#JUST REALIZED UPON POSTING THIS IS. IN FACT. NOT MY MAIN | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

poisonf0rest · 4 months ago

Text

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐜*𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈𝐈𝐈

love and deepspace: zayne x fem!reader

tags: smut, teasing, guided masturbation, fingering, first time (kinda), pwp

word count: 9.3K what the fuck

synopsis: Between being in the midst of your medical residency and being an up-and-coming author, it’s safe to say your personal life has been placed on stand-still. That is, until your editor decided that your next novel needed explicit smut scenes. That is, until your mentor and boss ends up striking a deal for you to help with “inspiration” for said novel. That is, until you fuck Zayne four times and your life changes forever. - partially inspired by manga of the same name by Nae Awaji

original ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57209872/chapters/145519015

art credit: @/kaito_aii

You’re screwed. Fucked. Utterly damned.

Groaning into your desk, you slam your head down upon piles of patient records and old case files.

You’re only halfway done with your medical residency and somewhere along the way turned your lifelong passion for writing into a successful side gig. So successful in fact, that it was single-handedly providing you with enough money to get by and complete residency.

After anonymously posting online for a decade, you signed with a publisher three years ago, on the exact same day you matched with your first choice cardiothoracic residency program here at Akso Hospital.

Needless to say, you haven't felt that magnitude of happiness in years.

You doubt you ever will again.

In the midst of your wallowing, your phone lights up: Michaela. It’s a follow-up to her previous messages, all with the same damn request.

Michaela - Boss Man

checking in on my star, how’s that manuscript going?

talked to the director again to try and plead your case but she didn’t budge :(

she said w current book trends the fans will go crazy for a few explicit spicy scenes

pluuuus she believes in your writing enough to know you’ll make it big! come on, star, you know I’m here if you need any extra help

You - Little Star

Hey Micheala

You cringe for a moment at how formal you sound, but honestly, you’re too burnt out from writer’s block to match your editor’s energy and too tired from today’s shift to push back any further.

You - Little Star

No I get it, thanks for trying though

I’m almost done with the novel, it's just those scenes that are taking a little more time

And by a “little more time,” you mean you’ve tried writing and rewriting them over a dozen times just to cringe, delete, and scream into your keyboard. Over. And over again.

It’s not that you’re clueless, you’ve read your fair share of erotica for inspiration and pleasure equally. But actually writing them yourself? That was a whole different story. Pacing, banter, and even making the right word choices without sounding like a repetitive pervert or absolute lunatic were all so much harder to do than you previously gave authors credit for.

Not to mention, you haven’t actually experienced a lot first-hand.

Beyond a few situationships in high school and undergraduate flings between pre-med classes and internships absolutely kicking your ass, you’re probably half as sexually experienced as most adults your age. And you had absolutely no intention of re-entering the dating scene with residency, until now.

With Michaela breathing down your neck about how these explicit smut scenes were a marketing goldmine and the combined stress from your jobs, it seems like you’ve been fighting a losing battle. This time, however, your main income was on the line.

You groan as another ping lights up your phone, going to silence it when you realize it’s from the hospital Slack and not your editor.

residency-CS-alerts

Dr. Zayne: Second look needed for a CMR scan. Nonurgent.

Jumping to your feet, you sprint from the office wing to get to the MRI’s before another resident can take your spot. It’s not that your program lacked opportunities- far from it as you attend the top program– but rather that this particular opportunity was rare indeed.

Doctor Zayne. Akso Hospital's respected chief cardiac surgeon, who has made groundbreaking advances to the treatment of congenital heart abnormalities in neonates. At only twenty-seven he is the youngest recipient of the Starcatcher Award. His dedication to his craft is unparalleled, as he tirelessly devotes more time to surgeries than any other doctor you know, cementing his reputation as an unwavering force in the field.

He’s also impossibly tall, extremely well built for a man who seems to spend most of his time in the hospital, and has a face sculpted like a Roman deity in marble. And gods, his voice.

Safe to say, you admire him just a little.

You’ve bumped into him a handful of times during your first two years here, but the doctor was so engrossed in his work that the occurrence was rare enough. But a chance to perform with him? To consult alongside him on a cardiovascular case?

You began to fear for your own heart’s safety as you felt it skip in your throat.

Finally reaching the MRIs, you knock once before sliding the door to the control room open with a bow. And when you stand straight again, Dr. Zayne’s steel-set eyes only glance at you before he points to the readings displayed on the computer.

“Tell me what you see.”

Your mouth is still hanging open from what was going to be a very enthusiastic self-introduction, but you cut yourself off with a cough and stumble over to the monitor. Dr. Zayne’s eyes follow you with a precision that makes your hands tremble, and you bend over slightly to scan the patient’s readings.

You’re about ready to make a diagnosis when you realize you haven’t gotten much background on the patient.

“What’s the patient’s briefing?” You look down, flinching as you see Dr. Zayne already staring at you. “If I can hear it, sir?”

He nods once. “An adolescent female with complaints of shortness of breath and coughing. She had no specific medical history, but grew up in the countryside unable to visit a proper clinic for several years while this issue persisted.”

Countryside… that could mean this was an undiagnosed issue that festered.

Clearing your throat, you begin to point to the different scans. “Firstly, there’s clearly an enlarged cardiac silhouette.” Squinting, you point at two denser mounds in CMR scans. “Here and here. There are two large cysts along the lateral and inferior walls of the LV pushing and invading the myocardial walls.”

Gods, the cysts were huge. Even if surgery was performed on her now, would she survive?

Dr. Zayne’s low voice pulls you back into the control room. “Then what is your final diagnosis?”

“I–” you stutter, shaking your head. “I would recommend surgery immediately.”

“More detail than that, please.”

A sharp inhale and you scan the readings again. “Maybe a cannulation? The cysts might be causing an SVC compression, which would explain her shortness of breath.” You dare ask. “Will she survive?”

Dr. Zayne stands up this time. “You did well. She was my patient, and underwent surgery over a week ago.” He gently pats you on the shoulder, touch warm. “Our job as surgeons is to act decisively, to learn, and to try. Not to be heroes.”

You can’t manage to say anything back as Dr. Zayne leaves the room, the door sliding shut behind him.

_______

Surprisingly, you’ve been seeing more and more of Dr. Zayne since that day.

And if that wasn’t enough, the doctor has also been actively acknowledging you, exchanging greetings and simple conversation when you pass in the halls, cafeteria, or shared cardiovascular wing of the hospital.

Not that you haven’t been putting in the effort either.

Dr. Zayne’s current apprentice is graduating from residency this year, and you have every intention of becoming their successor. Between picking up extra shifts, answering every pager call, and of course paying special attention in case Dr. Zayne specifically requests a second pair of hands, you’ve been climbing up the ranks amongst your peers.

Luckily, it seems those efforts have not been in vain.

You’ve been doing so well apparently, that Dr. Zayne wants to meet with you in the hospital’s cafe today. Interviews before officially announcing mentor-mentee pairs was not unusual, but the thought of being one-on-one with Dr. Zayne after your last case together still has your mind reeling.

Will he pull out old case files? Will he bring you to a patient and test you in real time? You have half a mind that he might pull out a custom-made test and timer. It seems on-brand enough to be a possibility.

Yet when you arrive, the cafe is completely empty, save for the staff and a familiar man in a white lab coat.

Dr. Zayne stands as soon as he sees you and beckons for you to sit, pulling the chair across from him out in the same movement. He clears his throat, a barely-there smile gracing his lips as he watches you settle down. “How have you been, doctor?”

“Good! Good.” The words rush out from you and you flinch, forcing yourself to slow down. Was the cafe always this small? “Discharged a patient today, so all good news.” Holy striped cows, if you say the word good one more time you might lose your mind.

“Well,” Dr. Zayne nods, taking a sip of something that looks like a far-too-sweet cup of coffee practically drenched in whipped cream. “That’s certainly good to hear.”

You die a little inside.

“I’ll keep things rather brief since I’ve already made my mind up.”

Was this it? Did you ruin your chance at having Linkon’s top doctor as your mentor because of your damn mouth?

Dr. Zayne reaches inside his jacket, and you swear your heart is going to beat itself out of your throat. He pulls out a simple white envelope with your name scrawled across the front, the paper crisp as he slides it across the table.

His fingers linger on the edges before he speaks. "I wanted to formally offer you the position to shadow me as my apprentice."

"I accept!"

The words fly out before you can stop them and Dr. Zayne looks stunned for a moment before laughing, a smooth and deep sound you didn't expect from him. He looked good when he smiled. Softer, content.

The ghost of the smile stays, even when Zayne speaks again. "It's not a timed offer, you don't have to agree so quickly."

You flush down to your neck, looking down at the envelope. "Right. Only, it would be an honor to learn from you, sir. I really don’t know anyone in our field who wouldn’t accept it."

Zayne hums, but his brows furrow. “You don’t have to call me sir either. Doctor Zayne is fine while we are at the hospital. Zayne is more than acceptable elsewhere, we’re not that far apart in age and I don’t wish for this to be an overly formal relationship.”

You curse your heart for fluttering, reminding yourself that he only means this in a conductive, professional way.

After a beat of silence, Zayne looks at the clock and stands, taking his sugar-filled drink with him. You never pegged him to have such a massive sweet tooth.

"I have a consultation now, but I would like to talk to you more about your residency. We should set up weekly meetings outside of work, check your calendar, and organize it later.”

You nod and thank him as he walks away, leaving you alone to open the envelope. Inside is a simple handwritten note, signed and stamped with Dr. Zayne's official signature alongside Akso Hospital’s.

A reminder that this was, in fact, not a dream.

_______

It’s barely been a month since you’ve begun officially shadowing Zayne, yet you swear it feels as though a part of you has known him forever.

Aside from his virtually frozen demeanor and tendency to make snarky quips at your habit of running your mouth, he’s been nothing but a patient mentor. Brief, direct, unrelenting, but attentive to your work and growth.

If that were all, then everything would be perfect.

If that were all, then you would be sticking perfectly to your ten-year plan: graduating early, completing residency under the top doctor in the top program, and then overtaking him as the top cardiovascular surgeon with a breakthrough of your own.

But of course, the plot has to thicken.

Sure, the first few weeks have been strictly business, but since then, your conversations with Zayne—Dr. Zayne—have morphed into more casual, more playful meetings. Your weekly check-ins have moved from the hospital cafeteria to a cozy family-run cafe in town that Zayne introduced to you. And the way you’ve begun to think of him was the most damning part of it all.

But you don’t have the time nor capacity to deal with whatever this was becoming.

Not when your novel’s deadline was in three weeks, and you still had absolutely nothing to show for it. Without this new novel’s money, you wouldn’t be able to pay for rent or food or transport, and residency sure as hell wasn’t giving you enough to survive off of alone.

This past week, you’ve gone from stressed to a thundering cloud of misery. Snapping at interns, drinking dangerously over the FDA-recommended caffeine intake, and ignoring the maelstrom your face has become.

And of course, today happens to be your weekly check-in with Zayne.

Dragging yourself to your usual booth, you watch him order at the counter and bring his drink to the table alongside a signature pair of macaroons, a slice of chocolate cake, and an eclair. He sets it all down with a huff and sits, looking over at you with an iron-cold gaze. You can smell the incoming lecture.

"You're late."

You dip your head, but your patience is running on reserve, and your reply has more bite than you’d dare use otherwise. "I'm sorry, it looks like I’ve lost track of time."

"You're never late." Zayne doesn't sound any angrier at your attitude, but it still doesn't settle the guilt bubbling in your stomach.

"I've just been really stressed. You know," you wave your hand, "wrapping up residency."

"Is that so." Zayne's gaze is sharp as he fights to maintain eye contact. It's not a question. "I've noticed. You've been distracted and irritated recently, and I can't help but wonder why. Is it really the hospital? Am I demanding too much aside from your typical resident duties?”

You shake your head, and the guilt is back. "No, of course not."

"Then I have to assume it's something else, is it not?"

"It's..." How on earth are you supposed to explain that the reason why you're a mess is because your editor is pressuring you to write a smut scene that you have no interest in, let alone sufficient experience with? And to someone you admire, your mentor, Linkon’s top surgeon, and apparently now someone your heart is deciding to blackmail you with. "I'm sorry, Dr. Zayne. It's nothing work-related, it's not your problem to fix."

Zayne raises his eyebrow, leaning back in the booth and crossing his arms. “That’s the first time you addressed me as doctor outside of hospital property in over a month. ”

You really, really, can’t do this right now, or else you might start spewing some things you’ll regret. “Really? That’s fascinating, sir.” You watch him scowl at the title you know he hates. “Still does not entitle you to my personal issues.”

“As your mentor, it becomes entitled to me when your personal issues begin affecting your performance.” He says.

You bite the inside of your cheek, forcing your anger down. "It's really not something I can talk about here, nor to you. Can we just have a regular check-in?"

"We are."

“You know what?" You stand, chair falling back with a screech. “I think I need a rain check today, sir. You know. Stress.”

"You’re not leaving until you tell me what is bothering you."

You're about to grab your bag and walk away when you're suddenly reminded of how tall Zayne is when he stands. Practically towering over you, he leans across the table, grabbing you firm enough to prevent you from slipping away, yet never harsh enough to harm you. “Please, we’re making a scene.”

You sit. Zayne follows.

Seeing just how reactive you’re being, he softens, genuine concern in his tone as he reaches an arm out. “Is it a family issue? Are you alright?”

“No. Yes.” You inhale deeply through your nose, but your mind is still reeling at a mile a minute. “No, it’s not a family issue.”

“So if it’s not about the hospital and not family, then what could possibly be causing you this much stress.” Zayne’s eyes narrow and you see his jaw tick. “Don’t tell me this foolishness is over a boy.”

“No! God,” you want to push yourself off a building. Or him. “No, it’s this fucking–” You’re rambling. You’re rambling, losing control, and you’re going to blurt it out and regret it. “It’s this smut scene!”

You’ve really outdone yourself this time.

Zayne chokes on his drink and slams the cup down, coughing as liquid comes out his nose. You flounder in panic, trying to help but he holds a hand up and turns, still coughing into his arm. You can only manage to pull out a few napkins, handing them over in a pathetic bundle.

“A…” Zayne almost seems to buffer, clearing his throat before looking back at you. “An erotica scene?”

Your face is burning. You can practically feel the heat radiating off of it in waves, and you have to remind yourself that writing is your job. A respectable, decent-paying, well-appreciated job that you do for the sake of womankind everywhere.

“I write for extra income alongside residency, and recently my editor got it into her head that we’ll sell even more with some extra spice.” You scoff, “But it’s been months of looking at a blank doc. Now the deadline is approaching and I still have nothing to show for it.”

Zayne doesn't say anything for a moment, and you have to check if he's breathing, or if the shock has killed him. Finally, he shifts back in his seat, adjusting his tie.

"That sounds like a difficult position to be in, doctor."

You look up, and Zayne has his arms crossed. It's an expression you're familiar with, one that means he's actually thinking about what you've said, but the way he says "doctor" now feels strange, almost as if the term has no place here.

"It's fine, I'll figure it out." This is also why you didn't want to tell him, as if Zayne has any place worrying about this on your behalf. “Besides, I’m as much a writer as a doctor, this is my job after all. I have to figure it out.”

“Of course. I’d expect no less." Zayne nods a little to himself, slightly dazed, and you scramble to find a way to change the subject back into something even remotely work-appropriate.

"Anyway, I've been keeping up with my rounds, and I think I've been able to handle more cases on my own recently, too."

"You have."

Zayne is quiet for a beat too long and you frown, tapping the table.

"Are you alright? I know this is a lot, I shouldn't have burdened you with it."

When Zayne faces you again, you watch as his brows furrow. "But if this is such a pressing issue…” He clears his throat, looking at a spot directly above your head. “Then, what if I helped you?”

You swear your head is spinning, his words ringing over and over and over in your mind. The only thing remotely in focus was Zayne’s face, far too close for comfort now, even across the table. Oh gods, you’re having this conversation in public, too.

"What do you mean by help, exactly?"

"If you’re in need of experience," Zayne's voice is low, but he still manages to keep eye contact, the intensity of it making you smile nervously. "Then I could offer my assistance. Better coming from someone you know and trust, yes?"

There’s no way you heard that right. Your mind blanks, but apparently your smartass mouth hasn’t.

"Are you offering to be my fuck buddy? Sex consultant? My smut guide, if you will?"

A deadpan, “I would prefer the term sexual partner.”

Even the way Zayne says it makes it sound more like a business proposal than an actual proposition, and it throws you off guard. He leans back, trying to act nonchalant. "You did mention lack of inspiration was your main issue, correct?”

“Well, yes.” That, and your lack of any novel-worthy sexual experiences.

“And you have had—“ There it is again. Not quite embarrassment, and if you weren’t so tuned in to Zayne’s resting expression, you may not have noticed it, but there is a deeper furrow between his brows as his eyes evade yours, and the slightest tint of pink on the tips of his ears. “You have been with partners before, yes?”

The stoic, pragmatic, level-headed Doctor Zayne is embarrassed asking you whether or not you’ve had sex before.

You nearly laugh.

“Yes,” an amused giggle escapes you at the absurdity of this entire conversation. “I’ve been with partners,” you mimic, slightly mocking his word choice, “but it has been a while, and I haven’t really…”

Zayne moves to take another sip of coffee. “You haven’t?”

“I’ve never come. Orgasmed.”

And he chokes. Again.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!” You jump from your seat to hand him yet another pile of napkins, but this time Zayne stops you halfway there, grabbing your wrist as his coughs subside.

Neither of you speaks as he drinks water and coughs once more, his grip still iron and far colder than you imagined it would feel against your bare skin.

“My apologies,” Zayne releases you immediately, going back to staring at his coffee as his hand flexes once. Twice. “Continue.”

You can only watch him in fascination, sitting back down in your chair. The entire time he avoided eye contact, and he was definitely blushing. You almost wanted to push further, to poke and tease and test his reactions, but you knew that would end with you losing your head. Or worse, you muse, heart fluttering against your chest.

“Ah, I mean, I’ve felt pleasure before. It’s not that my previous partners were unwilling to do stuff for me, I’ve just never gotten over that little plateau.” It’s not resentment that washes over you, and not quite embarrassment either. Just a little bit of dull apathy towards the subject. And yourself. “Biologically speaking of course I know it’s possible, but there are also plenty of women who simply don’t climax during sex. I’m probably just one of them.”

Zayne, who seems to have returned to his usual stoicism, frowns at that, mouth drawn taut as though he wanted to say something.

"And if we were to engage in sexual acts," He's so clinical, even as he says something that could send anyone else running. “Perhaps that is what you need to start writing again. It would make sense. To write a compelling,” he stumbles over the word, “erotica, you’d have to experience pleasure."

The gears in your mind turn, and slowly, it begins to make a twisted sort of sense. You'd have to feel it for yourself, to be able to describe the sensation, the passion, the tension with conviction. Perhaps it really would get you closer to finishing this damn book.

But then you remember who you're talking to. Doctor Zayne. Your coworker. Worse than that, your mentor and direct superior in your field, and someone you happen to admire very much. So then why would he…?

"What do you gain from this, Zayne?"

Zayne stiffens. “I’m a doctor, it’s my duty to help my patients.”

A sly smile cracks against your lips, and you prop your chin against your palm. “I didn’t realize I was your patient now, doctor?”

His eyes snap back to yours and he straightens, his demeanor slipping back to his typical formality. "You have a bright future in front of you. This is an investment in you, and I believe this will help us both. I will draw up a contract tomorrow for us to discuss, you can meet me in my office after your shift.”

“Rather formal,” you say, but Zayne doesn’t take the bait this time.

He simply takes another sip from his coffee, and you swear you catch him smiling behind the porcelain rim. “Then perhaps I could also get a signed copy of your next book?"

You scoff, waving him off as you slouch back in your chair. "Of course, I'll throw one in the mail the day it's out."

"It's a deal then.”

He’s about to push in his chair when you lunge from yours, grabbing his sleeve as his eyes widen slightly, looking down at where your hands meet. "Thank you,” a smile. ”Zayne."

His gaze softens and he smiles a bit, nodding. "Of course, doctor."

And with a wave, he's gone.

_______

You don’t know what you expected.

Zayne seemed like the type to take his girl out to dinner first, probably somewhere obscenely expensive. He’d show up with a single rose or another simple but romantic gift so seemingly contradictory to his outward appearance. Afterward, maybe he’d take her to a show or somewhere with fancy sweets, knowing his taste. Then, after all that, he’d invite her back to his apartment or allow her to whisk him away to her place.

You’d imagine it would go something like that. But then again, the terms of your relationship are quite different then the one he’d have with this imaginary woman. So when he texts you after your shift that Tuesday asking if you’re free tonight, you’re only moderately panicked.

To make matters worse, he’s at your house five minutes early.

Two knocks, and you scramble to open the door, Zayne nearly dwarfing the door frame as he lingers outside the hallway. His trenchcoat only adds to his natural tendency to command attention, and you feel more vulnerable than usual in your sleep clothes.

“Fancy seeing you here, stranger.”

Zayne adjusts his collar. “Do you mind if I come in?”

You tap your chin, pretending to mull it over in your mind, relishing in the slight nervousness your silence instills in Zayne. “It would be rather bothersome to fuck in the hallway, I suppose…”

Zayne shakes his head at the remark, but you can see amusement dancing in his eyes. With that, you step aside, and he ducks under the doorframe to slip inside. It’s as though something irreversible- something inevitable- shifts as you watch him cross the threshold, and it doesn't get better when you close the door and lock it behind him.

You'd say he makes himself at home, but his stance is still too stiff, too awkward, even as he’s hanging his coat and slipping out of his shoes. It almost feels domestic.

"Would you like something to drink?"

Zayne shakes his head, "Not this time."

He says it so casually, and yet the notion of a next time has you dizzy. Of course there’s a next time, you’ll need more than one night to get inspiration. It was only a natural assumption, you reason with yourself.

"You seem tense," he says, and then your back is against the wall.

Zayne leans down, hovering above you as his hand comes up to your waist. A tentative touch, and you give a small nod, feeling his arm relax, palm sliding further into the plush of your hips. He looks so good like this, in a work button-down with a thin sheen of sweat on his brow and his lips parted. Gods, and he’s not even trying- there’s genuine concern written in the way he scans your body with a deep crease between his brows. You hope he doesn’t notice how you squeeze your thighs tighter.

"It's the deadline, is all," you say, trying to brush off the question.

"Ah, of course. How inconsiderate of me. I’m supposed to be helping you and here I am making it worse.”

Zayne's voice is low and smooth. The cadence in his words, the slight drawl, is a sound that makes your heart skip a beat. It's a shame it's so easy to hide your arousal when you're this nervous.

“Well,” You smile, and his gaze flickers down to your mouth. “I suppose I can forgive you if you uphold your end of the deal.”

His stare is heavy, and it feels like the room is closing in. But you understand the man well enough to know that he wouldn’t dare move first, not until you asked for it, not when you have yet to set a precedent. So you loop your arms around his neck, forcing Zayne closer as his forearm slams against the wall to hold himself up against you.

You nip at the lobe of his ear, smiling to yourself as he shivers with each warm exhale. Zayne’s hand has yet to leave your side while he lets you grind against him, guiding your movements as you groan against his neck.

But Zayne feels you rush through the movements, a messy sort of impatience less from desire and more from routine. As though you wanted this done. As though you wanted him gone.

You feel a familiar flutter against your core as Zayne’s knee comes up against your core, but when you move to grind against his thigh, the hand at your waist stops you.

“I want to do this properly. You deserve—” he cuts himself off. Starts over. “Where would you like to do this?”

You’re about to tell him that right here is fine, not wanting Zayne to feel as though you needed any more special attention, when you realize just how serious he is. “Bedroom," you say.

Zayne hums, and the rumble reverberates throughout his chest. He offers a hand, and you take it.

And with that, you lead him to your room.

Somewhere between the span of your hallway and bed, Zayne seems to have decided how tonight will go. Despite your desperate touches, teasing up his body and luring him closer, Zayne slows his own pace, leaving burning trails traced with agonizing slowness over the curves of your body. Despite your fumbling to strip off your shirt, Zayne grabs your wrist, forcing it behind your back as his other hand teases the exposed skin of your ribs in a way that has you shivering. Despite your hushed complaints for him to just hurry up Zayne merely smiles in amusement, refusing to give you anything more as he scolds you with a click of his tongue.

Zayne refuses to rush this. He wants to savor every moment, to etch the sight of you into his mind and commit it to memory, to relive it in this life and the next.

He continues walking forward, each one forcing you to take a step back until your knees hit your bed, buckling as his form looms over you.

“The largest mistake in any relationship- sexual or not- is lack of communication.” He loosens his tie, “So if we are to do this, you have to talk to me. Tell me what you like, what you don’t.”

As he speaks, Zayne continues undressing, unbuttoning the top few buttons on his shirt before rolling up the cuffs so every glorious inch of his forearms is exposed. Your breath catches with each trailing vein, shadowed in the dim lighting up until they disappear under his sleeves.

Maybe you should write a Victorian-era piece next. Clearly, you had a thing for small swaths of exposed skin.

As if hearing your thoughts, Zayne undoes another button before his hands venture south. With a slow, deliberate motion, he unbuckles his expensive leather belt and allows it to slide through the loops of his pants. It drops to the floor, joining all the other articles of clothing as he takes a seat on the mattress, resting his hand on your bare thigh, inching closer and closer to where your sleep shorts have ridden up.

"Tell me what you like and don't like." Zayne repeats, eyes focused on yours, "And remember, you say no, and this stops."

Zayne moves painfully slow, his hands fluttering down your shoulders, breasts, hips, until he plants them behind you, caging you between his broad chest and the mattress. His hand slips under your shirt’s fabric once more, and you feel yourself tense.

You aren’t wearing anything fancy. After all, you were simply writing in bed, nearly falling off when you suddenly got Zayne’s text. Only a pair of shorts and a cami, but gods, when Zayne’s hands begin trailing up your stomach, dragging the thin fabric up with him, you really wished you put something sexier on.

He doesn't stop until his fingertips brush against the underwire of your bra, thick fingers slipping under the band as he practically tugs you toward him. "Can you take this off for me?"

"Don't know how to do it yourself?" You tease.

Before you even finish taunting him, Zayne's hand has already snuck around your back, undoing the clasp and forcing you onto your back. You can feel the heat radiating off of him.

"Now, now, we'll be here all night if we start fighting." He chastises you, tone far too smug. Zayne tugs the undone bra up, his fingers tracing the red marks it left against your skin. You tremble under his touch. "Didn't realize how sensitive you are."

His tone is even, but you can see the slight curl at the corner of his lips.

"Your hands are cold," you say, voice wavering as Zayne begins taking your shirt off as well. You try not to fidget, knowing that the way your arms are held up only emphasizes the size difference, Zayne being able to completely lift your chest against him as the other binds your wrists. You're not tiny. But next to him? It barely mattered.

"I apologize." But it feels half hearted at best, especially with the way he’s staring at your bare chest, not even bothering to take your shirt all the way off. It almost feels more embarrassing like this, cotton bunched against your collarbones under his palms.

“I’m going to touch you now, okay?”

The way he says it causes a rush of blood to your face. “I’m not some virgin that might break.” You grumble under your breath, but Zayne is as stupidly attentive as always and frowns.

“Do not mistake my care for pity.”

Something ugly aches in your chest when he looks at you like that.

Zayne’s hand comes up, large enough to encircle the entirety of your cheek as you’re enveloped in the chill of his touch. His body is nearly atop yours, each word breathed into your mouth. “Then, if you have no more snarky remarks, allow me to begin."

Zayne’s gaze drops to where he thumbs at your lips, leaning in as you watch his pupils dilate, flickering with something before he flinches away, kissing the corner of your mouth instead.

His other hand cups the curve of your breast, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You gasp, the sensation heightened by the feeling of his teeth against your collarbone, nipping marks into your skin.

It takes a moment for all his featherlight touches to register, your eyes fluttering closed as his thumb rubs your chin. You try to ignore the way he avoids your lips, refusing to get too close.

All for the better, you remind yourself.

He kisses lower, down between the valley between your breasts, hot breath the only warning you get before his tongue meets your nipple while his fingers deliver a sharp flick to the other. The contrast of the heat from his mouth to the cold of his fingertips sends you reeling as you muffle your cries into your palm.

Zayne doesn’t like that. He forces your hand from your mouth, biting your nipple as if in vengeance as you moan, the sound broken and desperate as you claw at his forearm.

Satisfied, his tongue smooths over the bright pink bite mark and swollen bud, the unpredictable pressure fogging up your every thought before he retreats with a wet pop.

Finally, Zayne moves to fully remove your shirt, but pauses when you flinch.

“Would it make you more comfortable if I undressed as well?” Zayne begins to take off his own shirt, but you lunge for him, stopping his hands as your voice escapes in a whoosh.

“No.”

His collared shirt was utterly ruined, unbuttoned just enough so you could see his flushed chest when he bent over. And now when he sat up straight the bottom rose up just a bit, exposing a stretch of his lean torso, a peak of his abs, and a dark happy trail that dipped into his tailored pants. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it sent a shameful throbbing down your core.

“You can keep it like that, it’s hot.”

Zayne doesn’t respond, but when he averts his eyes you swear you watch his lips curl into a smirk. It’s gone by the time he looks at you. Not that you have any time to dwell on it, not when Zayne closes the remaining space between you, guiding you against the pillows.

You try not to focus on how out of place he seems in your apartment, mere presence dwarfing everything else as he makes his way between you, forcing your knees apart.

Zayne leans back, his fingers trailing up your leg, edging up the fabric of your shorts up with his touch, but never daring to slip past the self-imposed barrier of the cotton. He coaxes your hips up, and you kick the shorts off in a clumsy movement, Zayne's eyes now focused between your thighs before you snap them shut as best you can around his waist.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– Doctor–”

“Relax. I can’t guide you if you don’t let me, now open.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Zayne’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You could call this off, he’s told you that much directly, and knowing Zayne if you did so everything would go right back to how it was before. A mentor and student. Coworkers. Strangers.

You force the tremors in your thighs to relax, knees dropping from Zayne’s hips to the sheets below as you move your left leg just enough to feel the inner band of your underwear stretch.

It’s a bearable amount of embarrassment and vulnerability, until you look up at Zayne again, and akin to a deer in headlights, you freeze. He watches with enough intensity for it to be clinical, a vicious sort of attentiveness that sees every twitch, every strain your body responds with, as if committing it all to memory. As if he were to devour you alive.

You think you’d let him.

Zayne reaches over, and his thick finger trails a line up your inner thigh, immediately followed by goosebumps, knuckles ghosting the inner seam of your panties.

Your body reacts before you do. Before you can even breathe, the air catches in your throat, and your legs squeeze together in a pathetic attempt to hide yourself.

Zayne pins them down immediately, gaze snapping up to you. You expect a reprimand. Maybe a warning or a punishment, and the anticipation makes your stomach twist.

Instead, his brows draw in, as if lost in thought. “You said you never came from touching yourself either?”

You can barely manage a nod.

“Hm. Then you weren’t doing it right.” He says, so bluntly that you can only blink at him. “Show me how you do it.”

Zayne sits back between your thighs, one hand still absent-mindedly caressing your knee, waiting expectantly.

And you feel the flush burn all the way up your ears and down your chest.

Oh, that was not what you expected him to say. You were prepared for him to touch you, or to guide you, but instead he asks for the complete opposite.

And, well, you could only ever try your best for him— ever the people pleaser.

It's humiliating how easily your fingers slip under the elastic band. Even more so when the pads of your fingers run down your folds, and you feel yourself clench at the mere contact, already slick and wanting. You move to tug your underwear off, but Zayne stops you, grabbing at your wrist.

"Wait," He's panting, eyes blown as he continues to stare at you, at the wet patch accumulating in the center of those damned panties. "Keep them on."

His tone is so serious a part of you wants to laugh. You're about to make a quip when he pulls your hand up, bringing your fingers to his lips and wrapping his tongue around them. The way he teases from the pad of your finger to your knuckle, sucking as he goes, has you lightheaded. Your hips stutter upwards, a pitiful sound escaping from your throat as you try to keep yourself together.

He doesn't stop. Not until your fingers are clean and your thighs have grown unbearably sticky, neglected and throbbing.

When he finally lets go, you're a gasping mess, and Zayne looks downright smug. "Now, you can continue."

The bastard.

You don't know how you manage to move, let alone bring your fingers to your entrance.

Pushing aside the cotton, your first touch is tentative, and you flush at how much easier it is with Zayne’s spit covering them. Your breath catches both from the initial stretch and the way Zayne leans in closer to see, even though the thin elastic prevents him from watching the way your cunt flutters around the new intrusion.

You shift, but your need has grown nearly uncomfortable, hips beginning to buck up as one finger quickly becomes too little, and you whine as you attempt to push in another, to push in a little deeper.

"Slower. You're going too fast."

You can't help the scowl, your tone sharper than intended. “How would you know?"

Zayne’s face is a cool mask, the corners of his lips twitching with amusement. "You did ask me for advice, did you not?" Then his voice takes on a sharper edge, demanding again. "Slow down, then you may continue."

As if you needed his permission to continue. But you do as he says, rocking your fingers in and out, pace painfully slow, mere friction sending jolts of heat throughout you.

Usually, this was the best part, the delicious and tortuous build-up that would ultimately lead to nothing. Not nearly long enough, your fingers hit just below your sweet spot, and you could feel tears of frustration prick against your eyes. Writhing, you tried to plunge further, choking out a moan again and again at the barest brushing against your sweet spot, mindlessly grinding your hips up to meet each cruel thrust of your fingers.

You cry when you finally hit that spot inside you, head falling against the pillows as you tense, about to move again when something stops your hand, ripping it away from your desperate chase.

“You–“ Zayne shakes his head, breath ragged as some combination of a frustrated exhale and moan rumbles through his chest, the sound going straight to your cunt. “You’re too impatient. Too rough.”

You try to swallow, try to hide how the sound of his moan and the rough cadence of his voice makes the muscles of your belly and thighs spasm, but Zayne doesn't miss a thing. He doesn't release your hand, not fully, but rather guides both of your digits to trace around your clit instead.

"Again," he says, “This time slower. How does it feel?”

You close your eyes, taking a deep breath as you feel his hand continue to guide yours, entire body jolting when he catches against the hood of your oversensitive clit, tapping as he lets you circle it on your own.

“Good. It feels really good.”

Zayne hums, but he already knows that. He feels it through the drenched bottoms of your panties, rubbing your poor swollen clit through them, watching as you gush again, the slick coating his palm and dripping down his wrist in sticky strands.

It takes everything within him not to withdraw his hand and lick it all. Or even better, take his mouth to you directly. Not yet. Not yet, he reminds himself. Next time.

You have to bite your lip as you feel Zayne’s hand take over your own, almost greedily pushing and pinching your clothed cunt, the fabric both a delicious friction and a damn barrier you wish was gone so you could finally feel his bare fingers on you, in you. It’s torture, every nerve on fire as Zayne continues to focus on your clit while your fingers return against your folds, teasing your entrance with a light touch before pressing in.

But it's still not enough. It's not what you need.

You look to Zayne for direction, but his expression is unreadable in the darkness. "Deeper. Keep going."

The angle isn't quite right, but you do as he says, trying and failing to muffle your sounds as you fuck yourself on your fingers, desperately chasing the feeling building up once more.

“Again. Deeper.”

It hurts. Your wrist is beginning to ache, and you’re really not sure how much longer you can keep going, crying out again when Zayne forces his hand flat against your clothed core, shoving your own fingers deeper and causing the wet fabric to rub deliciously against your clit.

You don't even have time to react before he's pulling away, his own hand rubbing the wetness on his fingers together as he watches the strands break and drip down his hand.

His tone is so nonchalant despite the way he keeps his gaze trained between your legs. As if the sight of you, flushed and gasping, with your cunt pathetically leaking and yet still demanding more, wasn't the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

“Ask,” Zayne demands, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Ask for it.”

“Need your help, please, Zayne” you manage, voice airy and heart still racing from unintentionally edging yourself over and over again. “I want your fingers.”

It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. Hands gentle enough to care for patients, steady enough to perform surgeries, cruel enough to tease you this mercilessly, and yet you can’t help but imagine what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

You’ve probably thought about his hands more times than you’d like to admit.

At the hospital, at the cafe, at night in your apartment. Every inch of his body seems to haunt you like a forgotten memory your body had already grown addicted to.

The moan that rumbles out of Zayne’s chest is low and addicting. He sits back for only a moment before your hips are dragged down the bed, a yelp leaving your lips from the sheer force.

Zayne practically knocks your leg over his shoulder, and when you arch off balance, you press against something that has you inhaling sharply through your nose. Fuck, Zayne’s hard.

He shudders violently at the contact, falling onto his forearms as you roll against him once more, watching his face twist from the painful pleasure you know all too well. You feel his control slipping, both in the way his fingers tighten at your hips and the throbbing heat you feel twitch against your thigh.

And just realizing how much you’ve affected him is enough to send your eyes rolling back into your skull with a violent tremor.

You attempt to grind up against him again when Zayne roughly pins you back down. You writhe helplessly, hips pinned to the mattress as Zayne curses, adjusting himself in his slacks with a rough squeeze. “No.” A command to both himself and you, “You asked for my fingers, so that’s what you will get.”

You’re about to open your mouth to make another demand, but Zayne is one step ahead of you yet again. “That’s all you’re getting.” As if to quell your anger, he begins to thumb at your clit again, moving to take off your last remaining piece of clothing. “Next time.”

A promise he has every intention to keep.

Ironically, Zayne is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your endeavors, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow. But you’ve been worked up far too long, and as soon as Zayne begins fucking you with two of his much thicker fingers, you already feel the familiar tension building.

“Do you want to tell me what you’re feeling?”

“Not really,” you manage through clenched teeth.

You feel Zayne pull away and thrust your hips up into nothingness, only making yourself more sensitive when he roughly thumbs at your clit. He slams your hips back down, a cruel pinch to the oversensitive nub forcing you to arch into him as your jaw falls slack.

“That was not a question.” Zayne is still hovering above you, watching as his fingers slip against your cunt, slick with your arousal. “Use your words.”

His voice takes a dark edge every time he commands you now, and you bite your lip to not whimper at the tremor his voice sends down your skin. It’s not fair, the effect something so simple has on you. But while his demand is still ringing in your ears, Zayne curls his fingers further upwards, rubbing directly against that sweet spot inside you with frustrating ease, and you sob.

"Please,” you can’t even remember to beg. Zayne nearly abuses the spot, curling into it over and over again until you’re certain you’re drooling all over the silk of your pillow, writhing. "Please, I'm– I need more, and, ah—“

Zayne hums. "More? You're going to have to be more specific if you actually want to orgasm."

You whine, shaking your head as his eyes narrow. He’s only halfway through scolding you when his finger smacks against your clit, the sharp twinge of pain enough to make you cry. "Don't be a child. Words. Tell me what's giving you pleasure so I can help you."

"It's," a huff of air leaves you and you can barely manage to form a coherent sentence, your mind fogging over completely as Zayne continues to talk. "Hah, your voice helps.”

“My voice?”

Your eyes nearly roll back at the sound of Zayne’s chuckle. A deep, cruel thing that you now think may be all you need to come as your eyes screwed shut. “Well, if that’s the case, then I suppose I should just keep talking. Keep your eyes open.”

You obey, and Zayne simultaneously pulls your jaw towards him, forcing you face-to-face with him. “Look at me.”

You do. You do and really wish you hadn’t because the smug smile pulling at the corner of his lips and the freckles of light green you now see in his softened gray eyes might really be all you need to send yourself over the edge.

And, as if listening, Zayne forces his fingers deeper inside, the tips of his digits hitting the same spot that has your mind fogging over, vision blurring with a disorienting mix of hazy and dizzy. You can barely hold on, fingers twitching against the sheets as suddenly it becomes too much, your hands shooting up as you press desperately against Zayne’s chest.

“Wait–” You’re dizzy. The pressure is consuming you, and you’re losing control. “Please, Zayne.”

He stops immediately, pliant under your touch as he lets you push him away. Even so, his free hand comes up to meet yours, coaxing your fingers against his as he holds it up to his chest, letting you ground yourself with his heartbeat.

The rhythm is comforting.

Zayne isn’t speaking anymore, just looking, waiting for you to give him a sign. He doesn’t dare move, letting his fingers sit still, buried inside of you. You don't know if it's the dizziness lingering in your head or the fact that his fingers are insistently rubbing against a spot inside of you that sends sparks up your spine, but either way, you might be going insane.

“Keep your breathing steady, even when you’re close. Deep breaths.” In, out. In, out. Your chest rises as Zayne’s does, bare skin brushing his. “Good.”

Even as your vision clears, Zayne refuses to let go of your hand, this time pinning it beside your head as he begins to move his other hand too, thumb circling your clit as the others curl against your walls.

When you begin to shake again, his lips ghost by your neck, dangerously soft and hesitant as he kisses down from your jaw, following each whimper and moan you give to him with loyal intent, sucking gently at a spot near your jugular and collarbone.

"Ah, Zayne. I think–" your breathing hitches as Zayne presses another soft kiss against your skin.

"Are you okay?" The softness of his tone nearly breaks you, and you force yourself to ignore it. Focus on the sensations; focus on what you can use for the novel. Nothing more.

You nod.

"What else, darling? Are you close?"

Your breath hitches. The sudden pet name has you reeling, and you feel Zayne keep his steady rhythm, even through your trembling and whining, his thumb mercilessly circling against your clit in ways you swear never feel the same when you’ve done it.

"Call me that again," you cry, nearly begging.

"Come. Come for me, darling."

And you do.

Your vision blurs as you come around Zayne’s fingers, a silent scream catching in your throat. All you can manage is a broken moan as you arch into him, gripping his forearm and holding it in place. Your thighs quiver around his arm, and Zayne holds you still, coaxing you through it as wave after wave of pleasure wash over you.

The sensation is overwhelming. You're not even sure how long it lasts, the only thing grounding you is the weight of Zayne's hand laced against your own.

Slowly, he begins to withdraw his fingers, kissing your knuckles softly.

"How are you feeling?"

The room is quiet, and it feels like all the sound has been sucked out of it. Your head is fuzzy and your whole body is tingling, and all you can focus on is Zayne's soft breathing.

Good, you want to tell him. More than that, your body is still shaking from pleasure and desire, and you can’t stop looking at Zayne’s lips or remembering how hot and needy he felt grinding against your thigh. You can’t stop thinking about him, so instead you say, “Fine.”

Zayne stiffens. “Good.”

He sits up, still scanning your face for something as you watch the fabric of his shirt pull taut across his chest and stomach, and once again you are overwhelmed by the desire to run your hands down his body, to feel his skin against yours. To see more of him.

“I’m going to get you water and a towel.” He says, not moving just yet. “Do you need anything else?”

You shake your head no. Zayne nods, leaning in as his hand goes to your jaw before he pauses halfway and steps out of bed, making his way to your bathroom.

You don’t really remember how much of the night goes by after that, a blur of Zayne attentively guiding you through proper aftercare and you throwing in a few quips here and there at his ceaseless worrying. Before long, he’s saying farewell, and you’re back at your computer screen, empty doc staring right back at you.

But the words never form. Not when your head is still spinning, replaying everything that happened tonight in vivid flashbacks as an overwhelming rush of mortification and desire runs down your spine.

You can’t help but feel that perhaps you just made an irreversible mistake.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfiction #love and deepspace x reader #lnd zayne #lads zayne #zayne x you #zayne x reader #zayne love and deepspace #lnds smut #l&ds smut #love and deepspace smut #lads x reader #love and deepspace zayne #poisonwrites

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 4 months ago

Note

As a follow up to you post about mentors, just to make things fair, what are examples of Tikki being a bad mentor to Marinette?

Post in question for context.

Tikki often acts as the voice of the author. She's there to explain why Marinette is in the wrong. Since Miraculous has some wacky morals, that means we get a mix of good advice and wacky nonsense advice.

Two examples of bad advice that come to mind are Gamer and Strikeback. Gamer is the episode where Marinette stumbles upon an Ultimate Mecha Strike tournament, realizes that Adrien is taking part, and decides to compete so they can be on a team together. Marinette wins a spot through her own hard won skills and then this happens:

Tikki: All you wanted to do is spend time with Adrien, there are other ways to do that! Marinette: What are you getting at? Tikki: You know how much Max wanted to be in that tournament. Kim said he'd been training for it all year. Marinette: You're right. All I could think about was Adrien.

This is how tournaments work, right? They're not tests of skill, but tests of who put in the most work or who wants to compete the most! That's why we had that scene with Marinette writing out her training schedule and motivations for evaluation, but she lied and that was wrong and...

Okay, I was the one lying here. There was no written evaluation because that's not how tournaments work. All anyone cares about is your skills. They don't care if you're doing this for personal glory or to get closer to a boy or whatever Adrien's motivation was because - notably - his motivation didn't matter in this episode about needing pure motives to be allowed to do things.

What if he didn't care about the competition and only did it to get closer to his classmates? That's not even a random guess. It's a valid read because Adrien ultimately gives his spot to Max while claiming that Max is the better player even though Adrien very clearly beat Max at the start of the episode. Ignoring that weird nonsense dialogue, why was it fine for Adrien to compete when he didn't care but wrong for Marinette to do the same? And Max wanting to compete to show off his skills is also a totally selfish motivation, so why does it matter that he wanted it more? Everything about this episode was nonsense and uncomfortably sexist. If Max wants to compete, then he needs to get better at the game. That's how competitions work.

Strikeback is the second part of the season four final and it starts with Marinette mourning the fact that "Adrien" has left Paris, leading to this:

Marinette: (crestfallen) It's all over, Tikki. Tikki: He'll be back, Marinette. He's just going on a voyage!

Which would be lovely advice if Adrien was a normal boy, but he's Chat Noir and Tikki knows that. She should be freaking out and trying to find a way to get him back to Paris, but then Tikki would have to support Marinette's actions and we can't have that, so instead Tikki gives this nonsense advice because she has to be against whatever "wrong" thing Marinette is doing today.

I could come up with a few more examples, but I think those two paint a pretty good picture of issue one re Tikki. However, when it comes to Tikki, my main issue with her is less a wealth of bad advice - unlike Plagg*, I think she's right more often than not - and more a lack of support. It feels like she's just here to judge Marinette and point out when she's doing something wrong, but a good mentor should be so much more than that.

Kuro Neko is a great example of this. When Chat Noir quits, Tikki just sits back and does nothing while her young charge is freaking out. She doesn't even try to defend Marinette when Plagg is going off about Chat Noir's "ill treatment". For all Plagg's faults in that episode, at least he's doing something about the situation. Meanwhile Tikki literally has two lines in the entire episode! A similar thing happens in Kwami's Choice where Plagg is the one driving them to act while Tikki just wrings her hands in despair.

Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

These are not the actions of a mentor. Mentors aren't supposed to just offer judgement about things that their mentee has already done or is considering doing. They're supposed to be a source of support and guidance in hard times, but we never really see Tikki stepping in to give Marinette that kind of advice. If memory serves, she never offers solutions or acts as a sounding board. That role is mainly filled by Alya and I love Alya! It's good for Marinette to have support from a friend, but Alya is also a teenager while Tikki is an ancient being who has seen many Ladybugs go through the kind of struggles that Marinette is going through. I expect her to use that knowledge to help her charge, but she never does. This exchange from Passion perfectly highlights this problem:

Tikki: Don't worry, Plagg... my holder has decided to run away from her real feelings to pursue an impossible love with Cat Noir instead. Plagg: Uh, just to be sure, sugarcube, you do know that Cat Noir and my holder are one and the same person, right? Tikki: I do, but my holder doesn't. Plagg: If she declares her love to Cat Noir, something tells me she'll find out soon enough. Tikki: You have nothing to fear. When my holder is in love, she never gets anywhere. She'll just knit hats and make very complicated plans that will never come to fruition. Plagg: Hmm... ah, then everything's fine.

Tikki, I love you, but by the gods! With a mentor like you, Marinette doesn't need enemies to be miserable! Do you care about her at all??? What kind of mentor delights at their mentee's suffering? Not a good one, that's for sure.

*Quick note: I think that Plagg and Tikki are probably neck and neck for who has given the most bad advice, Plagg just feels like the bigger problem because we don't see him as much as we see Tikki. Since she's tied to the main character, Tikki gives advice in almost every episode and most episodes have decent morals.

Adrien's need for good advice can also feel more glaring because he's so isolated and passive. That makes Plagg's lack of good advice feel more harmful, but Marinette is just as isolated from real advice. Her mentor figures - Su Han, Fu, and Tikki - mostly give orders and judgement instead of support and guidance. It's just harder to spot that fact because Marinette is actively trying to do the right thing, meaning that she's more likely to make mistakes, and it's easy to see why she comes across as a lot less pathetic and a lot easier to judge.

#ml writing critical #ml writing salt #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better #Tikki deserves better #plagg deserves better #red-balloon12 #mentor salt

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tinynerdycthulu · 4 months ago

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ranking svsss characters on how likely they are to get an abortion

shen qingqiu/yuan: 0/10, obv he would never if it was binghe's. as far as i know the only major character to have a stance on abortion at all (if he was binghes mom hed never abort him) how can anyone deny him the chance to live out his milf dreams

luo bingmei: -10/10, its literally shizuns child, how could this lowly disciple ABORT it???? hed probably get jealous of his own unborn kid tho

liu qingge: 3/10, he'd probably keep the baby due to his personal sense of honor/morals but if his life was in danger he'd pursue an abortion. the baby might just like. die on its own tho. this man cannot take care of himself

shang qinghua: 7/10, would keep it if mobei-jun asked him to. otherwise has no parental instinct. is probably actively terrified of both pregnancy and having a kid for valid reasons.

mobei-jun: 5.5/10, would probably keep it prior to airplane extras if it was politically beneficial and post airplane extras if it was sqh's but otherwise feels no sense of obligation to a fetus

shen qingqiu/jiu: 9.9 repeated/10 bordering on 15/10, this man gets abortions regularly. in fact he is the sole reason why there is a dedicated abortion clinic on qian cao. he wishes probirther fearmongering was real and abortions actually caused fetuses to scream and bleed so he could personally be witness to his child's 'life' being snuffed out. the only reason he isnt a 10/10 is bc after aborting like 10 yqy fetuses he realized it actually caused yqy more pain if he KEPT the baby. unfortunately the baby is kinda useless (sorry its not shen yuan) and he just. ditches it.

yue qingyuan: -5/10, sj demands that he does but this man does not have it in him to abort sj's child. paradoxically this leads to them somewhat fixing their relationship.

liu mingyan: 8/10, too busy writing yaoi to parent BUT she might keep it for shits and giggles and to use as a reference when writing bingqiu mpreg kid.

ning yingying: 9/10, shes baby not mommy. also shes neither qualified nor willing to parent, maybe in the future she could deal with the responsibility

ming fan: 6/10, he wouldn't want to but it would be forced upon him c-drama style. hes the shu son and the main wife cant stand his kid being the first grandchild. do you see my vision.

luo bingge: 10/10, this man doesnt believe life begins at conception OR at birth hed perform post-natal abortions if his kids annoyed him enough.

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beforeimdeceased · 8 months ago

Text

ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

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4dbarbie-archive · 1 year ago

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4dbarbie remix: How to let go of Vanessa

My notes: This is basically a TLDR version of my first 4dbarbie remix post How to realise Self. My original intention for that post was actually to make something like this, a really straightforward (and short lol) practical guide on how to let go of the ego in order to realize Self that I could refer to and apply on a day to day basis. It ended up being a long essay (it was over 3000 words aha) as I decided to go through all her posts and answered asks and found a lot of important information to include so it sort of became more of an educational post (which I'm glad to have made and it helped me understand everything better too!). So anyway, here it is. Pretty much all of the below information was taken from my How to realise Self post (besides the suggested exercises section at the bottom) - I just extracted the more practical guidance outside the explanations to make it.

My personal notes and highlights are in pink for main points and purple for 'action' points.

Just let go of the ego, that’s how simple it is. All you need to fix is your wrong identification. There isn't anyone who couldn’t materialize anything right now if he or she would just let go of identifying as the limited body. 1

Stop thinking you are Vanessa, the thoughts of needing this or that drop away. To change, you need to give up this conviction of being this person. You need to disbelieve. 2 A lot of beliefs are subconscious. "I am a body", "I am Vanessa", "There is a world" are all subconscious, automatic beliefs. Upon investigation you can get rid of any belief (by making them conscious and then dropping them). 14 How do you drop a belief? (see part 1 and part 2)

All you need to do is detach from this form during the day, let life happen as it happens while reminding yourself it's a dream, a dream that doesn't have to be yours. 3

What I recommend you to do is bring your self into focus, become aware of your own existence. See how you function, watch the motives and the results of your actions. Study the prison you have built around yourself because of credulity. By knowing what you are not, you come to know your self. The way back to your self is through refusal and rejection. 4

Leave your mind alone, that is all. Don't go along with it. 5 Thoughts will keep on coming for a while, just now you know they have nothing to do with you. Get into a habit of watching, letting them be but not identifying with them. If you can observe them, it means you are not them. 6

Step away and look (observe). The physical events will go on happening, but by themselves they have no importance. It is your mind alone that matters. When you identify yourself with them, you are their slave, you think you have to act on them. When you stand apart, you are their master 7

Just stop taking the thoughts you don't like for truth or reality. There is no convincing involved, it is all letting go. 8 Doesn't matter what the thought is, leave it alone, ignore it BUT not by force of will, just indifference 9

Start letting go bit by bit, just to see what happens. You won't start "acting crazy" just because you become uninterested in thoughts, I promise 10

You don't need to convince yourself they're unreal, just dismiss them (the thoughts) as not yours. They will disappear more and more through your newfound indifference, then their physical counterparts will, too. Detachment is by doubt and indifference. First you start doubting "the facts", then you become indifferent to the facts, lastly there are no facts anymore and you can establish your own. 9

Your next step will be realizing there is nothing to learn in a dream. You'll find yourself having less and less thoughts, then none at all. Then, only if you want, you will be able to reinstall the mind, now of your choice, and change the dream. 3

All you need is to get rid of the tendency to define your self. All definitions apply to your body only and to its expressions. Once this obsession with the body goes, you will revert to your natural state, spontaneously and effortlessly. 4

Be patient with yourself because you don't lose any time, just get to that place I'm telling you about and then you can just go back in time if you so wish. All worry is pointless! And there is nothing to fear, things just happen, do not claim them as yours for a while. Unclutter your mind, it becomes your servant after you've freed it enough. 11

Reminder: This body and this world are not forced onto you, they exist through your identification with them. Not yours, remember? Repeat. Not yours. You won't lose your mind, you'll only lose your misery. After you've detached, you'll easily shift to as many realities as you want - don't put any on a pedestal of desire, they are equal. See this world and the body as not real first. What is true is only what I AM is identified with, right now this body which is not in that TV show (referring to anon's desire). Correct this first by letting go of thinking it's you. 12

Suggested exercises (not required if you don't want to do it!)

1. Sitting in silence & just being with no thoughts - The whole point of sitting in silence is to realize what you are, pure beingness. Awareness only becomes consciousness when it has an object. The object changes all the time. In consciousness there is movement; awareness by itself is motionless and timeless, here and now. 4

2. Start doubting you'll wake up as Vanessa tomorrow - Not to get it, but consider it actually… What if… I wake up tomorrow and I realize an entire life has been just a dream?! Equal to the one I dreamt last night?! What if you wake up and realize it all was a nightmare that you THOUGHT went on for years and it's just been a few hours... even get scared and terrified about that thought. Better than getting scared about non-reality.

WHAT IN THE WORLD?! That never was... but I felt it so real, I swear I was her?! Yet here you are, awake, and the dream never was.

Do it like that. Doubt that it's anything but a dream as much as possible. 13

Sources:

Citations: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

In-text links: 1, 2, 3, 4

#remix #4dbarbie #nonduality #non duality #nondualism #non dualism

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sl8yter · 4 months ago

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Apparently - Mühl Pt2. to Get It Together

Nika realizes her mistake at the last minute and opens up only to realize she was wrong.

Nika Muhl x Fem Reader

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“Wow twin you’re an asshole” Paiges vocalizes in a brash tone

Nika had come to her friend’s dorm seeking advice on how to proceed after the fallout of her and her girlfriend’s fallout. She had found Paige, KK, and some other teammates hanging out after hours building legos and stuffing their faces with food.

“I dont know what to do. I really do love her I just dont know how to tell her. Nahiem is just a friend she doesnt understand that. She never does.” Nika nervously states as she paces around the table in the middle of the main area as her teammates brain storm solutions for her as they lounge on the couch.

“Okay well first of all stop doing that” KK speaks up

“Doing what?”

“The way you say that she doesn’t understand seems so bashing. Like girl, of course shes gonna kick you out after you talk to her like that. So don’t act surprised” KK’s lack of goofiness acts as a reality check to Nika. Her pacing ends abruptly as she stops to look up and cover her face as an attempt to stop her tears from flowing.

“I could text her to meet up and then Nika could like surprise her with flowers and stuff” Paige says zoning back into the conversation with her faulty solution

“Flowers isnt gonna fix the fact that (yn)s been feeling ignored and how she most likely thinks you’ve been cheating on her. But we can use the first part of Paiges plan. Did you atleast try and text her before you left?” Inês states promptly looking at Nika whos cheeks were wet as she sat down on the couch in between KK and Paige.

“No I came straight here.”

“Oof not good.” Aaliyah butts in

“Why. Please dont make me cry anymore” The Croatian girl says her voice breaking softly towards the end.

“Well if I was her and I already was thinking it. I would personally think that you went to Nahiems. Thats just me though. Maybe (yn) doesn’t jump to conclusions as fast so don’t sweat it.”

“Girl boo, shes already crying about it what do you mean dont sweat it.” KK frankly puts her thoughts out as she wraps an arm around Nikas shoulder, a flimsy attempt to try and comfort the crying girl who’s heart broke a little more with KKs retort.

“I can post to my story and Nika can be in the backround looking all sad.” Paige tries to help

The group looks to Nika who had a contemplating look on her face which contrasted with the pink hue around her eyes and water marks down her cheeks. Her silence deafens the room before she shakes her head up and down.

As Paige takes and post the photo to her instagram story, Nika and the rest of her teamates come up with a plan to try and get (yn) to meet up with Nika in order for them to talk it out. It only takes 20 minutes before (yn) viewed the blondes story and it only took a second for the same blonde to text (yn) to meet up with her at the park 10 minutes away saying it was an emergency.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Paige" I whisper yelled as I walked through out the empty park. Paige had only texted me a cryptic message telling me it was an emergency and to meet her at the park near the dorms.

"Paige come out it's to cold for this." I yelled only slightly louder before a hand had grasped my shoulder causing me to release a yelp and break my neck to look behind me. Only to find the last face I wanted to lay my eyes upon.

"Nika what the fuck are you doing? I thought you were gonna kidnap me. Where's Paige?" I asked, scolding Nika for the scare.

"I couldn't wait until tommorrow to see you. She only texted you so I could meet up with you. Listen to me I-"

"I'm gonna stop you right there before you try to say things I've heard from you a thousand times. I'm tired of us having the same conversations over and over again. It never goes anywhere Nika. Now like I said before go and get some sleep so we can both talk about this with a clear head." I state, exasperated at her mood of just now wanting to talk about things when she had so long to do so.

"Listen to me please bebo you can break up with me, yell at me, or call me every dirty word you know just please let me talk to you. You don't even have to face me. Just hear me." Her voice breaks between most words causing her accent to slip. The begging insanely out of character from the confident girl you usually knew.

"Okay. Just tell me what it is. Tell me why you've been such a dickhead to me." I tell her as I walk to a nearby swing to sit. She quietly trails behind me until I hear the clanking of the metal on the swing adjacent to mine. I refrain from looking over to her as I can feel the intensity of her gaze on my features. If I look, I know I'll cry but I have to let her know in someway that I'm going to stand my ground this time. No matter how much it hurts the both of us.

“Im so so sorry bebo. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant for any of this to happen. When we first started dating I seen how amazing you are and how you were so happy all the time and how you always light up a room. Graduating and the draft has been driving me crazy since the start of the year. I felt so pressured to perform my best that I started doubting myself and I started to think that you were too good for me and-“ Her voice breaking as she stops for a moment to catch her breath. She stops looking at me to look at the sights in front of us, her shame showing in her body language

“That I thought I was gonna be a burden to you. Nahiem would help me. We would just go drive around and drink and do all this dumb stuff. It took the edge off and now I see how bad it was. How it lead me to start acting like you weren’t there. I use to think that my biggest fear was not achieving my dreams after I worked so hard for it, for everything. But in truth my biggest fear is achieving all my dreams and you not being there beside me. You’re so selfless that you constantly put up with me no matter how I treated you. I need to treat you better. I want to treat you better. I know I dont show it a lot but i love you more than anything, more than anyone. You believe in me bebo and I love you for it.” She finishes her voice shaky and her eyes somehow pinker than they were before.

“Of course I believe in you. Youre Nika Mühl. My girlfriend and future WNBA star. Youre so much more than you see Nika. Youre the reason I love to love.” I answer, not realizing I was crying as well until a tear drop fell from off my face.

Nika is silent as she wipes her face and quietly clears her throat before looking at me once again.

“You don’t hate me?” Her tender voice somehow making me forgive her within four words.

“I could never hate you. I love you.”

“I love you more” She says before suddenly standing from her seat and lunging at me causing us both to fall into the mulch below us. Her hands hold my waist as my arms wrap around her neck.

“Im so sorry.” Her soft voice fills my ears as the smell of her shampoo invades my brain.

“I forgive you.” Whispering back to the girl on top of me.

“Can I take you to the dorms?” She asks louder this time as she retracts to put her hands on either side of my head to hover above me.

“Only if you stay the night.”

To my response she quickly leans down to capture my lips. I can feel her slightly whimper at the contact. My hands quickly get lost in her hair as she lowers herself to lay between my legs as she continues to assault my lips slightly opening her mouth to encourage me to go farther. I can feel her heart pounding as her chest is flush against mine.

I gently push her off me as I go to sit up, suddenly remembering that it was 2 AM and we were in a public park.

“Take me home and then I’ll see if I want you to go further.” I tell Nika as shes on her knees infront of me, rubbing the sides of my thighs with her large hands.

To my statement Nika swiftly picks me up wedding style and starts jogging to my dorm building. Her antics make me laugh with mirth as I see her small smile, her eyes glancing at me as we lock eye contact for a second that I wish could have lasted forever. Her strength and her athleticism made me thank her coach as it was only helping me in forgiving her completely.

I kiss her cheek softly as she continues her jog.

“I love you so much Nika. I want you to come to me first whenever you have doubts or whenever you start thinking things like that ever again. I love you, I care for you, and I want you to be happy. You mean everything to me.”

She stops jogging for a second to put me down as she grips my waist with speed to pull me into a kiss. Far more passionate than any weve had before. My hands wrapped around her face holding her as if she were glass. Her hands explore my waist, rubbing and squeezing slightly. I caress her jaw moving one hand farther back to play with her hair at the base of her neck.

We both pull back to rest our foreheads against another, our mouths agape catching oxygen as our exhales mix. The lack of space between us was tantalizing as it was obvious both of us wanted more. The only thing stopping us,being our lung capacity and the open space.

“I dont think I can wait much longer for you” Nika admits her eyes dark with a familiar cloud of lust. The breathiness in her voice causing a feeling that Nika was all too well associated with inside my body.

“Then lets hurry up.” I say tauntingly as I knew she was gonna be the one running us both back to bed. I knew she could do it, she knew I could match her pace and run along side her, but we both knew how much hotter it would be if she did all the work and how much better it would be in bed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Changed my mind, tried writing a smut for this but then I was like rereading it and ts was so toxic. Oh em gee. Like on a deep level if yall like ts great for you I just cant post something like it n be okay with myself after 😭😭🙏

REQUEST SOME THINGS YALL. DONT BE SCARY!!

#nika muhl x reader #nika muhl fanfic #nika mühl #uconn huskies #uconn wbb

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fluff-n-cookies · 1 year ago

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having Hawks as your Body Guard.

it simply came to be like an epiphany from whatever deity lies from above. Body gaurd AU, as always fem reader, reader is 7-3 years old, and shy, hawks is a soft yandere, and Platonic.

Now in this AU Hawks is a body guard for people who need body guarding and since you have a pretty well known and wealthy family in this AU you are considered to be a prime target for well, bad people, ya' know?

anyway so hawks recently gets a call to be a body guard for your family now hawks is okay with this but the problem is when he realizes HE IS TAKING CARE OF YOU.

like your this tiny little thing that doesn't even speak that much how is he going to survive taking care of you EVERY DAY?

it just so BORING.

but hey, they pay well. (and he hears that the family's main body guard is Endeavor so there's that too)

so he gets there, standard procedure, nothing too interesting getting the names of his ward, where he'll be taking you etc.

and then he actually meets you and boring stuff happens, he tries to talk to you and then talk to Endeavor but being a child and a shy one at that you're not someone who he'd call fun.

he picks you up from your school, drives you to your house, another person's house (your moms friend) house, doctor appointment, barricades you from other people you know the drill.

it probably isn't until you're in danger that he actually starts to care. I'm guessing burglar that tries to hold you hostage.

because something inside him just clicks.

he suddenly has his feeling of unease and discomfort when he doesn't know where you are and when you're not by his side.

Mama Bird mode is activated.

he also finds that he wants to interact with you more, and gets closer to you. as in helping fix your hair, playing with you and then helping you clean up, and wanting to just really interact with you more.

has you hold his hand and lead the way to all your favorite places and he eyes everyone else to see if they're a threat.

since you're so shy, Keigo takes it upon himself to answer the questions you didn't even ask, alike you could be at the zoo, and eye a random animal for too long and he'll be spitting facts all like "did you know that Butterflies can taste with their feet, using something called Chemoreceptors that help them to identify plants! cool right?" and stare at it for even longer and he's buying you a plushie, it's over, you are getting that plushie!

and when your family is out in public he just kinda

and it's so fucking funny, he just barricades you so much the media doesn't have a single photo of you that your parents have not posted. and Keigo anonymously keeps reporting it so they take those posts down, HE CANNOT HAVE ANYONE ELSE HAVE YOU YOU"RE TOO GOOD FOR THIS WORLD.

oh my god, if you talk to him more than you normally would with anyone else, he can and will look so damn smug, he loves the fact that not even your Parents have what you have with him.

at some point Mama Bird mode is Elevated, he just can't take it anymore, he fucking applies to be a nanny.

I'll write for endeavor and miruko in this Au on monday and tuesday respectively maybe a little before that if I'm too impatient.

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lincolndjarin · 1 year ago

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Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty four : lunar interlude : riduur

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 7.8k (at last, a normal chapter length)

summary : din is so in love it's obscene at this point, keep it in your chest man (it being his heart.)

warnings, etc. : language, fluff, smut, this chapter is a sappy nightmare,,, like i've got one last chance to be sappy before i need to do my action packed finale so this is just me being sappy, din djarins so in love it makes me sick, fingering, p in v, clit stim, reverse cowgirl, creampie, cockwarming, massages, just general happiness like why are these idiots so happy what is their problem

a/n : WOOF this took a fucking WHILE to get out, and for those who waited, prepare to be UNDERWHELMED lmao. this is the last chapter before the final arc of the story and i was feeling rather sentimental while I wrote it. anyhow,,, i have a million excuses for why this took so long but like who cares cause it's here now yippee!!! as for every chapter i've ever posted i have no idea if i like this or not so there's that, i kind of hate this one the way i hate every lunar interlude, like i've never written a din pov and felt good about it lmao so i guess we'll see. comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

He doesn’t deserve this.

How could he possibly be deserving of you? Yet somehow you make him feel as if he is. With your soft touch and the way your eyes get just a little bigger when you see him.

He’s going to ask you to marry him.

Is that something he can do?

Technically of course you don’t really consider yourself married as far as he can tell. Sure you have a husband but that’s all he is, a husband.

An obstacle.

The two of you could still be married.

And you wanted to leave this place. So he was going to give you exactly that.

A home, far away from here.

He pulls you into the cabin, wanting nothing more than for you to see the smile on his face. Of course you won’t let him do that much to his confusion.

Maybe if you’re married to him you’ll look.

The longer you wait the more nervous he gets about it.

A lot can go wrong with this kind of thing.

Very specifically, you could just not find him attractive in the slightest, which wouldn’t be great all things considered. If that happened maybe he could just live with the helmet on and you’d be okay with that.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight or go back to the castle?” You look exhausted as he asks, he practically carries you towards the bed.

“Here’s fine.” You look too tired to walk back anyway.

He drags the mattress off of the busted frame, setting it on the floor. You seem surprised that he didn’t have a bigger reaction to your love confession.

He did the first time you’d said it a few days ago.

After the first day stuck in your room, you had said it that night. All you had wanted to do that day was fight and he hadn’t been able to give you even that. He knew you were right. It was stupid to stay.

Even if things are okay now.

You had said his name so clearly with such urgency that he believed you might be about to start another argument in the middle of the night.

“Din?” You had grabbed the front of his shirt and it wasn’t until he’d tried to talk to you that he’d realized you were still asleep.

“Are you okay, sarad?” He sat up and cradled your head in his hands but you’d only held on tighter as you mumbled in your sleep.

“I love you.” And just like that you were collapsing back in his arms, still asleep as if nothing had happened.

He hadn’t cried like he did that night since the kid left.

And it didn’t matter when you didn’t say it back in the morning. (Despite the fact that he had said it quite a bit.) You loved him and he knew it. And he had made sure to show you just how much he loved you on that second day.

He grins as you sit down on the bed with a yawn. He takes it upon himself to kneel beside you, unlacing the back of your gown. You have no resistance as he helps peel the rain soaked fabric from your skin.

“Let me get you a change of clothes.” He leaves you to get out of the rest as he finds you a simple set of sleep wear. You let him redress you until he finally lays you down and stands, going to change out of his own wet clothes.

When he steps out of the fresher you’ve turned the lights off he's in a clean flight suit with his helmet on as he slides under the blankets with you.

“Warm enough?” The cabin feels colder than the castle as he pulls you closer.

“I’m perfectly comfortable here.” Your voice is heavy with sleep as he rests his chin on the top of your head, beskar bumping against your hair.

“Get some sleep.” He mumbles, not bothering to close his own eyes.

“You promised you’d eat the candy.” You whisper into the darkness, you sound barely conscious.

“I did not.” At least he’s pretty sure he didn’t, he’s realized at this point that if he says anything with enough confidence you usually believe it.

“You alluded to it.” You’re right, he probably did.

“Do you really want to see the damage I would do after eating that thing?” He’ll never do it. In all honesty he’s a little nervous he’ll accidentally hurt you.

“A little.” You flip over in his arms so you’re facing him now, when you look at him he finds himself falling victim to the pleading look in your eyes. Damn nightvision.

“Go to sleep.” He has to close his eyes, if he stares at you too long he’ll give in despite his own worries. “I love you.” He murmurs. He needs you to know it.

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” You laugh softly before going silent.

It only takes a few more minutes before your breathing gets quiet and steady against him.

When he’s certain you’re asleep he reaches over to turn the lamp back on. You’d think with how often he does this that you’d have seen his face on accident at some point but maybe he’s just really lucky.

He likes to look at you without the helmet on.

It’s fine with it, but nothing compares to seeing you without the barrier. Sometimes, if he’s still wearing the helmet and he takes it off you smile in your sleep when the airlock hisses. But since you’re insistent on not looking he doesn’t get a lot of opportunities to really look at you. So he does it on nights like these.

You get so sleepy after sex.

So he gets to hold you, and watch how your eyes flutter open the tiniest bit when he can’t help himself and kisses your cheeks until he can bring himself to sleep. Or how you mumble back to him when he whispers things to you in Mando’a.

Most importantly you look less worried when you sleep. You always look so worried but not when you’re like this. There is plenty to be worried about so he can’t hold it against you.

He’s going to build you a house someday. And he’s going to give you a garden.

So you can go outside and look at the flowers whenever you want.

And you won’t ever have to worry again.

With a soft hiss of air he removes his helmet, setting it somewhere in the sheets as he looks at you, unburdened. He likes the way your lips part just a little bit as the corners of your mouth lift.

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheek before rolling over to rest his head on your chest so he can feel you breathe until he falls asleep, it helps him to match your breathing. Your hands hold him, even in your sleep you run your hands across his back and shoulders. One time you had a nightmare and you pulled his hair so hard you’d woke yourself up. But he’d never complain, it’s one of his favorite things about you. You love him even when you’re sleeping. Like right now, your nails lighty scratch at the nape of his neck.

It helps him sleep.

☆

When he wakes up he’s got a blanket thrown over his head and you’re already up, sitting at the table.

“You fell asleep without your helmet on.” He hears you grumble.

“Sorry.” He chuckles as he searches for it in the mess of sheets only to find you’d set it on the floor beside him. Once it’s properly in place he finds you reading. He stands behind you, looking over your shoulder.

“How did you find that?” He tries to grab the translation book but you swat his hand away.

“You said we had no secrets.” Your eyes are scanning the pages. “Ner means mine.” You grin up at him as you say it.

“Yes, it does.” He stares right back down at you.

You lean backwards, grabbing the front of his shirt.

“Ner.”

Would you think less of him if you knew how often his face turned red when you spoke to him like that? A few weeks ago that kind of worry would drive him mad, but now? He knows you wouldn’t mind, knowing you'd probably feel accomplished to get such a reaction from him.

“Gar serim.” You’re right. He murmurs back before getting your things together, listening to the sound of the pages frantically flipping behind him as you look for the words.

When you find the page you give him a dopey smile

He suddenly remembers something, going to the fresher and searching through last night's wet clothes he finds the vial, bringing it to you, you don’t need any instruction from him as you pop the cap off, drinking the contents before setting it aside.

“What do you want to do today?” He holds up the scraps of your dress, trying to decide if it’s even worth putting back on.

“I’m a little tired, maybe we could read today.” You turn just in time to watch him toss it back on the ground.

“Sounds perfect.” This will give him some much needed time to think.

He has a plan for today. There are a few things that he needs to get done before he leaves.

Like tell you that he has to leave.

Of course he doesn’t want to leave you, even if it’s only going to be for a few days, but he wants to do this the right way and to do that he needs to leave.

Just a few days. And then he doesn’t have to leave you ever again.

And he needs to get away from you long enough to make the failsafe he knows you don’t want. You’re always together at this point, (not that he would have it any other way.) so it won’t be easy to find time away to do it but he’ll figure it out.

“We should get going.” He’s pretty sure he has everything he needs and you need to be back in your room before any staff might notice you’re gone.

“But I wanna keep doing this.” You give him your sad eyes as you gesture to the book and he’s already ready to give in.

“You can bring that to the library.” He groans and that’s all the convincing needed to get you on your feet. He manages to get you back to your room just before the girls arrive. He stands where he’s expected to stand out in the hall. It’s the only time he really spends away from you.

When the door opens he instinctively stands up a little straighter.

They put you in a white dress.

A pretty white dress.

Did you know what this would do to him?

You can’t possibly know the effect this kind of thing has on him, if you did you wouldn’t put him through this.

“Ready?” He says as he peers at the translation book still happily tucked under your arm.

“Of course.” He’s mesmerized by your gown, it’s simpler than the ones they normally do you up in, white fabric flowing off your shoulders down to the floor, as you walk it trails behind you a bit. It’s a familiar quiet as he walks you to those large wooden doors, opening them as you rush inside.

“What do you want to read today?” You’re searching around the shelves, you’ve already set your own reading in the nook.

“Surprise me.” He won’t be reading today anyway, he needs to plan.

“Here.” You hand him a book on speeder maintenance, normally he’d be thrilled to spend the day reading the sort of thing but he really should just take today to think.

He sits first. Leaving space between his legs for you to sit which you happily do. Once you’re settled he opens his book, pretending to read as he lets his mind focus on what's important.

Starting with the part where he tells you he’s leaving.

Or that he’s decided rather recently that he needs to leave.

He should just do it now, get it out of the way so it stops bothering him, especially because he’d like to leave as soon as possible, but you seem so relaxed right now and he’d hate to ruin that.

So he’ll focus more on the trip itself than the telling you part.

It should only take a few days. A quick trip to the forge and back.

He’s pretty sure he’s found out where the convert currently is. He doesn't have as much free time as he used to so it took a little outside help, seeking out old colleagues until finally hearing word of an outer rim planet where they might be located. He’ll catch a transport ship there, take care of what needs to be taken care of, and be back to you before he knows it.

Then you can plan your life together.

He would love to just bring you to the forge with him, go from there and never look back. That would be ideal. To get you out of here as quickly as possible. But that’s not possible, if he’s gonna go this he’s gonna do it right, so he’ll plan everything down to the last detail to make sure that it’s as safe as possible. If he’s being realistic he knows you’ll have to do something drastic, probably along the lines of faking your death.

Will he have to kill Kodo?

He’d like to.

He’s wanted to kill Kodo for some time now, he’s just a little worried you’d be mad, you were so mad when he hit him.

He never wanted you to be that mad at him ever again.

So maybe he won’t.

That would be the easiest way to get you out though, to be fair. Kill Kodo and run, and deal with the consequences after. He’ll hide you away somewhere until things die down and then he’ll build you something permanent. A home for the both of you.

He could also just whisk you away into the night one of these days.

He honestly isn’t sure how long they’d look for you, the last thing he’d want is for you to have to live a life on the run, he wants for the both of you to be able to settle. If it was clear he had taken you it would be deemed a kidnapping, it would be a long search, how long would they look if they believed you just ran away? He doesn’t talk to other staff members enough to know how seriously the royal family would take such a thing.

Faking your death would probably be the easiest thing.

No one comes looking for you.

He isn’t entirely sure how you’ll handle that suggestion but if you’re serious about starting a life together it isn’t going to be easy.

“I’ll be right back.” He stands, and you immediately give him a confused look, he never gets up and leaves, but he’s just realized that you’ll need to be taken care of while he’s gone. Who will protect you when he’s away? He definitely doesn’t trust anyone here to watch over you, Elaine would be his first choice but she’s busy when she isn’t tending to you and in all honesty he isn’t sure what she would do if something were to happen to you.

So he’ll have to go with someone who he knows is available to watch you and who he’s certain won’t harm you.

You aren’t going to be happy with his choice.

When he steps out into the hall he calls his name, a few moments later Leo appears, he already seems reluctant, Din never summons him but this is important, and he doesn’t have any other options.

“I’m leaving, tomorrow, I have to take care of some things, Kodo said it would be fine for me to take time off when I took the job.” Tomorrow. Well that’s settled then he supposes. The twi’lek trembles under his gaze, clearly unsure as to where he’s going with this.

“While I’m gone you will watch her.” Din adds on at the end, Leo looks clearly unhappy with this arrangement as he stumbles back a bit.

“Me?”

“I won’t repeat myself. You will watch her, you will make sure she doesn’t leave the castle when I am gone. If somebody tries to get near her, you stop them, if somebody tries to hurt her, you will stand between them, if she gets hurt you will feel whatever pain she feels tenfold upon my return. If she so much as gets a papercut while she’s reading in the library there will be repercussions.” He straightens his posture to make himself the tiniest bit more imposing over Leo. “Is that understood?”

“Yes, you’re understood.” Based on the fear in Leo’s eyes he’s certain he may have gone a little overboard but he’d rather be safe than sorry.

“Good.”

That’s taken care of.

Once Leo is gone, disappearing down the hall, he opens the door, slipping back into the library where you’re standing in the entryway.

At least he doesn’t have to figure out how to tell you.

“You’re leaving.” You say it like it’s a fact. Which of course you now know it is.

“Yes.” No sense in hiding it.

“And you just weren’t going to tell me?” He definitely should have told you.

“I was just about to tell you.” He hates when you look at him the way you are now. Like you can see right through the steel, like you know he’s lying, like you can see the guilty expression on his face. “I was going to tell you soon. I have to go take care of some things.”

“Take me with you.” You say it more like a demand and less like a request. He probably should have seen that one coming, even if he wasn’t going to get something to surprise you with he probably wouldn’t be allowed to take you off planet.

“I wish I could, sarad, but I have to go alone, I’ll only be gone a few days.” Kriff, he really should have told you sooner.

“Where are you going?” You cross your arms in front of your chest.

“I… can’t tell you.” Not a great excuse, he knows that.

“If I’m being honest I don’t love the sound of that.” He can’t blame you, if your roles were reversed he wouldn’t just let you go.

“I know but I need you to trust me, I’ll only be gone a few days.”

“And you absolutely have to go?” You sound less mad and more upset now. If he wasn’t leaving to do something for you, your expression alone would be enough to make him stay.

“Yes. He says it like he’s confirming it for himself.

“I’ll miss you.” All the anger has left your voice, now you just sound sad.

“I’ll miss you.” More than anything.

“When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure exactly, I won’t be long.” Unless he can’t find the convert, but you don’t need to know that part. You nod and he’s a little surprised at your acceptance of all this. “I have to leave in the morning.” A deep frown settles on your face.

“So soon?” He really should have told you sooner.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If you have to then you have to.” You give him such a sad smile, he wishes he didn’t have to go but he wants to do this right.

“Can you stay here, I’ll come get you in a few hours.” He cradles your face in his hands, wishing he could wash away any of your doubts, but now that you know he should probably go get ready. “I have to go pack a few things, I’ll be back before dark, okay?”

“And then you’ll stay with me the rest of the night?” And every night after.

“Of course.”

“Okay then, hurry back.”

This will also probably be the only chance he gets to make that fail safe.

He lifts his helmet a bit to plant a kiss on your forehead before leaving you, watching as you instinctively close your eyes as he does. There isn’t a lot of time for him to do what he needs to do before you’ll be expecting him so he gets back to the cabin as quickly as possible.

He’s quick with everything, packing his bag with only the essentials and tossing the empty box down before finally sitting down at the table.

Now to write the note. A letter with instructions on what to do if something ever happens to him.

He doesn’t like the idea of you being left alone with your husband. The thought of it makes him sick.

If another body guard were hired they wouldn’t protect you from him.

Maybe he should ask Elaine to help you if that happens.

She could get you out.

If he wasn’t here he would want you to leave as quickly as possible, to go somewhere safe. He lists out all the places you could go, names and coordinates of people who can keep you safe at the mention of his name. He spends a solid hour staring at that piece of paper, writing out anything he’d want you to know before folding it up and setting it in the box.

With that taken care of he kneels on the floor, feeling around until locating the familiar loose board under the kitchen table.

He’d found it a week after moving in and it seemed like a perfectly good spot to hide things. He’s got a collection of things already set aside for you, he pulls each item from its hiding spot, putting them into the box before holding up a small chainmail shirt. He retrieves the stick shift knob from the shelf, wrapping it in the shirt and putting it in the box.

In his note he’s left you with a task, to give those to the kid, and to tell him that he’s sorry.

Lastly he fills a bag with credits, about a month's salary, you should be able to buy yourself a ship if you want, he isn’t sure if you’d know how to fly it but with the money provided you can pay someone to fly it for you. With that he sets the box under an extra flight suit in his bag before returning to the castle, on his way out the door he grabs the few bars of beskar he has.

You’re right where he left you in the library, your brows furrowed as you stare at that damn book, he should have hidden it better.

“Wanna go get some dinner?” You look up when he speaks, holding his hand out which you gladly take as he pulls you towards him.

“We can do that. You’re all packed?” Thankfully you look less upset than you had earlier.

“All packed.” He drops your hand as he opens the door, following you as you walk to the kitchens. He watches the way the back of your dress just barely drags along the stone floors as you ask for two dinners, handing his to him to carry with a smile as you continue to walk.

When you arrive back at your chambers you’re quick to lock the door, he watches as you rush to the closet, already sitting with your back to him when he steps inside, dim lamp light illuminates the room as he sits, his back brushing against yours as he listens to the sounds of your eating.

What he wouldn’t give to eat face to face.

He can’t remember the last time he shared a normal meal with someone. He ate in front of the kid but he always kept the helmet on, it would have been years and years ago, maybe with his parents.

He finds the latch for his helmet, tossing it aside, he’s already decided he won’t be putting it back on tonight, he chews his food thoughtfully. What would life look like with you after this place? He certainly wouldn’t want to eat dinner like this every night.

Maker, why won’t you just look? Everything would be easier if you’d just look. He would abandon his creed entirely if that’s what you wanted. Instead he loves the one person in the galaxy who doesn’t want to look.

“You’re being quiet.” You finally break the silence as he sits up a little straighter.

“I’m always quiet.” He murmurs.

“You think I don’t know that? You’re being extra quiet, what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He takes another bit as you lean back against him, resting your back on his as he hears you set your plate aside.

“You’ve been quiet all day.” Of course he has, he has to leave you tomorrow and you’ve been in a white dress all day.

“I’m quiet every day.” He finishes his food quickly, reaching around blindly until he finds your plate, standing to set the both outside the room, when he turns around this time he faces you, kneeling on the floor behind you as he plays with the lace on the back of the dress, lining a series of buttons in a straight line down your spine.

“You’re avoiding the point.” You snap at him but he just continues to trail his fingers across the intricate patterns of your dress.

“I’m just gonna miss you, that’s all.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” Your tone has softened.

“Want me to show you how much I’m gonna miss you?” He gives the back of your gown a teasing tug.

“That might be nice.” You’re already reaching towards the lamp but he takes your hand, guiding it back into your lap.

“Leave it.”

“Din…” You have a soft warning tone as he kisses your exposed shoulder.

“Please, I want to see you.” He murmurs against your skin as he bunches up the fabric of your dress, pulling it up towards your hips.

“But-” He’s quick to cut you off.

“It’s fine, if you don’t look then you won’t see.” He swiftly unlatches his armor, setting it aside as he pulls you into his lap, his chest flush with your back. He turns to kiss your cheek, watching your eyes flutter shut as he does.

He bunches up your skirt enough so he can see your thighs, pulling his gloves off so he can touch you, he likes the feeling of his skin on yours, how often does he get to have this? Only ever with you, not that he’d have it any other way. You’re just so soft, he likes the way you feel when he spreads your thighs a little wider, watching your mouth open a tiny bit as you inhale sharply. He’s already terribly hard, trying not to rut against your ass as he lets one hand dip between your legs, under your skirt, as the other one drifts up towards your chest, splayed out across your sternum to keep you in place.

He pushes your panties to the side, admiring the wetness he finds already there as he swipes his fingers along your seam. He tilts his head to the side, eager to watch your expression unburdened by his helmet as he pushes two fingers into you.

Once he’s in your peripheral you close your eyes, leaving him to observe the way your mouth falls open as he gently slides his digits in and out, feeling you shift in his lap to grind against his palm.

He’s fascinated by you, by the way you move in sync with him, with each movement of his hand you match it with a rock of your hips, or by arching your back.

“Din-” Your voice comes out as a high strangled cry that makes his cock ache against the fabric of his flight suit.

“Go ahead, I wanna watch.” He mumbles as he presses his cheek to yours, staring down, mesmerized by the sight of you riding his fingers, his own mouth falling open as he feels your entire body tense up, feeling you clamp down on his fingers as you come. He keeps his fingers inside of you until your breathing evens out, once you come down from your orgasm he removes them, bringing them to his mouth as he uses his other hand to reach between the two of you, pulling his cock free. He stares down at the sight of himself against the pretty white fabric of your dress as he moans against his own fingers, stroking himself for a moment before popping his digits out of his mouth, grabbing your hips and lifting you a bit.

He lets out a small groan as your hands reach down to line him up at your entrance, he lets go of your hips, letting you sink yourself down onto him, his hands wrapping around your thighs instead, squeezing the meat there with a pleased hum.

You’re going at your own pace as he fights his own impatience, doing his best to not thrust up into you as he latches his mouth onto your shoulder, biting softly as you take nearly all of him, gasping his name the entire time.

After another moment you’re fully sat in his lap, your breathing heavy as one of his hands moves from your thigh to your clit.

“Can you come again? Like this?” He rasps the words out against your skin, you nod as he begins to swirl his fingers in small precise circles, his moans match your own as he feels you slowly lift yourself off of him, your chest bouncing as you fuck yourself on him.

Gods as his witness he’ll never wear his helmet again during sex.

It’s just better to really see you like this, he can’t believe he deprives himself of this so often, the way your body trembles, the sounds you make, everything is simply better without the filters and the modulation.

“Maker- Din!” Your strained plea snaps him out of his thoughts as he looks at your face, your eyes and nose scrunched up in frustration. “Please, fuck me, Din please.” You always sound so sweet, at this rate he’ll never be able to say no to you.

He sits up a little to give himself more leverage, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you, his other hand reaching behind himself to prop himself up as he thrusts up into you. His hips snapping up as he grits his teeth, a growl forming in his throat. He keeps you there for a bit, keeping up a brutal pace as he lets gravity do most of the work, bouncing you on his length, eventually relaxing after feeling your legs give out from under you. He sits back up on his knees, steadying you with both bands now, keeping you impaled on his cock as he leans forward, kissing up the column of your throat.

“Kiss me, please.” He murmurs against your jaw, desperate for more of you as he lets out a low whine, wishing you would just look at him.

Your eyes shut as you turn your head to kiss him, he brings one hand up to your face, his other still on your stomach as he groans, rocking his hips upwards again.

“You can look.” He pants, holding his forehead to yours as he stares at your face, contorted in pleasure as he pushes himself deeper into you, watching the way your eyes flutter a bit, never actually opening.

“I- I can’t.” You gasp out as he fucks up into you, short shallow thrusts, relishing in the way you take him, squeezing his cock with every rock of his hips, the way your face looks as he leans in for another kiss, quick and chaste, a sharp juxtaposition to how he’s fucking you, only pulling out in the slightest before slamming back into you.

“You can, I want you to.” His voice is ragged and desperate at this point.

“I will, just, not tonight.”

“Ni vercopaanir gar Ru'kel haa'taylir.” I wish you would look.

“I will, Din- I promise I will.” He’s sure you didn’t learn enough to know what he said but he’s still satisfied with that answer.

“Okay.” He kisses you again, swallowing your moans as he picks up the pace, pulling you down onto him as he rocks his hips upwards. He manipulates your body like it’s nothing, his hands holding you tightly enough to keep you upright as he continues to slam himself into you, you’re soaking his cock at this point as he muffles his grunts with your mouth. He knows you’re both nearly there, with the way your words become nonsensical. He turns his head to whisper into your ear. “Come for me, sarad.” He groans, his mouth falling open as a slew of filthy noises fall past his lips he feels you pulse around him, he frantically goes to pull out but you shake your head no, slamming your hips back against his and riding out your orgasm he watches you mumble, barely coherently.

“In- Inside, Din.”

You don’t have to tell him twice. You give him the sweetest cry as he bites down on your shoulder, he growls against your flesh as he releases the fire pooling in his stomach.

“Bid jate- bid jate par ni.” So good for me. He mumbles against your shoulder.

He fucks his cum deeper into you with a few more sloppy thrusts before sitting back on his heels, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves, letting you rest back against him as you go limp in his arms.

Once he’s caught his breath he leans back, keeping himself inside you as he kicks his legs out. He swallows, still a little unsteady as you sit up, one of his hands wanders to you back, drawing a star there with one of his fingers.

“Are you okay?” He whispers softly just before you lay back on top of him.

“Why do you do that?” He doesn’t stop you this time as you reach over and turn the lamp off, taking his hands and guiding him to turn the both of you onto your sides as his erection softens inside of you.

“Do what?” He blinks, adjusting his eyes to the darkness and biting back a groan as you adjust yourself to put your hips flush with his.

“You switch languages, usually when you’re near the end, or when you say something kind.”

Oh.

He’s never really thought about that.

“How did you know what I said?” He brushes a bit of hair behind your ear as he runs his hand down and up your spine slowly.

“I asked my question first.”

“Fair enough. I guess it just happens, I’ve never really thought about why. I suppose it’s just another layer of armor, another way to conceal things.” You don’t respond, presumably thinking over his response. “Your turn, how did you know what I said?”

“I guessed.” Smart girl.

“Of course you did.” He places a kiss against the back of your neck before resting the bridge of his nose there. “Do you wanna sleep like this?” He rocks his hips a bit to accentuate his point, drawing a gasp from you.

“Yes, please.” You whisper back.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He smiles before closing his eyes, wrapping his arms around you, the last thing he feels before falling asleep is you intertwining your fingers with his.

☆

He wakes up before you, careful to leave you undisturbed as he reaches over to turn on the lamp, happy to just watch you for a few more minutes before he leaves. Watching the rise and fall of your chest. After a moment he realizes he slipped out of you while he slept.

He’s in no rush but he knows the moment you wake he’ll have to go so he stays still for a while, enjoying the morning quiet until your eyes slowly open, and you stretch your arms with a groan.

“Good morning, sarad.” He says softly, kissing your shoulder as you shudder at the sensation.

“You’re leaving.” You whisper to him.

“I am.”

Much to his surprise you turn to face him, of course he realizes a second too late that your eyes are closed.

“Be safe.” You murmur, taking his face in your hands before kissing him. Maybe this will be a happy morning despite his worries about going.

“Always.” He gives you another kiss before sitting up, dressing himself quickly, looking over at you every so often only to find that your eyes are closed until you hear the soft hiss of his helmet.

“I’m serious, you better be careful.” You sit up and face him as he kneels beside you.

“I will, I promise.” He holds your face in one hand. “Goodbye, sarad’ika.” You give him a radiant smile.

“Ret'urcye mhi, cyare.” Goodbye, beloved. That’s what you’d been learning yesterday. He’s a little taken aback by the sound of those words leaving your mouth, his own smile forming.

“Jate bora” Good job.

He doesn’t tell you how poorly you pronounced each of those words, too infatuated to care as he leans down, lifting his helmet enough to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll be back in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.”

He uses his free hand to gently grab your chin, giving you one last kiss.

“I’ll see you soon.” Once he’s shut the closet door he slips the fail safe box under your bed.

And just like that he’s out the door, on his way to the nearest shipyard.

☆

It goes surprisingly smoothly.

He’s only gone for about four days, he gets lucky as far as transportation goes, managing to catch a cargo ship going directly to the planet he’s looking for. He doesn’t recognize it and in all honesty he isn’t sure he’s ever been there but he finds the convert easily enough.

It took a bit of convincing but he got what he needed from the armorer and just like that he was catching a ship back to you with two rings attached to a thin chain around his neck.

He’s eager to see you immediately after landing but he’s filthy from the trip so he goes to the cabin first, shedding his armor and clothes before stepping into the fresher. He’d be lying if he said that he hadn’t started taking care of himself more after meeting you.

He’d avoided mirrors all together until you.

He’d shave when his beard got unmanageable. He’d cut his hair when it stuck out the back of his helmet. And that was it.

And then you came along and suddenly he was staring at himself in the dingy mirror he’s in front of now. The first day he realized he wanted to impress you he spent hours in the cabin fresher, trying to even out his facial hair, and give himself something that resembled a respectable haircut. He needs another one soon, staring at himself now he knows he’ll need to shave before he sees you but he can probably go a few more weeks without a haircut.

He’s pretty sure you like his hair long, even if you’ve never seen it, that’s the only reason he hasn’t just buzzed it all, the way he’d normally do it. You’re always touching it.

So he cleans up his beard before stepping into the shower, he’s in a hurry, scrubbing away the days of travel and grime. He finds a clean flightsuit and dons his armor as quickly as possible, his hair is still wet when he puts the helmet back on.

He makes a beeline towards the castle as the sun sets, the promise of you drives him forward despite his exhaustion.

He checks the library first, finding the nook to be empty. He goes to your chambers, if his count is correct you would have had dinner with Kodo yesterday, so if you aren’t reading you should be in your room. He’s pleased to see a nervous looking Leo outside your door, his eyes go wide as Din approaches.

He stops a few inches away from Leodall, looming over him.

“Everything went smoothly?” His voice is low and husky. His professional voice.

“Yes, of course.” He’s pretty sure Leo is too scared of him to lie so he gives him a curt nod of approval.

“Then you’re dismissed, thank you.” He really is thankful, despite his dislike for the twi’lek. He watches him scurry away before hastily pushing your door open, stepping inside to find you there.

You’re laying on your stomach, a book laid out on the bed in front of you. A look of anger crosses your face when you look up, assuming you’d find Leo in the doorway but once you see him you’re sitting up, rushing over to him and wrapping your arms around him.

“I missed you.” You mumble against his chest plate as he returns your embrace.

“It was only a few days.” He laughs softly as you look up at him. He’s just happy to be with you again.

“That doesn’t mean anything, I still missed you.” With the way you’re looking at him it’s a wonder he doesn’t get on one knee right now.

Instead he can’t help it as he yawns, he’d been in such a rush to return to you he’d barely slept during his trip.

“Are you tired?” Your brows furrow in concern as he shakes his head no.

“No, I’m fine, I’m just happy to see you.” He’s about to lift his helmet to kiss you, but you frown and pull him towards the closet. He isn’t entirely sure he’s going to be able to properly fuck you in this state but he’ll make it work. As you shut the door he starts taking off his armor and you turn to help him, carefully removing each piece until he’s in just his flight suit and helmet. You gently put your hands on his shoulders, pushing him down to the floor before kneeling beside him. He puts his hands on your waist and is a little surprised when you tenderly pull them away.

“Lay on your stomach.” You tilt your head to the side and he’s about to argue but you click your tongue and point at the blankets. “I let you disappear for a few days with no questions, you owe me, now lay down. And take off your flight suit.”

With a reluctant groan he does as he’s told, sliding his flight suit down to his waist, his confusion only growing as you straddle his back. His bewilderment vanishes though as he feels your hands kneading his shoulders. He’s about to flip himself over and tell you he’s fine but as he opens his mouth to complain you dig the heel of your palm into his back and instead a moan slips out.

He doesn’t make much of a fuss after that, letting you methodically take care of the many knots and tense spots across his back.

He turns his head to the side, closing his eyes as you hum a song to yourself, caressing and kneading every inch of visible skin until you’re satisfied. He feels you lean down, planting a kiss along his spine before climbing off of him and laying down beside him, he sits up with another rather embarrassing moan. He’s trying to flip you over to do you as you laugh, pulling him back down to lay with you.

“You need sleep.” You once again catch him off guard as he feels your fingers on the helmet release, the kiss of air accompanied by the click of the lamp as you remove his helmet, kissing his forehead.

“I missed you too.” He whispers into the darkness, realizing he hasn’t said it yet.

“I know you did, now get some sleep.” You pull his head down against your chest, squeezing his shoulder as you do. He really is exhausted, he hadn’t realized until he was reunited with you that he doesn’t sleep as well without you.

“I love you.” He sleepily mumbles against your chest.

No one takes care of him the way you do. Your soft hands continue to rub his back as he succumbs to sleep.

“I love you too.” He feels another kiss on his forehead as he exhales the last of his energy.

If he wasn’t so tired he probably would have proposed right then and there.

☆

Having the rings has made him a mess.

Anytime you do anything he just wants to ask. When you’d kissed him this morning, when you’d walked out of your room in a green dress grinning at him like you’d done it just for him, when you’d handed him the speeder maintenance book from before because you just knew he hadn’t read it last time.

And right now, as you read like you always do, sitting beside him.

Now more than ever he wants to ask.

He had wanted so badly for it to be special.

He was thinking of maybe doing it in the gardens some night, where he had kissed you for the first time. But you look exactly how he always wants you to look right now.

Your face buried in a romance book with a smile dancing on your lips.

Tucked away in the nook, safe from the world.

“How much of the Mando’a book did you end up reading?” He plays with the edge of the page he’s on now, he’s been pretending to read again, unable to pull his focus from you.

“The translation book? Not a lot.” He watches as you turn to give him a smile.

“Do you know what riduur means?” He knows you don’t, but he can’t stop himself from saying it.

“No, I don't think I learned that.” You close your book, staring at him curiously.

“It means partner, or spouse.”

“Oh. Okay…” Your eyes get a little bigger once he says that.

He gives you a nod before looking back down at his own book, silently cursing himself out for not going through with it. He hadn’t realized that having rings made would make him fall apart every time he’s in your presence.

You’re just so… perfect. Do you have to be so perfect? You learn his language and you respect him and you love him and you’re endlessly sweet.

He just wants to keep you like this forever.

Safe and happy.

That’s why he can’t help himself as he sets his book down, he fidgets with his helmet for a moment before turning off the modulator, he wants you to hear his voice without the filter, sitting up, he cradles your face in his hands.

“Can I ask you something?” He whispers.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #pedro pascal

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evellynssocbrainrot · 20 days ago

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This is mostly to speak in defense of this post made by @starsandscars81

First of all, my intention isn’t to gatekeep anyone else’s take or opinion on this subject matter. If you think differently that’s completely fine. It’s none of my business.

Anyway, on to the analysis.

Kaz and the Darkling are, without a doubt, two of the most flawed characters in the Grishaverse. They’ve both done bad things and certainly aren’t good people. Even so, I’ve said this before and I’ll say it again: comparing Kaz to the Darkling is still… extreme. And just not it. By comparison, no matter how much awful stuff Kaz has done, it’s no joke that he is over a million times better than the Darkling.

The Darkling definitely didn’t start off as an evil character, and all his intentions aren’t horrible either. His main motivation is to help the Grisha, his people who have faced years worth of discrimination. He worked hard and built the second army and the Little Palace, which became a kind of haven for Grisha to come together and exercise their gifts. And coming from someone who dislikes the Darkling, I can tell you now that that is wonderful. I’m glad that he’s doing his best and defending his people. That is great. But even then, you can’t deny that some of the things that the Darkling has done on that path are borderline disgusting. The first being massacring hundreds, if not thousands of innocent people. Even if he’s doing it for the sake of his people, killing so many people who are not at fault is not an act of a selfless hero, but pure villainy and cruelty. And what’s worse is that he did this several times. Not just once, and without second thought. Reminders that these innocent people included harmless children.

The rest of the horrible deeds he’s done all come down to his treatment of Alina Starkov (and a bit of Genya Safin, as well). Whether you like Darklina or not, never forget or sugarcoat the idea that he ABUSED her. He may have loved her, he may have understood her, but he hurt her. Over and over again. He lied to her and hid his true intentions. He placed a collar on her and touched her without consent. He stole her power and claimed her as if she was nothing but an object. He was possessive of her and emotionally tormented her even after she ran away. He killed the only mother figure she had and completely destroyed her childhood home. He was absolutely disgusting. There is nothing at all to forgive and redeem. He was already beyond redemption when he created the Fold. And once again, IT DOESN’T MATTER if he loved her. It doesn’t matter at all when he did nothing but hurt her to such extreme amounts and would have continued to if he ever won, or if Darklina actually became canon.

And what makes the Darkling even worse is that he doesn’t regret any of it. This is where he truly can be labeled as a heartless and cruel monster. He doesn’t express so much as even a sliver of remorse over his inhuman behavior. He doesn’t feel bad. He doesn’t reflect on it or think about it. In fact, he still believes himself to be in the right. He doesn’t even realize how awful he is. Doesn’t show any sign of improving himself. I mourn the person he could have been. I mourn Aleksander Morozova. But I will never defend the person he is today. I will always believe that the death he was given was far too light and SHOULD have been worse. It’s what he deserves.

He didn’t start evil, but he became evil. He had hundreds of years to rethink his actions but never did. He wanted to defend his people, but you don’t do that by expanding the Fold and causing further destruction. You don’t do that with pointless mass murder. He loved Alina, but you don’t express that by ruining her life. Once upon a time, he was a young hurt boy, but now he’s nothing but a revolting, monstrous and horrible psychopath.

With that said, now I’ll move on to Kaz.

He is not a good person. I’ll tell you that now. I’m not at all defending the bad things that he’s done. Neither am I ignoring his bad qualities. He is manipulative, cruel, and violent. When he freed Inej from the Menagerie, his intentions weren’t to save her, but to temporarily make use of her skills. I know this, and I’m not dismissing it.

But here are some things that set him apart from the Darkling.

The first being that almost everything Kaz does has reason. There is ALWAYS a reason. His rage is targeted at hyper-specific people. People who deserve it. He killed Oomen, but because he hurt Inej to the point that she nearly died. He dropped a man from a tower, but because that man blackmailed a Zemeni sex worker. He destroyed Van Eck and his empire, but because Van Eck was a bitch. He spent all his life trying to crush Pekka Rollins, and he did, but because Pekka ruined his life. “Kaz Brekker always had his reasons.” The Darkling had no reason to commit mass murder and hurt Alina.

The second thing is boundaries. The Darkling didn’t have fucking boundaries. Kaz, on the other hand, no matter the amount of violence and destruction he commits, never crosses some lines. He never ever raped or sexually assaulted anyone, he never hurts innocent people, he never hurts children, and never actually spread firepox around the city of Ketterdam.

The third being awareness. This is a big one. The Darkling, in his path of vengeance, hardly considers his environment, the people around him, who he should get mad at and who he shouldn’t. And even after the horrible deed is done, as I said before, there’s no remorse and regret. For Kaz it’s the opposite. He is hyper aware of where he is. Who he’s with. He’s careful and considerate. And for some of the horrible things he’s done, despite how understandable and trauma-inflicted they are, he regrets them. He feels bad. He knows he’s not a good person. He knows he is awful. He knows he isn’t worthy of Inej. When he was drowning in the waters of Fjerda, it wasn’t himself he was thinking of. It was his crew, Inej. He was worried for them. He blamed himself for the positions they were in and vowed that no matter what, he would save them. He would fix this mess. The same applies in the next book, when they were all trapped in the Geldrenner hotel. It’s himself Kaz blamed, nobody else.

We don’t even need to tell Kaz that he’s awful. Because he already knows it and wholeheartedly believes it. And unlike so many other similar male characters in YA fiction, Kaz desperately wished that he could change. Perhaps he doesn’t say this openly, but you know deep down that he doesn’t want to be this way. He doesn’t want this life or the trauma.

Speaking of the trauma, so much of what Kaz does is because of it. Does it excuse his behavior? Certainly not. But it does help with understanding why. And even now, the consequences he suffers from the trauma are bad, but still don’t excuse what he does. Kaz himself thinks so.

Kaz was a boy who was hurt, like the Darkling was. He lost someone important, like the Darkling did. But the way he responded to that was immensely different. Even the desire for money is understandable when you realize that the lack of it was what made him and his brother end up on the streets. And the money he got, he literally spent a large portion of it to buy Inej a ship and remake the Emerald Palace into the Silver Six. And before that, he gave up the last of it he had left to pay off Inej’s contract.

AND, speaking of Inej. Only someone extremely stupid would say that the way he treats her is the same as the way the Darkling treats Alina. The dynamic is messy and flawed, but they are young. It’s understandable if they fail from time to time. But overall, Kaz respects Inej. He adores Inej. He’s devoted to Inej. He’s loyal to Inej. He wouldn’t betray or abandon her for all the gold in the world. He’s protective of her, but not possessive. When he sees other people get close to her, he’s jealous. But not because he wants to keep Inej to himself, but because he wants to be able to get close to her like that as well. He realizes the wrong ways he treats her, and then proceeds to claim that he isn’t so bad that he can’t pull himself together for her. He spends a good portion of Crooked Kingdom going out of his way to make up for his behavior and it shows. It doesn’t make him any better a person, but it does make him a far better lover. A worthy book boyfriend <333.

Outside of Inej, you can see how much he cares about his crew. He protects them, he the Parem from Nina, he refuses to give it to Jesper, he gives Wylan advice like a big brother, he gave them all time to rest and recharge in the Geldrenner hotel while dragging his aching body all the way to the Slat to gather more people for his plan. He gave his crew every single resource he had left and even then, contributed alongside them when putting his plan to action. The Slat and the Dregs themselves have become a safe space for young people who don’t have a family or a place to go. He may be selfish with the world, but with them he’s nothing but the most selfless person to ever exist.

The list is endless, honestly, but this is why it doesn't make any sense to compare Kaz to the Darkling. If I were in a life and death situation, and I was forced to put my trust in one person, Kaz or the Darkling, I would choose Kaz in a heartbeat.

Damn, this took way too long.

#six of crows #grishaverse #kaz brekker #shadow and bone #anti darkling #literary analysis

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mossy-green-aka-ferrythem · 4 months ago

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I like. Have not played a single Hoyo game so it is quite shocking to see people take deeper looks into the games and their themes to uncover just how DEEPLY racist Hoyoverse is.

When I say racist I mean like. Painting this fantasy, ideal, "aesthetic" world that only wears the face of multiculturalism, while explicitly making it so all the heroes and good characters are white, while making the enemy characters typically with a darker shade of skin. Like just. In fucking Genshin. Look at the Hilichurls. They've literally got pitch black skin and masks, and despite having their own culture, are constantly and consistently treated nothing more as "pests". Like just. I swear to god there are so many "Hilichurl" like examples of weaving weird racism into video game enemies in the wider media sphere, but I digress.

What really gets me is like. I saw some shit from fucking Honkai or whatever where there is an entire character who was born black, but bleached her skin out of shame. Like. What. Also this is all second hand, so forgive me for getting details wrong, but doesn't she just. Keep hating herself for her skin color and her heritage? Also the way her mother is drawn is just like. Somehow both a racist and transphobic caricature rolled into one. Like they illustrated her in a way that doesn't feel done in good taste. It fees like they want to evoke a sense of confusion and maybe disdain. Perhaps they wish for you to sympathize with the girl who bleached her own skin (???) and like. What the fuck is this writing HOW DO PEOPLE JUST NOT GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THIS??????

Also. There is of course ZZZ. The issue here is more what people have already mentioned and something I don't feel like fully relaying. Which is the sort of heavy emphasis and inspiration from Hip-Hop and Rap culture, but without any black characters actually in the setting. Ben Bigger is like. Legit the blackest character there, problem is that he ISN'T HUMAN. Like it shows that they would sooner create an anthropomorphic bear, a fantasy character, than a black character that actually displays their culture in a proud way. Not really my place to say all of this, since others have said it much better than I ever could. Last thing I would say is that the Black edits of the characters (especially Ellen Joe), make the character designs leagues better.

To cap off this messily organized tumblr post and rant, it brings me to my biggest issue: erasure. The fact that when you search up Tighnari, you only get that dogshit anime boy, hell, the issue even still persists somewhat when you specify for Al-Tighnari. I am not well read on who Tighnari is, but even skimming past a description of that man is truly breathtaking. He sounds like a very well traveled, very wise man who likely had a sizable impact on the world. Thing is. When you search up Tighnari you don't see this man anywhere. When you bring up Tighnari, it is unlikely people actually recognize who the man himself was. Instead you have this character, who's skin is as white as a sheet, actively acting like a shroud being thrown over an old cultural icon. His design has been criticized endlessly for how little it lines up, but that's not the point. The point being is that Tighnari in Genshin has uprooted knowledge of the original in the public eye. This is but one example, and doesn't even BEGIN to touch upon the absolute shitshow that is Natlan. However, people have already exhaustively described what is wrong with it so I digress there. Oh and I said I would close this out but like. Fucking Star Rail or whatever has a character with Dark Skin who has "shacklebreaker" as one of their main skills and like. This is some J.K. Rowling type racism. Like what. What the fuck?

Look what's really important here is that I am just so fucking taken aback by learning the extent of it. I always bore a minor grudge against Genshin, but the clarification, and the knowledge of how deep this shit goes... just makes me realize this. There is no longer any confusion about how this got so popular, because racism is excusable in general fandom spaces. Racism isn't considered a dealbreaker to many people, and that is the root of the issue I believe. How general online fandom communities and people as consumers are just so unbothered by racism that they will just not criticize it, pass it off as normal, and will actively engage in racist tendencies, rather than making any effort to better themselves and to be more tasteful in what they choose to support financially, and what they choose to consume.

#hoyoverse #hoyolab #honkai star rail #honkai impact 3rd #genshin impact #natlan #tighnari #zzz #zzzero #zenless zone zero

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bbanghiitomi · 9 months ago

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| caught in a line

synopsis: tangled upon an endless string of feelings, both love and suffering, y/n intends to hide somewhere the love of her life will never find her — but in the process of losing the strings connecting her to her past, she gets stuck on a new one (her future).

— non-idol!childhoodfriend!kminji × non-idol!fem!reader × non-idol!khaerin!

note: holy moly i've been so busy in the past few months/weeks and i'm tryna catch up on some stuff lately but AH a post after 10 years... hope u guys are doing well also this was requested by anon, thanks! hope u guys liked it, comments are very appreciated.

(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)(⁠๑⁠´⁠•⁠.̫⁠ ⁠•⁠ ⁠`⁠๑⁠)

"where are you going?" you take a deep breath as you turn around to face minji, you can see the confused look on her face and all you could do was to give her a short chuckle. "home." you answer almost a little too late as minji starts taking steps to approach you, you watch as she almost, stomps her way to you, with a pout on her lips. "alright, now. why didn't you tell me? i was looking for you the whole time." minji brushes her long fingers on her raven hair as she exhales, you stare at her and immediately you shift your sight away from her gorgeous face — for the better, you decide.

"i didn't have the chance, i tried to approach you but you were talking with your classmate." you tell her, you see the way her eyebrows relax and she nods, you stand there in front of her waiting for a response but all she can do is scratch her nape. "uhm, right. hanni, she was... we were having a conversation about papers." minji shrugs, you laugh, finding yourself looking away awkwardly.

"if that's the case, i should really get going. if you don't have any questions no more, that is." you smile and the tension feels weird, you're standing there, as if you have somewhere to go and you're about to be late and minji stands in front of you as if she had nowhere to go. minji looks around and reaches for your hand. "hey, we're supposed to go home together, right?" she asks, and oh — of course, you didn't know what went into you, how did you forgot?

you place a hand on your forehead and shake your head. "oh right, i thought you'd go home later. yes, we should get going now!" you point to the main gate of the school and see minji laughing. "you're so funny." she mutters.

for some reason, you don't know when or where it all started, but you've been feeling something blooming inside of your chest — it's ticklish, you feel it everytime you come across minji and at first, it felt funny, but now... it's starting to get more evident as the time passes by.

you tried to ignore it, at least you tried not to think too much of it. it's just getting harder, as the clock ticks and so is your time here. you have come to a realization that maybe, there has to be a better way out of this.

"you were absent yesterday... ms. hwang asked me about your whereabouts and i couldn't answer since you weren't telling me." you stopped your finger from further tapping on your mouse, your eyes are staring at your laptop, suddenly finding your interest in the document plastered on the screen. in all honesty, you're scared, just right now... sitting here beside minji, you can feel the way your heart is beating, as if it's getting harder to breathe.

it's not like this before... you remember it very well, when this feeling inside your chest used to be tender, sweet, and comforting. it felt like there were flowers fluttering inside your chest, it's ticklish but now —

it's starting to feel suffocating.

you smile, and turn around to look at minji. "i didn't think it would be a big deal, i had to run some errands for my mother." in fact, that was a lie. you were sent to see a doctor for a check up by your mother, she's been noticing your unusual antics lately. you've been having a hard time breathing, sometimes you'd say it's because you were tired walking around the house, doing stuff at school. eventually you come to realize that you wouldn't be able to lie forever and hide it, that one day people will find out.

you're scared to tell minji about it.

"okay, then why didn't you tell me?" minji pushes further, you knew her— since you two were babies, of course she's stubborn! that's how much she cares for you, even just as a friend. you stretch your lips into a thin line, looking at her with concern in your eyes, then you just give up.

“minji, it's because i don't think it's something to worry about. plus, i already got my record slip from the student council office. it's all good now, don't worry.” you shrug and continue to type on your keyboard, minji doesn't seem pleased by it and she's going to do anything to let you know that she wants to get an actual answer.

“is everything okay between us?” you feel your finger freeze, your heart starts to beat at a pace you couldn't comprehend. you look at her, seeing a frown on her lips, her thick brows furrowed to show signs of distress and disappointment. “...what do you mean?” you ask her, minji looks at you as if she heard a stupid joke, there's an expression of disbelief on her face, trying to find confirmation that you were indeed kidding.

but no, you were beyond serious.

“y/n, you’ve been avoiding me. i mean, what's the matter? you don't even bother telling me anything, we haven't had a proper conversation for months.” you blink at her, has it really been that long? time feels a little faster when you're with her… but has it really been that long for her?

you shake your head, closing your laptop as you look away. “no… i… minji, i’m sorry. i didn't mean to make you feel that way.” you look up at her, you have almost forgotten that both of you were at the campus park, not a lot but a good amount of people would be able to see and hear your conversation with her.

minji sighs, closing her eyes and standing up with clenched fists. “okay fine, you can't even provide an actual explanation, or an answer!” you can hear the way her shoes stomps at the grassy floor, even as your heart beat gets louder on your ears, you can hear her very well.

you feel your heart clench, then it’s getting harder to breathe, as if something was blocking your airway.

“minji…” you whisper looking up at her, your eyes starting to swell with tears.

“if that's what you want then okay! let's just… i don't even want to talk to you about anything anymore, you make me feel like this friendship is one-sided.” minji stomps away from you, leaving you with your hands on your chest, trying your best to breathe properly but you're running out of air.

it doesn't help the fact that tears are running down your face and your chest starts to hurt, so much…

it's kind of ironic to hear her feel that way, one-sided feelings… yet she can just find someone else.

it's so unfair.

maybe, the doctor must have lied to you. you swore it was just a mild flu, now you’re inside your bathroom staring at bloodied petals that have fallen out of your mouth whilst you cough violently. how did this happen?

no matter how many times you ask yourself it wouldn't matter nor it would make complete sense, being dumbfounded that these feelings that you have grown for minji — the same feelings that made you experience the sweet rush, the yearning, it was supposed to be sweet, it was supposed to be warm…

it was supposed to be innocent and pure, how did something that was once ticklish start to hurt?

you rush to your room, with shaking hands you reach over to your chair then to your study table to open your laptop — there must be an answer to this, right?

an answer where you don't need to confide minji and have her disappointed, an answer where you don't need to hear words from your mother, scolding.

an answer that you can accept even just for a small amount of time, just so you can ease the pain whilst hiding it.

you don't want to see a doctor’s face, staring at you with pity in their eyes because it makes you feel so much weaker than you are, as if you can get any weaker.

even if it feels hard, your fingers push the keys on your keyboard, one by one, bit by bit as if unsure.

“hanahaki disease…”

hanahaki… disease..?

trying to understand what it means, you browse even further.

apparently, it happens when the victim starts to cough up petals, the symptoms being severe chest pain in chest, because of petals growing from the heart and chest before the victim throws them up. this happens when the victim's feelings aren't reciprocated, meaning one-sided love.

however, it is only through romantic feelings that the illness could be healed; friendship isn't strong enough to take the pain away.

this is absurd. you think to yourself, there's no way such a thing exists…

the only way to confirm this was actually going to the hospital to get yourself checked.

you eventually dread the idea, having to not consult your own mother about it and get yourself appointed immediately.

the hallway of the hospital feels haunted, the air around the place feels colder than usual — you stand trying to calm yourself down, but it's hard when you’ve got no one to run to.

the thought of minji starts to hurt you again, you feel the same prickling pain in your chest, as if there were thorns wrapped around your heart, pushing down and piercing the flesh.

you try to breathe properly, reaching a hand to your chest and hoping to make it stop. there's no one here to help you, and you're all alone — there's a ringing silence and you start to lose yourself a bit, light headed.

“are you okay?” there's a clacking of heels, not that far from you but you choose to ignore it as you walk, another hand on the wall; hoping you’d disappear quickly.

you realize someone must have seen you, you turn your head back to see a girl making her way towards you, cladded with a nurse uniform, all white and it hurts your eyes. “hey, please stand by — you can't just walk around while being in pain.” she tells you, as if she knew any better.

and in fact she did, but you're too stupid to admit that, not when you're in your worst state; you tell yourself no one will understand you.

“god, it hurts. can i just — sit down for a moment?” you let go of your chest and take a seat on a nearest bench inside the hall, sighing as you shake your head trying to take the thought of minji out of your head but it's hard when you've been missing her for so long.

“you can but don't you think it's better to get yourself checked first? you can't just walk around knowing you're in such pain.” the girl sits next to you, you nod even though you really couldn't care much. “yeah i know… but my appointment is tomorrow.” you sigh as you lean on the bench, taking the gods above as the pain eases — eventually you start to hope you don't start coughing here.

the girl stands up and pats her lap, she looks quite determined but you ignore her cat-like eyes looking down on you. “still, we can make an emergency appointment. do you think you can do that? it's for the best.” seems like it's this girl’s job to get in strangers’ business, you can't be mad but you want some peace even just for now.

“that's nice but i can't invade the doctor’s schedule for my own liking.” you tell the girl in a hush tone, as if being forced to make a conversation — the girl, who you assumed is a nurse — shakes her head and turns around, looking at you with her index finger pointing out to you. “don't leave, i’ll sign a letter for you.” you scoff when she leaves, you're feeling too weak to even move.

“this girl… i swear to god.” you mutter, closing your eyes as you feel the pain spiking in again. you remember how minji was stubborn too, all because she wants the best for you yet you think of how much she's the one causing you the pain you're suffering lately.

you seriously hate feeling helpless, but at times like this… it's the only thing you could do.

you hear the same clacking of heels and you open your eyes to see the same girl, holding some papers and passing it over to you.

“you should know that you need this appointment, the doctor understands and we only need your cooperation.” you stare at her face, her piercing eyes and you feel like losing.

“alright.” you tell her as you grab the paper and have it signed.

she stays with you and you spend the time staring at thin air, casually scratching your cheek every now and then. “i’m kang haerin, a nursing student — i’m an intern here.” haerin seems impatient looking at you, you look down and start asking yourself how in the world you got in this situation.

haerin doesn't seem that social herself, but she's trying to keep this conversation maybe because she's found something about you that she can continue to watch out for, for your own sake.

“i’m choi y/n, applied mathematics.” you see her nod and look away immediately and it had you almost laughing.

it was quiet for almost 15 minutes, you didn't mind it but it was starting to suffocate haerin, only cause she doesn't like this type of awkwardness.

you stand up and brush your shirt. “i need to go to the restroom.” you tell haerin, she looks up and she stands up, confusing you. “uh—?”

“i should go and accompany you… for the better.” you see her stone like face, you give her a ‘what has gone into you’ look and shake your head. “no, i’m not leaving if that's what you're thinking. i just need to —”

haerin shakes her head. “i need to go too.” you look at her and laugh. “uh, this needs to stop, it's ridiculous.” you raise your hand over to her, gesturing that you’ve had enough.

but she doesn't give up.

“nope, i take my duties seriously. if something happens to you, i won't be able to forgive myself.”

you nod and raise your hands. “you're not even a nurse yet.” you remind her.

haerin shakes her head, again. “and i won't become one if i can't get this task done.”

you realize she really wasn't gonna give up. “alright, whatever.” you tell her and start walking, she follows.

the restroom is haunting, you feel the cold water on your hand as you reach over to the faucet, there's something stuck on your throat and you lean over before coughing it all up — petals… again, you grimace and feel the pain on your chest again.

you feel a hand on your back, another breathing beside you. “hey, can you still manage?” you watch as the water from the faucet slowly wash the blood and petals away.

“what's happening to me..?” you whisper, haerin doesn't give you an answer. you figured she must feel bad, very bad— you can feel her burning gaze on your face.

“we can have mr. jeon answer that, i’m pretty sure he can help you.” haerin has a pretty voice, you nod at her and feel yourself calming down slowly.

you breathe heavily and stare at her, you don't believe she doesn't know it herself. “answer me, you know it for sure.” you whisper to her, and there was nothing but the sound of water droplets from the faucet as haerin keeps her mouth shut, for the sake of everyone.

haerin shakes her head. “i can't be the one telling you that.”

you eventually give up asking her.

the office was quiet as the doctor read out your condition. it was just as bad as you first learned about it — hearing about it from the doctor didn't ease the weight on your shoulders. you thought that maybe having a doctor tell you about it would be much more reassuring but no, not even his caring tone helped you because you understand how doomed you were.

“there's a lot of treatment for this, i suggest you take medicines first — if you can't handle the pressure of getting a surgery.” you know it would be nice to have it removed already but it's — it's scary, you’ve never been fond of surgeries, have you been always so healthy growing up.

until maybe you discovered love through a friend.

you rub your eyes with your hand, trying to figure out if any of this was real, but you knew it was, it's just hard to accept.

it's not over yet but it feels like there's no hope for you.

“this sounds ridiculous.” you whisper, frustration evident in your tone.

“yes i know, it does sound stupid but it's the truth.” mr. jeon tells you, he understands your frustrations, it's genuinely hard to accept how some stupid feelings can push your life to the edge — it doesn't sound real, not any of this feels real.

you put your hand on your lap, shrugging.

“i’ll settle on the medicine first, maybe i have to tell my parents about this.” you tell mr. jeon who nods.

“you definitely have to, you need support from loved ones — specially in times like this, when you can't get the same love you give.” he adds to it.

“i’m sorry for walking out on you like that, that was so rude of me and very selfish — i should’ve known better.” minji finally decided to see you again after what you thought was several weeks. you know she's doing better without you and maybe it was for the better.

you sigh and shrug, maybe the emotional load of having to see minji again is taking a toll on you but you've been very diligent in taking medicine and coming to hospital when needed.

“yeah i’m sorry too, i know you care for me but minji it's alright.” you put a hand on your forehead while minji still looks at you. your room feels dead, there's not much around and minji's presence makes breathing even hard.

it used to feel so good, when these feelings of yours were once that funny, stupid, childish yearning and looking at minji made your heart skip a beat in a good way.

now looking at her again makes you want to implode, petals growing inside of you even worse.

minji wants to say something, but she knows it's gonna end in disaster again. she's so distraught by the idea you're hiding something from her and she's never been the type to love to hide and seek because she keeps on losing, never been the type to love liars and never been the type to be unreliable.

maybe, minji’s used to be your boulder during landslides. but it wasn't going to be like that forever, eventually she'll have to find someone else and you have to get these stupid petals off of you.

you receive a message from haerin.

kang haerin

haerin: hey, have you taken your medicine.

haerin: i was tasked to send emails to you everyday at a certain time, please always read them.

y/n: when was it a nurse’s job to email patients.

haerin: mr. jeon told me to do so, now please send me your email.

y/n: wait.

“who’s that?” minji asks, you stand up from your bed and walk your way to your desk, grabbing something from one of the drawers and turning your back to minji. “a blockmate, asking for help.” you tell her, letting out a small cough.

minji squints her eyes and looks away, this is complicated.

“i need to do something here in my bathroom, just wait a bit.” you tell minji, looking at her with a small smile — minji feels like crumbling, she hates when you look at her that way, she feels small and weak.

it's a bad habit to think of hating the feeling of being inferior to your feelings.

you close the bathroom door, leaving minji sitting on your bed, grasping on think threads of hope.

kang haerin

y/n: ********@gmail.com

y/n: why are you doing this again?

haerin: mr. jeon is your private doctor and i am under his care. it's my task to do what he thinks is best.

y/n: alright, i have a friend here and need to get off soon.

haerin: okay.

haerin: take care.

y/n: yeah.

minji grumbles and stands up, walking towards your desk and seeing a bunch of crumpled pieces of paper — it's not something new, you’ve always been the type to leave things like that.

minji picks up one paper, particularly your medication prescription from mr. jeon, reading it carefully.

when did you start taking medicine?

have you told her before?

maybe she forgot?

the other one however, was a medical report from mr. jeon too.

he jotted down all your symptoms and there's the ripped part of the final result.

minji closed her eyes, sighing.

you finally open the door and see minji standing by your desk, you immediately walk up to her and take the paper from the desk. “how is this supposed to be okay?” she asks you, you avoid her gaze while she looks at you with hatred.

“because i said so —” you feel her hands on your shoulders, pulling you to look at her. “why can't you just tell me the truth?” minji whispers harshly, you close your eyes as you shake your head, calming yourself.

“i wasn't ready…” you only tell her.

“what? how — when did you start acting like this? have i done something wrong? come on, tell me!” minji shouts, you feel suffocated by her grip and you reach for her wrist.

“let go, you won't get it!” you yell back, pushing her away and she lets go of your shoulders causing you to stumble over. minji feels bad, maybe not because a part of her doesn't understand why you're acting like this at all.

“what part won't i get? i mean, we’ve been friends for years!” minji looks at you and you start catching your breath, with just a cough — a petal falls from your lips, and there’s blood on the floor. your cough turns violent, like a rain raging into a storm, minji can hear your voice ringing in her ear as you weeze for a breath.

“y/n… y/n!?” you feel minji’s hands on your shoulders and she lifts you up to look at you, she feels her heart drop, thinking it must have been her fault. “y/n… what's happening?” her voice is shaking and she looks at you with panic written all over her face, her palm grazing your cheeks.

“i’m okay…” you mutter and close your eyes, tears start to swell and it's hot, forming on the corners of your eyes. “it's just that — you know, i can't breathe!” your hand touches her shoulder, gripping it tightly as if not wanting to let go. minji embraces your figure, holding you close. “come on, let's go.” she whispers, gesturing to your room.

“i love you… so much minji, it hurts a lot.” your phone starts to ring, and you guess it's from haerin.

“what..?” minji mutters.

“that’s why it hurts like this because —” you start to sob, not knowing what to do when you're standing here with her arms around you, you feel weak about it and it's humiliating when you think about how pathetic it is to be in such pain over someone who you're supposed to be friends with.

you wake up, a hand on your forehead and it's hurting like hell. you look around to see everything in complete brightness, the hospital room reflects the light above, everything is in the color of white. you shift from the bed, a hand on your chest trying to find the safe fluttering feeling inside, the type that feels suffocating.

you notice how you couldn't feel it, particularly clueless to how and where it is now — you try to navigate the same pain you usually endure but you figured, it must be because minji is nowhere to be seen.

the door creaks, it opens and you look up to see haerin's face, after several months of being stuck with her, you realize it wasn't that bad — she wasn't that bad.

you look down and feel the breeze of the air conditioner, haerin slowly enters inside and stands by the end of your bed.

“hey,” she calls.

you look up and smile at her, brushing a hand on your hair.

“do you remember the waiver you signed… like several months ago?” she asks, you look at her, to her cat-like eyes and feel something inside, you ignore it.

“yes, i think… i guess it happened.” you mutter, it was awkward and haerin hates it when things get awkward. maybe because she wants you to feel better, she pushes strands of her hair behind her very noticeable ear then she clears her throat.

“yeah, it was a success — i bet you feel so much better now.” she smiles, like she always does when you actually listen to what she says.

you remember signing a waiver, a deal you made with mr. jeon, that if you’re at your worst state caused by the disease you will have to have an emergency surgery immediately as soon as it happens.

you thought that it would be a good idea, you want to wait at least a little more just in case that pain disappears but it was taking too long. that time you passed out on minji’s arms, you knew it would have been the right time to finally let go.

“i do. it's weird right? nothing much has changed,” you pause as you reach out to your chest, closing your eyes as you breathe. “it feels like something is still fluttering inside my chest.” you tell haerin, haerin frowns and comes closer leaning towards you. “what's wrong? does it still hurt?” haerin asks, holding your shoulders.

you shrug, chuckling slightly. “no, it doesn't it's kind of funny, as if it's ticklish.” haerin sighs and glares at you playfully. “stop making jokes, i’m worried.” she whispers, and there’s silence going around the room as you both stare at each other, haerin blinks before gradually moving away for only a few centimeters, still wanting to check up on you.

“you’re worried… for me?” you whisper back as if teasing her to which she reacted positively by moving her head away with flushing cheeks.

“of course… after all, mr. jeon cares about your health too.” oh well, you laugh at her and she pouts at your reaction. “yeah, i’m his patient but… you were worried, is that true?” you ask her, haerin looks away and chuckles at your question.

“why would you want to know?”

“because i thought you’d think of me as if i’m a burden and annoying.”

haerin sits on the side of your bed, turning to look at you.

“i care for you because it's my job, okay?” haerin whispers, looking down at your hands.

you didn't pry your eyes away from her, yet start to feel more pulled by her aura.

“do you think of me the same when i’m not here?” you ask, again. even if it sounds like you're asking too much, it doesn't hurt to do so, right?

haerin doesn't move her eyes away from your hands on top of the blanket.

she laughs. “you ask so much, are you so curious… of course i care for you even if you're not here. outside of my job, i care for you even if i’m in my bedroom.” she adds.

you smile at her. “thanks.”

silence starts to engulf the whole room again, but it feels nice.

“say, am i a headache sometimes —” even before you get to finish your question she already butts in. “yes you are.”

you laugh. “wait are you serious?”

“yes i am.” she says.

you lean your head to look at her and she turns her head to you.

“do you regret forcing me to stay?” you ask.

haerin smiles at you. “no, i never did.”

haerin wants to feel bad for herself, not when she's starting to catch feelings for her mentor’s patient — someone who suffered a disease from a one-sided love, because she's afraid she might end up the same.

she doesn't want you to feel like she's taking advantage of your situation, because she's never felt something more genuine than her feelings for you.

“i… actually, nevermind.” haerin turns her head away from you and she starts to curse herself from piquing your interest. “what's up?” you ask her, looking at her over her shoulder. haerin looks at you and smiles, adjusting herself as she scoots closer. “it's nothing.” she tells you.

you brush it off and shrug, not wanting to force her to say something.

but haerin couldn't keep herself.

“i’ll say it, for the better.” haerin tries to relax her shoulders, eventually finding herself almost frozen under your gaze.

you scoot closer to her, your feet dangling over the edge of the bed and your shoulder touches hers. it's the kind of silence where you know everything is going to be okay, that haerin is just right there, beside you making sure you're going to be okay — that there's no reason for you to be scared.

“okay, go ahead.” you tell her.

haerin puts a hand on her face, sighing before she raises it slowly and looks at you — there's a small gap between your face and hers, your nose almost touching hers.

there's nothing to be afraid of… right?

“i… i think i like you, y/n. it's like, i don't understand but i know i have these feelings for you and it's been bothering me for quite a while. i know this might not be a good thing but i hope you're okay with it.” haerin finishes her sentence and you move closer to lean your head to her shoulder, she looks down on your face — all her fear fades away.

even now haerin can't help but feel bad for herself sometimes, it's not easy to keep away from someone she cares for.

“it's okay.” haerin listens well and leans over to your head, getting a whiff of your shampoo.

“i’ll wait.” haerin leans to give your temple a kiss. you giggle, wrapping your arms around her in an embrace.

“you're so warm.” you grumble. “y-yeah, it's kind of hot here.” haerin whispers, you scoff playfully knowing she's making excuses to hide the fact she's flustered.

“thanks a lot haerin, seriously.” you mumble as you look up at her, haerin nods and smiles. “it's nothing, besides it's over now.” you agree and hug her even closer, haerin snuggles her nose on your hair.

minji buries her face in her hands, struggling to fight with the guilt seeping inside of her — maybe it was all her fault you’ve been in pain for so long, when she’s been selfish and mean, she could’ve been there for you instead. she's trying to find the courage to face you, but it's hard when all she sees whenever she closes her eyes is the memory of you crying at her — you're so much better than that, you deserve so much better.

“i can't do this.” minji shakes her head and groans, it's taking a toll on her. every night she wakes up and she wants to look for you but it feels like you're so far away from her. maybe you're running away and she's running out of time.

minji feels the hallway of the hospital stretches into something bigger, wider and emptier. then she's all alone with her thoughts and the voices inside her head until the silence rings into a noise.

maybe one day, she hopes sooner — she finds the courage to face you again.

y/n (⁠/⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠(⁠-⁠ω⁠-⁠)

minji: hey, r u okay now?

minji: i’m so sorry.

minji: :((

minji: i’m so sorry y/n, let's see each other again? i’ll wait for your recovery

“the pillow smells great.” haerin whispers as she watches you lay on your bed, rolling over a few times, missing the comfort of your soft bed sheet, maybe without your tears on it. haerin laughs at the way you gush, pulling her knees to her chest and she keeps her eyes on you.

“i know, i love my bed so much.” you tell her, haerin nods, agreeing as she herself loves the comfort of her own room.

you roll and you lay on your back, hair sprawling all over the bed, you shift your eyes to haerin's direction and smile at her.

with your arms open wide you wordlessly call her to you. haerin sighs before chuckling and eventually reaching over to you in a hug, you feel the warmth of her body close to you and it feels like you're wrapped with a quilt, comforting and secure.

haerin lets you lean your head on her shoulder, hugging her as if she was a tree and you were a koala. “loosen up a bit, you're suffocating me.” haerin playfully complains, you huff and shake your head.

“stay here!” you tell her.

haerin sighs. “alright.”

haerin pats your head, you look up at her and leaned in, your forehead touching hers. you open your lips to say something but you close it immediately. “is something bothering you?” haerin whispers, looking at you with her wondering eyes. you smile at her and shake your head. “it's not that much but — i thought i should say it.”

haerin closes her eyes and opens it again. “go on, say whatever is in your mind.”

you give her a thankful smile, thankful because of how thoughtful she is.

“it's just… i’m worried about minji, because i haven't seen her and i don't want to break our friendship but… i don't know if things will be the same anymore.” you whisper to her and you see haerin nods, giving you a reassuring smile.

“i think it'll be alright… what about you?”

you think about it, you know minji the best and you understand her the most — even after what happened you know eventually you have to fix things together. “i hope so… i can't stand the idea of leaving her alone, she still need a friend. i still want to be there for her.”

“i understand, it's tough but i want you to know it's going to be okay. you got this.” haerin whispers back and you laugh.

“should i really be asking you about this? because —” before you could even speak haerin butts in.

“can i kiss you?”

you laugh. “o-oh geez, of course. i don't mind.” your eyes turn crescent as you smile at her, feeling giddy. haerin's cheeks turns pink and she takes a quick breath before leaning in.

it was short but pure, sweet, and genuine — when you lips touched hers it felt like some fairytales were real, like nothing was impossible. it was short but amazing, when she pulled away you were almost out of breath from the sight of her bright eyes alone.

“i care about whatever you feel — it doesn't matter if it's not about me. i want to know what you think and hear what you want to say, i want to take part of your life even if it's not much.” haerin whispers, suddenly feeling shy and scared.

your eyes widen and your whole face was lighting up — you were out of words but there were so many inside your head.

haerin is an awe-spiring person, she's wonderfully witty, poised, empowered but shy — she's sweet, skittish, worry-wart but lovely.

she's stubborn but listens well, she's got so many thoughts but only a few words.

you think — haerin is so much more than words, maybe more than anything in the world, she's the combination of all the great things in this world: hope, love, dreams, marshmallow, tomato, frogs, and cats.

there's a new found love blooming.

#female reader #kpop #kpop imagines #newjeans #newjeans imagines #girl group #girlgroup imagines #kim minji #haerin x reader #kang haerin #haerin #newjeans haerin #newjeans minji #kim minji x reader #minji x reader #kpop x female reader

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 year ago

Note

If you could indulge me, can I ask for something with The Amazing Digital Circus gang, with an s/o who is seen as an anchor for the others? They are strong willed, happy go lucky, supportive, a mediator and ect. Well, could they stumble upon their s/o just having an episode, just crying in frustration and like punching a wall to calm down and go back to acting like nothing happened?

I have a thing with strong willed characters hiding their weakness for the benefit of others.

TADC cast x emotional anchor!reader !

oh ho ho you silly lil fella, you have literally just described my TADC oc down to a T, i am going to have so much fun writing this because im literally just. going to use my oc as a place holder for the reader, just without describing any lore bits unique to them and their design ngl i think i went insane with this one, tally hall music is doing something to me

CAINE:

if you thought you were good at hiding your human despair just know that caine already knows. the only reason i feel he wouldnt initially come to you in your lesser moments of weakness is that he can acknowledge that youre trying to hide this part of you. does he go comfort you, and risk making you try harder to surpress your feelings; risking you to just blow up one day and have your mental state just totally collapse in one go? would you feel put off at the knowledge that in this world you never really have full privacy? that definitely wouldnt make you feel any better. but when it gets to the point where you're screaming and crying in your room and punching the walls he would step in. drags you away from the walls, and if he has to this man will restrain you if it means making sure you stop swinging. hes seen the downfall of many people within the circus, but seeing it from someone he so deeply cares for hits a different way. he may be an AI, but he can still simulate feeling. its a harrowing sensation as he lets you cling onto him. i think he makes an effort to make in house adventures less overwhelming and intense, too scared to push you over the edge but also too scared to leave you with nothing to do to distract you. i think he would stay with you for the night, too

POMNI:

as selfish as it sounds, pomni cant help but feel.. something in her chest. seeing you, the groups beacon of light falter fills her with some kind of fear and despair that she cant put into words. it reminds her that no one is above helplessness, and that at the end of the day youre just as capable of abstracting as everyone else. i think, when she finally sees your fake demeanor finally slip when you thought you were totally alone, she feels bad. i mean shes your partner, and she didnt pick up on any hints that may have indicated your true state of health. i dont think she would try to force you to speak, as much as i want to say that she would try to push for you to talk about how you feel i think her attempts to reach out to you would fall on deaf ears. i think she would put her hand on your shoulder, making you jump back to the present moment. its an awkward gesture, with the jester herself being a little lost with these new feelings... i think you two would just sit in silence

JAX:

similar to pomni, he feels this intense and unexplainable pang at the sight of the most hopeful and brightest person in the circus crumble. ive already said it but ill say it again, its like being splashed with cold water, with how hard that sinking cold feeling hits him. makes half hearted attempts to cheer you up. its not that he doesnt care, its that hes stuck in the shock of seeing the happiest person he knows flip into... this.. for a split second he thought you were abstracting, that pit his stomach becoming colder for a second before he realizes whats going on. ive said this before as well, but jax is not the best comforter, in fact i think he might be one of the worst out of the main cast. but i think so far for the characters ive written for this post, he makes an effort to try to pull you up out of your hole. at least he lets you cry your feelings out, and he wont make you feel bad for doing so

RAGATHA:

stands there in shock like pomni, before immediately rushing to your side and tugging you away from a coat stand you were kicking and beating. hands on your shoulders she tries to snap you back to the present moment, trying to tell you that shes here. any feelings of the helplessness that she shares with the previous two characters is shoved down. this isnt about her, its about you. runs her fingers through your hair, if your digital body has any, and just. rocks you. when you finally calm down enough to be able to form clear words, she reassures you once more that shes here for you. the two of you stay in that position, holding onto one another for the entire night. i think it should be said, but for most of these theyre going to try to keep a closer eye on you and make it a point to ask you how youre feeling. ragatha especially.

KINGER:

it reminds him of queenie. the sight brings back so so so many terrible memories. for a second he doesnt even register that hes standing in the present, standing in your doorway. stuck and frozen for a solid minute before you finally notice him, and you hold each others gaze. finally, you crumble. what was the point of hiding your mounting anguish now that it was discovered by the one you care for most? at the sight of your crumpled form i think kinger would snap back, and rush to your side. he's pause, afraid that you would abstract like the queen, before forcing himself to push through that fear in the back of his mind. a moment where he is not fumbling with himself or shaking; be it because he wants to be there for you or perhaps he still holds some guilt aimed towards himself for not being able to save his old queen, he refuses to leave your side even if you tell him to leave. theres this caution in his actions, mixed with this sort of determination to make sure you're okay. like ragatha, he would make it a point to make sure you're okay long after this incident

ZOOBLE:

zooble would probably be the only one who doesnt make their presence known to you while you're in that state. not because they wont care about you, in fact they care about you a lot. but theyre so unsure of what to do, that they give to you what they would have wanted for themselves, if they were in your shoes. they want to grant you privacy, and to at least keep a shred of the now ruined façade you had been putting on for everyone. if it means keeping it will give you comfort, then they wont take that away from you. they wait outside your door, waiting for the height of your episode to pass before cracking the door open. they dont say anything about what they had just heard, but you seem to know that they know.. i mean they came in so soon after you had calmed yourself down enough.

"are you okay?" a dumb question, but what else was there for them to say? you so obviously werent okay, and you likely werent for a long time. they offer to leave, to give you some time to pick yourself back up, but they also make it clear that they wont go anywhere if you dont want to be alone. the night is tense and awkward, filled with conversation before they eventually broach the topic... i think you guys would develop some sort of secret code. i mean youve been hiding your true feelings for so long, and outwardly saying you need help would compromise that mask you put up for yourself. be it a certain sentence or arrangement of objects, you two come up with a indirect way of asking for security

GANGLE:

she feels so helpless, the most out of everyone. she tries to get your attention, but her words fall on deaf ears, if they even manage to pry themselves out of her mouth. far too weak to pull you away and keep you from hurting yourself, but too soft spoken to bark out a word to draw your attention to her. truly, she feels useless. she isnt able to capture your attention until you finally notice her. similar to kingers part, you fall. she takes an unsure step towards you, hands half raised in front of her as she debates if you want to be touched or not. she settles to sitting in front of you, just barely holding eye contact... she looks down when you tear your eyes away from her. finally finding her voice, i think she would ask if you want her to stay, or if you need anything. she tries to word it the best she can, but she lets you know that she doesnt think any less of you for your outburst. it happens to the best of us, really it does. if you want her too, she wraps herself around you and tries to soothe your shaking form

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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venomhound · 2 months ago

Text

Hazbin Hotel - Handkerchief Headcanons

The rat in my brain was overclocking on its wheel about the Hazbin guys and their potential handkerchiefs after watching some historical romance. Then I had the existential realization that I am probably the singular cancerous overlap between Hazbin Hotel and actual historical fiction. So I have to do these myself I guess. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(also huge thanks to @heart-of-the-morningstar for beta reading the Lucifer section; I love you boo-boo, MWUAH)

Hyperfixated rant pretending to be a history lesson and headcanons below the cut -ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

*gently taps pointer on desk then smashes it against whiteboard*

HERE IS A HISTORY LESSON FOR YOU NERDS ABOUT HANDKERCHIEFS AND HANDKERCHIEF FLIRTING.

First off, I need to say I AM NOT talking about the Handkerchief Code. This is a form of LGBTQ+ signaling that many falsely say started in the 1970s (thats just when it first became 'mainstream', its much MUCH older then that).

Handkerchiefs have been used for flirting for literal centuries. There is so much history to them that I cannot possibly hope to cover. The Victorians even had an entire body language system dedicated to them. These are basically just historical highlights or things specifically related to this post.

Alright. So before the 1960s (when handkerchiefs finally went out of style) EVERYONE had one. Disposable tissues weren't even invented until 1924!

Needless to say, pre 1920s, open flirting (especially by a woman) was frowned upon. So handkerchiefs became a main method of doing so.

Im sure yall have seen the infamous 'lady dropping her handkerchief in front of a guy she likes' move in movies or tv. This is because a woman used to not be allowed to talk to a man she was not introduced to first. So by dropping her handkerchief in front of a guy she wants to talk to, this gives the guy an opening to pick up the handkerchief, give it back to her, and introduce himself. Thereby making them acquainted.

Because everyone had a goddamn handkerchief, if a woman is crying, as a man, you would only offer her your own handkerchief if your courting her, her lover, or actually related to her. Otherwise you would just say 'dry your tears' because she got her own stupid handkerchief. If you were none of those things and still gave a woman your handkerchief, WOOF, that was forward of you. You just did the Victorian equivalent of an unsolicited dick pic.

Lovers would often exchange handkerchiefs as tokens. Usually with their names or initials embroidered on the handkerchief. Men would openly wear these, usually tucked into a pocket or hat brim, with the initials showing as a way of bragging about their lady.

Although there are stories of womanizers who would have entire hat brims stuffed with a rainbow of handkerchiefs as a way of bragging about their conquests (and all the broken hearts they left behind).

Friends would also sometimes exchange handkerchiefs but this was really only in specific circumstances and I don't want to get into the weeds on that. Just keep in mind that it CAN be a friendship thing too.

Also for long distance couples (or just general weirdos) it was common for them to send their lovers a handkerchief scented with their perfume/cologne.

Im only telling you this fact because there is a really funny story about Elizabeth the first. She attended a tennis match between two men who were attempting to court her (pun not intended). In the middle of the match, one of the men walked over to Elizabeth, asked for her handkerchief, and used it to wipe the sweat from his face (scenting it). The other man was so offended by this action that he fucking jumped the first guy and a fistfight ensued. When the second guy was asked why he attacked the first, he said the handkerchief wipe was 'too saucy'. I cackle every time I think about this.

ALRIGHT. Now the history lesson is over and you have a general idea of handkerchief flirting. In my unprofessional opinion, the Hazbin guys who carry around handkerchiefs are; Alastor, Sir Pentious, Vox, and Lucifer (technically)

✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿‿✿°•∘୨୧∘•°✿

Lucifer ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

I say technically Lucifer because he has a really bad habit of just forgetting about it or leaving it in random places. Guy will reach in his pocket for it, realize its not there, and be like 'oh no NOT AGAIN'.

He has a stash of them in his room and workshop. He also will carry around like two or three of them when he goes out because he KNOWS he is gonna lose at least one of them.

Lucifer's handkerchief is super fancy. Its made out of pure red silk (he likes the texture), with fancy white lace edges. A giant Morningstar family crest is embroidered in the center in golden thread.

I headcanon that Lucifer has always been a shut in and rarely, if ever, goes out. But when he does, this guy is super gracious with his handkerchiefs (he does carry around several after all!). Like, to the point its an actual problem.

Lucifer will see a girl crying and offer her his handkerchief without a second thought. Goes right over his head that its a little weird to give your handkerchief to a stranger and extremely flirty to give it to someone at all.

Has 100% started fights or accidentally made people fall for him because he didn't realize the message he was sending. I also just generally headcanon that shit like this (Lucifer being a social dumbass) is a big reason he hates Sinners.

An example: from Lucifer's POV, a guy just randomly started attacking him for comforting a lady; when from the guy's POV, Lucifer, the King of Hell, just came onto his guy's wife when she was emotionally vulnerable. But Lucifer being an idiot is another post >.<

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Vox ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Although he was at the tail end of the handkerchief times; Vox still has one personally and sees it as a sign of being a proper gentleman. Or at least he says thats why he has one...

Vox normally keeps it hidden on the inside of his suit jacket though because he doesn't want to deal with random people asking about it or trying to get it. The other two Vees aren't exactly pleasant about it either.

Valentino constantly tries to steal it as a joke, he will 100% start waving it at Vox like a maiden sending their beloved off to war while playing keep away with it (Valentino says stupid shit while doing this too; like "Oh my beloved Vox! You've come to save me from this wretched boredom that has befallen me!"). Of course this is when Valentino isn't using it as a towel to clean up messes of various bodily fluids and nebulous origin that is. (Vox has opted to burn multiple handkerchiefs due to this)

Velvette just thinks its the funniest thing and makes fun of Vox so hard when she sees it. Who carries around handkerchiefs anymore? Isnt that unsanitary? What does a computer need a handkerchief for anyway? Does he sniff it or something? She will not let up.

So yeah, hidden in the pocket it goes. Honestly, Vox will only take it out if you two have become good friends or he has a major crush on you. Otherwise he will just throw a tissuebox at you.

But no matter if you two are platonic or romantic, if you accept his handkerchief and keep it, Vox is guaranteed to stutter and glitch a bit. The fact that you didn't make fun of him and actually want to keep a personalized item from his time just gives him butterflies.

For how flashy the Vees tend to be, your surprised Vox has such a pleasingly monochrome handkerchief. Its a beautiful azure blue with his Voxtech symbol embroidered in the corner in a dark cobalt. Made of pure cotton for optimal handkerchief efficiency because of course it is.

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Sir Pentious ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Highkey one of the first germaphobes. Due to, you know, being alive in the time of plague and all.

Like Lucifer, he has a million handkerchiefs. But in Sir Pentious' case, its because he can't help but be polite and give one to his friends when they are sick or crying... and then burn/destroy them right after if they give it back.

Sir Pentious actually has two sets of handkerchiefs. The main ones are simple handkerchiefs made out of patterned cotton-blend fabric. That way they can be mass produced by the Egg Bois and still look nice. These are the ones he carries several sets of and gives out freely.

Be warned: sometimes the Egg Bois like to put their own names on them for fun. So you may end up with a relatively nice red and black plaid handkerchief with a very poorly embroidered 'STANLY' on it in neon green.

The other handkerchief type is his actual personal one. Its black and yellow striped with Sir Pentious' full name embordered along the bottom in a light gray. With how nice the embroidery is, you figure he must have done it himself.

Like I implied before, Sir Pentious is very protective of his handkerchief and doesn't give it to anyone. He normally just gives them his throwaway ones because he is afraid of germs and getting sick.

One of the first ways Sir Pentious tried to show Cherri Bomb his interest was offering his actual handkerchief to her. It was a super big deal to him. Cherri, not understanding the significance/meaning of the gesture, proceeded to blow her nose in it and give it right back.

Needless to say, the Egg Bois were quick to set fire to it

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Alastor ₊˚ ‿︵୨୧

Alastor has a handkerchief. But he wont offer it to you. Nope. Not ever. Not as a flirting gesture, not even as a friend. Your not getting it.

There is a reason for this though; its because Alastor technically doesn't carry his own handkerchief. He actually carries around the handkerchief belonging to his late mother.

The handkerchief is practically ancient at this point. The just sheer amount of washing and general use it has gone through has worn nearly all color away from it. Most people falsely believe it to be a classic, white handkerchief. But when the light hits it right you can see hints of the vibrant color it once had.

Alastor's mother's initials are also hand embroidered in the corner. Since Rosie is the only one privy to the actual origin of the handkerchief; usually people falsely assume it to be a token from a lover and a sign that Alastor is already taken.

Alastor actually loves this because it helps ward off unwanted advances. He will totally pull it out and fake wipe his face with it as a subtle way to tell a lady to back off him.

He is super protective of it and delicately hand washes it himself. Alastor wont even let Niffty touch the thing. You get the feeling that it serves as some kind of weird security blanket for the stag.

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AN: This took wayyy longer to release then I meant it to because its the first writing thing Ive put on here and Im anxious about it aaahhh. Ive reread it like 12 times and I still guarantee I missed things OH WELL

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