle up?" A blush crossed his cheeks as he rubbed the back of his neck at the thought of your body against his, "I can put on a movie for us to watch if you'd like. It's been a long time since I've spent time with you. Alone I mean. Not that... your company isn't good otherwise I just..." You pressed a finger to his lips, pushing the bottom one over the upper.

"Dick?"

"Yes?" He mumbled against your finger.

"You're cute but please stop talking." You were too tired to deal with the growing romantic tension that had been growing between you two for the past months. It was easy to ignore when you were with others or focused on patrol or a mission but here, now, when you were all alone together it was getting a little more difficult.

Dick seemed to think so too as he pressed his lips together and moved over to give you some room, gesturing for you to take a seat like the gentleman he was.

"Do you mind the screen?" He looked over at you, noticing how your eyes were already closing as you settled next to him.

"No, just keep the volume low please." You were out barely ten minutes into the movie, the only sound you registered, barely was the sound of Dick's increased heartbeat when your face landed against his upper chest. "'M very lucky to have you in my life. No wonder I love you."

If you could focus you'd hear his heart speed up just then, and felt the faint press of his lips against your forehead, "I love you too."

When you woke up the next morning it all seemed like a dream, one with many pieces missing but you'd somehow found yourself in his bed. There was only you there. "I... guess Dick must have moved me here?" You yawned as you did a few stretches on your way to the living room where just as suspected you found Dick sleeping on the couch.

It seemed rude to wake him up but you had to know if your memory was true, or really a dream. It would have been a good dream and not the first one you've had either.

Being as vigilant as he was Dick stopped your hand mid-air before you managed to touch him, "Oh. Good morning. Did you sleep well?" He asked, trying to sound awake when his face was pressed against the pillow so his already tired speech sounded even more slurred and by extension even more adorable. And then there was his messy bed head that you wanted to fix so desperately.

"It seems I slept better then you." Despite how tired he was he still chuckled, "You shouldn't have slept on a couch just cause I was crashing at your apartment."

"Don't worry, a few workout routines and my back will be as good as new." You had no doubt about that one, Dick never seemed to have back problems. Lucky bastard. "So, about last night-"

"Last night I think I-"

You paused and looked at each other, a nervous laugh escaping you both at the same time. Like last night you took a seat next to Dick, your face heating up when his hand took yours.

"Did you hear what I said?" He asked in a voice so soft you might have mistaken it for another dream.

"I did. I guess that means I really confessed then?" And not even in a cool or suave way, it was actually pretty embarrassing to fall asleep on your crushes shoulder like that. "Does this mean I can take you out on a date tonight?" You decided to shoot your shot with him, it can't get any worse.

"Only if we come back to my place after. To finish that movie of course." He winked at you, eyes dropping down your body for a brief moment.

"To finish the movie... I'd love to." But the movie won't be the only one finishing.

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 2 months

Text

#32

TW: Knives, references to violence, restraints, bruises/wounds, flirty?

I am literally sauurrr sorry for being so inactive but college is destroying me. It's been so long since I've written too, so I do hope the quality of this piece isn't affected. Missed u guys 💙

"Do I scare you?" the hero asked, her voice devoid of any emotion, all while her eyes stared straight through the villain like he was transparent, searching for something in his expression.

Except his face remained defiantly blank, looking up at her, fire in his honey brown eyes, surprisingly not sparing any effort to attempt escaping his restraints.

When the hero stuck one of her nails into a small, open cut on his neck, the villain bit back a wince, an irritated frown tugging at the corner of his lip. "Yes," he supplied, his tone even and calm, not even hostile, trying to render himself as passive as possible.

Except he'd licked his lip in that quick, almost imperceptible manner, something he only ever did when he lied, something the hero wasn't supposed to know.

But she did.

"Stop lying," she snarled, sticking her nail again in the cut.

"The hell do you want, Hero?" he snapped, hissing as her finger left his cut.

The breaking point. The point where the villain was done placating and playing along and already back to his normal, wild state, where he could care less about whatever earned the hero's ire.

She'd spent the last three hours mostly in silence, only ever talking to ask the villain a question she knew would irritate him. He held up surprisingly well, even though his self-preservation instincts were usually nowhere to be found. So she wondered why he'd act so placidly in the beginning.

The villain liked to talk. He did most of the talking during their fights. The quiet drove him insane, and now he had his teeth bared like an animal, murder in his eyes and tension in his jaw.

This was the part where the hero should've laughed or slapped him across the face, or done anything just as cruel.

The truth was that they'd both been nothing but cruel to each other, enemies by virtue. The villain had beat the hero black and blue, had called her a myriad of flithy names, had screamed at her because of how much he hated that she was quiet. In turn, the hero made sure that every nick with a knife and every punch against skin had left a mark on the villain. She fought to scar, not just to incapacitate. She knew the scars were more a wound to his ego than his body, proof she'd hurt him.

And yet, the villain had pulled her out of a ditch and bandaged up her nearly destroyed leg, effectively saving her life when he had no business being there. In turn, she'd pulled him up when he almost slipped off a roof during one of their fights.

And situations like that would only keep happening more and more often, almost a staple of their atypical relationship. The villain would laugh, would crack a joke, would be so careful with her wounds, would be anything but his usual abrasive self.

And the very next fight, they would be even more horrible to each other, as though whatever had happened the day before had never been, as though cruelty was the only language they could speak.

The hero didn't have friends. They were another luxury she couldn't afford. Her teammates weren't actively cruel or anything of the like, but the agency left no room for any semblance of friendship or love or all the things the hero wanted but could never really have. And the villain wasn't her friend. He wasn't supposed to be anyone. But he was genuine, almost the only person in her life who didn't sound and act like a robot. He'd had actual conversations with the hero. And maybe she was not stupid enough to think that made him any good, but maybe she was stupid enough to think that made him mean something to her.

"Answer me, Hero," he snarled coldly, tearing her chain of thought in half.

The hero didn't consider spending any time on thinking of an intelligible response. People weren't logical when they were desperate. Desperate was the hero's hand cupping the villain's jaw so gently that the shiver up his spine was still awfully intense, even with his numb body. Desperate was staring into the villain's eyes, watching the way his lashes fluttered, as his eyes told a completely different story from the harsh frown on his lips. Desperate was the hero's lips on his cheekbone, warm against his skin, shy, terrified, staying there for a fleeting moment that still felt like too long and retracting away with shame written all over her features.

"I'm sorry."

Villain's eyes had widened, even though it seemed impossible they could grow any bigger. "I- come closer again," he half-whispered, all the roughness from his voice gone. "Lean down a little."

And the hero obliged, even though it went against every single thing she'd been taught, and in turn the villain's lips were pressed to her jaw, careful but in no way timid. They weren't supposed to be velvet-soft, and hints of the villain's spicy cologne shouldn't have still managed to be distinguishable through the blood and the sweat. But of course the seemingly impossible was happening.

"Yes," he answered, "you do scare me, but not in the way that you asked, so I was lying," he continued against the hero's jaw.

And she hated how palpable the relief was when he hadn't licked his lips.

"This is how you actually kiss someone." The smirk on the villain's face may have been merciless as he pulled away, but it was clear he was trying to break the tension that they could have sliced through with a blade.

God, the hero could barely breathe. She never knew something that felt almost forbidden could feel so right. She was scared the villain's response had been a trick and more scared that it hadn't. She wanted to scream at him and slam her fists into his body, to split his rose-petal-like lips with a jagged streak of crimson. But more than anything, she wanted him close enough to her that they were breathing each other's air, she wanted to kiss his face again, properly this time, so that it truly felt like something, something that set the hero's nerves on fire.

The hero had pulled out her twin knives, cutting through his ropes with one, while the other remained pressed against his carotid artery, as he still remained sitting on the chair.

Except the villain had pulled the knife out of her hand, slightly scratching himself, and he got up, twirling the knife with his hand and pressing its cold, flat edge to the hero's jaw, his breath warm on her face. "Don't fight it. That's all you've done, all I've done, and I'm sick of it."

And in all honesty, so was she. Sick of having no one, sick of wanting someone who was right there and yet so far away, sick of pushing a knife into the skin of the same boy who had bandaged her bleeding knuckles and made fun of the stupid kids' designs etched on them, the only thing he had, the next day after it happened.

The hero nodded, slowly putting her knives away when the villain handed her the other blade back, slinging an arm around the villain's waist, surprisingly small for someone so athletically built, but not any less attractive.

"Let's go home. I mean, my place," the villain suggested, utterly exhausted, but a hint of a smile was still there in his words as he wrapped his arm around the hero's shoulder, his fingers gripping onto the fabric of her suit a little playfully.

And the hero simply nodded, mirroring the villain's own soft smile.

Emotions are hard to understand, no rules or logic existent that could ever explain the power they hold over a person; the power that the heart exercises so ruthlessly over the mind. And yet nearly nothing could ever leave one feeling so certain, so absolutely euphoric to the point that not even the entire world would seem to matter compared to the one person love tethers you to.

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @adamswrongchild @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @m3rakii @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal @kaiwewi @those-damn-snippets @genuinelythioehat-is-whump @ghostofnorth

Wanna be on the taglist? This'll take you there!

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colourstreakgryffin · 8 months

Note

I've had a horrible week. Like so mentally down bad rn. So I'd like comfort from a spider boy that's definitely NOT comfort material but he is to me. Can you do him with the sister reader again? I'm the same person who requested the other one. If you don't do double requests, it's fine, just ignore it. But if you do, can you do a scenario where the sister just breaks down in tears infront of him? it's a hurt/comfort type of thing. The reason as to why she cried is up to you. Have a good day!

Awww. I’m so sorry about that, doll. I doubt you’re gonna be upset by the time this comes out but here, I’ll try the best I can for you! Here is sweetie Rui

Ayaki Rui- Funnel Blanket

“Sister. Look at me” Rui demanded in a rather gentle voice, opposing the usual cold and stern one he is known for around this household. Displease Rui and you end up his next deepfried prey to chow on. Rui has always been different with you, he never laid a single finger on you in a harmful manner

He adores you for your devotion and loyalty, he has a obsessive passion to keep you with him at all times and making sure you’re happy is another task he must complete to perfection. All so you will never wish to turn against him, nor even think about it. Rui, right now, needed to find out what’s wrong with his precious sister

He only left you alone for a few minutes to go handle the flocks of nuisance slayers running amok his laborious backyard. He comes back to hysterical sobbing and his useless makeshift siblings closing the door to your bedroom. Rui shooed them all away in the snap of fingers and almost torn down the wooden frame. He didn’t care for the stupid building, he only cared for his beloved sister

You sobbed, hands flinching away from your own puffy red cheeks and red puffy eyes as Rui’s soft thumbs brushed over the tears rolling down your beautiful face. He couldn’t stand the fact something made you cry, if it’s a breathing creature. He will dice them into literal pieces. If it’s a inanimate object, he will grind it down into smithereens. He could give less of a fuck for the world around him, he just wanted to keep you as his forever. No matter what he must do

You honestly didn’t want to spill the beans of the cause to your current misery. It was such a pathetic concern and your rationality knew that very well, you were wasting your emotions and tears on something that’ll never happen, a imaginary scenario at best. Your mother and father were taking longer than suspected with that odd trio of slayers. It made you horrified that Rui would have to step in and risk his life to defend the family he spent so long building

You didn’t want Rui to risk it for you. You love him so much that it hurts. You shed your sadness for him, rather he asks for it or not. On Rui’s side, he saw no reason to fear those slayers with a single ounce nor should the one so important to him. He is a Lower Moon, a member of the Twelve Kizuki that is actually much stronger than his rank indicates

The slayers should fear him and the fact they make such a mess of your gorgeous eyes and drip that mess all over your cute arachnid-styled kimono has veins growing all over Rui’s deathly pale skin as his hands slide down your face to cup your hands, holding them closer to his chest. Enabling you to feel his steady heartbeat, for the first time in his entire existence, he had a real heartbeat

Rui wasn’t going to leave you alone ever again and he wasn’t going anywhere until you are smiling and laughing again before him. Your happiness is his, your safety is his. You are his, his precious… forever

“Dokusha. Who made you cry like this? What is the problem. I demand you tell me every detail”

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cherubshert · 7 months

Text

a/n: this is just a work of fiction!! idk how to write arguments loll, i really wanted add some cuss words but i felt awkward

patience... patience... patience... you were quite literally running out of it. you stare down at your phone, still a tiny bit hopeful, he hadn't called or texted to cancel so he must still be coming.

you sigh, you've been waiting for hours, all dolled up, and dressed in an outfit you bought specifically for this night. it was going to be the best of your dates, the best you had in a while, the...

"sorry we are about to close." you stare blankly at the waiter, looking around finally to find the place empty. "oh! I'm sorry, I'm just waiting for someone..." the waiter gives you a pitiful smile, reinforcing the fact that the store would be closing soon.

you stare at your phone, before immediately standing up. "I'm sorry." you murmur as you gather your things, paying for your food, hurrying to your car

your car is cold, so cold it feels so lonely, your grip on your steering wheel tightens. you body shaking as tears slip from your eyes, you felt a bit disappointed, though you were used to it. but damn, you were a little hopeful it would've different this time.

you wipe your tears, starting your car. the ride to his dorm us short, but it still felt long, thoughts jumbled in your mind. you make your way to their door, breathing out the thoughts telling you to just let it go before knocking. niki is the one that answers, the rest of the boys noisily in the background. "y/n? are you ok?"

"heeseung, is he in?" "oh yea, he's in his room." you push past him, sadness, confusion and anger mixing in your veins. and when you stop at the door, you let out a shaky breath.

when the door opens, he's the main piece if the room, lounging in his bed, scrolling on his phone. "do you know what day today is?" he jumps at your voice, turning to you and raising a brow. "what?" "i asked if you knew what today was?" he pauses, staring at you in confusion before the realization hits.

"sorry i forgot." he looks away focusing back to his phone."you forgot? you keep forgetting, cause that's the third time this month." "can we talk about this later, y/n. I'm really tired."

"there's no later, I want to talk about it now." he stands up, waking to a study desk on the side of the room."are you ignoring me? can we please settle this." you reach out to him, turning his to face you. "i don't want to, your being such a cry baby about this, it's not a big deal." "not a big deal? did you here what i said earlier, you made the same empty promise 3 times in one month. that adds up! I've spent our entire relationship waiting on you. I'm tired of waiting !"

he pushes your hand away. "there is nothing stopping you from leaving, what the hell have you done for me?you are being so immature and angry because of a date, or few. especially since those dates I've made up for them." "how? through petty gifts? i am not and was never asking from those. i am just asking for your time your attention. what have I done for you? all the sacrifices I've made for you, nights i spent awake when you were miles away, just to keep you company over the phone, the times i took care of you when you were ill? i should be asking you the same question, what have you done for me? made empty promises, left me hanging for weeks and then only running back when you want something?"

he stays silent, he's face scrunched up in anger. "come on, answer me, tell me what you've done for me? ... tell me how you feel about me, please..." nothing... "wow... thanks for showing me how much i really mean, we're done."

a/n²: don't make fun of me, ik this is kinda cringe loll... again this is just fiction!!!!!

#kpop fanfic #kpop x poc reader #cherubshert diary.#enhypen imagines #kpop x black reader #enhypen fic #enhypen x black reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen angst #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen drabbles #heeseung x reader #lee heesung x reader #heeseung angst #heeseung imagines

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smartycvnt · 6 months

Text

Metal Man*

Title: Metal Man Pairing: Karl Heisenberg x Reader MINORS DNI, 18+ Warnings: smut NR WC: 1005

Karl had been out all day with business for Mother Miranda. Y/n couldn't wait for Karl to put the old bitch out of her misery. She was tired of waiting for Karl to take his rightful place as the most useful and successful attempt at Miranda's experimentation. Y/n didn't necessarily think that the others had to die, but she would gladly help Karl if they got in his way. Lady Dimitrescu and her daughters had not been unkind to Y/n whenever she had been one of their maids, but Y/n would never forget the torturous last 48 hours she spent under their roof when Miranda ordered them to give Y/n to Karl.

They would have killed Y/n if they knew about the affair back then. Y/n would have been thrown down to the dungeons and probably fed scraps like a literal dog. The daughters had always been a bit more forgiving with anybody associated to their "uncle" but Bela was nothing if not a suck up. All three girls wanted to impress their mother, and Y/n bore the scars to show how far they'd go to gain her favor and leave the other two in the dust. Cassandra had always been the one with the knack for torture, but Y/n would never be able to recover from the things that Bela had put her through.

Y/n frowned as she glanced down at the scars on her arm. She couldn't remember what was from Bela's torture and what was from Karl's attempts at saving her anymore. They meshed together for a cluster of marred skin that Y/n tried not to think about. She felt like a monster sometimes. She felt like one of Miranda's little experiments, somewhere between Moreau and Beneviento. The loathing and disgust that Y/n felt for herself had turned her into a hermit, despite the pleas from her family to come return home to them for a visit. It would never happen, she was no longer their little girl. Y/n was something else entirely. The village thought of her like a disciple of Heisenberg, a devout follower who had been invited into his sanctuary after sacrificing herself for him.

"Goddamn stuck up, spoiled bitch!" Karl shouted as he stomped his way through the factory. Y/n lifted her gaze from her scars just in time to see Karl coming her way. "I know that I promised to spend time with you when I got back, but I've got new orders from Miranda."

"Do you think that you could spare just a few minutes before you left me?" Y/n asked as she walked towards him. Karl's eyes were immediately drawn to the plunging neckline of Y/n's dress. He loved the summery and flowing dresses that Y/n managed to make out of fabrics from the Duke. It was a piece of his childhood that was long gone from Romania. The summers out of the village back in Germany had been full of lush green fields and cool, flowing rivers. Romania felt like a wasteland to Karl, like the stories that his grandpa and great uncles would tell him about their time in the wars.

"It shouldn't take me too long to make little playthings for those little monsters Dimitrescu calls daughters," Karl reasoned. Y/n placed a hand on his chest as she backed him up against the wall. Karl placed his hands gently on Y/n's hips as he watched her position herself to grind against his thigh. Karl doubted that he'd be able to focus if he had to go back down to his workshop knowing that Y/n was up here waiting for him in that state. For the sake of his work, he decided that he absolutely had to make sure that Y/n came.

Karl switched their spots against the wall so that Y/n was the one pinned down. Her chest was heaving as Karl hiked up the skirt of her dress. He dragged his hand along the inside of her thigh before angling it just enough to feel that she wasn't wearing underwear. Karl looked at her with a predatory grin that set Y/n's body on fire. She spread her legs and pushed her hips towards Karl, urging him on. Karl pinned Y/n's wrists above her head as he yanked the front of his pants down. Y/n closed her eyes and angled her head away as Karl positioned the tip of his cock at her entrance.

It wasn't quite the same feeling as being with a completely human man, but Karl had made advancements with his body modification to make it as close to the real thing as he could. The metal edges had been dulled down and Karl had some liquid flowing through the metallic parts of his body to keep them warm like a human's would. Y/n knew that the ridges and little things that Karl had built weren't exactly anatomically correct, but they had always managed to make her cum quicker and harder than any man had.

"Oh fuck," Y/n moaned as she clung to Karl's body. Karl had quickly forgone any softness that he had shown when he entered. His thrusts were hard and punctuated by little bite marks on Y/n's neck. She looked somewhat like she had been in some scuffle with one of the lycans by the time that Karl was finished with her. The marks could be a bit excessive, but Y/n enjoyed the feeling of his hands grabbing at her hips as they fucked. There was so much about Karl that Y/n knew she wouldn't find with anybody else. He treated her like she was the most beautiful woman in the village, even with all of the reminders of the things that she had been put through. He could have had anybody, and yet, the man who could have been worshipped as a god chose her.

#one shot #my writing #resident evil x reader #resident evil #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg

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mondaychildsworld · 8 months

Text

One Night Only - Din Djarin x Reader (ONESHOT)

Oneshot

Rating: E

Word Count: 4.4k

Summary: You and Din get down and dirty in a fancy hotel room in Coruscant. That's literally it. Just pure smut.

Warnings: Fingering, oral (M receiving), unprotected P in V, light spanking, ass play, ejaculation inside of reader, smut and fluff, the helmet stays on

A/N: I don’t know Star Wars well enough to write a whole fic (yet, my bf has agreed to watch through all the movies with me). So until then, here’s a Din Djarin oneshot. Because he’s hot. I’m already blushing OK BYE.

Also, I know I promised the next chapter of I Know The End to be up soon, but my brain is just fucking fried and I spent all weekend writing this instead. I need to catch up on life a bit because I've been writing like a mad woman these last couple of weeks so I'll have to give myself some grace and focus on me right now. I'll be back to I Know The End soon! ily 🧡

cute divider by @saradika 🤍

The night sky looked like deep blue velvet, scattered with small stars dancing above your heads. Even though it had been night for quite a while, the city wasn’t sleeping. There were lights everywhere you looked, bright neon colors flashing by, streets and buildings filled with life wherever your eyes landed.

You glanced up to the man standing beside you. The colors and lights of Coruscant's night life reflected in his beskar armor. The thought of him made you shiver, you were equally shy around him as you were fascinated by him. Which made you nervous.

As you walked the streets towards your destination you could see how his eyes roamed the streets, scanning your surroundings. Of course, you couldn’t really see his eyes. His face was always covered by the helmet, which he never took off. As much as you were curious of what he looked like under there, you were just as understanding with the fact that you’d never know. And you were okay with that.

The way of the Mandalore went before anything else. So, the helmet stayed on. But it hadn’t stopped him from removing other pieces of his uniform before. You remember when you had lifted your dress up and graciously lowered yourself onto his beskar covered lap. He froze in his movements and asked you what you were doing. It didn’t take long for him to get the hint, turn the crest into autopilot and then let you bring him pleasure in the cockpit. You had to brush away the thought, for now, you were outside, with other people around. So you had to keep it all together.

You knew he was on a mission. He had to hunt for his next bounty. But you had never visited Coruscant. When you asked to come with him, he immediately said no. When you said you didn’t want to join him on his hunt, just see the city, he hesitated. When you asked him to just spend a night with you outside of the ship, he agreed eventually.

So you had spent the evening in this huge, gleaming city. You had seen the Skydome Botanical Gardens and walked by the incredibly tall 500 Republica building, with the mandalorian just a step or two behind you at all times. The things you’ve only read about in books or heard distant stories about became true when you explored the city. You grew up far, far away from here. So naturally Coruscant had felt like a fairytale in real life.

But now, it was getting way too late. You were tired after the evening outside of the ship, and the mandalorian was guiding you to the inn where you had planned to sleep. That’s what you had said, that you would sleep there. None of you had spoken a word about the tension in the air between the two of you. The way you had tried to lock your eyes with his under the beskar helmet, and the way he held a hand at your lower back when guiding you through the city. You just acted as if it was just normal between the two of you. But the gloved hand on your thigh under the table while you were ordering something to drink in a too crowded bar told you otherwise. He tried to hide his small actions of affection towards you in public, but you knew. This wasn’t normal. The two of you weren’t used to this kind of relationship outside of the crest.

His ship had been a safe space. Where it didn’t matter what time or day of the week it was. You could be yourself, slowly but surely reveal more about you. He wasn’t the talkative type. You didn’t know much about each other, but you knew how to make each other feel good.

But this was different. You had roamed the streets of the city, and actually held a conversation beyond the usual talk, about whether or not the child had eaten, or where he’s heading for his next bounty. He had asked about the place where you grew up, and you told him your favorite color was orange, since you were a little child and watched the incredible sunsets on the planet you called home. You asked if his family also were Mandalorians. He explained to you about how the Mandalorians rescued him when he was orphaned, so he was raised with the Creed and didn’t remember much from before.

It was nice, sharing small bits and pieces about yourselves. Slowly unraveling each other's stories. It was clear he was not the nostalgic type, and you didn’t want to intrude, so you took it slow.

But now you’re peeking through the curtains of the window in your room and can’t help yourself to wonder how you ended up like this, in a hotel room with him. If someone told you a year ago that this would happen, you’d just laugh in their faces. You glance down. Everyone down on the street looks so small. Like tiny ants making their way through the maze of Coruscant.

The room was nice. Almost a little too nice. You had tried to protest when he handed the woman in the reception around 400 credits. But he had just squeezed your waist tightly against his beskar side, nodded to the woman over the desk when she wished you a lovely evening and guided you away towards the elevator.

”You shouldn’t put that amount of money on a room.” You say, still watching the people on the ground.

“It’s too…” You trail off as you feel gloved hands softly placed on your hips. You didn’t realize he was right behind you. “It’s too fancy for us.”

“You shouldn’t worry about that.” The modulated voice says. “It’s only for tonight.”

You close your eyes and lean back as his hands slowly explore your body. He starts to hitch your dress up slowly, over your knees, over your thighs, over your…

You quickly turn around to face him. He drops the dress and if you could see him now, he’d probably raise his eyebrows. Looking at you with an expression that said should I stop? but all you see is a dark visor.

“No?” He asks after a couple of seconds of silence, his grip on your hips loosened.

“Din.” You say, looking straight into the visor. You’re alone now, so you can say his name. He asked you to only call you Mando out there. It was too dangerous, he said, too many eyes and ears. It was bad enough a fully armored Mandalorian was walking down the streets. You could never know who was listening. He only told you his real name back in the crest. When the two of you were safely wrapped around sheets and darkness, after he’d made you climax twice in a row. No man had ever done that before.

You were so incredibly turned on by now, but you felt a bit ashamed about it. You felt just a tiny bit disgusted at the money he spent, which made it possible for him to have you gently pressed up against the window right now.

“Yes.” You say. “Of course I want to, but you just put an insane amount of money on this room...”

He stays quiet, waiting for you to explain. All you hear is his low modulated breathing through the helmet.

“...and on me.” You confess quietly.

He sighs and takes a step closer.

“You’re telling me I can’t spend my money on things I enjoy?”

“That’s not what I mea…” A whimper escapes from your lips and cuts you off. He squeezed your hip.

“That I can’t spend money on you?”

You just nod.

“Such a shame.” He says and his hand goes up to cup your cheek.

“I’m sorry.” You breathe. He’s so close, and you feel so stupid. So fucking dumb to bring this up. Who are you to complain? You asked to come here. He didn’t want to at first. But he agreed because you asked him to. You should be grateful.

“Don’t.” He lifts your chin up a bit. “Don’t apologize.”

His thumb slowly caresses your lower lip. You shiver. You want to say you’re sorry for apologizing, but that would just be stupid, and maybe annoy him to the point that he would let go of you and leave the room. So you just nod. Silently agreeing.

You can feel your skin prickle when he pushes his thumb into your mouth. You gasp and part your lips for him.

“Good girl.”

Your knees go weak and you blush. There’s a warmth growing in between your legs. You’re in a really fancy room, standing incredibly close to Din, with his gloved thumb in your mouth. The feeling of guilt and shame is washed away by the fire burning inside of you.

You slowly bite down on his glove, and he slides his hand out. You open your mouth a bit and let the glove drop to the floor.

You take a shaky, heavy breath as Din once again starts to hitch your dress up. His ungloved hand strokes your leg up, up, up until his fingers reach your hip. He follows the seam of your underwear down to your middle. He hovers just above your core for a few seconds. Teasing you.

A dissatisfied moan escapes from your lips when he doesn’t give you the friction you crave. You close your eyes when the teasing gets too much.

“Look at me, pretty girl.” He whispers.

You open your eyes and stare straight into the visor. He rewards you by pushing your underwear aside. You feel him drag his fingers through your wet folds.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, so silently this time that you almost didn’t hear it. Like it was meant to only be a thought, but somehow the words escaped from his lips. So you try to ignore the compliment, even though it makes you shiver.

He starts rubbing your clit in slow circles. You have to grab him by the shoulders when your knees go weak, you need something to hold on to.

He’s in no rush. He’s taking his time with your sensitive bud, adjusting his movements by the expressions on your face. But you crave more. Your hands travel down his body and reach for the zipper of his flight suit.

He’s quick to notice, because his other hand suddenly and firmly grabs yours as they’re about to start working on the zipper.

“You want more?” He asks you. You nod, not breaking the eye contact you just know you have, but can’t see. You wonder what the color of his eyes would be, that you could see, if he wasn’t sworn to the Creed. You respected it, but it did drive you mad in times like this.

“I’ll give you more.”

He pushes a finger up inside you and sets a slow pace. You moan. His gloved hand still holds your wrists together and you have no way to keep yourself up other than to lean your back onto the window.

He adds another finger and increases the rhythm. The stretch is bittersweet. It’s not painful, you’ve been too turned on for too long for it to hurt, but you’re never ready for the way he fills you up.

You moan and the back of your head bumps into the window when you throw it back in pleasure. The nightlife of the city is still very active, and you hope that no one outside notices you squirming against a window with a Mandalorians hand between your thighs.

Ironic, since he didn’t want to draw more attention to him than necessary. A Mandalorian fucking a girl against a window will most definitely create some interesting headlines.

The build up of your climax increases at the same rate as his modulated breathing. You think he can sense it too, because when you’re close he pulls his fingers out, to your disappointment.

“Not yet.” He says when you look at him with pleading eyes.

“Alright.” You say with a heavy breath, drunk on pleasure. “Let go of me then.”

He lets go of your wrists. You immediately place them on his chest, slightly pushing him backwards towards the bed. The back of his knees hits the bed frame. He sits down and watches you as you start to undo his armor.

You work your way downwards, starting with his shoulder plates. You fumble with the straps but once they’re off you start with the chest plate. Din just patiently sits there watching you work. When you had removed the chest plate you sank down to your knees and put it on the floor next to you.

Now you’re sitting right in between his legs, nervously glancing up to the visor quickly before you start undoing the armor on his thighs.

He grabs your arm with his ungloved hand before you can start.

“You don’t have to.” He tells you, calmly. The hold he has on your arm tells you otherwise. He’s everything but calm. His grip is slightly shaking, and you can feel his pulse beating fast.

“I want to.” You give him a reassuring smile and he lets you go. Once all of his armor is gone, you lean onto his lap and slowly drag the zipper of his flight suit all the way down.

The exposed skin beneath the black fabric is smooth and tanned. Shining like gold in your eyes. Your hands travel down and reach into his pants.

You hear him grunt as you pull his cock out. He’s already hard. You give him a few pumps up and down, and you expose his swollen tip. You lick your lips and slowly drag your mouth up against his length. He tries to still another grunt, but it’s clear he’s far beyond the point where he can keep it all together.

When you’re just about to put the tip of his length in your mouth you look up and fix your eyes to his. You know you do, because his breath hitch from the look of you on your knees, face just inches away from his erection, looking straight at him.

His whole body jerks a bit when you slowly slide your mouth down his cock and you start sucking. You bob your head up and down and hear him pant above you.

“Maker.” He mumbles, his voice is strained.

“Mmhm.” You mumble in response while you keep bringing him pleasure with your mouth.

His hands reach for the back of your head. His hand rests on your neck and he grabs your hair. He pulls it all together so it keeps strands from falling over your face. After a few minutes of you setting the pace he jerks his hips up just a tiny bit, as he pushes you down further with the help of his hands around your head. His length glides right down your throat, and your eyes water a bit.

He mumbles something you don’t understand, probably in Mando’a. Even if you could understand, he’s too far down your throat for you to be able to answer. So you just moan in response when he thrusts into your mouth.

He gives your mouth a few last thrusts before he lets you go and you pull back for air. He takes a few heavy breaths.

“You’ ready?” He asks and you nod, still trying to catch your breath.

He leans forward just a bit, grabs you under your arms and drags you up to your feet. His movement is quick and simple. You see his exposed muscles flex when he lifts you up.

“Take them off.” He commands and you know exactly what he’s talking about. You’ve been in this situation before, so there’s no question about what he wants. You grab the hem of your dress, lift it up, grab your underwear and slide them down.

You climb onto his lap, where he sits on the edge of the mattress. He then snakes both of his arms around your back and you straddle him. He removes his other glove and finds his way under and up your dress. He places his palms on your buttcheeks and gently squeezes. You bite your lip and align your hips with his.

With one arm wrapped around his neck you use your free hand to guide his cock to your entrance. He squeezes your ass harder and you slowly sink down.

You both moan when you finally get what you crave. Instinctively, you want to kiss him. The realization that you can’t taste his lips makes you a bit sad. You gently place your lips on the cold beskar and start to move yourself up and down.

The rhythm is yours to set, when you’re on top. It’s like a silent agreement between the two of you. It’s always clear who's in charge. And when you’re the one straddling him, you’re the one to set the rules. And he’s never been one to complain.

After you’ve adjusted to having him inside you, filling you up all the way when you grind down on him you decide you need to feel him more. So you grab the collar of his flight suit and slide it off his back and down his arms. He lets go of you and helps you free him from his clothes.

“Mesh’la, I’ve been waiting to remove the dress from you all day.” He says and pulls one of the straps down. “Yo-you’re beautiful like this.”

He plays with the hem of the fabric. You blush. You’re not used to getting compliments from him. He’s called you sweet and pretty before. But never beautiful. That one is new.

“What does that mean?” You ask and place your hands over his exposed chest.

“What? You’re obviously wearing a special dress tonight, aren’t you?” He asks and pulls the other strap down. You shiver. If he continues like that he’ll soon expose your whole chest. And he was right about the dress. You had never worn it before around him. It was too nice to be worn on a regular day in the crest. But tonight was special. So of course you put on your best dress, and he noticed. But that’s not what you meant.

“No. You said something in Mando’a.”

“Ah, yeah.” He breathes and his hands travel to your back. He fiddles with the zipper. “Mesh’la.”

He slowly drags the zipper down in silence and the light blue fabric pools around your hips. Your breasts are exposed to the air and his gaze. Your nipples immediately turn hard. One of his hands briefly brushes over your breasts, gently cupping one of them and squeezes until you let a moan slip.

“Mesh’la means beautiful.” He lets go of your breast and lifts you up from his lap. You stand in front of him as your dress falls to the floor. “It means that you’re beautiful.”

He grabs your hand and your heart beats fast. You don’t know what to say. You think he can sense that this conversation is a little too much for you right now, and not what you were expecting for tonight, so he just guides you onto the bed.

“But you’re even more beautiful on all four.” He says and you can hear the change in his voice. When he explained to you the meaning behind the Mando’a word and when he slipped the dress off of your body his voice was tender, sweet, caring. Now, he speaks with the dark, lust filled tone you’re used to.

So you do as he says and climb onto all four. He gets up on his knees and shuffles closer to you. A second later you feel the tip of his cock pushing at your entrance and you let out a shaky breath.

You arch your back and wait for him to push his cock all the way inside of you. But when it doesn’t happen you’re wondering what he’s waiting for, but before you can turn your head around to look why he doesn’t move there’s a sudden, smacking sound. A second later there’s a bittersweet sting to the cheek of your ass. He spanked you, and you feel how instantly wet you get from it.

The tension in the air vanishes, and is replaced by filthy lust. You’re so incredibly turned on by now that it’s almost painful when he doesn’t fuck you straight away, he literally has you on all fours, ready for him.

“Please.” You beg.

Smack. You gasp loudly. He hit your asscheek again, harder this time.

“P-please.” You’re desperate. You like it, but you’re desperate for more.

So you slowly lean back, pushing yourself towards him. You feel the head of his cock entering your core, and you hear a loud modulated sigh as you do.

He grabs your hips and shoves you back, filling you up more than before. This time he’s the one to set the pace. And it’s not the same steady rhythm you went for before. This is persistent, rough and just… wonderful. This is what you were craving.

“Oh stars!” You moan out loud. He fucks you relentlessly, just like he does when he has to blow off some steam after a particularly difficult hunt and you join him in his personal quarters.

In there, you fumble in the dark and claw at metal walls. Here, the light is comfortably dim, warm and you clench your hands around soft, expensive sheets.

His hands on your hips are warm. The skin to skin contact makes you tingle, everywhere he touches you. Maybe that’s how it is when you spend your time around someone who’s always covered up. So when you do feel him, it’s like your nerves are extra sensitive.

His pace falters a bit and he gives you a few extra hard thrusts, grunting as he drills extra deep inside of you.

“Mesh’la.” He says again. Your whole body shivers by his words, now that you understand them. “Will you let me?”

He stands still behind you, the only thing moving is one of his hands that travels from your hip down to your asscheek once again. But he doesn’t spank you, or stop there. His fingers trace your curves down to your middle and stop right above the hole he’s already filled up. His thumb caresses the tight ring of muscle, where no one’s ever been.

You freeze for a couple of seconds while you consider it. No one’s ever fucked you there, and he knows that. He’s never been pushy about it, but the subject has been brought up before and you’ve always told him that you don’t do that. But now you’re intrigued and so horny at the same time.

“I m-mean…” You stutter out. He’s waiting for your answer. “Only you… only your hands.”

“We don’t need to.” He reassures you. “I’m just asking.”

“It’s okay.” You breathe. You’re turned on by the situation, him touching and exploring you where no one else has ever been.

“Let me know if it gets too much.” He says and adds some pressure with his thumb.

A moan escapes your lips and you nod eagerly. He picks up the pace from before and pushes his thumb just a little harder when you relax a bit more. You feel him entering your other hole with his thumb while he keeps fucking the first one.

It doesn’t hurt, but it burns. It’s a sweet burn, the satisfaction shoots up your spine and you groan. This new sensation drives you mad. It’s so incredibly filthy, the things that you’re doing right now. You’re glad you’re not standing by the window anymore.

He keeps his thumb just like that, and doesn't push you too far. He doesn’t move it, just let it sit right there as you adjust to him. You feel your climax closing up on you as he grinds his cock into you with a perfect pace.

”Din.” You moan and let a hand snake its way down to your slit. Your fingers reach your clit and you start pleasing yourself.

Din moans under his helmet, the view of you touching yourself is almost too much. His hips stutter a bit and you know he’s insanely close too.

“I’m gonna come, Din.” You moan his name.

He grunts and removes his thumb from your ass and grabs both of your hips again.

“Come for me, pretty girl.” His voice is shaky, barely holding it together.

You clench around him and come undone, your whole body trembling like a leaf under him. He gives you a few last thrusts and you feel the soft warmth of his cum covering your insides.

He collapses over you and you both crash into the mattress and fluffy pillows. He rolls off of you and lays on his back. You both breathe heavily as you come down from your climax high.

After a minute or two he zips his flight suit back up and you scooch closer to him. You nuzzle your head into the crevice right below his helmet and sigh into his neck.

You’re slowly brought back to reality when you remember that you have to go back to the crest when you wake up, and he has to start his next bounty hunt. The thought makes you heavy-hearted. You wish you could stay like this forever.

Din rests one hand at the curve of your hip and waist. He turns his head to you.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks.

“Nothing.” You quickly answer. You glance up towards the ceiling and around the room.

“I’m just happy I’ll get to spend the night here, with you.”

“Don’t get used to it.” He chuckles. “It’s only for tonight.”

“Yeah, only for tonight.” You say sleepily. He turns you over, pull the sheets over the two of you and put his arm safely around your waist.

You lay like that for a while, Din keeping you close to him. You feel his cum slowly seep out from your core. You don’t even bother to get up to the equally fancy bathroom connected to your room to get you cleaned up. You want him close. You’ll deal with the mess tomorrow. Your eyelids get heavier by each minute and you’re soon drifting off to sleep.

The last thing you hear is a mumble, so silent it’s almost a whisper.

“Mesh’la.” He says, and pulls you even closer just as you fall asleep.

Here's a bonus for you if you've read this far:

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #writing #fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal #the helmet stays on

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spideycatt · 10 months

Text

Pretty n' Pink || 42!M.M x BlackFem!Reader

Synopsis:

New school, new people, new relationships

Word Count: 1.8k (wow!)

Song Recs: Talk that Talk // TWICE, RUN2U // stayc, Big flirt // lil hero, Super Bass // Nicki Minaj, Into you // Ariana Grande

Warnings: Crude language, bullying (me projecting (≧◡≦)), Miles is an asshole for 1 second, BLACK reader, 80% angst 20% fluff

Not rlly warnings: Reader is small n chubby, making out, we’re gonna act like they don’t have to wear blazers all the time lol

Lmk if I missed something!!

A/N: I spent so long writing and editing it was insane. I've been writing since June 26 (*￣▽￣). Literally writing one day, rewriting the next, writing and rewriting, writing and rewriting. AND I'm still not sure if I'm fucking w/ the results... but I'ma still post it cuz mama aint raise no punk!!

Moving to a new school in the middle of the year is never easy for anyone. You cried while packing up, you cried on the ride to New York, you cried while unpacking, and cried on the way to your new school, Visions Academy. Saying you were scared was an understatement.. You only moved because your mom got a new job at some science place, but also because you were horribly bullied at your old school.

Everyone made fun of you for the way you dressed, pink hair-clips all over your colorful braids, hello kitty sweaters and fun makeup looks. You once wore some cute leg warmers to school, what happened to you that day made you vow to never wear them again.

You knew you wouldn't get made fun of every time you left the house, but man going to school made you want to cower in your house forever.

But alas, here you are putting your up hair with your favorite heart-shaped claw-clip. You sniffled lightly as you line your lips and put on your Fenty lip gloss. You wipe your tears away, careful not to mess up your lashes. Grabbing your light pink messenger bag, you sling it over your shoulder and walk out the front door, making your way to school.

The more you walk the faster your heart beats. You weren't as nervous as you were when you first moved here, but you were still feeling a little anxious as you walk onto school grounds. Sighing when you realize there was no time to set up your locker, you try to hype yourself up as make your way through the sea of students to get to your homeroom.

Luckily, the school required uniforms, so even if kids were to make fun of you it shouldn't be that bad. You only had some cute accessories here and there, and a white cardigan with hello kitty over your heart.

You weren't even halfway to the class when someone bumped into your shoulder, causing you to drop all the books you held in your hands. You take a deep breath looking at whoever this boy was, trying to calm yourself down.

'It's ok, it was probably just an accident. You're fine.'

"Watch it, pinkie pie!" He yelled behind him as he walked away, laughing with his goons following behind him. So much for an accident.

'"Wow, how original." You spoke to yourself, trying to ignore all the stares you were getting as you picked your stuff up.

You rush to your class, already wishing the school day was over. And just your luck, the bell rang signaling you were late.

You made it to class a few seconds later, drawing everyone's attention to you. You walk over to the teacher's desk with your head pointed down, speaking softly.

"Hi, I'm y/n I just transferred."

The teacher looked at you uninterestedly, before speaking loudly.

"Class, this is y/n from, Georgia? Was it? Doesn't matter, she needs time to adjust, so everyone be nice to the poor girl. You can go sit next to..." She trailed off, looking around for a place to seat you.

"Sit next to Miles. Miles raise your hand."

You looked up to see a boy with two long braids raise his hand in the back of the class, honestly looking quite bored. You nod as you scurry to the empty seat next to him, taking out a piece of paper and your favorite gel pen. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Miles staring at you.

"What?" You whisper at him, trying not to draw more attention to yourself.

He blinks at you. "You the girl who dropped her books earlier?"

"Does it happen a lot or something?" You scoff at him, drawing cute little doodles to match the lesson title.

"Nah, I guess that was a dumb question." He replied, looking forward.

"Why do you ask anyway? Trying to rub salt in the wound?" You argue, looking at your hello kitty-themed nails.

"Miles, y/n. Please." Your teacher interrupted, making the class snicker.

You hide your face in your hands, silently groaning before Miles slid a note your way.

'Sit with me at lunch?'

You glared at the paper, crumbling at and putting it to the side, giving your full attention to the lesson.

You made it through your first few weeks without any more bumps, and it was now a new month. Miles had become your only sorta-friend at this school, which you were grateful for. The boy was nice to you, unlike everyone else, who give you strange stares and whisper about you like you aren't there.

The calming melody of Apple Cider by Beabadoobee played softly in your headphones as you grab your lunch tray. Thanking the lunch lady before turning around to look for where you should sit today, you suddenly remember Miles had asked you to sit with him on your first day, in which you never did.

You start walking around, subtly looking around the cafeteria for the tall boy with long braids. You spot him quickly, watching him roll his eyes at something the boy in front of him said. Strolling to where he was, you bite back a smile when he turns around and notices you.

"What brings you over here, hm?." He smirked, standing up as you approach the table. You try to ignore how he towers over you.

"Well, I have nowhere else to sit." You shrug, looking at his friends who watch quietly. "Uh, hi.." You wave awkwardly, looking back up at Miles who smirked softly at you.

"You shy, chiquita?"

"Shut up."

His friends laugh, making you swallow thickly. 'Are they laughing at me?'

"Yo, pinkie!"

Someone shouted from the table, chuckling as you look up with fear in your eyes.

"Remember me you little cunt?"

It was the boy from your first day. You look up at Miles, silently pleading him to help you, and of course, he stayed quiet.

"Hey, I'm talking to you." You hear from beside Miles, the boy looked down at you with an angry expression. You didn't even realize he walked up to you.

"S-sorry." You whispered, looking at your pink converses.

"Yea you better be fucking sorry you fat freak." He said, pushing you into the ground, resulting in your lunch landing all over the floor. You try to stop the tears as everyone gasps and goes silent.

"Dude, chill." Miles finally speaks up.

You shake your head, "No Miles, it's fine. Have a good lunch." You say with a slight whimper to your voice, standing up to leave the cafeteria.

You sob, looking for somewhere to cool down, ignoring Miles calling your name.

"Pinkie! Wait!"

You steps falter, flinching at the nickname. You sigh deeply, wiping the tears off your face.

"What do you want, Miles."

"I'm sorry about him, he's been an asshole since like, 2nd grade." He huffed out, slowing down as he caught up to you.

You hummed.

"But you just sat there, so what does that make you?"

His silence answered for you.

"Right. This sucks, honestly, I thought we could've worked out." You say, walking off with a lump in your throat.

You kind of expected him to say something more, you don't know why, but you did. But all you were met with was silence.

You gasped as you feel Miles grab your hand and drag you into an empty classroom.

He closed the door harshly behind you guys, breathing heavy as he looked at your tear streaked face.

"What are you doing Miles— WOAh-" You stutter out as he hoists you up, putting your back against the door so you could be eye-level with him.

"Forgive me pretty girl.." He breathed out, rubbing your plush thighs with his thumbs.

"Miles, put me down."

"Nah ma I don't think I will."

"How... how do I know you won't hurt me..?" You whisper sadly, feeling the waterworks coming again.

"Trust me, I won't, baby." He moved to wipe away the tear that's fallen on your soft cheek, before moving in to lock lips with you.

You wanted to move away, you really did. But you trusted him for some reason, kissing back. The kiss got heated fast, you lock your legs together behind Miles as he pins you harder against the door, gripping your thighs harshly as he pulls away to speak.

"Let me treat you right, ma. Please. I'll take you out, I'll buy you anything you want. Let me protect you." He breathed out against your neck, making you sigh. You nod your head. Bringing his head up to connect lips again.

You sigh into his mouth as your tongues slide over one another, gripping onto his broad shoulders to keep yourself grounded. He turns around to place you on a desk. Hands roaming everywhere as he took your sweater off your body and unbutton your shirt a little to mouth at your collarbones. You let out a quiet noise as he moves back up to your lips, pushing you to lay on your back.

He caught both your wrists and wrapped one of his hands around them, pushing them onto your chest as his tongue seemed to move even deeper into your mouth. Man he was a good kisser.

You seperate with a string of saliva connecting your plump lips to his when the bell to go back to class rings. "Miles, lets go." You said as he places his head into your cleavage, sighing disappointedly at the fact that you guys had to go back to class.

He ended up buttoning up your shirt for you. Glancing at you every now and then to look at your swollen lips, smiling as he helped you off the desk and walked you to class.

You make it through the rest of the school day, smiling softly to yourself whenever you think of your heated moment with Miles.

You had Miles' hoodie on due to a giant stain on the side of your favorite sweater, playing with the strings as you write down some notes into your binder.

Everyone stared at you but you found yourself not caring anymore. Maybe you made the right choice.

You didn't expect to go to this new school and acquire a bodyguard for a boyfriend but here you were weeks later walking out of campus with Miles trailing behind you. You could've sworn you saw that one boy glaring at you from afar, but honestly, as long as Miles was with you there wasn't a problem.

"Hold on baby." Your boyfriend stopped you, kneeling on the ground to tie your shoelaces and fix your leg warmers. Honestly this was a whole new experience for you, never having this affection given to you by someone outside your family.

Miles pressed a kiss on your thigh as he finishes tying your shoes, standing up to fix the ribbon on your ponytail.

"Miles, you're acting like a mom right now." You say giggling, looking up at your boyfriend with heart eyes.

"Gotta make sure my baby lookin good." He replied quickly, leaning down to kiss your cheek. He pulled "C'mon, I saw a nice jean skirt I wanna see you in."

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