#and he’s usually good about understanding it’ll be a process and the flip side of me being understanding of his growth being slow and non-li

[mistress-riddle]

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐄?

cw. sirius black x reader. cursing. humour. smth unserious being treated seriously bc sirius is involved and he’s dramatic only with his bae.

a/n. icl this was inspired by my ben barnes binge yesterday.

a shaky exhale sounded from a place nearby and you lifted your head from lazily skimming a magazine to direct part of your attention to your boyfriend hovering by the couch with a worried expression settled on his pretty features.

“you alright there, siri?” you ask, your eyes went back to looking over the page you were previously on before flipping to the next, not too bothered by sirius’ presence.

“babe, i think i’m finally ready.” 

.

all of your focus was funnelled to sirius but your gaze remained on the colourful paper as you cleared your throat “what are you ready for, honey?”

another exhale escaped his lips, hands clutching at each other and he sets his face to express determination “i’m ready for you know what.” he takes his bottom lip between his teeth.

discarding the magazine, you stand up to face sirius, hands darting to hold his own “i’m glad you trust me to do this for you, sweetie, it’ll be alright and over before you know it.” you release the grasp to place one hand on his cheek, and drag your fingers through his wavy hair.

“be gentle with me, please.” his voice verges on a pleading tone, eyes holding a desperate undertone behind them. his hand escapes your 2-hand clutch to hold your left hand in his right, and your right hand that was gliding through his tresses in his other.

“of course, anything for you, dear.” long gone was their usual teasing and bickering and in its place came compassion and softness. this was a huge deal.

“thank you, love.” you guide him to your bathroom and get him seated on the stool before the large mirror.

“give me a sec, hun.” you pat his head before leaving him to search the required items. doubt begins to build within him once more but he works harder to push it down with a gulp and you’re by his side a few moments later “okay, we can always stop if you don’t want to do this siri, don’t let your friends force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“please, just get it over and done with.” he almost cries and you shake your head, giving him a back hug before tapping his shoulder in understanding.

“it’s okay baby, i’ll love you the same regardless.” sirius appreciates the sentiment, eyes blinking in gratitude, finding comfort in holding your hand tightly “alright, close your eyes, i’ll be quick.” 

sirius complies, lashes fluttering as his eyes close shut and he finds himself grasping at your thighs from behind you for comfort, you let him be for the time being as it was yet to be a hindrance to your procedure. 

around 20 minutes later your hand grasped sirius’ jaw and he looked up at the mirror, gazing wide eyed at the reflection it presented. “holy shit...” he ran his fingers through his hair once or twice (probably 10 times) and turned to face you so quickly he might’ve gotten whiplashed in the process “is it possible that i look even better?”

“yeah, this is actually unfair,” you sigh, arms crossing as you study his appearance “i guess i should be happy that i’m so lucky.”

“and here i thought not having long hair would make me look...” he grimaces “average.”

sirius whose hair was close to growing past his shoulders now donned a haircut that did not pass the nape of his neck. he hasn’t had hair this short since his 3rd year at hogwarts, choosing to instead grow it long because he believed he looked better that way plus it annoyed his mother (a well added bonus if you asked him).

“you’re so annoying, you know that?” you roll your eyes, lightly shoving him before retreating to your bed and you can hear sirius following you.

“yeah, you tell me that every day,” he proudly claims “it’s part of my charm.” he winks.

“you said that about your hair but that’s currently in the bin.” 

“but with my devilishly good looks i’m bound to look amazing with any hairstyle, who would’ve known that long hair was just inhibiting my full potential?” sirius was so quick to find another mirror located in your bedroom and admire his new hairdo.

“i hate the fact that i can’t even argue on that, you handsome motherfucker.”  

[middenska]

Today’s prompt was from TikTok, username yourdailywritingprompt.

“Write a scene between two characters who are making something together.

Here are your rules:

1. They both have feelings for each other but haven’t TOLD each other yet.

2. Include a brief moment of physical contact.

3. Have one of the characters say “I love you” without saying those words.”

Here’s my response to the prompt, LoiYor infused steak ;)

I have been sitting on a Yorloid fic for SO LONGGG but I have no idea where I’m going w it so this prompt is a good idea for where it starts

d(*<*)b

Yor stood beside Loid, watching carefully as he took the pan off of the hot eye.

“You’ll want to take it off the heat right before it’s medium. It’ll keep cooking after and won’t dry out as quickly.” His forehead was powdered with sweat, which he quickly noticed and wiped off with his strong hands. He turned to his wife, asking, “Do you think you can do this?”

“Well, there’s no way to know but to try,” she responded, with reluctant enthusiasm. He nodded as he removed the cooked steak from the pan and placed it on the She attempted to replicate the steps, first cutting off some meat from the oversized raw steak. It was quite a bit thinner than Loid’s, but he didn’t seem to mind. She patted the steak dry, as he had, and seasoned it generously with the two seasonings- salt and pepper- on hand. She stifled a sneeze and continued cooking. She put the steak in the pan, and, hearing its sizzle, felt more confident. “I haven’t messed anything up yet,” she thought, “maybe I don’t have anything to worry about.” Loid thought the same. Though it wasn’t much, she got past cutting and seasoning, which was more than usual. He let himself look away from the food and toward his wife. Her face was fixed with concentration, her brow furrowed. She was staring so intently at the steak that it was cute. He caught himself beginning to smile and, contrary to what he believed he should have done, he let himself smile. He stared at her sleek and shiny hair, her glowing eyes, her supple cheeks and he enjoyed every second of it. He would have kept staring, but he was interrupted by the smell of smoke. Back in reality, he wondered just how long he was staring at her. He looked back at the pan to see Yor still basting the same side of meat.

“Yor, you’ve got to let the other sides cook!” He tried not to yell, straining his voice in the process. He quickly handed her the tongs from off of the counter. As she attempted to flip it on the thinner side, Loid saw the black bottom of the steak. He sighed and relaxed, realizing that nothing could be done. The steak was already so thin that if the burnt part was cut off, it’d be ten times as difficult for her to make anything edible. Its lack of girth was already the reason why…

“With the size of the steak, I can understand why you’re struggling. Let me help.” He stood behind her and placed his head on her shoulder. His hand fell on top of hers and began turning the steak over with her. “Let’s just use the edge for support.”

“Ah… thank you, Loid.” Her face warmed up with her husband that close to her. She would think normal couples did stuff like this all the time, so why did she feel so bashful? Loid’s face was a little pink as well, though he didn’t catch it. He let go and stood beside the stove again.

“You’re doing good.” He wanted to creep closer, to put an arm around her waist, but Twilight would not let him. Twilight thought that even that amount of contact was too much for a spy. But he had done similar things before with other women, so why was this different? Twilight was silent.

The rest of the cooking process was fairly painless. Yor’s face didn’t cool down until she finished cooking while Loid was a bit dazed himself. No matter, he would still try the steak. He scraped off the burnt bits, as the rest was quite well-cooked.

“How is it?” Yor asked. With a smile, Loid responded,

“It’s beautiful.” Whatever that meant.

The end! I almost didn’t finish it today because i was blanking for some parts ;b

Hope you enjoyed!

[sailor-kaiju]

Some thoughts on separating the art from the artist. Which I actually do, to some extent, support in certain areas. Upfront: there are multiple ways to engage with media, and they can overlap and be non compatible, and because humans are complicated and messy we usually do multiple at a time. Also you can just enjoy something without digging deep in but I like enjoying things by picking them apart.

So first off: separating art from artist is one way to engage, not The Way. There is no The Way. The best way to really explore something critically is to examine it in multiple ways to get to the juicy core. And because so much is based on personal experience, even if we try to not, everyone interactions with a work will be different. Even if only a little, even in ways we never will or can express…if you think you have found The Way, all you have found is that you haven’t thought about it enough.

So let’s discuss the internets favorite excuse parading as a way to analyze media: separating the art from artist. The idea is to take the worthwhile art and separate it from the terrible ideas or morals of the artist.

This isn’t short hand for “ignore what the artist does and enjoy the art.”

Let’s take Shakespeare.

When I read Romeo & Juliet, I come into it with context of who Bill was (ish) and I know the time period and the expectations, etc. For example, while it’s part of the narrative that Juliet is a dumb teenager, stupid and young, I also understand that she is not equivalent to a modern teenager. I understand Shakespeare was, by our standards, horribly sexist but by his probably pretty progressive. So I separate the art from him, and read it in good faith and know he isn’t implying that this is child abuse but that it is stupid teens. I go in knowing his ideas of gender are not mine and I separate them out to get to the the story he is trying to tell. This doesn’t mean I’m dismissing the icky in the story, it means I know the icky hits me differently than it would have any one back then and is not meant to be icky in this context.

There is also a place for a reading that is ABOUT the idea he brought from his times and how they effect the story. There’s also a reading about how you should read the story and pretend you have NO context and see how things hit you then. Different ways to analyze things.

But the issue is I KNOW how to pull out the artist because I know what is up with the artist.

If, say, an artist is a transphobe, for a random example out of nowhere, and I refuse to engage with that knowledge, I can’t separate it from the art. Because I’m still participating in it, it is too hidden for me. So I don’t know what to watch out for and put in it’s little box of shame. And that’s when it becomes dangerous.

If I don’t know an artist is a transphobe, for example, I’m going to take in their transphobia without thought. It’s gonna fester in there and become accepted to me that saying a woman has big hands is an insult, that a woman’s biggest goal is to get married and have babies, or that boys and girls must be strictly gender separated. Because the author holds those beliefs and they aren’t questioning them, so if I don’t already KNOW to do it…it’ll slide by. And it’ll be in danger of becoming something that grows and stays in my own brain unquestioned.

On the flip side, if I know it’s there I can think about it, process it, build off it it to make better content, etc etc. I don’t have to accept it to engage with it.

I don’t think you NEED to cut something out because a creator is ~problematic~ but I also don’t think you can just pretend they aren’t and enjoy their content without interrogating how much of it has gotten INTO the text. Because it’s always a lot, and if you pretend you can just chop that connection off with no work….you haven’t actually done anything at all.

And none of this means you have to write essay’s about the problematic elements in everything you watch and report your problematic sins to the literary gods. It’s enough to be like “Quinten Tarantino is weird about feet so when I see that in his movies I know it’s a weird Tarantino things and don’t assume this is a normal way to be about feet.”

[storiesforallfandoms]

backstage ~ pete davidson

word count: 1960

request?: yes!

“Can you do a Pete Davidson smut on the set of SNL”

description: in which a backstage tour turns into something a little more

pairing: pete davidson x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

“And this is the writer’s room,” Pete said as he led me into a room with a large desk surrounded by multiple chairs. “This is where we come up with the skits and the jokes. There’s John, being the loner he is.”

“You say that like it’s a joke but you’re my best friend so what does that say about you?” John asked, not looking up from his laptop.

Pete chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist. “Moving on - ”

“Hold on!” I cut him off. “We are not just sweeping past John Mulaney like that. You know how much I love him.”

This made the older comedian look up from his laptop and smile at me. “Oh, I like this girl. She’s got good taste.”

Pete rolled his eyes at the two of us. “You can come back and talk to John before we start filming. This is a big set and I told you I’d show you all of it.”

I playfully pouted at him before waving goodbye to John and continuing to follow Pete through the unfamiliar building.

Pete had been dying to give me a tour of the SNL backstage basically since we had started dating. Our schedules never lined up enough to be able to, but I had finally managed to get a full weekend off and Pete decided to take advantage of that.

The set was much larger than I thought, with every castmate having their own dressing rooms, plus special rooms for the hosts and musical guests. So many rooms for writing and editing, and the massive set where everything was filmed, usually in front of an audience. I didn’t understand how Pete didn’t get lost every day, even if he was familiar with the place.

“And finally,” he said once we neared the end of his tour, “my home away from home.”

He pushed open the door with his name written on a wooden plaque. The room definitely screamed “Pete”. Besides the smell of weed smoke that seemed to linger no matter how long Pete wasn’t there, the room was also littered with little things he liked to have with him at all times: pictures of his dad, his mom, the two of us, little gifts I had always given him for every season premiere, little things from his other friends.

There was a comfortable looking couch along the wall that was begging for me to lay down on it. I sighed in relief the moment my back touched the couch, my legs and feet aching from the heels I decided to wear.

Pete chuckled at my reaction. “I told you to wear something comfortable.”

“And I told you I wanted to make a good impression on your co-stars, which includes a nice outfit.”

I had decided on a long sleeved white shirt and a short, plaid skirt to wear on set, with a pair of black booties that were nice when I put them on, but now that I had been walking around in them for almost an hour I was regretting my wardrobe choices.

Pete smiled and came to lay down on the couch on top of me, his legs between mine and his hands on either side of my head. “Baby, you could wear a garbage bag and everyone here would still be impressed by you.”

“Well, I’ll do that next time then.”

He chuckled and lowered himself so he was kissing me. It was a quick kiss on my lips before he dipped his head to kiss my neck. I giggled as the slight stubble he was starting to grow tickled my neck, followed by a moan as he found the spot on my neck that always drove me wild.

“The skirt does give me some easy access, though,” he mumbled against my neck as one of his hands traced up my bare leg and dipped under my skirt. I gasped as he ran a finger over my clothed clit - or, just barley clothed as I was wearing a G-string. “God, baby, I’ve barley touched you and you’re already soaking wet.”

I moaned as his finger slipped under my G-string and inside of me. He was quick to cover my mouth, a cheeky grin on his face at my reaction.

“You have to be quiet, baby,” he said. “Anyone could come catch us at any time.”

I bit my lip to try and keep quiet as his finger slid in and out of me, first at a slow pace. My moans came out as squeaks and whimpers of pleasure as his pace began to pick up and he slipped another finger into me. I was basically writhing underneath him, which I could tell he was taking a lot of pleasure in.

With two of his fingers in me, he pressed his thumb against my clit and began to rub painfully slow circles, causing my body to arch against him. It was becoming harder to hold back my moans and I had to cover my own mouth with my hand.

“God, this is so fucking dirty,” Pete commented. “Finger fucking my beautiful girl on the couch of my dressing room? Where all my co-workers come in and hang out with me? Man, I’ll never be able to look at this couch the same.”

“It’ll be a nice memory of me,” I said, trying my best to smile up at him but another whimper being let out instead.

“I’ll never not think of you when I’m in this room again,” he confirmed, lowering himself to kiss my neck again.

I was already nearing my climax when Pete’s fingers were removed from my wet core. I looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and my lips pouting. He brought his wet fingers to his lips and took them in his mouth.

“Fuck,” I breathed. I didn’t think it were possible, but I managed to become even more wet at the sight.

“Flip over on your hands and knees baby,” he told me.

I excitedly did as he told me, spinning to be back on to him on my hands and knees. I started reaching for my panties to take them off, but his hand caught hold of my wrists before I could.

“Leave them on,” he said. “I think it’ll be extra hot to fuck you with your skirt and panties still on.”

I nodded excitedly and got back into my position. Pete stood for just a moment, long enough to undo his jeans and let them, and his underwear, fall to the floor. My heart was racing as I felt the couch dip behind me again and Pete pulling my panties to the side as he lined his head up with my entrance.

As he pushed himself inside of me ever so slowly, his other hand came to rest on my back, pushing me down till my head was buried in the couch cushions.

“Best way to keep you quiet,” he said. “I don’t intend to go easy on you.”

“I don’t want you to go easy on me,” I responded.

I looked over my shoulder to see the smile on Pete’s face. He took hold of my waist with both hands and started to thrust slow at first, making sure I was comfortable and fully stretched around him. Once he was sure I was okay, his thrusts gradually got quicker and rougher until he was pounding me so hard that the only sounds in the room were that of skin slapping against skin.

I buried my face in the couch again, trying my best the muffle the moans that were basically turning to screams of pleasure. However this process was basically moot as the sound of our skin slapping against each other and Pete’s own moans and groans of pleasure would definitely alert any passersby of our activities.

Being adventurous with our sex was definitely nothing new to Pete and I. Whenever one of us was in the mood, we’d initiate it wherever we wanted. In bathrooms, fitting rooms, in the back of his car, wherever we could get some form of privacy while also being a little too out in public.

But there was just something different about having him rail me in his dressing room mere minutes before he was set to go live. At any moment someone could walk past, or one of the producers could come knock on the door. Or, heaven forbid if he didn’t lock the door, someone could just walk in and catch the two of us. All of that just made our secret rendezvous a little more naughty and sexy. While I didn’t want to be caught by any means, the thought that it would be so easy to be caught drove me wild.

Pete’s thrusts became so rough that I could hear the couch legs scraping across the floor as it moved. My legs were already feeling like jelly and I had a feeling I was going to have trouble walking to set with Pete when this was over.

His hand ran up my back and through my hair before giving my head a rough tug back. I yelped at the sudden pain that I felt in my head before it dissolved into a moan. Pete pulled me back till my back was against his chest and leaned in close to my ear.

“You feel so good,” he breathed into my ear. “God, even after all this time, you’re still so tight around me.”

“You keep talking like that and I’ll cum around your cock in no time.”

The hand in my hair crept around my front to grab me by the throat. “You say that as if it’s not what I wanted.”

His other hand slipped between my legs and began rubbing at my clit, causing all sorts of pleasure to run through me. My body started to tremble as I felt myself nearing my climax. The hand around my throat squeezed slightly as I let out a cry of pleasure, my walls tightening around him.

Pete grunted in my ear a few more times before I felt him filling me up as well. I took a deep breath in when he let go of my throat, although my head was still spinning.

Pete pulled out of me just in time for a knock to come on his door. “Give me a second!”

He quickly pulled his pants and boxers back on as I adjusted my skirt and panties. Although I was sure whoever was at the door wouldn’t notice the wet spot that had suddenly appeared on the couch, I still decided to cover it with a pillow just in case.

One of the producers was stood at the door. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that we’re starting in roughly five minutes!”

“Thanks, I’ll be there soon,” Pete responded. He shut the door and looked back at me. His eyes travelled down to my legs as an amused look crossed his face. “You got something on your leg there hun.”

I looked down to see a single string of warm liquid running down my inner thigh. “Oh fuck.”

I reached for a tissue but Pete stopped me. “Wait, don’t clean it yet. I’d love to know you’re in the audience watching me with my cum running down your legs.”

“Okay, that’s hot, but I don’t want your co-workers thinking I peed myself or something.”

“I’ll tell them the truth if you want.”

I rolled my eyes and shoved him towards the door. “Go to set! Let me clean up. I’m sure there’s more there that can fulfil this fantasy you have.”

Pete smiled down and gave me one last kiss before rushing to set.

[echo-of-sounds]

pregnancy

Small headcanons of how Aizawa, Toshinori, Hizashi, Fatgum, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog would be through your pregnancy.

I don’t write about giving birth (as I’m mildly terrified of doing so) so I didn’t add anything about that. Please don’t ask for me to. And even though I’m not interested in getting pregnant, I think I’d be okay with it if Kugo or Ryo were the father.

EDIT: I love picturing all of these men with little girls. It’s just so cute!

Warnings: uh, pregnancy

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta isn’t one to jump for joy when you tell him. However, you will get to see his handsome smile when he grabs your waist, breathing out a light laugh of happiness as he tightly hugs you. His smile won’t disappear for a while. Every time he glances at you, one simply finds its way onto his face.

It may not be by a whole lot, but his behavior changes. Just a little. When you’re out and about, his hand finds its way to your back or elbow much more often, particularly in a crowd. It’s the paternal instincts kicking in. His favorite cuddling position, laying between your legs with his head on your stomach, becomes harder the farther along you are. He adjusts to laying behind you, keeping a hand on your tummy throughout the entire night.

Shouta hides his worries well. Even the people closest to him have a tough time telling what exactly is going on with him. Sometimes, it’s a good thing. He’s a stable person to lean on. But it’s difficult to deal with when you’re hormonal and emotional. He pushes himself so hard to speak more. There’s no way of him understanding everything you’re going through, but when he opens up, he can tell just how much you appreciate it during the tough times. So he does it near-daily, checking in with each other before bed.

He hates how busy his life is. Well, he’s always kind of hated it. Now it’s worse because his partner’s pregnant, and he’s stuck in a room with screaming children when he should be bringing you to your appointments. Shouta attempts to make up for the absence by heading home every night and helping around the house more. Step in. Explain how you value his help, but also need him to relax. If he gets overworked, that would only stress you more.

Shouta changes his eating habits and fitness routines. He wants you to eat well for yourself and your child. He wants you to keep exercising for yourself and your child. He simply wants your body to be healthy. Don’t grumble because he’ll throw your complaining back in your face when the Lamaze coach explains how important physical health is. But don’t worry, his cute smile makes up for the teasing.

Yagi Toshinori

Toshinori is starstruck. Too many thoughts flood and fight. He loves children and has always wanted a family. Being able to father one with you is indescribable. And he never thought the universe would grant any of that. On the flip side, his fear is also undefinable. People know who he is now; who knows what’s out there, waiting to expose All Might’s weakness. The rapid thoughts may bring a tear or two. Cup his face and kiss them away, reassuring him that everything’s okay.

The fears follow him throughout your pregnancy. Like all things (with you and him), there are good days and bad days. His emotions ramp-up during your emotional and physically unwell days. He tries his best to push them down to focus on you. But they eventually end up spilling over. It’ll be common for both of you to cry at the end of the day, snuggled together, talking about the future, worries, and anticipations.

In general, Toshinori isn’t that protective. He trusts you and your abilities. Just because you’re pregnant, doesn’t mean you’re suddenly disabled. You can still do things. Although, he does become a bit of a helicopter. Whenever you bend over to pick up a bag, he beats you to it. He swoops the laundry basket from your hands, claiming, ‘You shouldn’t be lifting heavy things,’ despite it not even being ten pounds. He’s just very watchful of your movements.

He’s very active in dieting, doctor’s appointments, and planning. He eats well, so it’s easy for him to aid you in that respect. For doctors, he has quite a lot of contacts and knows many doctors from his time in the hospital. He asks around, only accepting the best for you. Planning, shopping, and setting up the nursery are his favorite parts. He loves choosing the sweetest colors, softest blankets, and, of course, all the adorable All Might onesies, toys, and superhero books he can find. The nursery is set up perfectly.

Toshinori doesn’t admit how incredibly your pregnant body enchants him. It isn’t always a horny, sexual need. It’s about admiring your body and what it’s creating. He just wonders at you. All the time. Sometimes the changes may make you feel insecure. He’s always there to listen and assure you how amazing your body is. If you want cuddles and kisses, he’ll give them with a smile. If you want gentle lovemaking, he guides you onto your back and gives you exactly what you want.

Yamada Hizashi

Expect a loud song of love, a bear hug, and jumping for joy when you tell him. Hizashi loves kids. He thinks they’re amazing and say some of the greatest things. And he’s beyond excited to see their quirk. Of course, it doesn’t mean he’ll love them any less if they’re born quirkless. He just loves imagining a little one with a similar quirk running around your place.

He is all about redecorating and planning. The entire apartment is getting babyfied and rearranged. The nursery will be beautifully painted. He regularly comes home with cute outfits and stuffed animals. Partly, it’s because he’s just so excited. The other part is he wants you to relax through the pregnancy. No stress, pressure, and unnecessary burden on your shoulders. He’s there to make sure everything goes as smoothly as possible.

Hizashi doesn’t just spoil your unborn child; he spoils you, buying you those pregnancy pillows, your favorite ice cream, driving you everywhere, etc… He just hates how much time his jobs take. He’d rather spend his time with you. To help, he’ll ask for time off of patrols, choosing to be closer with you, physically, mentally, and emotionally, during your pregnancy.

In the later months, Hizashi is all over you. Seriously, he will not leave you alone. He’s very handsy, kneading and licking your swollen, sore breasts, and stroking your belly. Your body, and everything it’s doing, is utterly gorgeous to him. He’ll suck away, gently nursing on your nipple while dozing off to Tv, occasionally switching to the other so it isn’t left needy.

Toyomitsu Taishiro

When you tell Taishiro, you’ll only be able to get out a few words before you’re lifted off your feet and spun around. He smooches all over your face, laughing and cheering about how amazing and perfect and stunning you are. You’ll have to ask to be put down lest you get sick from all his spinning. But his compliments keep coming. They won’t dwindle for a while. There’s just too much love in his body to keep inside.

Whatever you’re craving, no matter if it’s pineapple dipped in ketchup, he gives without complaint. He may try some of your odd combinations. Who knows? You could be on to something new. At the same time, he also watches out for your health. The cravings suck. He understands that. He truly does. But if you ate something sweet/not as healthy for lunch, then he plans a healthy dinner for you. Your body’s going crazy. It needs its nutrients.

Your worries are always taken seriously. It could be the most absurd thing to be anxious over. Tai always listens. His cute smile and never-ending positivity help a ton. Your body and brain are going through a lot. He’ll do his part to validate all your feelings. He talks down the anxieties as you eat pickles on ice cream, making sure you are and feel heard.

Since he works one job compared to the others, he’s able to be with you much more, notably during the hard-to-handle days and at appointments. And he picks up extra chores so you can rest through aches and pains. Any choices you make regarding your pregnancy and birth, he supports. He may not agree with everything, but he loves you, and it’s your body. He’ll always put your comfort and wishes first.

Tai treasured your tummy before. But now, seeing you growing with his child, he’s absolutely enraptured. He places nightly and morning kisses on your belly. When he wakes you up, his kisses trail down to the bump. Every night, he rubs lotion into your tummy, kissing and cooing to his child. It doesn’t matter if you’re only one week pregnant, and it’s just a clump of cells in there. Tai still sings to them.

Gang Orca

Kugo is in disbelief when you tell him. He freezes, staring, hardly hearing your words. Give him five minutes. He’ll process what you said and snap back to the present. Watch out because you’re going to get lifted high into the air and maybe tossed like a father does a baby. He’s just practicing. It’ll only take one or two days for him to slip into paternal mode. It’s damn near instinct for him.

As per usual, he’s a gentle paragon behind closed doors. Throughout your pregnancy, he melts into a puddle of sweet honey. His overall affection skyrockets. His hands and claws are as tender as possible whenever they touch you, doing whatever you need him to: massaging your back and legs, rubbing lotion all over, or brushing your hair. He reassures you through tears. He prepares healthy meals that satisfy your cravings. And he holds you all night, keeping you safe on his chest and in his arms.

Kugo goes to every single checkup and appointment. It doesn’t matter if it’s just an ordinary visit to your primary care doctor; he calls out of work and goes with you. At any ultrasounds, expect a few tears, especially when you hear the heartbeat for the first time. He holds them in until you’re alone. The second the door closes, his forehead is nudging yours as small, loved-filled tears fall. He never thought he’d get a family. Part of him thought he didn’t deserve a family, but you’ve proven that false repeatedly.

The farther along you are, the more he watches out for you. He checks in every morning to make sure you took your medicine and vitamins. He washes you so you don’t strain yourself. If you’re waddling, he offers his arm for support and helps you stand. If your back hurts, he applies a heating patch to your lower back and puts your shoes on for you. If you need it, he can carry you to the car and into where you’re going.

As does everyone, Kugo has doubts about his quirk and abilities. People have always viewed those with mutations differently. And it can affect their health, leading to numerous doctor visits and tests. He doesn’t want his baby to deal with the staring, whispers, self-doubts, and distress he did. To support him, talk in detail about his fears and help him realize he’s never disappointed you or hurt anyone. Kugo’s exactly how he should be.

Hound Dog

Ryo doesn’t have a tail, but you’ll definitely see a little happy wiggly before he hugs you. The following week, he keeps you close as he acts differently: rubbing up against you to ensure you smell like him, touching your nose with his, lapping along your neck, sleeping incredibly close, and occasionally smelling between your legs, licking the air around there to smell better. It’s awkward, almost weird, since it isn’t average ‘human’ behavior. But if you love him, let him do it. Please. Understand his nose works differently. It reassures and comforts him to smell you, checking in to see if anything’s changed.

Ryo gets protective when you’re on your period: When you’re pregnant, it’s so, so incredibly worse. He hovers, grumbling low at those walking by. Others barely hear it. It’s intense enough for you to feel it when he’s behind you. He doesn’t like people running up to you, or startling you, or roughhousing or playing in any way. He’s lenient with children, less with teens. Women get a deep growl and scowl. God help any man that approaches you. You might have to have him wear his Hero outfit’s muzzle until you give birth. Though, that might not help because then he’d be protective of two people.

It’s only the teensiest amount better at home. He makes you rest, almost too much. After work or some time outside, he shuffles you to the couch so you can’t overwork yourself. He’s a pleasant change of pace from his typical gruff self. However, as great as he is at the physical needs, he still struggles with the emotional aspects. You can cry on his shoulder, complain, and talk about your worries all you need to. He’s just a bit clunky when it comes to reciprocating the soft emotions. But he puts all his heart into it, and it’s easy to tell.

Ryo is also one who loves pregnancy sexy. You’re swollen and sensitive, and he loves watching your breasts bounce, maybe even leak a little depending on how far along you are. And since you’re already pregnant, he releases and stays inside. After, he lays behind you, keeping himself deep in you despite being flaccid, just feeling how wet and aroused and full you are because of him. When the heated moment is finally done, he licks you clean, nearly getting drunk off your smell.

[yoonpobs]

bad boy good thing xiv.

pairing: jeon jungkook x oc

genre: angst, smut, fluff, miscommunication (we hate her lol), pining

warnings: smut, jungkook is really an asshole, the angst hurts a lot tbh, unhealthy relationships (?)

words: 5, 690

summary: a series of drabbles where you're confused and jungkook's confusing

a/n:

hello!!!! we’re here at fourteen chapters omg ✨✨when i first started this series it was mostly self-indulgent and now there are people who actually enjoy reading it??🥺 it almost doesn’t seem real T.T 

thank you so much for the love and support!!! just so I don't give too much spoilers for this chap - I apologise to my fellow geminis for the potential slander 🤣 this is more of a self-drag lmaooo 

anyway, I hope you enjoy this chap!!!

“Ah. I’m getting allergies.” Yena sniffs, scrunching her nose.

You furrow your brows in concern, “Are you okay? Do you need any medicine?”

“It’s just the seasonal changes,” She brushes you off.

You nod in understanding, “I get it. My mom has horrible reactions towards pollen so—”

“I’m not allergic to flowers.” She blinks.

“Then what—?”

“It’s Gemini season. It’s like—literally the worst time of the year.” She blinks.

You gawk at her, taking a whole ten seconds to process her serious tone when she doesn’t waver under your scrutiny.

“I’m a Gemini,” You inform her slowly.

“I mean …” She shrugs all as you scowl at her, opting to throw the closest object you had, which was your favourite pen so you decide against it; simply shooting her the meanest glare you could possibly muster.

“Look, it’s not you,” She sighs, and you’re half-expecting her to finish with an it’s me to make you scoff, “It’s me.” And there you go. “I mean, it’s Gemini’s in general because they’re two-faced bitches who have the worst emotional attachment issues. Like they’re literally what the opposite of glue is. And they’re so over-analytical. How is it like psychoanalysing every person you meet only to hurt your own feelings and sulk about it?”

You blink.

“I mean it’s not you but if the shoe fits.” She says casually, plopping a grape into her mouth that you’re tempted to slap away.

“You’re so mean!” You pout indignantly.

She cackles, throwing her head back as you continue to sulk. You weren’t that bad. You just … you were risk-averse! You liked having the freedom to observe everyone and anyone and package them into tiny compartments in your head so you could understand them better. You weren’t … that Gemini.

“You’re so cute,” She coos pinching your cheeks. “No wonder Beef One and Beef Two like you so much.” She teases.

Your first reaction is to blush because you know who exactly she’s talking about, but you have more pressing matters, like—

“You have nicknames for them?” You ask, baffled.

“Hey, I wasn’t friends with many girls in high school. Don’t girls usually have nicknames for their crushes?” She says through a pout.

You stay expressionless as you try to gauge the level of seriousness you can extract from her tone.

You realise she’s dead serious.

“Yeah, but we’re in college,” You argue, scrunching your nose, “And sides’, it’s not like they’re strangers. We know them.”

She rolls her eyes, waving you off like you were the inconvenience here. Then she leans forward, her eyes twinkling as she takes a complete one-eighty that you try to adjust to.

“So … you Gemini hoe, what’s your plans?” She nudges you.

You raise a brow, “Did you just call me a—?”

“Plans, ___. Stay on track.” She scolds.

You sigh, still fond but you pretend to be annoyed. You really couldn’t get annoyed with Yena. After all, the more time you spend with her the more you realise how much life sucked before you had her in your life. You spent each moment learning more about her quirks and habits, her choice of words that made you giggle or laugh until you were crying.

And you realise that this is how she loves, a little rough but welcomed nonetheless.

“If you’re talking about my birthday then … not much. I’m probably stuck doing admin work for the college’s charity programme.” You shrug, stabbing a fork into your soiled salad.

Yena gapes at you, “Not much—excuse me? It’s your birthday! You’re turning twenty-five!” 

You look at her dryly, “I’ve been twenty-five since the year—”

She groans, “That’s not the same! You’re like—officially twenty-five. You’re literally hitting the mark for a quarter-life crisis. Isn’t that something to celebrate?” 

“Me going through an existential crisis at the end of my degree is not how I want to celebrate my birthday but okay,” You blink.

She rolls her eyes at your realism.

“That’s not the point. Point is, this is our first birthday together and I want it to be special.” She points out.

You snort, “What? Are we doubling my birthday as our monthsary or something?”

She shoves you with a brute force that has you snickering but she continues to pester you anyway.

“You’re so dumb. So smart, but so dumb,” She shakes her head, “You’re always studying or doing some form of work that requires the use of more than one brain cell. You deserve a break. Besides, you have two dudes to pick from on how you’d like to be wined and dined and—”

“Yena!” You whine.

“—it’ll be like an episode of the Bachelorette! But just with a super cool and smart best friend that’ll make the decision for you. It’s not your birthday. It’s ours.” She emphasises towards the end.

You stare at her for a long second, before the two of you are bursting into laughter at the absurdity of her statement. 

It was nice, just to laugh about things without having your heart feel so heavy. Even if it was a mild distraction, it was still wholly pleasant to be able to just talk about mindless things that didn’t require much mental gymnastics to navigate the conversation with.

“What are the two of you laughing about?” Taehyung and Jimin arrive at impeccable timing, sliding into the booth with their own packaged food. It’s very college-student-esque, a cute paper (because no plastic) container filled with an array of assortments.

“None of your XY chromosomes business.” Yena retorts.

Jimin blinks, “You are literally so hostile.”

“Then don’t give me a reason to be.” She sticks her tongue out petulantly.

You laugh, nudging her with your shoulder, “Be nice.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes but manages to keep a civil smile on his face. Always the more rational one between the two. 

“Anyway, Yena definitely isn’t going to answer me so, what’s up?” He turns to look at you.

You roll your eyes but it’s half-hearted, “She wants to celebrate my birthday like we’re on the Bachelorette.”

“Like you’re on the Bachelorette.” She corrects.

“Oh my God, our baby’s turning twenty-five!” Jimin coos at the reminder, pinching your cheeks as he coddles you. You scowl and weakly shove him away, even if you preen under the attention.

“I’m literally older than the both of you.” You huff.

Yena blinks, “There’s no way I’m the oldest person at this table.”

Taehyung furrows his brows, “Wait—how old are you?”

She sends him a scathing glare that has his arms raised up in defence.

“Jeez, okay. Don’t answer.”

“I’m going to answer because you told me not to.” She clips. “I’m twenty-seven.”

Jimin blinks, “No wonder you and Yoongi hyung are so alike.”

You almost miss it, but as Yena so eloquently pointed out, you were a sucker for psychoanalysing people (even if you didn’t want to admit it yet) that you notice the way she flushes ever so slightly as she scoffs.

“Him? How dare you compare me to that sorry excuse of a—!”

“Okay, everyone is beneath you. I’m sorry your highness.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

You make a note to ask her about it because you know for a fact that Yoongi ‘complains’ about Yena every hour he can. It’s almost as if he can’t go long enough without mentioning her.

You smile to yourself as you duck your head.

“Exactly,” She flips her hair over her shoulders before turning to face you. “Anyway, back to you—our baby.”

Taehyung nods, “Exactly, the baby.”

You scrunch your nose, “Don’t coddle me.”

He pats your head before cooing at you like he would to an actual baby, “But you’re just so cute. You’re too good for this shitty world. Too good for the likes of mere mortals like us.”

“Not me.” Yena blinks before gesturing to their bodies, “You.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out in retaliation as you sigh at their never-ending bickering.

Somehow … it felt right. You think it most of the times but you don’t know any other way to describe how it feels to be back with your friends, laughing, bickering and just appreciating their presence.

When you and Jungkook had your issues, it was like you made the conscious choice to avoid everyone and anyone as much as you could, and any interaction you had during that period was purely out of coincidences and not the intention. You remember actively avoiding Jimin and Taehyung because it felt too draining to pretend like you didn’t have a battle in your head. Even studying or spending time with Namjoon made you feel guilty, the thought of Jungkook lingering in your mind. Yena was there through it all, but even then you saw her as much as you did with any of your classmates you so happened to share a class with.

In fact, if it weren’t for Yena you’d probably have zero social interactions as a whole because she just knew. She somehow picked up on your internal conflicts but never outwardly shamed you or confronted you about it. All she did was be there for you, offering you her presence and you were grateful.

So, yeah. Things were better, but your heart was still at its core—confused. Your feelings for Jungkook didn’t disappear overnight and you knew that you were the one that asked for space.

You forgave him … you did, honestly. But there are things you can’t forget, and those are the things that you wished you could. The words he said in principle, was outright shitty. But the fact that it came from him only poked at every single one of your insecurities that you developed over the years.

You knew it wasn’t healthy to compare yourself to other women when they were living vastly different lives than you were, but it’s proven difficult when you’re forced to see these type of women every day, at college, in your community work or on the media. 

Believing Jungkook’s apparent feelings for you was harder because, well. Jungkook was Jungkook. He wasn’t just another guy, and despite his shortcomings, he had more merits than he’d let on and you knew that people saw that. It was also the fact that Jungkook had a charm that drew all types of people in. He was soft-spoken but passionate, and people loved a quiet achiever.

You … knew about the women. Way before Jennie and way before the thing between the two of you happened. Jimin and Taehyung would always update you about the new fling or girl he had tied to his hip just as he was in his final year in high school. You had to force a smile every single time they’d snicker and joke about how your Jungkook suddenly became a man overnight.

And you noticed the trend with the women he liked. They were … captivating. Beautiful wasn’t even enough to describe them because they looked like they could carry the world on their shoulders and spark immense change with just the movement of their lips. They were confident and charismatic, outgoing and just the right amount of flirty. You were anything but.

It sucked, majorly, because you spent years agonising over the fact that you were already coined with the older sister title in the group because of the way you acted—just a little more uptight than the average woman your age. You were quiet but loud in the right company; you didn’t like crowds, socialising or mingling around with people you didn’t know and based on your observations it seemed like that was the only thing that Jungkook’s been doing ever since he made it to senior year in high school, and even in the first years of college.

You don’t resent him, you think. You couldn’t blame him because you weren’t honest either. You consented, to all of the kisses and touches even if he hadn’t officially had sex with you. You wanted to, but you were terrified. Not at the prospect of penetration but at the prospect of not being enough and the fact that Jungkook was the only person you wanted to have sex with while he had options that were far more attractive and experienced than you were.

That’s why you needed time because at least you could get your shit together even if it was an uphill battle.

“Earth to ____?” Taehyung waves a hand in front of your face with a concerned expression.

You blink, snapping out of your daze as you offer a meek smile and an apology.

“We just asked you if you wanted a small get together at Tae’s and I’s place for your birthday?” Jimin asks.

“Really?” You beam. That was exactly what you preferred.

“Yeah, we know you don’t like clubs and stuff. Just a small and intimate gathering with all your best buds.” He grins.

You nod your head, but Yena beats you to a response.

“By best buds you mean the three friends she has, which is us and the two meatheads duelling for her affection.” She snorts.

You flush, “Y-Yena!”

Taehyung snickers at your embarrassment.

“It doesn’t help that both of them are literally the biggest dudes on the football team. It’s literally like watching King Kong and Godzilla getting into a fight for world domination.”

Jimin throws his back in laughter as you fold your arms across your chest at post at the way your friends are practically crying in laughter at the image. Jimin was clutching onto Taehyung for his dear life because if he didn’t then he’d fall off the chair.

“Stop,” You whine, “you guys are being mean.”

“Oh my God, you’re literally the only person on this earth that would take two people fighting for your attention as an offence.” Taehyung groans.

“I-It’s not that!” You deny exasperatedly, “I-It’s just … awkward …”

Jimin sighs with a small smile, patting your head.

“If it’s any consolation I think it’s offensive that Jungkook thinks he even has the right to breathe in—”

“Jimin!”

“Wow. It really is like King Kong and Godzilla.” Jimin whistles lowly, eyeing the scene before him with amusement lingering in his eyes.

“Do you think they’re gonna start slamming their chests soon or …?” Taehyung trails off in a whisper, leaning into Jimin so that the two other men wouldn’t notice.

“I can literally hear you.” You say dryly.

Jimin offers you a plastic smile, “You’re meant to hear us, babe. How about you try to tame them like Jane did with Tarzan?”

Jimin nearly shrieks when you shove him so fiercely that he topples over into Taehyung’s grasp as the second part of the duo only catches him in the process. 

You sigh, completely ignoring the way that Jimin’s muttering curses that were directed to you under his breath. Instead, you were transfixed on the scene before you—which specifically is Jungkook and Namjoon staring each other down through the mirror of the gym. You were lucky that it was just the five of you since Namjoon was able to use his captain privileges to book the gym because you had no idea how to explain the fact that two big-sized men were attempting to outdo each other in their circuit reps as if they were on a suicide mission.

“Listen, when I agreed to help you out with your sets I thought I was meant to help log it in for a report.” You exasperate, but the two men continue their manly lift-off as they huff and puff their exertion away.

“Trust me, you are helping. Being the motivation is more than—”

This time it’s Taehyung who faces your wrath as you thwack him upside the head. 

From where Jungkook and Namjoon were, Jungkook can only deliver death stares into the direction of his captain who returns it tenfold. He wasn’t even sure why they were doing this but something a flicked definitely switched in Jungkook when Namjoon (purposefully) revealed that you were helping out with something. At the gym. Supposedly alone.

Jungkook’s primitive side came out because the next thing Namjoon knew was that Jungkook managed to drag himself, and Jimin and Taehyung as a diversion. He still feels his chest swell with pride when recalling the scowl on Namjoon’s face when he entered the gym, all fake smiles and a pep in his step.

“____, could you help me spot?” Namjoon breathes, sitting up from whatever the hell he was doing with the barbell. You weren’t fixated with gym language and you weren’t even sure why he was asking you when there was an entire Jimin and Taehyung right next to you.

“Uh, okay sure—“

“Noona,” Jungkook calls.

You freeze.

“Jungkook … I thought we established that you don’t need to call me that anymore.” You raise an eyebrow.

You miss the obvious glare that Namjoon shoots his bitchass friend, as well as the snorts that leave Jimin and Taehyung’s mouth.

“Pay attention to me,” Jungkook pouts. Like, actually pouts. You somehow flush because he seemed so much like the younger version of Jungkook who used to always coddle you for attention.

“Okay but after I help—”

“Yeah. After she helps me.” Namjoon interjects, and you nearly jump at the way he’s suddenly behind you, more so—pressed against your back with his hands on your hips as he moves you aside to get to another piece of equipment.

Your breath hitches because while you weren’t exactly invested in Namjoon in the romantic sense, he was undeniably attractive and … big. You could salivate in private.

“Oh my God, do you see that?” Taehyung hisses in a hushed whisper.

“Hyung is petty,” Jimin gawks.

“This is Namjoon we’re talking about. Didn’t he steal all the umbrellas from your dorm because you ratted him out to the librarian when he broke a bookshelf?” Taehyung recalls.

Jimin pauses to retract his mind to that moment.

“He’s so petty and I’m living for it. Look at Kook’s face,” He snickers, nudging Taehyung with his shoulder.

Jungkook only can clench his jaw in return because he knew that you wouldn’t be a fan of him reaching out to strangle the shit out of Namjoon. But the older boy seems fine, if not pleased with how Jungkook’s fuming in his own spot.

“Let me just …” You cock a thumb to Namjoon, before releasing a breath of your own and going to help him with whatever he needed in the first place.

“Jimin can help him. I have a more pressing problem.” He complains.

You stop in your tracks before turning around, raising an eyebrow at Jungkook who finally sits up, still staring at you like you held all the solutions in the world.

“Literally wait for your turn,” Namjoon scowls.

“My arm hurts,” Jungkook says, raising his arm to show you. 

“I don’t … see anything?” You furrow your brows.

“Because my muscles hurt, Noona,” Jungkook emphasises with a flex of his bicep and you can feel yourself get hot in the way your eyes can’t stray away.

You’re momentarily distracted by the blatant display of muscle by Jungkook that you completely miss the way that Jimin and Taehyung are struggling to breathe because of how hard they’re stifling their laughter or the way that Namjoon is contemplating on throwing the nearest dumbbell into Jungkook’s direction.

You flush, “Okay, you know what? Wait here. Let me get the first aid kit.” You mumble, quickly scampering off to alleviate yourself from the situation.

The moment you leave the room, Namjoon takes two long strides until he reaches where Jungkook’s sat, before wrapping a hand around the arm that was supposedly hurt—and squeezes.

“Ow! What the fuck hyung?!” Jungkook shrieks.

“Don’t hyung me, you brat.” Namjoon seethes, “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jungkook gapes, while Jimin and Taehyung watch in amusement.

“Me?! What’s wrong with you?” Jungkook retorts, equally as agitated, “Oh, _____, help spot me! Woe is me! Like she wouldn’t get crushed under you, you meathead!” 

“Like you’re any better,” Namjoon snaps, “Oh, Noona, pay attention to me. My arm hurts. You might as well have asked her to change your fucking diapers at the rate you’re acting like a damn child.”

“You’re the one that started all of this!” Jungkook exasperates, “With all due respect hyung, I love you and you’re my captain but I really feel like smashing your head into the wall right now.”

“That’s it?” Namjoon scoffs, “Well I’ll do you one better and let you know that every time you breathe in my direction I feel like—”

“Oh my God will you two idiots shut the fuck up?” Taehyung interjects, snapping at the two boys who pause, staring up at him with wide eyes.

Even Jimin is surprised at Taehyung’s intervention, purely because he was the type that usually let shit slide or let other people put problematic individuals into place. He was the mediator, the diplomat—not usually the aggressor.

“Wha—”

“Another peep and I’m going to smother your body under the dumbbells and leave you here to rot and die.” Taehyung seethes, staring straight into Jungkook’s soul.

That shuts him up.

“Both of you are acting like goddamn children, and for what? To battle out your masculinity to see who gets ____’s attention first?” Taehyung exasperates.

Namjoon clears his throat, “We were just—”

“—acting like a bunch of barbarians who’s never seen civilisation?” Taehyung retorts dryly, “Yeah. Because that’s exactly what this looks like. The two of you are so petty and for what? You two are literally rubbing the last remaining brain cells you have with each other but nothing is coming out from it. Like—nothing. Do you think she’d give a shit which one of you can lift more reps? That means absolutely nothing! She’s already freaked the fuck out at the prospect of her childhood best friend being in love with her and now we have Big Tit Number One and Two battling it out like you’re in the Greek Olympics.”

Jungkook blinks, and Jimin is mildly impressed.

“So before she comes back and tends to Jungkook’s hurt muscle,” Taehyung sneers, eyes narrowing at a guilty-looking Jungkook, “Both of you better sort your shit out.”

Namjoon flushes, embarrassed at the prospect of being called out, all while Jungkook is avoiding eye contact at all costs.

“Oh my God, do you have a crush on each other or something? Apologise!” Taehyung gestures towards the two boys who awkwardly blink at each other, feeling much like reprimanded children.

It’s Namjoon who breaks the silence first, clearly the more mature one in the situation.

“Look … Jungkook,” He sighs, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to … drag it out like this. I don’t mean it maliciously and you’re my friend and teammate, so I’d really hate if a girl got in the way.”

Jungkook nibbles on his lips, eyebrows still scrunched; and the irrational part of him tells him to ignore the apology. But with the way that Taehyung is glaring him down, with Jimin’s expectant gaze, he knows that he doesn’t have much of a choice.

“I’m sorry … too,” he winces at his own voice, “But just to let you know … I really …” He shuts his eyes, feeling his chest tighten when he tries to force the words out, “She isn’t just … a girl to me, hyung. I really, really like her. And—I know you like her too but … I fucked up and I really want to make things right and seeing you—”

Jungkook is flushing while he rambles on, fully aware that the rest of his friends are listening intently to him speaking his heart. But a hand rests itself on his shoulder, and when Jungkook opens his eyes he sees Namjoon offering him a gentle smile.

“I know,” He says, “I know I said I wouldn’t back off …” He trails off and Jungkook recalls the conversation he had with him in the very same gym just a few weeks back, “But I don’t think I can compete with a decade long love story.” 

Jungkook scoffs, though his ears are flushed.

“It’s really not—”

Namjoon waves him off, clasping a tight hand onto his back that tells him it’s okay, and whatever that was going on would get better. And Jungkook feels marginally better and allows himself to let out a sigh of release.

“So are the two of you gonna kiss or what?” Jimin asks in the midst of the silence.

Namjoon glares at the boy, “Don’t make me give you an extra ten laps.”

He backs down immediately, raising his hands up in defence. And at that moment, you return, all smiles and with a pant as you raise the first aid kit up.

“Your arm?” You smile sweetly, and Jungkook can only offer a weak on in return.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Depends. Will I have to run from the government if I answer you honestly?” Yena ponders out loud.

You roll your eyes but shake your head anyway. The two of you were meant to be cooking dinner but you’ve surrendered yourself to Netflix and Yena’s witty live commentary on horrible films you were scrolling through an hour earlier. Though, your head wasn’t quite in it, to begin with; your thoughts drifting to other aspects, ones that you thought too hard for and didn’t necessarily know the answer to.

It was frustrating, the way that you wanted to have a solution for everything but overthought every single case that happens to pass by your mind. 

“No one’s hunting anyone down, your anarchist,” You say, “This is a little … personal.” 

You didn’t have any girl friends prior to Yena, and that was your first mistake. You weren’t the person that actively avoided having girl friends because you thought they were dramatic or overly emotional but purely because you never knew how to befriend women. It was weird—being a woman yet being muddled with your own sense of femininity that suppressed your ability to form meaningful friendships with your women peers.

Throughout most of your childhood and teenaged life, you only had Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. While they were more than enough to keep your memories cheerful and filled with laughter, there were more personal things that you couldn’t quite approach them with. They had each other to confide in their ‘manly’ discussions, small talk that you’d often flush at—but you couldn’t ask them the same things you wanted to.

You knew, that on a fundamental level that your personal things were just … things. It wasn’t that deep, nor did it require a PhD in Gender Studies to fully understand the nuance of periods or apparent ‘girl’ problems; you just needed to listen. But you were timid, and you got embarrassed super easily—so that never boded well whenever you’d want to approach them with a question of your own.

But now, you had Yena—debatably the most open and understanding person you’ve met in your life; and you owed it to yourself, and her—to be honest, to live yourself vicariously in your girl best friends eyes—and ask:

“How do you have sex?”

Granted, there was definitely a smoother way of peeling off the bandaid, but you supposed if you were going to be discussing this one way or another, you’d go big or go home.

“I’m sorry,” She coughs, “What?”

You blink.

“Sorry, I guess I should’ve asked if you were a virgin first …” You mumble.

Yena stares at you with a stupefied expression as she gapes at you.

“Hey, repeat after me: candy, tree and cat.” She grabs you by your shoulders.

“I’m not cerebrally compromised, Yena,” you say dryly.

“Repeat,” She glares.

You huff, shoving her hand off your shoulder.

“Candy, tree and cat. There, happy?” You huff.

She eyes you weirdly as you sigh. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes!” You exasperate, “So like … how? Do you just? Penetrate?”

Yena blinks one more time, her eyes trailing to the ceiling as she asks for a higher being to give her strength before she returns her gaze onto your figure.

“Babe, that is literally the unsexiest way to approach sex.” 

“Penetration?” You furrow your brows.

She scrunches her brows, “No.” She gestures to you, “That.”

You scowl.

“I don’t know how to approach sex! That’s why I’m asking you. I literally don’t know who else to approach. If I went to Jimin or Taehyung I’m pretty sure they’d just stare at me and cry. Namjoon is out of the picture because he’d likely approach sex textbook style and I don’t need that level of detail right now. I definitely can’t ask Jungkook because he’s the guy I wanna have sex with. So yeah. I’m here because you’re a woman and the only person I can have a full conversation with without losing my will to live.”

Yena gawks at you, jaw slack as you finish your ramble; ears flushed.

“… you …” She begins, wracking her brain for the words that seem to fail her, “… okay. You know what, the fact that you’re here and putting your big girl pants on and asking me this is a feat in itself so I’m going to just ignore the fact that you said you wanted to have sex with Jungkook.”

You flush, “I was word vomiting—”

“Ah,” She holds her hands up, levelling you with a knowing glare, “If you want honest, you be honest too.”

You slump in your seat, sighing as you nod your head defeatedly.

“Firstly, I’m not a virgin. I could never be a virgin.” Yena declares, “Granted, I’ve slept with three people and two of them were women. But the idiot I lost my virginity to was, unfortunately, of XY chromosomes so … I guess I can answer your questions.”

“I mean … I know how sex works but … approaching it …” You mutter.

“And sex isn’t this groundbreaking act that requires Einstein’s IQ to partake in. It’s both intimate and not, and that’s definitely a personal preference. You can know the semantics of how people have sex, for hets in this case, which is just the classic ol’ penetration method where the penis enters the—”

“Your point?” You exasperate.

“—okay, I got a little carried away. But really, sex isn’t … difficult. It’s scary, I’ll give you that. But you don’t go into your first time thinking you’ll be great at it. Hell, you won’t even like sex that much your first few times unless your partner is a sex demon or something.”

“I mean when Jungkook …” You shudder, “When he … I … you know, did things … it felt …” You fiddle with your fingers. Your ears were undoubtedly on fire, and you were so embarrassed saying these things out loud because it was just so awkward!

“Good? You know I’m not going to judge you for it,” she says pointedly, “That’s what friends are for, right?”

You flush, covering your face with your hands in embarrassment. You knew that Yena would never judge you for something as trivial and as unimportant as your sexual endeavours, but this was still a road you’ve yet to properly navigate yourself.

“I … came,” you wince at your breathy voice, “It felt good. And … he’s experienced, you know? I just don’t want to …”

Yena looks at you inquisitively.

“You don’t want to …?”

You sigh deeply, considering your next words with a soft murmur, “I don’t want to not live up to his expectations, you know?”

She frowns at you, “Jungkook’s made some mistakes but you said it yourself. He’s in love with you,” she says softly, “There’s no pressure to have sex with him just because it’s out in the open now, you know?”

You nibble on your lips.

“It’s … more than just that,” you tell her, “I told him I needed time, and really, I do. But it isn’t because I’m confused. I mean, kind of—but really it’s because I don’t want to walk into something and disappoint him … I’m just … scared.”

Yena holds your hand in hers while offering you a gentle smile.

“It’s valid that you’re scared. But there really isn’t anything that can come out of being scared right now. The two of you worked through an obstacle, and here you are creating another one that doesn’t quite exist yet. Trust me, when the time feels right, it does. And you’ll feel ready. Will you still be scared? Maybe. But it’ll feel like it’s meant to fit within your timeline.”

You nibble on your lips, “Is it bad that I’m overthinking this?” You wince.

Yena shrugs her shoulders, “Like everything else in your life?” She teases.

You whine, shoving at her shoulder playfully where all Yena does is snicker in response. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting out of the conversation, even if it was vaguely about the ins and outs of sexual exploration. And she was right, you’ll always be afraid of something, whether it’ll benefit you or harm you because that’s what change does. It shifts your comfort zone into a space that may be unfamiliar but necessary.

You lean into Yena’s shoulder, and a wave of overwhelming emotion washes upon you when you look at her. You really didn’t know how you survived a time without Yena in your life. And as if she’s noticed your glassy gaze, she raises an eyebrow at you.

“What are you looking at?”

You grin at her, all teeth and gums on display as you hug onto her arm like a koala.

“I’m just really happy you’re in my life.” You sigh wistfully.

She pauses for one whole second before she snorts.

“Wow, talk about sex once and suddenly you’re in love with me?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you, “Tell Jeon and Kim that you’re mine now.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes.

“They’re not even competing in the same league as you are,” you assure her.

She smiles.

“So … does that mean I don’t need to get you a birthday gift?”

That earns a thwack on her shoulder.

[chasingpj]

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐞?

"My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers?"

pairing: leo valdez x gn reader

words: 2,994

warnings: cursing, mentions of genitalia

category: one-shot, soulmate!au

You don’t know who your soulmate is, but when you find out, you know the first thing you’ll do is punch him in his face. You don’t understand why he does this. Why can’t he be romantic like everyone else? You have a few friends who have the same connection you share with your soulmate, through your skin. Your friends rise from their slumbers with beautiful sketches on their arms; Or throughout the day, lines will appear as they’re being drawn, creating the most beautiful artwork you’ve ever seen. However, of course, you don’t get that; instead, you get this.

You stare at yourself in the mirror with pure disbelief, and you can’t decide whether to cry or scream. You’re used to these kinds of drawings in places like your arms, stomach, and legs, so they were easy to hide. But this has never happened before; it's never been in a place so… so visible.

You fill with rage as you observe the sloppily drawn dick on your forehead and your fist clenches as it lays on top of your bathroom sink. You fucking ass. How the hell am I going to hide this? You have to be at work in fifteen minutes, and you have this vulgar drawing on your forehead. You’re sure if you tell your boss your situation, he’d probably dismiss you because this is obviously not appropriate for the workplace. Still, you can’t even imagine trying to explain this to him. It was way too embarrassing.

"What am I going to do?” You whine as you rub your hands on your face. The drawing won’t be removed from your skin unless your soulmate removes it on his, so you had to think of a solution right away.

“Where could he possibly be where this is acceptable?” You try to refrain from sobbing hopelessly as your frantic mind searches for a solution. You think maybe a hat will work, but you discard the idea knowing your boss will tell you to take it off once you’re indoors. Suddenly, like a sign from the heavens, your solution hits you right in the face when you catch sight of your makeup bag lying on the toilet seat. You reach over, grabbing the pouch and unzipping it. Your quivering hands move too fast, causing the products to fall out and scatter into the sink. Your eyes skim over them in search of your thickest foundation and concealer. When you find them, along with your primer, you sigh, saying a silent prayer before getting to work.

***

Leo gasps sharply as the sight of his face in the mirror shocks him out of his fatigue. He touches his forehead, trying to recall the memory of last night while ignoring the pounding headache surging through his skull. He remembers getting to the club with a group of friends and how they took one shot after another until their vision was blurry. He has a faint memory of dancing with some girl, and the chaos of his 4 am Macdonald’s run with his friends. However, he doesn't recall the moment when this picture was drawn on his face. When did this happen? More importantly, who did this? He pauses, gawking at his reflection. His jaw clenches as the culprit comes to mind. He felt foolish for questioning who did this because he lives with, and he went home with one person last night, and that's Percy.

“Percy!” He yells angrily, and in the next room, he hears Percy’s manic laughter getting louder as he runs down the hall and into the bathroom with him. Percy can’t help but laugh even harder at the sight of a distressed Leo, and he silently congratulates himself for pulling such a successful prank. Leo’s expression hardens, and his gaze snaps over to him, “It's not funny!”

Percy snorts and nudges his shoulder, "Come on, loosen up!" Leo laughs sarcastically,

"Come on, loosen up!" He mocks with clear annoyance, making Percy’s laughter ceases. Leo usually takes things like this so well; he's never been angry at him because of a childish prank. The two of them have been pulling pranks on each other since they moved in together, and they would always laugh it out while deviously planning their revenge. Percy tilts his head, now growing annoyed that Leo’s annoyed.

"Why are you so uptight today?" He almost snaps, not understanding his fury. Leo's eyes narrow at him,

"My soulmate is linked to my skin." He speaks slowly and carefully, accentuating his words to make sure Percy understands how bad this is. Percy's mouth drops open, and he stares at the vulgar art on his forehead.

"Oh… shit," is the only thing he can think of saying. “Fuck, I forgot. I’m sorry,” Percy apologizes even though he knows it doesn’t help anything. He didn’t share the same connection with his soulmate, so he had forgotten entirely about Leo’s bond with his. He’s now left with regret knowing that there's someone out there going along their day trying to hide this lewd image.

Leo groans as he throws his head back. "I-It'll wash off? Right?"

Leo flips up the sink’s nozzle, dipping his head in the cold tap water to wet his face. He scrubs with his fingers, blindly grasping the soap next to him. He runs it over, spreading the suds and lightly scratching his forehead. He rinses everything off and returns to his original position to check his face now. He yells in panic when he sees the drawing didn't budge at all; it didn't even fade. Percy audibly gasps,

"I used permanent marker."

"BRO!"

"I'm sorry!"

Percy shifts on his feet as the memory of last night comes back to him. Leo fell asleep in the cab ride home, and Percy, somehow without much balance, carried him over his shoulder into their apartment complex. He squints his eyes, and with a vague remembrance, he recalls plopping him down on the couch. Leo was unconscious, and Percy’s drunk mind saw this as a perfect opportunity to prank him. He picked the first marker he saw, and in the middle of a giggling fit, he sloppily drew the phallic item and took a picture.

Leo frantically puts his head back in the sink to scrub again, and Percy stands by the door, watching panic wash over him. Leo continues scrubbing his skin, and though his skin becomes red under the friction of his nails, he persists. Percy shakes his head, walking over to him quickly, and he pats his shoulder.

"Come on, man. It's not working; you’re gonna hurt yourself." If Percy let him, Leo would scrub his skin raw. He disregards his advice and continues to scrub, bringing the soap over the drawing once again before scratching harshly. Percy, not wanting his friend to hurt himself, turns off the tap, and Leo groans, standing straight. He stares at himself in the mirror, his face dripping wet, and his skin is red with irritation. I'm so sorry.

***

Your day hasn't gotten any better since this morning. First, you wake with a dick on your forehead; second, you miss your bus because you took so much time layering makeup on your face. Then, you get to work about 15 minutes late because your commute, which usually took about 5 minutes, was delayed due to traffic. You assumed that your day couldn’t get any worse, but you discovered you spoke too soon when the system your job uses to put in orders crashed, making your job even harder than it had to be. Also, you spilled hot coffee on yourself during the morning rush, and that almost sent you straight into tears, but somehow, you prevailed.

By the afternoon, you wanted to rip your hair out when you realized you forgot your wallet, leaving you unfed and cranky. Your boss was no help to your mood either. He picked at everything you did today and held a grudge about you being late this morning. You've never had such a shitty day at work, and there is a sense of relief when you witnessed the clock turn to 4:30 pm. You immediately stood up from your chair, collecting your things before walking straight to the computer to clock out.

The last challenge you're facing is to get home in the slippery aftermath of the pouring rain earlier today. It was colder than usual; the sun’s hidden behind stormy gray clouds, and the smell of wet soil is in the air. You shiver, your arms wrapped around your frame in a poor attempt to keep you warm. You don't have an umbrella, and you hope it doesn’t start raining again. You were sure that if your makeup washes away in the rain for everyone to see the mystery under it, you will lose your mind.

You stand in the corner of the waiting shed, resting your head on the side. You take a deep breath, noticing your hands are anxiously chipping away the week-old nail polish. From the corner of your eye, you see someone join you under the shed, and out of usual curiosity, you look over. A tall, slender guy stands in the opposite corner; he wears distressed blue jeans, a black hoodie with a print you can’t see from your view, and a black winter hat. In his hands, he fiddles with a piece of scrap metal. His skin was tan, and his brown curly hair peeks from under his hat. Oblivious to your staring, he looks away from his fiddling and happens to glance over at you. There's a moment of awkward eye contact before you snap your vision away and out to the street.

You cringe at yourself for staring too long, shifting on your feet. You casually lean over the side of the curve, and you swear the light of the heavens was shining on your bus as it drove toward you. You couldn’t help but smile, a sense of relief washing over you. It’s here; you were one step closer to getting home and relaxing.

The excitement was taken away as quickly as it arrived, your bus passing your stop making a mini tsunami in the process. A wave of water splashes directly on you, and it takes you a moment to process what just happened. You stand there, cold and wet staring blankly at the curve. You felt overwhelmed, not being able to hold back the cries that you’ve been suppressing all day.

"are you-" a sob releases from your lips, stunning the unknown guy next to you. You miserably walk over to the bench, plopping down and resting your elbows on your thighs to lay your head in your hands. You sob freely, not caring about the boy's presence, and he stands in his spot, not sure what to do. He had an innate urge to make you feel better, and he doesn't know why but it pains him to see you like this. He clears his throat and decides to settle in the seat next to you. "Bad day?"

You sniffle, trying to find your breath, "The worst."

You don't look up, your hands doing their part to cover your face and your forehead. "I don't understand why everything is going so wrong.” You didn’t even care that you were pitying yourself, but you felt like you had the right considering how shit your day has been.

"I woke up with an awful drawing from my soulmate. I was late for my bus, which made me late to work; I haven't had lunch either. I'm hungry, cold, and now, soaking wet in street water." You sniffle once more. "My soulmate is so mean. He’s done nothing good with these stupid drawings. You know, all I want is something cute, like a picture of, maybe, flowers? I'd even take a tacky picture of two stick figures falling in love... shit; I’d be satisfied with a grocery list. But of course, with my luck, that doesn't happen. I get stupid drawings of... genitalia."

Leo’s body tenses next to you, and his teeth bite the inside of his lip. Drawings of genitalia? Sounds like him. Now he needed to see this drawing you were talking about, and he feels himself getting anxious at the possibility that you could be his soulmate. You continue to cry, refusing to move from your position.

"Well... it can't be that bad?"

"Oh, it's bad,” you managed to respond in your ragged breathing. Leo hesitantly reaches over, affectionately rubbing his hand across your upper back. Your breath hitches softly at the back of your throat, and there is a surge of warmth that radiates from his hand. You feel your tense shoulders begin to relax, and you furrow your eyebrows as your breath miraculously finds its regular pace. You even have this strange desire to cuddle into his frame to acquire more of his touch.

"Come on, show me. It's probably not as bad as you think." He speaks from his experience this morning. If you aren't his soulmate, he's sure that whatever you have isn't as traumatic as what he and his soulmate have.

"No! You'll laugh," you whine, your head laying firmly on your hands.

"I won't! I promise." You can tell from his voice that he was genuine, and for some reason, you can trust him. You slowly remove your hands from your face, but your head is still in an embarrassed bow. His heart pounds in his chest at the anticipation and leans forward to get a look at your face. You close your eyes, not wanting to see his initial reaction.

There it was. Right under your concealer, there is the familiar drawing faintly present. Leo's mouth drops, and his eyes widen; how is he going to tell you that he has the same picture on his forehead? You sigh shakily,

"It's bad, isn't it?" Your face burns in pure humiliation, and you now regret showing him. Leo is silent for a bit, trying to find words to explain himself.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out. Your eyebrows furrow and your eyes flutter open to look at his guilty expression.

"Why are you sorry?" He doesn't even attempt to explain himself in words. He simply slides off his winter hat, showing you the original drawing on his skin. You inhale sharply, your mind trying to process what is happening in front of you.

He's your soulmate, the person that you ideally would spend your life with. You didn't think you'd find him anytime soon or even at all. Your stomach flutters at the sight of him, and your cheeks get warm. You both gaze into each other’s eyes, and there was an immediate connection. You take in the tousled curls on his head, a bit frizzy from his hat and his big brown eyes. Your heart pumps hard in your chest, just as fast as the boy’s heart in front of you.

A few people told you that you’d feel like the world will slow down when you meet your soulmate. You’ll feel complete, and all at once, you’ll fall in love. You thought it was a load of over-romanticized bull, but you found that it was true even with your strange circumstance.

You finally found him…

But he's done this.

Your anger somehow counteracts this "in love" feeling, and you momentarily hate him for starting your day off on a sour note.

"You!" Your arms lift to strike him in the chest, but before you could attack, he grasps your tight fists.

"I'm sorry! I can explain!" He says quickly. Your arms loosen up, and you narrow your eyes at him,

"Explain yourself then." Sheepishly Leo cowers and his hands remain around your fist, just in case.

"Well," he sighs, "I partied a little too hard last night, and um, my roommate, Percy, thought it would be funny to draw this on my forehead."

"Your roommate is an ass."

"Well, yeah. Sometimes. But he was just as drunk as I was, and he didn't realize that the marker was permanent. When I saw it, I immediately thought of you, and how you’d have to walk around with this." He chews on the inside of his cheek, "I tried getting it off, but it won’t go away." You sigh, willing to forgive him since it wasn't his fault.

"So, we're gonna have this for a while?"

"Probably a couple of days or so." You groan and don’t say anything in return. You look down at your lap, still hiding your face from anyone around. "Oh, here, take my sweatshirt. The hoodie can keep it hidden.” He puts his hat back on and pulls his sweatshirt over his body, passing it to you. You smile softly as you take it from him. You pull it over your still soaked and cold frame, slipping your arms in and bringing the hood up. You mutter a small thank you, shoving your hands in the front pocket. He replies with a hum, allowing the sounds of the passing cars to fill your comfortable silence.

"Again, I'm sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, and you turn your head. You smile reassuringly,

"It's okay. I'll forgive you this time,” you say teasingly, and he chuckles. "I'm y/n, by the way."

"Leo." You reach over, taking his hand, and you guys share a handshake.

"Nice to meet you, soulmate.”

masterlists

[s1ater]

hiii i saw that you write cobra kai imagines and i was wondering if you could do a miguel imagine in which the reader is best friends with robby and has developed feelings for him while miguel still likes sam, so the reader and miguel start fake dating and emd up catching feelings for eachother?🥺💞

failure to plan, part one. miguel diaz x reader

summary 📣: above :)

warnings 🚫: gif not mine, swearing

slater’s note 🗯: also there will be A PART TWO I PROMISE

“i have a plan.”

you looked up from your textbooks, seeing a very hyper miguel, his hands pressed down onto the table, inches across from you. 

you press your lips into a thin line, narrowing your brows up to the boy, your head slightly quirked to the side, “what’s your plan?”

miguel pulled out the seat in front of you, causing you to begin to close your books and set them to the side, giving him your divided attention. 

“i need to be with same,” he said straight forward, folding his arms against the cold, blue plastic table, “i’m done constantly chasing after her.. wondering whether or not she likes me the way i like her still.” 

he paused giving you time to process his words as he tried to think of what to say next, how to form his words while your lips pressed back into a line. 

you didn’t know miguel that well... well you did but he was more or so an acquaintance than anything else. you had found yourself noticing him a lot more the moment him and robby had began to get along, causing your whole friend group to pull closer together, that being, sam, you, tory, robby, demetri, eli, and miguel. 

he was a funny kid, one you could put a lot of trust into if you needed to. 

“i know you like robby,” he paused, looking down at the table as if he was slightly ashamed for knowing this information, and you yourself were slightly shocked, but you stayed silent, resisting the urge to open your mouth. “i see the way you look at him, i know you like that kid just as much as i like sam.”

robby. that “kid” was your best friend and you had very valid reasons as to why you liked him, one being as to he was there for you since day one. robby didn’t have a lot of trust in people, nor did anyone seem to trust him... but you. 

you had met him at a skating rink where you had just about fallen on your ass if he hadn't swooped in and caught you by the arm, keeping you on your feet and away from falling into a deep pit of hurt and scratches. 

he taught you things, you kept him out of trouble, you kept each other alive and in your well beings. you couldn't have asked for a better friend nor would you ever think about replacing him. 

that’s why it was hard for you to realize that you thought of him more than just a friend. the thought of ruining what you had with for something that might not even be a possibility, that being; him liking you. 

“yeah, okay, so you know that, what about it?” 

“i have a proposition.”

“get to the point.”

you didn’t intend for anything that came out of your mouth to be rude, but the fact that he knew something so personal, something that you wouldn't even tell your mom or girl best friend about made you uncomfortable, on edge. what else did he know? 

it was ridiculous to feel so attacked by miguel diaz because really, the kid was sweet, he had no attentions in being harmful, but you just couldn't stop your mind from caving in on itself. 

“fake date,” he said it straight forward making you curve your head a bit in confusion and in thought, wondering whether or not your heard him right or if you were really going crazy faster than you thought. 

“huh?” “fake dating,” he repeated, “it’s the only way to tell whether or not if i’m wasting my time, but i don’t think i am, i just know she likes me back but i need to push her a bit.” “so you want to make her jealous?” he nodded his head, waiting for you to say something, waiting for you to say ‘yes’. 

“what’s in it for me?” “works both ways.” “yes, but i don’t think robby likes me like that, that’s why i haven’t said anything to him about it-”

“y/n,” he cuts you off, wanting to slow down the oncoming rambling that was about to spill out of your mouth in one big mess, “guy best friends usually like their girl best friends. robby just needs a push as well.” 

it made you bit your lip in thought, eyes racing back on the table top before you. the idea he presented before you was either a really good one... or a really, really bad one. 

“i’ll think about it,” you got up quickly, grabbing all your books before rushing out of the library. 

°•

monday came rather fast, making you think you didn’t have nearly enough time to think about miguel’s proposition. you knew he would probably would want an answer, especially due to the fact that you had ignored all his phone calls and texts. 

hanging out with robby all weekend hadn’t necessarily gave you any clarity either. it was the only thing on your mind as you the two of you went to the skate park and his dad's apartment, and mr. larusso’s home, and the food court, and anywhere and everywhere. the only thing. 

you begun to feel bad because twenty minutes into hanging out he had noticed, giving you hard time about it as time continued on it seemed to have been a repetitive thing. 

“what’s on your mind, kid?” “uh, nothing.”

all you could say was you felt bad. 

you hustled down the hallway, trying your best to maneuver yourself around the teen bodies that filled the hallway like a small box. it was hot and stuffy and you felt your heart all high in your chest as you tried to spot for something familiar, spot robby. 

you continued down the hallway before hitting a clearing a relief hitting you and lightening up on your chest, analyzing your environment before planning out how you’d get to your next class. 

you rounded a corner, five feet away from your physics class before you felt the weight of your body being pulled back in your past tracks. 

and you almost smacked whoever did so before realizing it was miguel, a relief coming over you as you sighed, sinking your shoulders back into a more relaxed position. 

he slightly laughed, letting go of your arm, “relax, it’s just me.”

you rolled your eyes, nodding him off, “what do you want?”

“i want an answer.”

“what?” you almost resisted the urge to play dumb but the words just fell out of your mouth, think it would give you more time to make up your mind. 

“you know what.”

“yeah, i don't know,” you turned around but he grabbed onto your shoulder quickly before flipping you back around. 

“y/n,” he gave you a pointed look that made you even more anxious than you already were.

you bit the inside of your cheek, hoping the answer would just come to you right in that moment, but it didn't. there was just some part of you that just didn't understand, maybe that was what was holding you back due to the lack of clarity on the situation. what did “fake dating” even entail? what would you have to do? and why you? what was so special about you other then the fact that you were just as helpless as he was to getting the person he liked to like him back. 

but so what? there were hundreds of girls like that at your school. 

you exhaled, almost rolling your head down in shame, “you know what, fine, i’ll ‘fake date’ you... but you have to tell me why.”

“what do you mean, why?”

“why me, miguel?” 

he rolled his eyes as if it should have been the most obvious thing in the world, “i already told you, we both have people we like-”

“yeah but there’s other people in this school in that exact situation,” you extended out your arm, getting worked up for basically nothing. 

miguel rolled his eyes again before taking a step forward, “we can talk about this later, meet me in the library later.”

and he walked off. 

°•

“hey, can i give you a ride?” 

three o’clock arrived like clock work and after seven classes of hell you walked out of your last one, completely exhausted and ready to go home, but remembered you still had to meet miguel in the library. 

it had been bearing on your mind all day, that you just wished you could forget about it and go home with robby like he offered. 

“no, i can’t,” you mumbled, diverting your body to face robby as the two of you neared the exit of the school.

“why not? got a hot date or something?”

“something like that,” you smiled just as he did. 

“alright, i’ll see you later,” he gave your arm a tight squeeze before walking out the doors, waving as he continued out onto the parking lot. 

“lord, help me.”

°•

“no strings attached, you don’t have to call me at twelve in the morning when your crying nor do i have to call you when i get hurt or some shit,” miguel was straightforward, he pulled out his phone and began reading from a list off of it, like he had had this planned way before even deciding to talk to you about it. “we’re here to make people jealous, not get attached.”

you nodded, trying to process all the things he had said in the past ten minutes about what was to go down with the two of for however how long it would take before either sam or robby broke from underneath the pressure of you two “dating”. 

miguel already had the week planned and you were slightly grateful that he knew what he was doing because you sure as hell didn't. 

“i’ll take you out to the mini golf place so then it’s public, you know? it’ll seem more official and that way people will see us together...” he continued on by saying, “we hold hands, kiss in the hall, and do all the cheesy couple shit.” “thought you were a sucker for that stuff,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows, slightly shocked by him bad mouthing all the “cheesy shit” that couples do, the type of shit you would see him doing in the halls with sam when they were still a thing. 

he rolled his eyes, “whatever, we got a deal?” 

you watched him raise his hand, reaching across the table for your own... and you took it, nodding your head still lost, but content now. 

“we have a deal.”

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[peachywrite]

Unpleasant Pleasantries

Rohan Kishibe x JosukeSister!Reader

Trigger Warning: inappropriate stand use, mild suggestive themes

Rohan thought this to be the perfect opportunity to get back at that imbecile with the hair of a 60’s delinquent, but instead found something more fulfilling than revenge.

It was your first time meeting the famous mangaka, but Koichi insisted that you introduce yourself to the newly found stand user as a formality.

~

“It’s better to make friends than enemies, y/n! So please do this for me.” He begged, clasping his hands tightly together as he bowed.

“Koichi-chan, he ripped out pages from your face and tried to do the same to Okuyasu and Josuke. I don’t know if I trust this guy.” You sighed, nervous and even a little scared.

“It’ll be fine, when you tell him you’re related to Josuke, he won’t even think about trying anything!” Koichi’s eyes glistened, still silently begging you to go.

“Fine, but if I don’t show up back home in an hour, call Josuke please.” Koichi nodded enthusiastically, shouting thank yous while he ran off to find your brother.

~

Thanks to the written address Koichi had given you, it was easy to find the large Victorian mansion that belonged to the isolated artist.

“Come on, y/n. You can do this. Just a quick hello and you’re done.” You tried to psych yourself up, taking one last deep breath before approaching the walkway that led up to the door.

Knock Knock

You waited, your heart rate a bit too quick for your liking.

You could hear the steps on the other side slowly approaching and suddenly stopping, only to find the door creak by.

“Now who would be disrupting the Great Rohan Kishibe?” The man spoke in a sinister tone, swinging the door open.

Rohan Kishibe looked nothing like how you expected him to. He was built slim but still toned, his green hair neatly styled and face slim and sharp with a cute dolphin bandage placed on the bridge of his nose. His green eyes stared at you intently, as if he was trying to analyze your face as well.

“I-I’m really sorry I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble. My friend Koichi wanted me to introduce myself. I’m Y/N Higashikata. I’m a stand user and I go to school with the rest of the boys.” You stammer out, guilt hitting you for interrupting the presumably busy manga artist.

The man eyed you with a devilish smirk, clapping his hands together like he had discovered something amusing.

“You’re Josuke’s little sister! Oh how fun! You know, you’re too cute to be related to that boy. Now please come in, I’ll make you some tea and we can talk.”

“I’m actually the same age as him, and I’d love to join you but I got... study plans with K-Koichi!” You tried to avoid his stare but as he made eye contact, you knew you had lost.

“Nonsense! I’ll give him a call and let him know you’ll be studying with me, now please come in already.” His smile grew while he pulled you into his abode by your wrists.

The house was lightly decorated with manga related memorabilia on the wood carved shelves and many original panels from famous mangas hung framed on the soft toned walls, but the home still held a grand Victorian feeling to it.

Your original unease disappeared as you took in the grandeur of the mansion and the interesting items that adorned it so carefully. Rohan smirked at the curiosity in your eyes and the quick movements they made while you focused on specific areas of his home.

“Would you like a personal tour of the property before we study? I will warn you though, not all the rooms have been styled by yours truly yet. It’s a work in progress at the moment.” The smile he bared had you suspicious again, but you didn’t want to be rude to the owner of such a magnificent estate.

“As much as I would love to, your home is absolutely stunning, I sadly only have an hour to study. My mom would kill me if I got home late again.” A hefty sigh escaped your lips and you gave him your best upset expression you could muster.

You hoped he wouldn’t key in on your lying, remembering the warning Koichi had given you about his ability to discern genuine emotions from fake ones.

The mangaka squinted his eyes for a moment, causing your heartbeat to speed up substantially, but his face returned to its usual smile that you swore held a bit of deviousness underneath.

“Oh! it’s alright, dear. I understand. I’ll save it for your next visit. Let’s get to your work now, follow me to the kitchen. I’ll prepare us something and you can take a seat by the window.” He gently took your hand, guiding you to the kitchen and carefully pulling out a seat for you at his dining room table.

A beautiful bouquet set in a hand sculpted vase caught your interest on the table as Rohan busied himself with brewing a fresh pot of tea. The flowers were bright in color compared to the muted ones of the vase, but the contrast made both appear unique and appealing to the eye.

“I see you even appreciate the smaller details of a home. Though I am a mangaka, I do dabble in other forms of artistic expression. Take pottery for example, I glazed this vase in a muted color pallet so it could stand out on its own when beautifully bright flowers were placed in it. The two compliment each other nicely, don’t they?” He set down two tea cups and began to pour.

“Yes! And I especially love the bright purples in the lillies you picked here.” You gently touched a petal, Rohan now lightly tapping his cheek, pulling out a chair for himself to sit right beside you.

His closeness and unwavering gaze brought a heaviness to your chest, making you stumble over your words.

“Um-m thank you for treating me so well and letting me study in your home, Rohan-sensei.” You began to unpack your notes and textbook, Rohan scooting closer to analyze what you had written.

“No need to thank me, my dear. Now let’s get to your studies. What is it you need to work on today?” The smile he shares with you is comforting, but you can’t help but feel like he was plotting something.

You set your pencil bag down and prepare your notebook, trying to make yourself busy by setting up.

“Biology. I’ve only just recently started going to school in person, but I tested well enough to be placed in the highest class. Today we’re supposed to label all the organs in this frog drawing.” Your tone comes off as annoyed and Rohan picks up on it, tilting his head to the side while he reads your frog diagram.

“You aren’t a fan of biology? I’ve got a few anatomy sketches of animals you could use instead of this photocopied worksheet. Maybe that will help peak your interest?” He stands and saunters out to find his sketches, leaving you alone in the kitchen.

When Rohan returns, the two of you work on your Biology homework for about an hour, finishing the entire pot of tea in the process. You found out that Rohan was quite skilled at anatomy, having an entire sketchbook dedicated to the anatomy of many living things, including the likes of frogs and flowers. He was extremely helpful and fun to talk with.

As you packed up your bag, Rohan remained seated in his chair, playing with one of the lilies from the bouquet. You weren’t sure if you should head towards the door and leave Rohan or wait for him to stand and lead you out. You were about to speak when the mangaka interrupted with a swish of his pen in your direction.

“Heaven’s Door.”

You felt a sharp shove of air to your midsection, sending you onto the floor. Every movement you attempted was futile as the grinning artist looked down at you. A deep chuckle haunted you while he leaned in closer to your face. His hands gently caressed your cheek, opening it up like a book.

“I’m sorry, y/n. You’re interesting and I’d love to learn more about you, but I’m impatient. It’ll be far easier for me to just read you. Don’t fret, my dear. I’ll make sure you don’t remember this.” He flipped through your pages, ignoring the tears that ran down onto the very paper he was trying to read.

“Now let’s just read the juicy bits today. You were hospitalized along with your brother when you were only four, a strange parasite made up of Dio’s cells attacked your immune system at age twelve and had you bedridden until fairly recently.” The curiosity he held for your story excited him, the pen he held in one hand quickly wrote onto the notepad he placed on the floor beside your head.

You felt like sinking into yourself, ignoring his quips and teases as the embarrassment of the mangaka reading your thoughts and feelings enveloped you. It wasn’t fair. Why did he have to be this way? He was so kind before and just like a flick of a switch, he changed.

“Oh, now how did you escape that? Here we are, thanks to Mr.Joestar’s Hamon lessons, you not only came back from your illness, but gained a proper stand and the ability to wield Hamon just like your father and great grandfather! Wait, what’s this new paragraph about?” He squinted closely, reading your page out loud again.

“I have to visit Rohan Kishibe today because Koichi told me to. He practically begged. Even though I’m scared, Koichi gave me his word that nothing bad would happen. Rohan Kishibe looks very different from what I imagined a mangaka to look. Well, what did you expect me to look like?” His smirk grows as he continues on.

“Ah, another new bit is here! Rohan Kishibe is very good at anatomy, he’s been kind and helpful, I’d like to get to know him better. I think Josuke was just overreacting when he called Rohan Kishibe pure evil. I could see us being friends.”

His smile disappears skimming the next sentence, his usual tone of voice changed as he starts to read. He sounded upset, hurt even.

You were the one being wronged here! Why would he get upset? He doesn’t have the right.

“Josuke was right. Rohan Kishibe is not nice, he is terribly mean. He’s using me for his entertainment. He doesn’t care. Rohan Kishibe is not kind, he is not helpful, he is cruel, I don’t want to get to know him. I want to forget him.”

“I hate Rohan Kishibe. I hope to never see him again.”

Rohan paused, looking away from your pages, trying to focus on anything else for the moment.

“W-well, I’ll just fix this last paragraph and erase it from your mind. You’re being dramatic, I’m not as terrible as you describe me.” Chuckling to himself, he tries to laugh off his obvious pain and attempts to regain his composure.

“No! I won’t let you erase my emotions!” You shouted, a wave of Hamon spreading through his arm as his pen touched your page, his attempt to rewrite your memory foiled.

The mangaka was sent flying back, his right arm dropping the pen and your face finally shutting closed, returning your ability to move. Although you were upset at the betrayal of trust you gave the man, you felt a twinge of guilt in your heart when you spotted his still form draped across the wood floor, cradling the arm you had burned with your Hamon.

Running to his side, all thoughts of malice left your body while you attempted to get a better look at his injury. His arm was still intact thankfully, but it was badly burned and needed to be set correctly and quickly if he ever wanted it to heal properly. You took a deep breath and turned Rohan over to see if he was still conscious.

“Oh god, Rohan I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Your eyes fill with tears again as you see the artist weakly rest himself against the wall, still holding his arm close to his chest.

“No, no it’s alright. I brought this on myself. I accept that.” He grimaced, trying to take a peek at his injuries but too frightened to actually check.

“You read my thoughts and history, it wasn’t right but you didn’t physically hurt me. I don’t know how that happened, but I promise you I’ll fix it.” You swore to the manga writer, now searching through your backpack.

When you found your pair of scissors, you went into full first aid mode, removing the sleeve from his right arm by carefully cutting the loose cloth off. After tossing the short sleeve to the side, you cut the bottom of the skirt you were wearing off into a long bandage-like shape of clothing and ran it under the cold tap water from the kitchen sink, returning to the injured Rohan.

“I’m going to wrap your arm with this, it won’t be painful if you let me use my stand, but I’m going to ask you first before I use her on you.” The man nodded, accepting your offer to erase the pain.

“Under Pressure. She’s a stand that has the ability to manipulate emotions. She can change them within a radius or focus on only one individual. When she focuses on a single person, she is only able to change their emotion to the opposite of what is being felt.” You began to wrap his arm, nervous about what he might feel when you placed the wet fabric loosely around it.

All Rohan could do was bite back his lip to avoid making any embarrassing sounds. Instead of the immeasurable pain he imagined to come with dressing a freshly burned wound, he felt a wave of euphoria. He now understood what you meant by the “opposite” emotion would be felt.

The artist never knew wrapping his burned arm would feel so good, every touch caused his breath to hitch in his throat and his eyes to water. It confused him, even though he understood that the opposite of pain was pleasure, it still startled him every time you did one more pass of the homemade bandage.

He tried his hardest not to be flustered, but when you finished off his arm by tieing the last bit with a knot, he let a small whimper escape his lips. His hand shot up to cover his face, it’s hue now a bright crimson.

Your cheeks turned bright pink as well. You turned away swiftly, to avoid eye contact.

“U-Um just stay put. I’m gonna borrow your phone for a second and let you catch your breath.” Scratching the side of your cheek, you stand up and make a b-line for the phone, dialing your home and hoping that Josuke would pick up. You glanced at the clock set on the wall, it read 8:15.

I’m late.

As soon as the phone line rang once, you spotted the front door to Rohan’s manor fly across the main hall. Peeking your head out from the kitchen, you see a furious Josuke with Koichi in pursuit.

“ROHAN-SENSEI! WHERE IS MY SISTER YOU CREEP?! SHE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE HOME 15 MINUTES AGO!” He yells out, his voice echoing throughout the home.

“Josuke! I’m here! I was just about to call you. Listen, I messed up bad and hurt Rohan. He’s in the kitchen bandaged up but I need you to heal him all the way.” You run to Josuke, giving him a tight hug while trying not to cry from the stress of the situation.

Josuke squeezes you once and let’s you go, looking you over from head to toe so he could make sure you weren’t injured as well. When he spots your torn skirt, his aura radiates a dark malice you’d never seen him show before.

“Wait Josuke! I did this to myself, we didn’t have bandages so I cut some cloth.”

He looks you over again and sighs heavily, the purple hue that was full of rage, leaving him.

“Ok, fine. Where’s that jerk? I’ll fix him up real quick so we can go home.” He grumbled, following you into the kitchen.

Even though Rohan wanted to refuse any treatment from Josuke, he finally accepted the help when you threatened to cry on the spot. His arm had returned to its previous state, unburned and fully functional, thanks to Josuke and Shining Diamond.

Josuke picked up your backpack and held the now fixed front door open for you, while Rohan stood and waved goodbye. You awkwardly returned the wave and made your way back home, your thoughts chaotic and confused.

On the one hand you felt guilty for putting Rohan through such an immense amount of pain, but you were also upset at the humiliation he put you through by reading your life with Heaven’s Door. These thoughts plagued your mind as you laid your head to rest for the night.

~

It was roughly two in the afternoon when Rohan Kishibe knocked on your front door. A short but older woman answered, complaining about the loudness of the knocks when she looked over the artist.

“Oh, my apologies. You’re that Rohan Kishibe my kids talk about. How may I help you, Mr. Kishibe?” She asked with a warm tone to her voice, leaning against her door frame and smiling up at him.

“Is y/n in? I’d like to deliver this to her personally.” He spoke softly, shaking the box he held in his hands.

Your mother couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. He appeared to be anxious and uncomfortable, most likely it was his first time gifting something like this.

“She’s not home yet, but give her five minutes. Why don’t you come in? You can wait for her up in her room, just don’t go raiding her drawers or anything.” She joked, Rohan’s cheeks turning vivid scarlet.

“I’m only pulling your leg, sweety. I know you’re better than that. Now come on! Have a seat at her desk and I’ll bring you up some lemonade.” Rohan followed her inside.

When they reached your room, Mrs.Higashikata opened the door and waved her hand to your desk seat.

“Pull up that chair there and I’ll be back with some refreshments.” Her smile gleamed at him. She walked off to the kitchen, leaving the artist alone in your room.

Rohan browsed around your room, taking in the personality that was apparent by the many bits of decor that gave your little private space a peculiar style. Your walls held photos printed on Polaroid film, sketches presumably drawn by you, and posters of your favorite video games and shows.

When he glanced around your room, he was immediately caught off guard when he spotted two volumes of his very own manga, propped up and on display in your bookcase. To say he was flattered was an understatement, he was completely floored. You were a fan of his?

His heart was heavy all of a sudden, he felt a dreadful pain in his chest while he held the book in his hands. He turned his head toward the doorway when he heard your voice greet your mother. To regain himself, he quickly skimmed through the pages of the manga he was holding, hearing your distant conversation come to an end.

You entered the room. Dropping your bag at the corner of the closet, your eyes never leaving Rohan while you take a seat on your bed. The mangaka gently placed your copy of Pink Dark Boy back in its original position, turning around now to face you.

“I’d like to humbly apologize for my abhorrent behavior and actions yesterday. I was terrible. I know it might be asking too much of you, but I brought you this as a peace offering. I want us to start over. I’d like to get to know you the right way.” He passes you the box he was carrying with him, nudging you to open it.

Casually unknotting the bow and removing the lid from the bottom, you slowly lift what appears to be a white sundress out of the box. It was beautifully made and looked to be just your size.

“I know it’s not the skirt you tore, but I felt like you deserved something a little more unique.” He averts your gaze quickly when you attempt to gauge his reaction.

The mangaka appears to be flustered, apparently not very used to apologizing. His eyes held a fear of rejection but also a glimmer of hope. A breath you never knew you were holding was released with a quiet hum.

“It’s beautiful, thank you, but do know that buying me things isn’t going to repair my trust in you. We can at the very least start over though.”

Rohan smiled to himself, thankful for your empathetic nature, and nodded a quick yes.

“Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, how about we take that dress and enjoy some tea at the cafe? My treat.”

[script-nef]

An actual break | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.6k words; Beach date [4/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

You haven’t been to the beach in months. So a car trip for hours, where you can blank out and peer out of the window to enjoy the wonderful and ever-changing scenery is amazing. Dipping your feet in the water or eating from food vendors or enjoying the warm summer sun on your skin. Perhaps getting a tan if the weather is perfect. This would all be perfectly enjoyable and possible.

If it wasn’t for work.

“[Surname]-san, why are you coming with us? You said you can’t fight.” Itadori calls from the backseat, nestled not-so-comfortably between Fushiguro and Kugisaki. 

Wouldn’t it be better if Kugisaki is in the middle since she’s the smallest and the skinniest? The thought drifts into your head but you soon understand why. As soon as the words leave his mouth it’s met with a firm and resounding slap on the arm. Itadori’s yelp of pain is silenced under her hiss of “God, you’re so tactless! Now move over, it’s getting cramped with all of the bags.” Ah, she didn’t want to sit in the middle. And what bags? I didn’t bring any.

They keep their banter up and a quick glance to both Gojou and Fushiguro indicates that they have no intention of stopping it. Gojou is actually humming through the bickering. Why do I have to be the adult? He’s like, 5 years older than me. That’s literally what he said as the reason to drive instead of you. 

“It’s fine, Kugisaki-san. I’m coming along because there’s been a lot of cursed spirit activity around here and I need to see if something abnormal is happening. I’m not going to get in the way of the fight so you don’t need to worry.” You send Itadori a smile through the back mirror which he responds with a quick nod, then a confused look.

“Isn’t that Gojou-sensei’s responsibilities?” The mentioned adult laughs and smoothly makes a right turn. You want to slap him.

“Normally, yes, but he insists on being insufferable.” You turn to face them, leaning onto the seat with a scowl. “The report he made was nearly illegible and last time something like this happened, and I had to sit down with him for 3 hours to complete it. Even then, he was going off topic half the time and trying to distract me. Itadori-kun, Kugisaki-san, listen to me. If he doesn’t do his work, you have to practically force him.”

“Doesn’t work.” Fushiguro comments while looking out the window. Gojou has the audacity to laugh again.

“We had a great time! You were laughing your head off by the time we were done.” A light tug on your shirt makes you sit back properly. The scowl stays in place.

“I missed dinner! And I missed the last episode of Haikyuu thanks to that!”

“Fine, fine. I’ll take it up by buying you dinner, okay?” He must be kidding if that makes up for missing your favourite anime. Kuroo came and went thanks to him. The car comes to an abrupt stop just as you’re about to complain again. “We have arrived!”

Salt wafts in the air as the sea twinkles underneath the afternoon sun. It’s hot today, and humid enough to make your clothes stick to your skin, which is gross. Sunny and warm means a swim will be ideal, but you have to take care of the whole recurring curses thing first. Previous reports have said that they were all mid-level, so hopefully Gojou’s students won’t have that much of a problem taking care of them. That also means they, including you as well, might have the opportunity to relax for the rest of the day. 

The actual spot is somewhere in the nearby forest, filled thick with trees and so large that even if someone went missing it would take ages to search. An ideal hunting place since a lot of people visit there. Numbers dropped quite a bit after the fifth person “went missing”. 

The first task is to cover the place with a curtain. Since the place is so large and not encompassing the entire place was deemed too risky, large amounts of cursed energy is required. Hence Gojou’s efforts right now.

“[Name]-san.” Kugisaki calls you. “Are you coming in with us?” Her voice is tentative, like she doesn’t want to offend you. It’s kind of funny because she shows more respect for you than her actual teacher for some reason. Gojou complained about it before. She doesn’t know the extent, or more accurately the lack of, your powers and has a right to be worried. All she knows is that you can’t fight. 

“Ah, I am coming in, but I’ll stay far away from the fight. You don’t need to worry about me.”

“And I’ll be right by her side!” Gojou snaps into thin air, linking his arm with yours.  “Your personal bodyguard! But I’m sure you guys can handle this one.” Still humming a tune, he sends them along their way with a reassuring smile. You smile at Kugisaki and wish her good luck. Shooting Gojou a suspicious glare, she runs ahead to the two boys and starts whispering. They look back at the two of you and get into what seems to be an argument. A bad thing to do right before a possibly life-threatening mission.

You watch the group disappear deeper into the woods, fear gripping at your heart. This is actually the first time in the field after years of being tucked away in an office. Ken-chan specifically requested it due to your unique cursed energy situation. Apparently that was the first time he asked for a favour to the principle and he never asked for anything again. They can handle themselves, you’re sure, but Itadori already had a close call.

“Worried?” Gojou, on the other hand, sounds like he has no concerns in the world. Maybe that’s a testament to how much he trusts his students. It doesn’t alleviate your agitation. “It’s fine, we can just take a break here and if trouble comes, they can take care of it themselves.” You stare at him incredulously. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’ll step in if something goes wrong. You’re all in safe hands.”

There is no one better than him in terms of fighting with cursed energy. How on earth someone like this gets imbued with endless power, you’ll never know. Sighing, you take a seat on a fallen log. The moss on them tickles your fingers. It feels nice, something to distract you from your brain being its usual bastard and thinking the worst case scenario. Gojou plops himself down right next to you. 

“We can go see them if you’re that worried, mother hen.” Nudging his leg shuts him up. Closing your eyes, you concentrate on reaching out for their cursed energy. Eight signals flicker from where they went, three blazing stronger than the others. One of them is nearly blinding. Sukuna is on a completely different level. If there’s that much of a difference in energy, they’ll finish soon and come back to have fun for the rest of the day. God knows they need it.

Your eyes flit open and come face to face with Gojou’s blindfold. It causes you to fall backwards and you brace for impact with a little yelp. But Gojou’s arm surrounds your abdomen, lifting you into the air and onto your feet. Heartbeats thud in your ears thanks to the sudden adrenaline boost.

“Did I scare you?” His laugh is cheeky. “I’m bored… Wanna play 20 questions?” As usual, his train of thought is impossible to even attempt to follow. A window of hundreds of tabs wrestling to be the first all the time is probably what the inside of his mind looks like.

“Sure, why not.”

Fushiguro, Itadori and Kugisaki all perk up when they receive the news of a day off to enjoy the beach. Since it’s closed off to the civilians, it’ll be like a private party. Something to keep their mind off of another mission that’s bound to come soon.

While they run off to the beach, you go to talk to the park rangers for the paperwork. Gojou asks if you want company but someone needs to supervise the children. The process takes barely 10 minutes anyway.

When you come back to the beach, the trio is screaming in the sea while trying to fight each other. Even Fushiguro is laughing. Childlike innocence is beautiful and long overdue. Two huge parasols and towels are laid out nearby where they’re playing. Gojou is out of his usual attire and in a swimming trunk. His blindfold is still on. Is this what was in the bags?

Now that you look more closely at the students, they’re all in swimwear as well. Looks like you’re the only one that didn’t get a memo. 

“Heya! Done?”  

“No thanks to you, Mr The-Whole-Reason-I’m-Here-In-The-First-Place.” He laughs at the nickname. 

“You should change.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit. Nobody told me and I was just thinking of dipping my feet.”

“Nobara brought you one. It’s in the bag labelled ‘If you look inside I’m going to kill you.’” Laughter comes out at the absurdity.

“Why did Kugisaki—”

“Because she wants you to relax. Now come on! Let’s have fun!” he pushes you excitedly towards the car. It’s really weird how someone your senior has more energy than you and his three students combined. Sighing, you trek back and find the bag. It really is labelled that, in caps. Kugisaki is a good kid. 

There’s a bathroom nearby for you to change in. The wind is still pretty strong when you walk out but you’re saved thanks to the school jacket. There’s also a pair of flip-flops. Ken-chan must have helped since they all fit perfectly. 

Itadori is being half-drowned when you come back. Fushiguro and Kugisaki are merciless when it comes to fighting. Gojou smiles as you walk into his line of sight. Scooting over to let you into the shade, he lies back onto the towel and stretches his legs out into the sun with a slight groan. You stay sitting up, watching the three children absentmindedly. 

Sunlight tickles your feet. The sea breeze stops it from being too hot but it’s slowly getting stuffier under the jacket. Quickly discarding it, Gojou catches your eyes while you fold it up.

It’s impossible to tell if he’s awake or sleeping thanks to his signature blindfold, but this is the most relaxed you’ve seen him in years; hands folded behind his head and muscles completely loose. Small scars dot his body, probably gained from fights which he deemed insignificant enough to bother Shouko with or heal himself. In a way, it’s a reminder for all the battles he’s survived. Pretty easily too, you’re guessing. There’s a deep one on his stomach and your hand moves towards it for some reason.

Long fingers intercept your hand just before it touches the scratched skin, entwining themselves to you. One end of Gojou’s lips quirks up. 

“I’m going to be embarrassed if you keep looking at my body, you know.” You immediately attempt to rip your hand back but he’s got you locked tight. He’s not even using Infinity. Heat threatens to explode your face because he’s been awake all this time and you’re going to die from shame. “If you wanted to touch me then you could have just asked.” Your fingers graze against the skin on his stomach for a split second but he loosens his grip and you will be damned if you don’t take that chance. 

Gojou cackles, enjoying your flustered state, and he’s halfway to suffocation because he’s laughing too much. His instincts still allow him to move out of the way for your punch. Doesn’t stop him from laughing though. Even his students, who were screaming and playing like they didn’t have a care in the world, are looking at the two of you. God, where’s a hole for me to die in right now?

Eventually, his laughter dies off. He’s still chuckling though. His teeth glint in the light as he gives you a wide smile. A sense of foreboding washes over you. 

“Up we go!”

“What?” Two arms hook under your knees and back, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Your body bounces in his arms every time he takes a step closer to the sea.

“Wait Gojou, wait wait wait wait!” 

“Gojou-sensei wai—” 

The water is freezing. 

“Gojou Satoru, I’m going to kill you!”

“That’s admirable! I’m sure you can do it!” Fushiguro snickers as you swipe an arm at Gojou, who moves away effortlessly again. Hair is plastered to your face and this rage is not going to subside unless you rip the blindfold off his smirking face and dunk his head into the water. But he keeps dodging you, just barely, as if to taunt you further.

Exhaustion sets in quickly since moving around in water is a lot harder and anger eats away at your stamina. Just as you’re about to give up, Gojou’s face is slapped with a wave of water. Everyone looks to Kugisaki. She has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Pfft.” Fushiguro’s laughter breaks the silence. Itadori snickers at Gojou’s drooping hair. Soon everyone’s laughing. Then Gojou whips water that hits all three of them straight in the chest with a resounding smack. They immediately retaliate with a wave that you get caught up in. 

It somehow turns into a students vs adults fight. Delighted laughter echoes in the air as everyone yells and shrieks when assaulted with icy water. There’s an unspoken rule to not use cursed energy, which is why your side is being pushed back. There’s no beating three excited kids when they’re on a holiday high. 

Backtracking a bit to get away from the constant surges of water, you don’t realise you’re going deeper and deeper into the sea. A rock shifts underneath your feet and you’re plunged into the cold grips of the sea, not even given enough time to call for help. Panic overtakes your senses as you squeeze your eyes shut, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. 

“[Name]!” Warmth engulfs you as Gojou lifts you out of the murky depth, worry and dread weaved into his voice. You blink rapidly as he gently brushes the hair off your face, and you see his eyes without the blindfolds for the first time. “Look at me, are you alright?”

They’re… indescribably beautiful. It’s the purest and translucent blue you’ve seen in your life, able to beat the colour of the ocean or the sky on its clearest days. It could compete with even the most exquisite sapphire locked up in a vault underground. And they’re clouded with concern and fear because of you.

“[Surname]-san!” Bringing yourself up by hugging Gojou’s neck, you see the trio wading through the water to you, dread clear on their faces. Itadori reaches you and rapidly asks if you’re fine and that he can’t possibly describe how sorry he is. It looks like he’ll dig his head into the ocean floor if you ask him to do it. Like he’s waiting for you to reprimand him.

But all that comes out is laughter, bright and childlike. They all look at you like you’re crazy. You have no idea why you’re laughing either. Maybe you’ve finally gone insane.

But being in Gojou’s arms, seeing his and Itadori’s face relax, brings you so much happiness. Tightening your arms around Gojou’s neck, you rest your head on top of his as he calms them down. 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline from nearly drowning, maybe it’s something else, but your heart thumps rapidly into your ribcage, probably loud enough for him to feel.

Next chapter →

[luzarya]

The Broken Sketchbook Reveals Yuu's (Not-so Biggest) Secret

Twst x Yuu

[Where Yuu is (accidentally) a crossdresser and likes to draw wlw things. ]

Summary: Grim is curious as to what were the contents of Yuu's sketchbook, employing Ace's and Deuce's help. The contents reveal a secret that Yuu wasn't even trying to hide.

[or, Yuu is in a glass closet.]

ao3 link: here

warnings: none

word count: 1,574

----

Grim pawed at the sketchbook at him. It was a rather ordinary sketchbook, plain black with a plastic covering. Yet, for being so ordinary, the sketchbook had a single lock on it. It was clear that it was makeshift, straps sturdily glued on, the lock being small and requiring a numeral passkey to unlock it.

Grim had thought about using his flames to melt the glue, but decided against it- he knew how much Yuu was particular about their sketchbooks.

Grim looked around the Ramshackle dorm- it was after school hours, and Yuu was working a shift at the lounge. As usual, he had seen Yuu carry a sketchbook, one with a similar makeshift straps and a lock, although it had a sticker of a bunny on it. The sketchbook he held in his paws had no distinction, save for letters that spelt out words in a foreign language. What the words meant, he didn’t know.

But it was a curious item, one that practically begged to be open and exposed for all the world to see.

“Oh!”

Coming up with an idea, Grim grabbed the item with his mouth, running off outside.

0

“Eh? I don’t know how to take this off.”

“You didn’t even try!”

Grim pouted, the flames in his ears shifting a bit too unpredictable for Deuce’s tastes.

“It’s just a sketchbook, and it’s obvious that Yuu doesn’t want us looking through their things.” Deuce replied, flipping the book around. He took a look at the words written in bright silver, raising a brow.

“Is this… a foreign language?”

Grim shrugged, “Heck if I know… oh wait,” he paused, “I think I’ve heard Yuu say things that I didn’t understand.”

“Like what?”

“Never paid attention.”

Deuce only sighed, and gave back the sketchbook to Grim. “Well, either way, you should really return this,” he glanced to the side, “I’ll go back to playing basketball. Later, Grim.”

Deuce ran off, the sound of squeaking sneakers being the last thing Grim heard.

“Oh, Yuu’s sketchbook?”

“Yep!”

Ace picked up the book, giving it a curious glance over. “Huh.”

“Can ya open it?”

“Maybe. I might need a knife though.”

“Where would I get a knife?”

“The kitchen? Track is almost over, and Yuu doesn’t come back until late night right? We can just use one of your knives.”

“But it’ll be obvious!”

Ace sighed, “Do you want to know what Yuu draws or not?”

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then I’ll meet you back at Ramshackle!”

Grim had a bad feeling about this. The last time he tried to open up one of Yuu’s sketchbooks, he was met with a rather angry Yuu, who, calmly (yet frighteningly) spoke to him.

Grim quietly hoped that all would go well.

“Here ya go.”

Grim gave Ace the knife- it was a butter knife, but it would do the job just fine. Ace thanked the creature, and began to break the glue. He went in and up and down motion, the knife grinding against the mold of glue. It took a while, but he was making progress.

After a minute of doing so, the glue relented and gave away. No loner was the strap glued down, the sketchbook now open to be viewed.

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Deuce quietly said. It was an invasion of privacy, but he too, was curious as to the contents of the sketchbook. Why did Yuu put a lock on it?

The first page had Yuu’s number and the location the book should be brought to- something of which was inscribed on the back of the book. Odd. Ace flipped the page- blank. Another page. Blank.

“What the heck…?”

He flipped to the next two pages, and finally, there was something.

It was a naked woman.

“Eh?!” Deuce stared at the drawing, his cheeks reddening.

There was nothing inherently sexual about the drawing, just a woman tying up her hair, sitting, a hairband in their mouth. The woman was glancing downwards, her arms up and hands hiding in hair. It was a rather simple drawing, although it was obvious that there was more work done on the hair and arms than the woman’s face or their body.

Why Yuu had drawn this, they didn’t know.

Ace flipped to the next page, and this time it was of two women kissing each other lovingly. Unlike the last drawing, these women adorned what looked like traditional dress (from where, no one knew), one of the women holding a bouquet of violets.

“Well, this is most certainly something.” Ace didn’t know what to make of the drawings. Deuce’s face was still red, and likely will remain red for the next few minutes.

Ace flipped to the next page, took a good look for one second, then closed the sketchbook. It was… rather explicit to say the least.

“I see why Yuu had it locked it…”

“Told you guys it was a bad idea…”

Ace slightly opened up the book, going to a random page, fully opening it once he knew it was appropriate.

It was a rather detailed drawing, more so than the last. It looked like a self portrait, although heavily stylized in a cartoony way, as instead of what one would consider what would be a normal skin tone- it was a pastel blue. The lashes were large, the wings too big to be humane. Their outfit was something they had never seen before, in an unknown aesthetic from old times, in a neon blue, but darker. In fact, the entire drawing was in blue, with multiple shades of blue in every way possible- metallic, textured and partnered, dull and tainted.

“Well, this is certainly different from the others.” Ace couldn’t quite believe that this was drawn by the same person, although he did identify some trademark traits- Yuu often drew the noses with a triangle if it was stylized, more realistic if… well, realistic.

“What in the world is y’all doing?”

Everyone turned around to see Yuu standing right behind them. They could see one of their eyes gleaming, the three sensing danger from Yuu.

“It’s not what it looks like!” Deuce squeaked out- this was the first time he ever felt fear towards the Ramshackle prefect.

“Is that so?” Yuu drawled out, eyeing the sketchbook in Ace’s hand, “pray tell, then why is my usually locked sketchbook open?”

“The lock broke!” Ace lied, his voice high.

“Really?” Yuu glanced at the knife, then back to Ace, “Then why do you have a butter knife?”

“We broke it! I wanted to see what was inside!” Grim yelled, giving his best attempt at a bow. Yuu’s facial expression softened, but as soon as it did, it returned to its original expression.

“Is that so?” Their voice was quiet, picking up their sketchbook. They let out a small sigh, yet their demeanor didn’t change- Ace and Deuce could still taste the tension in the air.

“Sorry...” Deuce apologized, although it came out weak.

“If you were curious, you could’ve asked,” Yuu looked at the damage, “I had more appropriate drawings elsewhere. I keep them locked for an obvious reason, you idiots.”

They took their sketchbook, and the broken lock, away. Their items were neatly laid on the table, including their other sketchbook that they had taken to work.

“Maybe we can ask Yuu about that one then?” Grim suggested.

“Sure.”

Deuce nearly jumped at the voice, not having expected Yuu to be so quick in returning. Ace noticed this, and laughed.

“Pfft, you should see your face, dude.”

“Oh, shut up! As if you weren’t scared earlier!”

“I wasn’t the only one!”

“Enough,” Yuu walked over, their voice effectively stopping the two from yelling at one another. The teenagers huffed, but they remained silent.

Yuu picked up their work sketchbook, inputting the numbers to unlock it. Now open, it revealed a number of doodles, some detailed, some rather simple. Notes were written, reminders for the future, and numbers to remember.

“So….” Ace spoke up, “What’s the deal with the naked ladies?

“...”

“Yuu?”

“I’m… a lesbian…”

“Wait what-”

“You’re a girl?!” Deuce looked at Yuu with wide eyes.

“Yes? I thought it was obvious?” Yuu returned the same look at Deuce.

“It wasn’t obvious! You never said anything!”

“I never thought I had too???”

“Y’know, this explains why Deuce never acted nervous before,” Ace quietly commented to Grim, watching the scene unfold.

Grim nodded, “I thought it was pretty obvious that Yuu was a girl.”

“I need.. To process this information…” Deuce got up, and walked out of Ramshackle Dorm, leaving a very puzzled Yuu and a calm Ace and Grim. Yuu let out another heavy sigh.

The tension was thick and heavy. In an attempt to lift the air, Ace spoke up.

“So. Girls?”

Ace looked at Yuu’s facial expression. Their puzzled expression melted to a softer one, one with a smile, replying,  “Girls.”

Ace raises his hand, making a sort of fist. Yuu raised a brow, but raised a fist of her own. Ace smiled, Grim watching as Ace fist-bumped Yuu.

“Girls.”

…

…

...

...

Meanwhile, outside, Deuce was walking in a circle, wrapping his head around the thought that Yuu was a girl.

“Why am I so stupid?!” He cursed at himself.

“Eh, you didn’t know?”

Deuce turned his head, his eyes locking with those of Jack’s confused eyes. It took him a moment to process Jack’s words.

“You too?!”

[miraculouscontent]

Based on your tags there's apparently a new episode called 'Lies.' Do I even WANT to know what its about?

No, but I’m here to provide anyway. :’3

(note that the episode takes place at the same time as “Truth,” with Lies as an akuma coming in right after; funnily enough, this means the scene below with Marinette and the kwami literally can’t exist in the placement that it is; keep that in mind when you realize what they use the end of the scene for because clearly the priority wasn’t on the grimoire, it was to reassure its audience of “something”)

- The episode opens with Marinette in her room and the kwami flying around, complaining to Tikki about how the grimoire doesn’t make any sense (as she apparently does not have the translated version). Tikki insists that it’s normal and that its meanings are hidden on purpose to protect the secret of their powers. Marinette points out that she - a guardian - still can’t understand it, and Tikki assures her that she’ll discover the secret soon like Master Fu did; after all, she helped with the aqua power-up. Marinette is now filled with confidence, but gets distracted when the kwami drop an apple on the keyboard, causing the news to pop up on Marinette’s monitor (how does Marinette’s computer work at this point anyway???).

- Nadja is talking about Paris celebrating Prince Ali’s birthday, but the kwami who dropped the apple swoop down and retrieve the fruit, stepping on the keyboard a bit more in the process. The news swaps to Alec, who is talking about Aaaaaadrien (there it is) and an exclusive report about his life. Marinette chimes in with Adrien’s name and watches as a couple clips are shown where some reporters apparently followed Adrien’s daily life. Marinette sighs about how amazing Adrien’s life is.

- Cut to Adrien coming home. He sets up his phone up as usual to fake that he’s playing piano, then cheers that he’s finally free and says his transformation phrase, much to Plagg’s dismay as he was about to eat some cheese.

- Chat Noir leaps out of his house and across rooftops until he gets to his apparent designated spot for patrol. He calls Ladybug, but she’s not picking up due to not being transformed, so it goes to her answering machine. Chat leaves her a message and tells her that he’s there on time “as usual,” then reminds her that it’s time for patrol and asks if she forgot.

- The scene speeds through Chat Noir idling on the rooftop in various positions until he decides to check his baton for new messages. He has none. He lays back and calls Ladybug again but gets no answer, leaving her a message saying that maybe she has “more important things to do now that she’s the guardian” (intentionally using air quotes on that one). He cheers back up to say that “it’s okay” because he’s the cat for the job and he’ll just start patrol without her, adding that he’ll “see her soon” and to “let him know.”

- Chat Noir leaps elsewhere and sees some kids shouting his name. He hops down, ready for a fight, but it turns out that they just wanted to take his picture. He checks his baton again, but still no messages. The scene then to Chat Noir idling on a bench in the park between “Mister Banana” and Xavier Ramier (”Mister Pigeon”). Chat Noir gives some one-sided banter to Mister Banana, then suddenly turns to Xavier and points out that he hasn’t been akuamtized for a while. Chat Noir then proceeds to egg on a potential akumatization, asking if Xavier misses being Mister Pigeon and then going on to question if he feels any negative emotions. Xavier thanks Chat Noir for worrying but assures him that he’s in an excellent mood that day. Chat Noir, saddened by this, gets up to leave, and Xavier asks him to say “hello” to Ladybug for him. Chat Noir says that he will... “if he sees her one day.” He checks his baton to see that he has no new messages still.

- Cut to Chat Noir idly in a hotel with Chloe’s butler offering him a glass of milk. He asks about Ladybug and points out that she hasn’t shown up a lot lately, to which Chat Noir admits that things have been calm. After drinking his glass of milk, Chat Noir hears shouting and looks over to see Chloe arguing with Sabrina about a bag she’d apparently lost. Sabrina tries to tell Chloe that the bag is still hanging around Chloe’s shoulder, but Chloe cuts Sabrina off and tells her to not to speak to her nor look at her. Chat Noir gets excited at the prospect of an akumatization happening, but Chloe finally notices her bag and gets all happy again. She asks Sabrina why she didn’t say anything and Sabrina tries to point out that Chloe forbade her from speaking, but Chloe insinuates that that’s always the case anyway, again telling Sabrina to hush up. Chat Noir slumps back onto the counter and asks for a larger glass of milk instead.

- Cut to Chat Noir back on a rooftop, having still gotten no messages from Ladybug. Chat Noir calls her and she doesn’t pick up, so he leaves her a message and refers to himself as “the one she stood up,” but cuts himself off when he hears something going on. He peeks over the rooftop to see Kagami fencing with Tomoe. They go back and forth a bit, vagely talking about her becoming better than Adrien, and Kagami assures her mother not to worry because she has what she needs to succeed. Chat Noir smiles and leaves a message for Ladybug that it’s the end of patrol, then leaves.

- Adrien returns home, sad, pulling out his phone and staring sadly at Ladybug’s picture on his lock-screen. Plagg makes an idle comment about “variety” and hovers over Adrien’s picture of the fencing team with him next to Kagami. The scene then cuts to Adrien staring sadly down at two chunks of cheese, one with a red rind and one with a brownish-white rind. Adrien then gets a call from Nathalie informing him that Kagami had called to say that the fencing class schedule had changed again and it’ll be an hour early. Adrien brightens a little and thanks her, then ponders to himself what Kagami is hiding.

- Cut to Kagami in her car listening to Tomoe ramble about how the schedule changes the Agrestes “imposed” are exhausting, then tells Kagami to make the most of it by doing an extra hour of Russian. Kagami agrees and the scene cuts to Adrien listening to Gabriel rambling about how the schedule changes the Tsurugis “imposed” are exhausting, then tells Adrien to not forget to try on an outfit he’d finished for his next photoshoot, which Adrien agrees to.

- Kagami and Adrien enter school together and Fred Haprele is confused, pointing out that their fencing class starts in one hour and D’Argencourt isn’t there yet. Kagami feigns surprise and says that she thought she had the right schedule this time. Fred apologize and starts to say that they can’t stay alone in school, but Kagami finishes the sentence for him and then tells him that it’s no problem and they’ll come back in an hour. As Fred turns back around to continue sweeping the school grounds, Adrien asks Kagami what she’s going to do and Kagami drags him off into the art room.

- Kagami pulls a sketchpad out of her bag and admits that she’s always been passionate about drawing but never told anyone. She talks about how “art never lies” and how poses people do reflect their personalities. She flips through a few pages and Adrien is amazing. Kagami solemnly says that her mother doesn’t let her draw, thinking she’s not good enough, but Adrien chimes in that he thinks Kagami is incredibly talented.

- Kagami pulls Adrien onto the raised platform in the artroom and requests that he pose for her, because she wants to draw him. Adrien asks how she wants him to pose and she tells him to pose with whatever he feels comfortable with. Kagami talks about an artist she admires and adds that she’d liked to draw him like the characters she used to paint, asking idly if Adrien knew that he used to sign his drawings with a Japanese ideogram. She then gets frustrated with her drawing and decides to redo it because it’s “not Adrien.” Adrien asks to see it, but she’s already crumpled it up. Skilling tossing the paper in the garbage without looking, she asks him to make a different pose. She states that it’s easy to make beautiful art of him since he’s beautiful, but she wants to draw the real him; who he is inside.

- Adrien tries a few different poses, with Kagami getting progressively more frustrated and telling him to change each time. She points out that they’re his model poses and reqeusts that he try something more natural. Adrien confidently strikes his Chat Noir transformation pose and Kagami looks unamused. Adrien backpedals and tries to ask what she thinks, but Kagami insists that it’s still not natural. Adrien sadly states that he promises that it’s really him, but Kagami interjects that it’s him when he’s “acting like a clown.” Adrien tries to go on that maybe that’s the real him, to which Kagami approaches, grabs his hand and puts it to his chest, then starts pressing him against the wall (the shot weirdly has a cut when she’s pushing him where his hand is back at his side even though both of her hands are on him, so I have no idea what happened). Kagami insists that this is the real him and Adrien asks if she’s sure, to which Kagami states that she is and that he’s perfect, promptly leaning in for a kiss.

- Their phones then go off, interrupting the one-sided kiss from happening, and Adrien hurried states that it’s actually time for fencing now. He’s seen smiling on the way out and Kagami as well.

- Cut to fencing practice. At one point, Kagami lifts her helmet to kiss Adrien’s helmet, then Adrien raises his helmet for them to kiss (mutually this time). However, Adrien hears birds and looks over to see Ladybug chasing a flock of clearly-controlled pigeons from beyond the school doors (i.e: Mister Pigeon is back, who Chat Noir had hoped to get akumatized earlier; the one who is now interrupting Marinette and Luka’s movie date+kiss since “Lies” takes place at roughly the same time). He makes a quick excuse about forgetting something in the locker room and leaves, though Kagami just smiles at it for now.

- Cut to Chat Noir leaping up a building and seeing Ladybug, at which point we get a reused clip from Truth, so I’m just going to copy from my episode summary of that:

- Ladybug is listening to a message from Chat Noir that she presumably got earlier, stating that he’s ready for patrol. While she’s listening, Chat Noir sneaks up and pranks/surprises her, to which she grabs his wrist and yeets him off into the distance. Realizing what she did, she yoyos him back and he slams into the window. She scolds him because she could’ve hurt him and Chat Noir states that “the only thing that hurts him is when she leaves him alone for patrols” and how he “even missed her angry looks.” She reminds him that she’s been busy and he says that he knows because she’s guardian now. Ladybug promises not to forget patrol again and they go off to fight Mister Pigeon.

- The scene cuts away to Adrien rushing to Kagami at Andre’s ice cream stand (Luka has just walked away). Adrien and Kagami are about to enjoy their ice cream when Adrien sees a sentimonster that Ladybug is in the middle of fighting. Adrien tells Kagami that he has to go home because his father must be worried, then rushes off. Kagami stares sadly down at her ice cream.

- The scene cuts to Adrien, Alya, and Nino leaving school while Marinette is riding away with Luka on his bike. Marinette waves good-bye to them and they wave back, but Luka gets a message from Kagami and quickly hurries into his car before reading the message. Kagami’s car pulls up beside his and they both put their windows down to kiss, but Adrien sees Ladybug chasing an akuma and hurriedly tells Kagami that he forgot something in class, assuring that he’d call her later. Kagami looks upset and tells her driver to drive off.

- The scene then cuts to Kitty Section and Adrien playing together with Kagami, Marinette, and the others watching. They finish and get cheered for, after which Nino approaches Adrien and says that he filmed it all and the concert was great. Adrien rejects the compliment because he missed the intro, but Ivan and Rose reassure him that they can just play again. Kagami interrupts to say that it’s time to go, then shakes her head when Adrien asks for a few more minutes. Adrien promises Nino that he’ll do better next time, then walks off with Kagami.

- While going across the gangplank together, Kagami takes Adrien’s hand, which surprises him and causes him to drop his belongings. They pick them up together and smile at each other, but Marinette’s lucky charm bracelet slips out of Adrien’s pocket when he goes to get up. Kagami sees it as they’re leaving and picks it up.

- Adrien notices that their rides aren’t here yet and laments that they could’ve played one more song. Kagami comments that they at least get to spend more time together, but Adrien tells her not to worry because they’ll have enough time together when they go to Prince Ali’s birthday party. Kagami grabs his hand and corrects that she meant time where it’s only the two off them, then starts talking about how happy she is with him and how she thinks they’re very similar. However, Adrien sees Ladybug off in the distance and gets distracted, meaning that - when Kagami asks him if he feels the same - he’s not paying attention. Kagami realizes this and turns to look at what Adrien is looking at, but there’s nothing there. Adrien apologizes and claims that he saw a wasp. Kagami tries again to ask him if he loves her back, but Adrien still isn’t paying attention, asking what she was saying. Kagami asks him what’s the matter and Adrien claims that he lost something on the boat when his bag fell, telling Kagami not to wait for him. Kagmai, disappointed, gets into her car that’s just arrived and requests to be taken to the town hall.

- Adrien goes in front of a building and lets Plagg come out. Plagg talks about how he hopes they’re still going to the prince’s birthday since the best cheese is served when there are big ceremonies, but Adrien states that Ladybug needs him right now and transforms. He checks his messages and is told by Ladybug that Hawk Moth merged his powers with the peacock to become Shadow Moth. He then goes to the Liberty, where Truth is there asking Ladybug what her identity is, having already shot Ladybug and captured her under Pharo’s spotlight. Chat Noir cuts in and takes Ladybug into the water with him.

- Meanwhile, Kagami arrives at the town hall, where Andre (the mayor) is wishing Prince Ali a happy brithday. Tomoe reminds Kagami that she agreed with Gabriel that Kagami would come with Adrien and Kagami covers for him, stating that Adrien is answering questions from journalists. Kagami is then seen sitting on the stairs outside, staring sadly at the lucky charm in her hand.

- Cut to nighttime and a reused scene from “Truth:”

- Ladybug and Chat Noir hop up to a roof and Chat comments on how much fun he had. Ladybug describes what just happened and is like if that’s fun for you then yeah. Chat idles on Shadow Moth’s name and Ladybug shows confidence that they’ll catch him in the end, after which they banter a bit and Chat Noir tells her that it’s “only with her that he can have so much fun.”

- Adrien returns and tells Kagmai that he hopes he didn’t make her wait too long. Kagami, the lucky charm behind her back, says that she hopes that Adrien found what he was looking for. Adrien is confused and Kagami reminds him of what he’d said. Adrien hurriedly states that he found it and thanks her. Kagami asks him what it was and Adrien says that it was a lucky charm that Marinette gave to him, but when he goes to pull it out, realizes that he’d actually lost it. He tries to claim that he lost it “again,” but Kagami finally pulls out the lucky charm and shows it to him. Dread washes over Adrien’s face as he realizes the lie he’s been caught in.

- Kagami confesses that she’s lied to, having lied to her mother so they could see each other, even lied that he came with her tonight, and lied during their fencing classes so she can spend more time with him. Hurt, she points out that they’re both liars, but that the difference is that she lies to be with him and he lies to get away from her. She turns away and opens the town hall door to leave, and when Adrien tries to call out to her, she states that she’d rather be alone and shuts the door behind her.

- Shadow Moth appears and summons his akuma, sending it out to the sad Kagami. He offers her the power to rid the world of liars in exchange for the miraculouses, to which Kagami agrees. Adrien opens the door just in time to see the new akuma, Lies, and see her start to form an orb of light around her. Adrien shuts the door and lets out Plagg, stating that this is his fault and he has to save Kagami.

- Meanwhile, Jagged Stone is playing for Prince Ali while Penny is trying to stop Fang from eating the cake on the table. Lies’ orb of light then shines through the door, shocking everyone as they step back in fear. Roger pulls out his taser and demands to know what’s going on, to which Lies asks if he’s ever lied. Roger claims that a policeman never lies, but Lies states that he’s lying and Roger gets engulfed in the light, making him freeze in place. Lies then refers to Tomoe as “Mother” and asks if she’s ever lied. Tomoe realizes it’s Kagami and starts to say that she didn’t permit her to--then Tomoe gets engulfed and also frozen. The others start to get engulfed as well and Chat Noir enters, almost calling Lies “Kagami” before catching himself and telling her to stop. Lies comments that Chat is a new candidate for a lie detector test, and Chat Noir tells her that he’s not lying when he tells her that he’ll free her from Shadow Moth.

- Jagged chimes in to say that he’ll help. Chat tells him to go hide but Jagged insists that he fears nothing. Bob Roth pops into view to say that Jagged lies about his age, at which point Jagged is shocked and tells him that it’s not very rock n’ roll to--then he gets engulfed too.

- Chat Noir escapes through a window and Lies goes on about a world without lies wouldn’t need superheroes like Chat Noir. Chat Noir considers Cataclysming the sphere, but Ladybug shows up, yoyoing his hand and stating that touching the phere will paralyze him. Chat Noir tells her that it won’t if you’ve never lied, to which Ladybug asks him if he never has. Chat admits that it’s not the case and they back away from the light together. Chat asks if Ladybug has never lied and she tells him that she obviously has because they have to lie at least to keep their identities a secret, adding that if they touch the sphere, nothing will stop it from taking over Paris.

- Ladybug uses Lucky Charm and gets a box with an entire drone inside. She states that they can’t go inside, but a drone can’t lie so it can. She tells Chat Noir to be a distraction while she sends in the drone, and they take out their earpiece communication devices to keep in touch.

- Chat Noir goes to distact Lies, shouting a bunch of things that clearly aren’t true. Ladybug sends her drone inside while Shadow Moth tells Lies to go after Chat Noir and retrieve his miraculous, to which Lies says that she won’t go back on her word and liars always pay for their mistakes.

- Ladybug saw the bracelet and tells Chat that she knows that the akumatized object is. Chat Noir tells her to break it but Ladybug states that she doesn’t know how to without touching it. Chat Noir admits that only a person who’s never lied can enter the sphere and such a person doesn’t exist, but Ladybug sees that Fang is still moving and gets an idea, her Lucky Vision highlighting the cake, Fang, and the device she’s seeing the drone’s vision through. She tells Chat Noir that Fang is an animal, so it doesn’t know how to lie. Chat Noir says it’s great thinking and Ladybug uses the drone to pick up each individual slice of cake, using one of the cakes to coax Fang and make him free himself from Penny’s leash.

- Ladybug lures Fang all across Paris while Chat Noir flees from Lies’ orb of light. Chat Noir climbs up a building and uses his baton to hoist himself even higher, but he’s trapped himself now. Ladybug states that, if Lies sees the drone coming, the plan goes bust, to which Chat Noir says that there are only two liars left in Paris and only one of them can turn her attention. Ladybug immediately catches onto what he’s about to do and tells him not to, asking what they’ll do if she’s wrong. Chat Noir simply states that he trusts her, letting go of his baton and falling towards the orb of light. Ladybug states that he’s crazy and he simply states that he’s “crazy for her,” promptly falling into the orb of light. Ladybug laments his unconsciousness and the scene cuts to inside the orb, where Lies finds Chat Noir on the ground. Ladybug urges the drone to hurry and sends it inside the orb of light alongside Fang.

- Lies starts removing Chat Noir’s ring and is halfway there when a slice of cake drops next to her. She’s confused and Fang enters, chomping down on the cake and the bracelet in the process. The akuma is freed and Kagami gets de-akumatized, Shadow Moth shouting in dismay at the loss. Ladybug purifies the akuma and casts Miraculous Ladybug, leading to Chat Noir waking up to Fang licking the side of his face. He recoils and Ladybug charges at him, slamming her fists against his chest and yelling at him, stating that he needs to stop doing these sorts of things. Chat Noir boops her and states that, yeah, but he does it because he finds that “angry little pout” of hers absolutely irresistable. Ladybug squints/glares at him, but is smiling.

- The two fist bump and the scene cuts away to Adrien de-transforming in an alley, leading against a wall and sighing out Ladybug’s name. Plagg states that he understands the romance of it as - even though he loves every type of cheese - he always comes back to his favorite, camembert. Adrien gives Plagg a slice in response and Plagg eats it.

- Cut to the next day, where Kagami and Adrien are fencing. Kagami fences him off the mat and against a pole, getting a little violent in the process, but D’Argencourt cuts in to say that they’re there for fencing, not solving personal problems. The scene then cuts to Adrien and Kagami in the locker room, where Adrien apologizes for hurting her, but adds that all the good times they shared weren’t lies. Kagami states that she knows he’s hiding something, but that there’s also sincerity in him. Adrien asks if they can’t be friends anymore and Kagami cuts in to ask how she could trust someone who lied to her. She gives Adrien back Marinette’s lucky charm, then picks up her bag, stating that she’ll let him know when she’s ready to see him again. Adrien stares sadly at the lucky charm in his hand and the scene cuts away to Chat Noir and Ladybug on the rooftops.

- Chat Noir tells Ladybug that the difference between them and the rest of the world is that they can’t be completely honest; that they have their secrets and have to lie. They both look solemn at this, then suddenly brighten and turn to each other, stating that they know they can at least trust each other.

- They fist bump and the episode ends.

[captainrexforever]

Trials and Tribulations 2/2

Rating: T

Word count: ~6k

Summary: The reader discovers that she has formed a force bond with her Mandalorian companion. This has some unforeseen complications during the events at the Imperial refinery on Morak.

Warnings: angst, fluff, canon typical violence, more Dad! Fett, awkward! Din, use of in-universe curse words

Note: Part 2 at last! There are quite a few pov. changes, so I hope that they don’t interrupt the flow of the story too much. Happy reading, and I hope you enjoy! 

Pt. 1

After settling into the cockpit alongside Fett, the only thing you can do is wait for Fennec’s signal, but that doesn’t mean you have to be bored. 

“Is it too much to ask for a tour of the flight controls?” 

“I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” He speaks honestly. 

You can only chuckle in response and shrug. “What can I say, I’m not used to holding a conversation with my crewmate.”

“I take it Mando doesn’t talk much.” 

His eyes search your face, and although you attempt to hold his gaze, your eyes fall to the floor as you answer. “No, he doesn’t.”

Fett only nods in response, and you have a sudden urge to change the subject. “So, I noticed that you wear your helmet while flying, even though all the screens are displayed on the console.”

He must note the change in topic, but he doesn’t bring it up. “Yes, I tied all the tracking technology into the visor of my helmet. That way if I have to aim at something while in flight, I can observe it through the viewport and follow the object with my eyes, as if aiming a real blaster.”

“Woah, that’s really cool.”

“Indeed. It’s an idea my father often shared with me, although he didn’t get the chance to implement the changes. I was finally able to make the alterations myself.” There’s a little bit of nostalgia in his voice, and you wonder if you should feel bad for bringing up a potentially sensitive topic. “Perhaps I can let you try it on the retrieval run.” Boba continues. 

“Oh, no, no, no, maybe later, thank you. I don’t want to jeopardize the mission with my novice flying skills.”

“Is that so? You project the aura of a competent pilot.”

“Yes, but it’s been a while since I’ve sat behind the controls of a ship.”

Fett raises a hand to his chin, as if stroking a non-existent beard. “So you didn’t fly Mando’s ship?” It’s definitely a question, but it comes off more like a statement. 

“Well, I...I usually left that to Mando, I felt like it was almost a form of relaxation for him and I didn’t want to take that away.”

“Can I give you some advice?” 

That throws you off a little. 

“Sure.”

“A Mandalorian’s ship is a precious possession, not as important to them as beskar or their code, but still. A ship represents a Mandalorian’s freedom and individuality. If you were allowed to live within that ship for what I estimate to be several months, there was something else going on.”

It feels like someone lodged their fist into your chest and squeezed all the air out of your lungs. Surely he couldn’t mean...“What, what do you mean? Are you saying he was desperate for help no matter the cost?”

Fett wants to bang his head on the console, then bang it against your head to knock some sense into you. No wonder you and the Mandalorian get along so well, you’re both absolutely clueless. 

“Do you know that he carried you up the ramp of this ship last week when you were on death’s door, demanding medical attention from me?” Your eyes widen in response. “When we eventually realized you were losing too much blood, his first instinct was to infiltrate a medical station to obtain the necessary blood samples for a transfusion. Lucky for him, I had some sequencing instruments aboard, and we were able to identify your blood type. By some miracle, you and he happen to possess the same blood.” The atmosphere is becoming more tense by the second, and you can only sit there as Fett recounts the events surrounding your recent injuries. “He stayed by your side during the entire two day flight to Nevarro, refusing to eat or sleep. With the amount of time he spent providing blood to the transfusion system, I was sure he would pass out from blood loss before we arrived.” A choked sound leaves your throat. “The second we landed, he was on his feet, clutching onto your body as he carried you to the Marshal’s office.” 

He lets his words sink in for a moment as he pins you underneath his gaze once again. “I have fought countless battles, lost many comrades, and seen fellow warriors suffer horrible injuries. But I have never seen a man so stricken with grief and despair at the thought of losing a fellow comrade-in-arms. It’s obvious you mean much more to him than either of you realize.” 

He notices that you’re in shock after taking in all of that information, and he opens his mouth to say one last thing. “If you want to take a seat in the hold and let yourself process all of that, I’ll let you know when I receive the cue to take off.” 

The sentence is uttered with kindness, and you can only nod, thankful for his understanding. In a second you’re slipping down the ladder to the main hold of the ship. 

Kriff. 

Tears bite at the corners of your eyes as you suppress a sniffle with your forearm. That damned Mandalorian has been holding out on you. It all makes sense now. The affection you sensed earlier, the brief moments where you often notice his gaze linger for a millisecond too long. He cares about you. The thought has you releasing a muffled sob into your palms, why has he never told you? You would have welcomed his affection and returned it a thousand fold, if he had ever offered you the chance. 

A spike of fear races up your spine suddenly, and you tense in response. There is a familiar tickling sensation in the back of your mind, and you realize that Din is unintentionally projecting on you. After what happened earlier, you’re sure that you are the last person he wants to communicate with. His fear washes over you again, this time accompanied by panic, and you know that something has gone terribly wrong. Feelings be damned, you need to know what is going on down there. A firm nudge against his thought process grants your mind access to his, and the singular pulsing thought that envelops your brain gives you an immediate headache. 

“This is for the kid. The kid needs me, I can do this for him. I can do this for the kid.”

“Din, what’s going on?”

“You need to leave right now.”

“Din, what’s going on, let me help.”

There is no response. You’re so frustrated right now that you want to punch him, and you must be projecting because he allows you to see one more thought. 

You gasp in disbelief and shock. 

“Din...no. You can’t take your helmet off.”

“This is for the kid, Y/n. There is no other way.”

“Your creed, your way. What will you do after you take it off?”

“I...I don’t know. This is the only way I can save him.”

A tear rolls down your cheek.

“I understand.” Then you pull yourself from his mind. 

Even faced with death, while you cried over his limp body, he had refused to remove his helmet. 

No, you don’t understand at all.

~~

By the time Mayfeld and Mando board the ship, you’re seated in the cockpit once again, desperately trying to keep a firm hold on your emotions. The ship rocks with the force of an explosion as Boba makes a hasty retreat. 

“We got company. Hang on.” He announces. 

The ship swerves to the side as he maneuvers away from the blasts of two tie fighters, and you watch in fascination as the scope on his helmet automatically drops into place in front of his visor. 

“These Imperial pilots can’t hit a damn thing.” He complains to you.

“Isn’t that a good thing for us?” You ask.

“I suppose. It isn’t much fun though.”

Wow. Maybe he and Din aren’t so different after all, or perhaps all Mandalorians are just crazy. 

“You wanted to learn about the controls, right? Flip that gold switch I’m pointing to.” He requests.

After grasping a hold of the pilot seat to keep yourself upright, you reach for the control panel and flip the switch. 

“Excellent, now take my helmet.” He removes it and holds it out to you. “Let me know when the two fighters are within 80 meters of each other.” 

You take the helmet eagerly, desperate for some type of combat action to block out your overwhelming emotions. The visor remains dark until the helmet thunks into place around your head, then it bursts into life. There are so many readings on the display that you are overwhelmed for a moment. 

“Look at the top right corner of the HUD, it’ll show you the close-range scans and a distance measurement for the two targets.”

“Got it. The display measures the distance at 100 meters.” 

“Alright, just wait a second. Standard flight path protocol will have them grouping up soon.”

Sure enough, the number plunges down to 90, then 85, then 82. Just a little bit closer…“Now!”

A light flashes somewhere on the HUD as a click filters through the helmet’s speakers. A glance at the top right corner of the display reveals a projectile moving towards the two tie fighters, and you grin at the resulting explosion. There is still a satisfied smile on your face when you hand the helmet back to Fett. 

“Nice shot. And thank you.” You hope that he understands your referring both to the advice he shared earlier, as well as his recent actions.

He nods. “Any time, vod.” 

“Vod?”

“It’s Mando’a, the closest term in Basic is ‘comrade’.” 

That spikes your interest and there is a burning question on the tip of your tongue, but you leave it for later.

“I’m gonna set the ship down, you might want to take a seat.” Fett breaks the silence. 

You scramble to follow his advice, and once the landing cycle is complete he rises from his chair. “Just a moment.” He elaborates, as he descends down the ladder. 

His absence leaves you with a quiet moment to reflect, and you hold your fisted hands out so you can list some facts and organize your frazzled thoughts. Ok, you tell yourself as you take a deep breath. 

One, Din cares about you. 

Two, you care about Din. 

Three, he cares for the child like a son. 

Four...what’s another fact? Dank farrik!

Four, you repeat as you rack your brain. Ah yes, Din’s Creed forbids him from revealing his face to another being.

Five, Din obviously knew he had no choice but to risk breaking his code. The choice was to either reveal his face, or abandon the child to a fate that could be worse than death. 

Six. Well, now that you think about it, you are being a little bit petty. You would also be willing to risk anything, if it was the only way to save the kid. Now that you’ve gone and said it, you feel a little ashamed. Poor Din doesn’t deserve to deal with the loss of his child and your foul mood at the same time. 

You decide to continue your list.

Seven, Boba Fett’s ship is cool as hell.

Eight, Din is kinda hot. Wait, what?! Hold on a second.

Eight, Din is...alright fine. He’s pretty hot. 

Nine, He does have very nice thighs.

Ten, He’s really attractive when he’s fighting.

Eleven, He’s...Wait, you only have ten fingers! 

You really need to get yourself under control, this is completely out of line. 

“Let’s hold tight up here for a moment, Mando’s putting on his kit.” 

You let out an undignified squeak, caught entirely by surprise. What you said earlier was becoming more and more true by the second, Mando and Boba weren’t so different after all. 

~~

Meanwhile in the small fresher, Mando is in the process of attaching his beskar chestplate when you start projectingly very loudly. A blush rises to his cheeks as you approach the end of your mental list. He has always hoped that you felt some semblance of affection towards him, but the thoughts you are currently entertaining are on a whole new level.

After the events in the refinery, he’s still a little shaken, but he feels he owes you an explanation for his recent behavior. Once the last piece of Beskar is attached to his figure, he prepares to ascend the ladder to the cockpit. But, when he approaches, he can distinctly make out your voice, as well as Fett’s.

“There are two words that I sometimes hear Mando use, and I think that they are from Mando’a. Would you mind translating them?”

“Why don’t you ask him?”

“I did once. He didn’t answer.”

“What are they?”

“‘Verd’ and ‘ika’.”

“Interesting.” He strokes at his chin again. “It’s actually one word, verd’ika.” (Little warrior)

“Oh. What does it mean?”

“It means…” 

Oh no, Din thinks. I need to break this up right now. 

“What’s the status on Cara and Fennec?” He blurts out. Affection and amusement fill him when he notices you jump slightly in your seat at his sudden appearance. 

“They should be approaching our position at any moment now.”

Din nods. He realizes he’s awkwardly lingering at the base of the ladder now, but he can’t let Fett share that translation with you. Not yet. Not until he is able to explain himself.

“Fett, could you provide me with the materials to replace the cooling core in my blaster? All my spare parts and tools were on my ship.” 

Boba stares him down. He knows exactly what Din is trying to do. Din sighs, he is far too fatigued, mentally and emotionally, to deal with this right now. He’s just about to give up when Fett gives him a sharp nod, plops his helmet over his head, and rises from his chair before descending into the hull. Din notices him shoot you an apologetic look, which you respond to with a tight-lipped smile. 

Now that at least one disaster has been avoided, Din turns to follow through with his made-up task. A voice crackles through the speakers in his helmet, and he startles when he recognizes Fett’s voice. He hasn’t heard a fellow Mandalorian’s voice transmit through his helmet’s audio channel since the destruction of the covert. 

“I know what you did back there.” Fett states.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I meant in the refinery.” Fett clarifies.

Din tenses in response and whirls around to face Fett again. How could he know?

“I was monitoring all Imperial communications from inside the refinery as a precaution, just in case there was a complication. The Imperial terminal in the base uploaded a facial scan that wasn’t registered to the computer’s database right after you two arrived.”

Din’s hands clench into fists, if Fett saw the scan…

“Don’t worry Mando, I never saw the image. But, I did have to perform a fair bit of technological jargon to approve the scan. And, I made sure the image was deleted from the Imperial database immediately after the files were downloaded.”

Din’s figure visibly relaxes, those were just two more favors he owed Fett. 

“You know, you owe your companion a lot of explanations. Or should I say, gar verd’ika.” (Your little warrior)

If Din didn’t feel so exhausted he would put up a bigger fight, but he can’t help the way he immediately gives in to Fett’s unspoken inquiry. 

“She is...important to me, I just don’t know how to tell her.”

“Well you’re going to have to do better than that. Think about it, then come talk to me. We will figure it out, as brothers.”

Din nods his approval. 

“Are you two done staring into each other’s eyes? Because you’re kind of freaking me out.”

Mayfeld.

“Shut up Mayfeld.” Boba and Din huff in unison as they shoot him two identical helmeted glares.

Later, after Mayfeld is relieved from the crew, Boba and Din agree that they should fly to the nearest friendly planet so that they can restock their food stores and ammunition. While the ship is in hyperspace, Din takes a seat to prepare the message he plans to transmit to Moff Gideon. It only takes him a moment to agree on the wording. He decides to repeat the same lines that Moff Gideon arrogantly delivered on Nevarro several months ago, with a couple key differences. The message will serve as a warning, an omen of what is to come. 

The last line of the speech suddenly gives him an idea. Perhaps he knows what to say to you after all.

~~

Now that Mayfeld is gone, (you don’t even bother to ask why you are leaving him behind) you are free to sit down in the hold once again. But, after spending so much time in the cockpit, you find yourself wanting to stay. Boba Fett still sits in the pilot seat, wearing his helmet as he pilots the ship. Mando sits in the furthest corner of the hold, facing the clear viewport, as he and Cara discuss their next steps towards retrieving the child. You assume that Fennec is also down below, most likely passing the time by polishing her beloved rifle.

Fett breaks the comfortable silence that reigns over the cockpit. “As I recall, I promised you a chance to fly. Even though we’re in hyperspace right now, it’s good practice to just sit in front of the controls and familiarize yourself.” 

“Are you sure?” You’re secretly jumping up and down with excitement, but you don’t want to annoy Fett right as he’s offering you the opportunity to fly his ship.

“I’m quite certain.” He stands up, offering you the seat. 

You sit down immediately, running your fingers lovingly over the controls. It’s been a long time since you’ve been behind the console of a ship as unique as this one. After you’re done gawking, you look over to Fett, only to notice that he’s staring off into space. At least, you assume he’s staring off into space, you can’t really tell while he is wearing the helmet. He looks over to you after a second and removes his helmet, offering it to you for the second time that day. 

“Are you sure I need the helmet?” Please say yes.

“Go ahead, you might as well be familiar with all the aspects of the in-flight instruments.”

You offer him a beaming smile before settling the beskar over your head. “I’ll be right back.” You hear him say, along with the sounds of him descending the ladder. Odd, you think, he seemed to be in quite a hurry.

~~

 As Din discusses his plan with Cara, he hears Fett’s voice crackle through the speaker in his helmet. “You ready to have that discussion? Your companion just announced she’s heading to the fresher, so we have time for a brief chat in the cockpit.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Din responds.

Din continues his conversation with Cara, and when he notices a blur make its way down the ladder from the cockpit, he politely excuses himself. 

He makes his way towards the ladder, the echo of his feet meeting the rungs causing nerves to bubble to life in his chest. One foot meets the durasteel flooring of the cockpit, then the other follows. He stands there awkwardly for a second, the back of the pilot chair and Fett’s helmet in clear view, then abruptly spills his thoughts.

“I know what to say.” He clears his throat as his voice cracks a little. 

~~ 

Fennec stands from her seat, affectionately patting her rifle as she props it against the side of the chair. As she passes by the supply closet on her way to the refresher, she notices Fett warily peering out from the doorway.

“What are you doing?”

Boba Fett, the famed Boba Fett, actually jumps at her words, hushing her as he continues to peer in the direction of the cockpit. She wrinkles her brow in confusion and glances towards the cockpit as well, wondering what exactly she should be watching for. 

~~

A few moments later, Cara notices that there is not a soul in sight, and she rises to her feet, determined to figure out where everyone has disappeared to. A quick sweep of the hull doesn’t reveal a sign of Mando or Fennec, so she decides to check the hallway on the other side of the hold. As she rounds the corner she notices both Fennec and Fett peering out of the doorway of what appears to be a supply closet.

Her eyes narrow as she stares them down. “What---”

Both Fennec and Fett shush her immediately, their gaze fixed upon the cockpit. Thoroughly bewildered, she too looks towards the cockpit, worried that something has gone awry. 

~~

Meanwhile, you are sitting in the cockpit, trying to scrape your jaw off of the floor as you examine each of the control panels. This really is one unique ship. Just as you are taking a closer look at the targeting instruments, a voice breaks through your thoughts.

“I know what to say to her now, Fett. I will tell her that she means everything to me, that she means more to me than I can ever put into words.” 

You are completely dumbfounded. Does Mando know who he just said that to? 

Fett...that sneaky little bastard...he set you two up, didn’t he. 

Well, you are not one to look a gift taun-taun in the mouth, so you take off the helmet, stand up, turn around, and level your gaze with Mando’s. 

“The feeling’s mutual, vod.” (Comrade)

He panics, because one second he’s standing in the cockpit, and the next he’s disappeared from sight. The clang of beskar meeting durasteel, along with a grunt of pain, echoes through the hold as you drop the helmet and scramble into motion. 

You rush to the top of the ladder, staring down at Din’s splayed out form in shock. A snicker breaks the silence and your gaze flies to the hallway where your other three companions are smothering laughter into the palms of their hands. You can’t help yourself, the ridiculous sight has you falling into a fit of giggles as well. 

“This is not funny!” Din’s voice echoes through your head.

The abruptness of his statement startles you, and one second you’re standing on firm durasteel, the next you’re falling through the air as you too plummet towards the flooring at the base of the ladder. Except you don’t hit the floor. You hit two warm arms that absorb most of your fall, then a beskar-clad chest. 

A pained grunt escapes Din’s helmet. 

“You’re heavy.”

“Yeah? Well you are busted, Mando.”

“Busted?” It sounds like he is still straining for breath.

“Busted.”

More laughter peals through the recycled air of the hold, and you and Din turn simultaneously to fix all three of your crewmates with a glare. 

“You see what you’ve done.” 

“It’s not my fault you're clumsy, Din.”

“Clumsy? You’re the one who fell on top of me!”

“You shouldn’t scare me all the time!”

“Are you two gonna get up, or are you just gonna lay there on the floor?”

“Cara!” You exclaim, your cheeks bursting into flames. 

“I can’t wait till this mission is over, you all need some serious help.” Fennec grumbles, but she’s hiding a grin as she stomps to her chair, retrieves her rifle-just a precaution, she mumbles-then enters the fresher. 

As for Fett, he has a shit-eating grin on his face, and you can’t help but notice that he looks like a proud father.

“Well, Mando, I think we solved your problem.” His grin falters a little. “Or, at least, one of your problems.”

Fett shoots you a wink as he steps over your prone form and ascends the ladder. “Good luck with that one, you’re gonna need it.”

Cara also walks past your sprawled out bodies, taking a seat as she pointedly looks away from you and out the viewport. 

You look down at Mando, a soft smile overcoming your features when you notice he’s been staring at you. One of the hands that was used to brace your fall is now settled on the small of your back and it holds you firmly to his chest. The other hovers in the air beside your left ear, hesitating, and you give it a glance out of the corner of your eye. You so desperately want him to touch you with that hand, just like you’ve always imagined. So you give him a little nudge. 

“Could you brush that piece of hair out of my eye for me?” It’s practically a whisper as you refrain from shattering this tender moment.

A shaky exhale rattles from beneath his helmet, and then his hand moves slowly to fulfill your request. Seconds drag by like hours...and then his touch finally greets your skin. With a tenderness that is so shocking it hurts (has he thought about this too?) the tips of four fingers meet your forehead, sliding down your temple oh so slowly until they glide through your hair, finally curling around the shell of your ear as any stray strands are tucked away. 

You shut your eyes for a moment, every nerve ending fizzling out in complete bliss as you bask in the warmth of his touch. Neither of you move for a long while, and you would think he’d fallen asleep if not for the incessant chatter that hums through your mind. 

“You’re smiling.” His voice surfaces through the haze of thoughts. 

“I know. I can feel you, your voice, your thoughts...I thought you shut me out.” 

“Never.”

You open your eyes and he is still in the same position as before. His hand curled behind your left ear, his visor staring up into your face, and the hand on your back still radiating the same warmth. After another shaky breath, he drags his hand down the side of your face, curls it around the back of your neck, then slides it upward over the base of your skull. Each movement is drawn out, as if he’s moving in slow motion. You both know that he’s only trying to prolong this moment, along with each gesture, for as long as he possibly can.  

It’s your turn to sigh when he bends your head down, closing the distance between your faces so that your forehead rests against the top of his helmet. Your palms, that had previously been supporting your weight, abandon the floor to splay themselves over Din’s beskar chestplate instead. The closeness is suffocating in the most beautiful way, and you’re sure that if he wasn’t wearing a helmet you would be begging for a kiss by now. 

“You’re thinking very loudly.”

His voice has you blushing, but you can’t bring yourself to feel ashamed.

“I can’t help it. You’re just too damn hot to handle.” It’s meant to tease him, but the response you receive is the complete opposite of what you expect.

“Yeah, especially when I’m fighting, am I right?”

There is a dramatic pause while your brain stalls to a grinding halt. “Were you listening earlier, Din? Why the nerve--”

He backpedals immediately, trying to reconcile his previous statement before you decide to jump up and clock him in the head. “Do you know that we’ve been kissing this whole time.”

Huh? Kissing? Your lips haven’t even touched! He must have hit his head harder than you thought. 

“Are you coherent right now?”

He chuckles fondly, the sound echoing through your mind, and you’re sure it's the most beautiful sound you have ever heard. “This gesture, our foreheads touching...it’s called a keldabe kiss. Since my people do not remove their helmets, that is how we show affection to our loved ones.”

“Oh.” You can feel his nerves pulsing through your mind. “It’s perfect.” A searing warmth blossoms throughout your whole body, and you know it is the result of his happiness. “Will you tell me--”

Fennec emerges from the fresher and shocks you two out of your stupor. “Are you two going to stop gazing into each other’s eyes and take a seat?” 

Fennec and Cara both share a chuckle at the way you and Din jump at the sudden intrusion. You are too immersed in your lovey-dovey emotions to even glare at them so you just huff in response. A glance towards Din’s helmet doesn’t reveal much about his current thought process, so you rely on your bond and just let yourself feel. 

The emotions he possesses are so powerful they are blinding, so you guide yourself to his loudest most current thoughts.

“...how’d I get so lucky? I wonder if she will let me kiss her again.”

You just shake your head fondly. “Come on Romeo, let’s go sit down.” You offer a hand once you are standing, and he grumbles, eventually taking it even though you both know he requires zero assistance to lift himself from the floor. He doesn’t release you though, even when he reaches his seat and settles into the chair. Just as you’re about to turn and return to your own seat, he tugs on that hand and sends you barreling into his lap. A wide-eyed look of shock is the only expression you can manage as you fumble to keep yourself on his lap without tumbling to the floor. 

And now he’s laughing into your bond again...great.

“Stop laughing and help me, you buffoon!”

Din quells his chuckling and finally moves to help you right your figure. His hands attempt to settle you into his embrace, but he can’t help but notice that you still seem uncomfortable. He looks to Cara for help, only to realize that her gaze is still directed out the viewport. Instead, he looks to Fennec, and the gaze that she eventually gives him screams you’ve got to be kidding me. He glares at her from beneath the helmet, raising a hand in desperation as he gestures towards you. Fennec glares back, and then mimics the pose of a droid, with her arms out, legs limp, and an impassive gaze on her face. Then she gestures back towards him. He gets the hint immediately, blushing red beneath the helmet, and nods his thanks. She just waves him off and continues to polish her rifle. 

For the first time in his adult life, the Mandalorian slouches in his seat. His spine rounds as he curls himself around your form, providing a protective shell around your body. Both hands guide you into a sideways position, similar to a wedding carry-he blushes even harder at that realization-and then he tucks your head into the crook between his helmet and chestplate, where his cloak will cushion your head. You give him a sleepy smile and snuggle closer to his armored chest, looping an arm around his neck as you get comfortable. 

“So will you tell me what it means?” You attempt again.

“What does what mean?”

“Verd’ika.”

“It means ‘little warrior’.”

The smile that overtakes your face is almost blinding. You fall asleep with the echo of that thought in your head, and wake up to the gentle snores of a certain Mandalorian. There’s an incessant needling in the back of your sleep-addled brain. There’s no way Din would have fallen asleep with the rest of the crew watching. You blink your eyes open, and panic a little bit when you realize that hold is quite a bit darker than earlier. There are a couple blinking lights from the cockpit that shed some light on the room. And after a second, you scan the area only to realize that there is no one else in sight. 

Abruptly, your back twitches in pain and you realize that Mando’s vambrace is digging into your back. You shift slightly, trying to adjust your position without leaving your warm perch. Din mumbles in his sleep, shifting a little bit at your movements, and it causes the hand you slung behind his neck earlier to thwack him rather violently in the back of the head. He shoots to a standing position immediately, and you squeak, clutching onto him like a koala as he nearly sends you hurtling towards the ground. 

His blaster is drawn in a second, and your sluggish mind struggles to connect with him through your bond in order to calm his frantic motions. He must break out of his trance before you are able to form a connection, because he suddenly settles back down into the chair with a tired exhale. 

“Sorry, you startled me.” He apologizes.

“It’s ok.” 

He adjusts you into a more comfortable position, fussing as he tucks you back into his chest. You just hum against his neck, basking in the warmth that he produces. Surprisingly, the beskar itself is also warm, and you note that it must maintain the same temperature as his body. 

“We landed a little while ago. The others left to enjoy a night on the town, they won’t be back for several hours.” 

“Mmm.” 

“Are you even awake?” 

“Yes.” You respond as you peel an eye open. The adorable way Din is tilting his helmet to look at your face sends a wave of affection blossoming through your chest. But, as cute as he looks right now, you really want to be asleep.

“Since we have a moment, I want to talk about what happened today.”

That has your attention, and you’re fully awake in seconds. 

“I know that we disagreed on a couple things today. And, we have both made implications about our feelings, but I want to lay everything out on the table so it is one hundred percent clear.”

You nod in agreement. 

“You and the child will always be the first priority to me. No matter what. Mandalorians value their clan, their family, above all else. You and the kid are my family.” He cuts himself off, voice cracking a little as he tries to continue.

You rush to fill the silence, eager to reassure him of your own feelings. “You and the kid are my family too Din, and I would not have it any other way. I know that you didn’t give me the mission earlier because you were worried about me. And, I know that you had to remove your helmet because there was no other way to locate the little one. I am sorry I didn’t support your decisions. I was bitter and hurt, but I won’t make that mistake again.”

A sound, like that of a choked sob, escapes Din and your heart squeezes in pain. Before you can finish, he cuts you off.

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) I am so sorry, I didn’t even think about how you would feel.”

“No! Don’t apologize, I am the one apologizing to you.”

You are both laughing through your tears, and you clutch at his hands with both of yours. 

“I love you Din, I love you so much, and I will always support any decision you make.”

“Ner verd’ika, ni kar'tayli gar darasuum. (My little warrior, I love you) You hold my heart in your hands.”

At that admission, you feel a burning desire to kiss him, but you settle for resting your forehead against his helmet instead.

“I seem to recall that you promised to ‘kick my ass’ once we landed.”

“Stop it, you’re ruining the moment.” You rebuke him as you shove half-heartedly at his chest.

“I think you’re wimping out, ner verd’ika. (My little warrior) You don’t think you can beat me anymore?”

How dare he tease you. The nerve of this man.

“No, I’ll still kick your ass anyways. I hope you won’t be too embarrassed when I school you in front of everyone else tomorrow.” A smug smirk stretches across your face as you finish speaking.

“You’re quite feisty, my dear.”

“Shut up, you love it.”

He grumbles beneath the helmet, neither denying nor acknowledging your statement. 

“I never realized you had such a dirty mouth.” The words are directed through your bond, and you can’t help but notice that the tone is a little suggestive. His words have your face erupting into flames.

Your Mandalorian has some real nerve.

~~

Ending Notes: I am actually really happy with how this turned out. Multi-chapter stories are a little intimidating and I admire all of you writers that can juggle several multi-chapter stories at once. I hope that this did the whole un-masking/face reveal thing justice while still staying as true to Din’s character as possible. ALSO, if I messed up any of the Mandalorian culture/lore stuff, please let me know. 

~~

[luffles424]

Cigarette Burns

☼ Pairing: Seokjin x reader x Taehyung

☼ Genre: angel!reader, angel!Taehyung, horror, angst, some fluff, smut

☼ Count: 10.6K

☼ Warnings: 18+, death (minor characters), blood, mentions/descriptions of injuries, mentioned mutilation, hallucinations, oral (m receiving), double blowjob, cumplay, cum sharing, deep throating, face fucking, teasing, ball play, dom/sub themes, hair pulling

☼ Summary: Seokjin’s been tasked with finding a film that is thought to be a myth. A legend that caused a theater full of people to turn to violence and then was never seen again. With the mystery that swirls around the film and the increasingly strange things that happens as he hunts for it, is he fully prepared for what waits for him at the end of his journey?

☼ a/n: This is based on my favorite horror movie ever, Cigarette Burns! The story is changed some, but I can’t explain in a way that doesn’t spoil both the film and the fic. I’ve pulled back on some of the gore from the original film too. I hope you enjoy, as I’ve not really written a horror fic before! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙

☼ Written for @btsholidaybingo​ to fill the square Blood, Sweat, and Tears

The theater is quiet as Seokjin enters it, understandably so since it’s almost closing and the theater is so small that there’s likely no one at the last showing. One of the downsides of a more indie theater, he supposes. But it had been his dream, keep the older films alive, even if it didn’t necessarily prove to be super lucrative. Which is where his second job came in, that people (Taehyung) would argue should really be his primary job considering how good he is at it. 

Seokjin doesn’t want his primary job to be hunting down rare prints. He likes it well enough, sure. It’s thrilling to find a new piece that was thought to be lost to time (and to negotiate into the deal that he’d get to hold a showing of whatever he found too). But it’s really only something to help keep the lights on at the theater. Taehyung also suggests adding newer films to the theater's showings to draw in new crowds and get them interested in the older ones so Seokjin chooses to ignore most of Taehyung’s “helpful” suggestions. 

He makes his way to his office, where Taehyung is sprawled out in a chair, perking up once the older man enters. 

“What’s the film this time?”

Seokjin chuckles as he sits down at his desk, setting a thin file down. Taehyung might be more invested in Seokjin’s side job than Seokjin is. Maybe he should teach Taehyung how to do it so the younger can take over. He’s inquisitive and bright enough that he’d be good at it. “Hi, how are you, Tae? Oh, me? I’m doing good.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, I saw you this morning. Now what film are you looking for?”

Seokjin eyes him up for a moment. He’s never seen Taehyung so interested; he seems more interested than usual and he doesn’t even know what the film is yet. He’s not sure if he’s interested in the film or hearing about the process Seokjin goes through to find them. Seokjin’s good at his job, good at finding the relics of an era where everything couldn’t be easily backed up. And while he makes sure to get a favorable deal and be able to show what he worked so hard to find, Seokjin maybe also makes duplicates for the sake of preserving the content of the old films. Taehyung always seems delighted to go through the unofficial prints that Seokjin keeps stored in the theater (or at his house because multiple copies is always best when it comes to preservation). 

“I don’t know if I’ll find this one. It’s pretty legendary and notably thought to be either fake or destroyed.”

Taehyung leans forward, eyes wide with barely contained interest. “What is it?”

“La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

There’s a flicker of something in Taehyung’s eyes that Seokjin can’t decipher and it’s gone too fast for him to even try. “Isn’t that that film that only ever had one showing and everyone at the showing killed each other or themselves?”

Seokjin nods, pulling a yellowed newspaper clipping from the folder he brought. It’s all in French but there’s a translation written in the blank space of the paper the clipping is attached to. It details the bloodbath that the theater turned into before the film even finished and how the only print of the film was destroyed right after.

Taehyung looks up at Seokjin, expression unreadable. “Do you think it still exists?”

Seokjin shrugs. “The guy, Bellinger, seemed very positive that it does. Said he would know if the film had been destroyed. I didn’t ask how because that seemed like a path I didn’t really want to go down. He was weirdly obsessed with the props he had from it. But he gave me the information he had and said that if I couldn’t track it down within a month that he would admit that it was gone. But he paid half up front for the whole month. Double my rate too. He seems to really want this found and to honestly believe that it’s still out there.”

Taehyung nods stiffly before he’s flashing Seokjin his usual boxy grin. “I’m sure you’ll find it. You are the best after all.”

Seokjin snorts. He wonders if he should question Taehyung’s sudden shift at the mention of the film. It’s not like him to be so serious about a film. “I don’t know if I’d go that far, but thanks.”

“Do you have any leads?”

“Not really.” He flips open the folder and shows that besides the article clipping is just a printout of the poster from the film’s only showing and another printed page with a film review on it. He taps the review. “This was written by a critic who was at the showing. As far as I can tell, he’s still alive. But he seems to have become incredibly reclusive in the decades since the showing. I’m going to ask around and see if I can track him down.”

Taehyung stands and drums his fingers on the desk. “Well good luck. Keep me updated as always.” He turns to go, pausing in the doorway. “Seokjin… whatever you do, don’t watch the film.”

And then he leaves, leaving Seokjin confused because it seems like Taehyung believes the film still exists and that somehow something bad will happen if Seokjin were to watch it. Maybe he just believes the stories around it and thinks that the crazy stuff that happened was due to the film and not something more easily explained like the crowd being poisoned or something much more logical than the movie made them do it. He shakes his head, it’s probably just a friendly warning out of worry. Turning to his computer, he starts digging into the sole survivor of the film’s only showing.

It takes some time, hours of staring at the screen, to find anything substantial on the critic. It’s nearly morning, gray light filtering through the slates in his closed blinds, but he finally finds where the critic has most likely holed up. For what reason, no one seems to really know, just that he disappeared after his review and hasn’t really been seen since. But it’s as good a place to start as any. Seokjin saves the address onto his phone and leaves the theater, stopping at his apartment for a moment to shower, change, and pack a quick bag before he’s grabbing some coffee and heading to the airport.

Upstate New York is far more woodsy than Seokjin had expected. Although he supposes when he’s only imagined New York City when thinking of New York, that’s an easy mistake to make. The foliage makes navigating to the critic’s house in his rental car a little difficult since it’s seclusion means that the road to the house is nearly completely overgrown. He wonders how the guy gets food if the path there looks as if no one’s been on it in months. The house itself is simple, but appears abandoned given the lack of care to the outside and the way all the rooms that Seokjin can see into are darkened. Still, Seokjin isn’t one to be deterred, the porch looks nice enough, he can always just wait a while if there happens to be no one home before maybe finding an open window or door to check out the house. But first he approaches and knocks on the front door. He gets no immediate response but when he steps back to look in the windows on the far side of the door, he’s able to pick up the sound of a typewriter. 

Well someone’s definitely home. He moves back to the door, knocking again. 

“Mr. Meyers?” He calls out, the typing stops and he gets an answering ‘go away.’

“I just need to speak to you for a moment.” There’s a resounding ‘no’ in response and the typing starts up again. “Please, it’ll be quick. I wanted to ask you about your review for La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

The typing stops again and then there’s a loud buzz and the door swings open an inch. Eerie, but Seokjin pushes the door open and steps inside. The house is dark, blanketed in shadows caused by the only light that streams in through the cracked curtains. There’s a stale quality to the air, like the house has been closed up for months and there’s a gray cloud of smoke that clings to the ceiling, swirling with the sudden air flow. As Seokjin looks around, he sees that there are stacks and stacks of paper piled everywhere that there is space, leaving just a narrow pathway from the entrance to the living room. He rounds the corner into the living room and there’s even more stacks here, piled high around the critic as he sits hunched over his typewriter, typing away once more. 

“Were there press notes?” He asks, glancing over one of the nearby stacks, skimming the top page. It talks about the film. He gets a curt ‘yes’ in response to his question. “Did you save them? Could I read them?”

“Dangerous.” Seokjin frowns at Meyers’ statement. They’re just notes, how could they possibly be dangerous. “The back said ‘Film in the right hands is a weapon.’ He was right and we didn’t even know it.” There’s a heavy silence before he continues. “We trust film makers when we go and watch films. We sit there, in the dark, and trust in what they’re going to show us. That it’ll affect us but we trust that they won’t go too far.”

Seokjin waits but Meyers doesn’t seem inclined to continue now, though his words haven’t been particularly helpful anyway. He’s not even particularly sure what he’s talking about. It’s almost like Meyers has used up all his words on the pages taking over his home or that he’s forgotten how to hold a conversation. Has he been here since the film release? If so, he’s been out here alone for decades. 

Seokjin decides to try directing the conversation back to the film. “I’ve read your review. A few times on the plane. And I still have no idea what the film is even about.”

“Hans Backovic was a monster. He took that trust and abused it. He didn’t want to just hurt us, he wanted to absolutely destroy us.”

Seokjin feels like they’re having two different conversations. He’s not even sure that Meyers heard what he said. Backovic was a director, how could he possibly have destroyed an entire audience? “I’ve seen extreme gore before. It didn’t drive me to violence. Why is this film so dangerous? Surely all that violence in the theater was exaggerated?”

Meyers leans back in his chair and he looks older, exhausted. His eyes seem slightly unfocused. “Oh no, not at all. If anything, it was downplayed.” He pauses and takes a slow breath. He’s staring at his desk but the look in his eyes says he’s somewhere far away, reliving something he doesn’t want to be reliving. “I watched four people die. Blood slicked every inch of that theater floor. The chairs, the walls, the screen. It reeked of death.”

There’s a charged pause and then Meyers leans forward again, looking at Seokjin and Seokjin feels unsettled, that faraway look is gone, instead replaced by a wild almost manic look. “Backovic knew what he was doing. He told me exactly what would happen when that film played.” He chuckles and it’s completely humorless. “I thought he was joking.”

Seokjin moves closer, suddenly interested. Meyers had spoken to Backovic? About the film specifically? Finally, a possible lead, something to have made this trip worth it. “You spoke to him?”

“Yes. Before the film. I recorded an interview with him.”

“Do you still have that tape? Can I listen to it?”

“No one’s ready for that film. They weren’t then and they aren’t now. I failed in my one job as messenger for the film. That review was a joke. But everyone will know, once I finish my new review. They’ll see what the film is really about.” He seems to be almost talking to himself as he pulls the sheet of paper he’d been typing out of the typewriter and adds it to the pile beside him. He slips a blank sheet into the typewriter. 

Seokjin glances around in alarm, gesturing to the stacks of paper. “Is that what all this is? Your new review?”

He lets out a slightly maniacal laugh. “I’m almost done!”

Seokjin swallows. There’s easily a million typed pages here. And it’s all about the film? Unease fills Seokjin as he casts his gaze over the stacks again. What happened in that theater that could drive someone to spend decades typing this much? And to call it a review? He doesn’t want to ask more about the review and what could possibly be compelling this man. “Well, there’s a chance that there’s still a print out there. I’ve been paid to find it.”

Meyers stares at him for a long moment and Seokjin shifts in discomfort. There’s so much mystery around this film and this talk with Meyers has only increased that. Then he laughs again and stands. Seokjin thinks maybe he should leave, for a split second he fears that Meyers has been so hard to find because he’s killed anyone who’s come to find him before. “You should know what you’re in for.” He says cryptically before moving to a trunk nearby. He rifles through it for a moment before pulling out a tape. 

He presses it into Seokjin’s hands, but when Seokjin goes to pull away, Meyers’ hands tighten around his, keeping him in place. “Promise me. Promise when you find it that you’ll let me see it again. I’ve dreamt about that film every night since I’ve seen it. This film it… it crawls inside you. It just doesn’t leave.”

He releases Seokjin’s hands and goes back to his desk, staring at the typewriter for a long moment before he starts typing. It’s as clear a dismissal as anything and at this point, Seokjin is more than happy to leave Meyers to his stacks of papers. 

Paris is the next stop for Seokjin. He has a friend, Henri, who works at one of the bigger film archives in the city and he might have leads for him. But first he needs a moment to himself, so he spends his first night in the hotel. Where he figures he might as well listen to the interview while he’s got some time. It could give him some help in where to look when he goes to see Henri tomorrow. 

The interview seems normal enough. Backovic talks like most of the more pretentious indie filmmakers. Those who believe that their art is superior and above so much else of what’s out there, especially what comes out of Hollywood. Seokjin vows to never tell Taehyung about the interview because he’ll only use it as fodder to mock him and how he has the same ideas with his theater. Which is not true. Seokjin shows plenty of films aside from indies. They’re just usually classics, films from the 70s and 80s, cult classics that don’t really show in theaters that much. Things that draw specific crowds but aren’t always popular with most but the theater does just fine with how it is now. He sees no reason to change.

Halfway through listening to the interview, a searing pain flairs in Seokjin’s head and he jerks the headphones off as he tries to blink the orange ring from his vision. 

His heart is pounding for the start and he sees the flash of something out of the corner of his eye. He stumbles off the bed to move towards the bathroom where he saw the shadow. The room is empty, which should be unsurprising since Seokjin is alone in his hotel room, though now he can’t remember if he had left the light on or not. 

But it seemed so real, like there really was someone else here. He glances at the mirror and for a brief second, he swears that he sees Taehyung. He rubs at his eyes, heels digging in almost painfully. He blinks the spots from his vision and stares at the mirror a little longer, like if he stares at it enough, something will happen. Like Taehyung might appear on the surface again and prove that Seokjin is not losing his mind right now. But when nothing happens, he finally, reluctantly, moves back to the main room, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands shake as he picks up his phone to send a quick message to Taehyung. 

He gets a response within a few minutes and it makes discomfort settle in him when Taehyung confirms that he’s at the theater right now working. He even makes a joke how he’s sure people come to see the old films on the days that he hangs around not for the films but to see Taehyung’s face. He knows Taehyung’s just trying to draw a response from him, to tease and coax him into some flirtatious banter. But Seokjin’s suddenly much too exhausted for that. He lays down without responding, but it takes him a long time to fall asleep and even when he does, it’s restless and plagued by dreams that leave him the second he wakes. But while the images fade with the growing light, the sound remains; the chilling screams that sound so much like Taehyung that Seokjin almost calls him just to confirm that he’s okay.

In the morning, he makes his way to the archives to speak with Henri, who apologizes that he can’t be of too much help since they’re in the process of moving, but he says he can help direct Seokjin in the right direction if he tells him what movie he’s looking for. Seokjin is a little reluctant after the meeting with the critic. He waves off the help, telling Henri that he’ll just look around on his own to not get in his way. Henri insists, saying that the move will make it harder for Seokjin to look.

When Seokjin mentions the film, Herni’s entire demeanor shifts, the friendly man suddenly cold as he tries to warn Seokjin away. When Seokjin won’t, Henri tells him he’s welcome to use his assistant’s office, though there’s not much on the film and that the film is certainly not there. He leaves him with an ominous warning about having to earn this film, hand tucked firmly in his pocket.

Seokjin pours over what little information there is. The most promising thing he gets is the crew list for the film, something that Seokjin didn’t see listed anywhere online and it really only lended to the idea that this film wasn’t real. But now he has some physical evidence that people worked on this, that they saw the film unfold in person. His joy at the discovery is short-lived though when he realizes that this is proving less and less useful with each name he has to cross off because they’re dead. Of the eleven crew members, all but two are dead. He goes out to find Henri, showing him the paper. 

“How easy is it to find either of them?”

Henri looks at the list and nods, almost like he knew this was coming. Seokjin wonders how many people he’s seen come through here looking for the movie. “Patton was blinded after filming. And he won’t speak on the film. He nearly killed the last person to ask him about it.”

Seokjin gestures to the other name. “And Backovic? Surely he’d have some idea where his film ended up.”

Henri scoffs. “Backovic is dead.”

“How do you know that? There’s no death certificates or records or anything.”

Henri shoots him a look. “Trust me, Seokjin. Backovic is dead.” When Seokjin goes to speak again, Henri interrupts. “I’m sorry but I have nothing else to tell you.”

Seokjin knows that Henri’s not telling him something. Years of working together and he’s learned a thing or two about his friend and his tells. He doesn’t know what, but there’s something he knows that Seokjin knows he’ll need to be able to find this stupid film. He stops just outside the door, hidden from sight and he hears Henri make a phone call. He doesn’t know much French, but he knows that he mentions the film. Seokjin leaves quickly, making plans to come back later and force Henri to tell him what he knows. 

Henri seems startled when Seokjin appears again a few hours later. He really should’ve expected it. Seokjin’s never been one to give up so easily and they both know that. 

“I know you’re lying. You know more than you’re telling me.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I don’t understand anything that’s happening. There’s so much mystery around this film, how can I possibly know anything. Fuck, last night I saw…” Seokjin trails off, he doesn’t know how to explain last night. Maybe it was just jet lag and exhaustion and the unknown of this film that caused the hallucinations. Or maybe he dreamed the whole thing.

Henri straightens, eyes wide with alarm. He moves closer to Seokjin. “A circle? Like the reel change in a movie?” At Seokjin’s nod, Henri pales. “Then it’s too late. You’ve already started a process which cannot be stopped. It’s only going to get worse. I’m so sorry.”

“What started? I don’t understand.”

“When you look for the film, it does something to you. You see those burns. It’s payment for every step closer you make to the film. You need to stop now. Before it’s really too late. You don’t want to continue on this path, Seokjin. You have to ignore the curiosity. The itch to dig a little deeper, find out a little more. Walk away. I know it’s hard. But you have to.”

“You know?” 

Henri nods and pulls his hand from his pocket where he always keeps it tucked, revealing severe burns, so bad that his fingers have fused together. Seokjin takes a small step back in surprise. 

“But… How?”

“I was the projectionist at a private screening of the film. I was curious about it too. Much like you. Much like everyone who eventually comes searching for the film that’s only been shown once, twice now. But most don’t know that. It was kept from the public and the film disappeared again.”

Henri pauses and takes a deep breath. “I chickened out. I got scared once it started and I looked away.” He closes his eyes. “When the screaming started, I tried to stop the projector but it wouldn’t stop. So I grabbed the film reel. I saw that some circle you did and I… I blacked out. When I came to, my hand was burned and the film was over.”

Seokjin swallows. This film is starting to seem more and more like a bad idea. Taehyung’s warning flits through his mind as well, telling him not to watch the film. Maybe he should’ve told him to just give up the job. Not that Seokjin would’ve listened. Maybe he should’ve charged more to find this. “I won’t watch it. I’ll just take it and give it to the collector. But… I could really use the money for the theater. I can’t just give up looking.”

Henri’s gaze darts over Seokjin’s face and then he gives a small nod. There’s a sadness in his eyes as he picks up a small piece of paper. “I wouldn’t call this man if I were you. He has an… extensive collection but he’s dangerous.” He hands the number over to Seokjin. 

“Does he have it?”

Henri shakes his head. “No. But he’s been given things from the Backovic estate. He can possibly get you in contact with them.”

“Thank you.”

Henri shakes his head again. “Don’t thank me for sending a friend into danger.”

Seokjin takes a taxi to the address given to him when he calls the number that Henri gave him. The warehouse is run down looking and at a dead end about halfway up a big hill. The only other buildings are some houses further up the hill from the road and the town he can see over the road barricade looking down. He pays the taxi driver extra and tells her to stay then makes his way towards the two burly men who have appeared at the massive open doors to the warehouse. 

The warehouse is shadowy, lighting sparse and everything appears to be covered by a layer of dust with the exception of a few items in the room that they lead him to.The room is large and another man stands almost in the middle of the room, he’s wearing all dark leather and has his back towards Seokjin. He stands just behind a wooden crate that’s been set on a chair. It has a printed label that reads ‘La Fin Absolue du Monde.’

“It’s not for me.” Seokjin begins. Might as well start with that. Maybe it’ll make it easier for him to get the film.

“But you’re curious.”

“I suppose a little. Have you seen it?”

“No. But I would. Who wouldn’t?” The man walks a few steps away to a camera and begins to fiddle with the settings. “I admire a man like Backovic. So unafraid to be real. I detest the fakeness of Hollywood. I want to be great like Backovic. Groundbreaking. Real.”

Seokjin moves to the crate, opening it up. He’d idly hoped that maybe it was the film and he could take it to Bellinger and be done with this. But the crate is only about half full, mostly with filler to keep a film reel cushioned during transport. Other than that, there’s a few different manila envelopes. 

The first envelope has a return address to Katja Backovic. If Seokjin’s remembering correctly, that’s Backovic’s wife and according to Henri, is actually his widow. That’s certainly a good lead. There’s not a lot of information out there about her in recent years either. He sets it down and picks up another, it’s blank on the outside and so he slips the pictures out that are contained within. 

The first is of a winged figure, one that appears to be a woman, her face turned away from the camera and surrounded by other people. Her wings look beautiful even through an image, glossy black and full. The next is a silhouette of a figure holding a knife and it looks like they’re in front of a window or some other light source. 

As he shuffles through the photos, they become increasingly bizarre. A photo of someone on a neighborhood street and the sky is red but looks off, like someone has overlaid another image over the sky. He thinks they’re set photos. The last one shows two winged figures, both facing away from the camera and chained to the wall. Their heads are bowed towards each other. One seems to be the woman from the first still and the other seems to be a man, but there’s a table or something that blocks Seokjin from seeing much more than his wings and back of his head. 

Seokjin is suddenly grabbed from behind, the photos falling from his hands to scatter on the floor as the two men drag him a few feet backwards. The other man, the one who he’d been speaking with has a syringe now. Seokjin’s blood runs cold. 

“Oh, you can’t leave already. We have so much left to discuss.”

Seokjin squirms, trying to fight the men off, but their hold on him is firm and in a matter of seconds, the needle is in his neck and consciousness is leaving him.

Seokjin comes to some time later, he has no idea how long but there’s light filtering through the window so it’s either not been that long or he’s been out for a whole day. He’s tied to a chair and duct tape firm across his mouth. He feels foggy and when he looks around, he sees the two burly men are now operating the camera. There’s a woman tied to another chair in front of him and the man from before is now shirtless and holding a machete. Seokjin feels like he’s going to be sick.

He fights against his bonds, but he’s helpless to stop as the man approaches the woman and, with no preamble, embeds the machete in her neck with one strong thwack. He pulls it free and pushes her head so blood sprays his bare chest, head tilting back like he’s being hosed down on a hot day. 

Seokjin screams, though it's muffled and continues to fight against his bonds as the man pulls the machete out and makes quick work of getting through her neck. Her head is dropped to the ground and then the man approaches him and Seokjin tries to push himself away. He talks about how he turned her into art, about the realness of what he’s created, but the words barely register to Seokjin in his panicked state. Maybe he should’ve told the taxi driver to call the authorities if he took too long.

The man leans closer. “Something happens when you point the camera at something terrible. The resulting film takes on power.” He grins and rips the tape off of Seokjin’s mouth. 

“Snuff is not power! It’s just fucked up! It’s murder.”

The man laughs and straddles Seokjin’s lap and Seokjin feels his heart in his throat as his stomach turns in revulsion. He can feel the blood soaking through his jeans where the man sits. 

“You’re not listening to me. You came all this way but you won’t listen. You want to know why the film destroyed its audience?” His hand squishes Seokjin’s cheeks and Seokjin tries not to think about how slick they feel against his skin. “Backovic was an exceptional editor. He understood the value of a cut. But there was more to it. They say the movie works subliminally while you watch it. But the thing that made the film a weapon?” His grin is deranged. “Blood. Spilled blood. What if you got hold of an angel? A divine being with the blood of God flowing through its veins. And what if you sacrificed it on camera?”

Seokjin gets a flash of the circle again, the sharp sting as his vision is suddenly obscured. He sees a flash of a woman, chained to the ground, shuddering and emaciated, a pair of glossy, black wings mounted on the wall behind her. His breath shudders through him as the man bleeds back into focus.

“Something that profound, that personal. It changes everyone who was a part of putting it on film. And everyone who sees it. The closer you get to the film, the more you’ll be changed too. That’s Backovic’s secret. ‘Film is magic,’ he said. And he was right.”

Seokjin sees another flash. A split second of a circle with Taehyung in the middle of it, face full of anguish. 

“What do you see? What haunts you? Will they be waiting for you on the other side?”

Seokjin’s vision goes white. 

When he comes to again, he’s standing, completely free of his bonds and machete in hand. He drops it immediately, it looks bloodier than it had before. He catches sight of the man laying on the ground not too far from him but he tries not to look at it. Vaguely grateful for the fact that the man has fallen half behind a crate. The camera’s been knocked over as well. The two burly and the woman’s body are gone. He doesn’t want to know what happened. He has a gut feeling and it’s not one that he particularly wants to think too hard on. He’d really just like to forget that this entire warehouse ever existed.

The box is beside him now and he digs through it quickly, finding the envelope with Katja’s address in Vancouver on it and runs, taking the road back to the main street on foot. When he gets to the main road, it’s getting dark and he takes a cab. Shakily handing the driver a few extra bills in the hopes that they won’t ask any questions about his state. 

He takes a scalding shower once back at his hotel, scrubs himself raw but he can still feel like blood, no matter how hard and long he scrubs for. He stuffs the bloody clothes into a paper bag and gets dressed. He hastily packs the rest of his things and goes down to check out. He shoves the bag with the bloody clothes into a trash can on the street before getting into a taxi and heading to the airport. He’s ready to be fucking done with this. He’s ready to be away from this city.

Taehyung texts him while he’s on the flight. Asking how the search is going. He’s too exhausted to even think and so he leaves Taehyung unanswered. 

He takes another shower once he lands in Vancouver, but he still feels dirty. He stares at himself in the mirror and tries to make it look like he’s not on the verge of a breakdown and leaves his room to Katja’s address. 

Seokjin presses the button beside her name on the building. 

“Yes?” Her voice is softer than he expected, though he’s not really sure what he was expecting.

“Mrs. Backovic? Can I speak to you for a minute? I’ve come a long way.”

He’s answered by the door buzzing open and he moves quickly through the lobby to the elevator. Seokjin presses the button for the penthouse, scrubbing his hand over his face once the elevator starts moving. Maybe he should make this his last film job. It’s far more than he expected it to be and he’s just so tired. There’s a jolt and then the elevator stops and the lights go out. 

He feels a body press to his back and he tenses. It’s not real, he thinks, eyes squeezing shut. Just like everything else.  

“Save her. Please.” When Seokjin turns and thrusts his hand out, he’s met only with air. The voice had been hauntingly familiar. It sounded like Taehyung. It’s not real, he repeats to himself. Taehyung is back home. Probably asleep right now. He can’t be here. It’s completely illogical.

The elevator dings and Seokjin opens his eyes to see the doors sliding open to reveal he’s at the top floor. He’d been moving the whole time. Seokjin blinks a few times. He needs to get this film and hand it off. Now. He walks towards the living room, revealing a woman standing there. Katja. 

“Something happened in the elevator.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Sure. Something like that.”

“You must want this very bad to have some so far. I must admit, you’re the first to ever make it here.”

“I have… so many questions.”

She smiles, but it doesn’t quite touch her eyes. “I’m not sure I have your answers. But we’ll see.”

She leads him a little further into the room, taking a seat in an armchair and gesturing for him to take a seat on the adjoining sofa. 

They sit in silence for a while, Seokjin taking a moment to think and gather his thoughts before finally speaking. “Do you have a copy of the film?”

She smiles that half smile again. “That’s not what you’re really curious about. You want to know if the stories are true.” Seokjin nods, though both are true. “They are. Unfortunately. Why are you looking for the film?”

“I was paid to.”

She lets out a bitter laugh. “That’s not the real reason.”

Seokjin chews his lip. “I… I don’t know anymore. There’s… I just have to find it.” He doesn’t understand. He’s walked away from lesser jobs. He has no idea what keeps compelling him to push here, what’s making him want to find this so badly.

Her head tilts like she didn’t expect his answer. She observes him quietly before nodding to herself, like Seokjin just took some big test and she’s pleased with how he did. 

Silence settles again before Seokjin asks a question he’s had since he saw the crew list. “Who produced this film?”

Katja’s eyebrows raise. “You’re quite direct.”

Seokjin just gives a small shrug. “I just want someone to say it.”

Sadness softens her features as she looks down. “I asked Hans the same question. Many times. The producers of this film produce many other things. Chaos, sorrow, suffering, famine.”

Seokjin’s brows furrow. “What does that mean? The devil? Demons?”

Katja gives another sad smile. “Hans never put a name on it. ‘Evil is evil,’ he would say, ‘does a name really matter?’” They stare at each other, the real implication of her words settling between them, and then she stands. “Come with me.”

She leads him to a film editing studio. It’s a little dated, but the equipment is well taken care of. Reels still set up and ready for editing. Like any second Hans might walk in to begin working. Seokjin glances at her. 

“How did he die? There’s no official records or anything about it.”

She glances away and Seokjin regrets asking only a little bit. This film has done so much damage, he has to know how the creator met his end. “He became… obsessed with La Fin Absolue du Monde. During the last year of his life, all he did was watch it. Over and over again. Like it was a punishment for what he had done. He got too close to the fire. The film worked the way it was meant. He became paranoid, skittish. It got to him.” 

Tears gather in her eyes as she continues. “He grabbed a knife on the way to find me in the bedroom. Only when he slit my throat,” she pulls her scarf down to show a scar running across her throat, “he just disfigured me. When he did it to himself, he died.” She laughs bitterly. “I don’t know who got the better end of that. I was left to watch over the film. I hate that film. I hate everything that it caused. I hate that it was always going to be too late to make it better.”

Seokjin swallows. That’s a lot to take in. It still doesn’t really answer why there’s no record, though he supposes that given enough infamy and money, keeping a death quiet is easy enough. 

“Can… I have the film?

She stares at him for a long moment then moves over to a rack of reels. She goes to touch it but her hand stops shy of making contact. “I put it here. I hate even having it in the house.”

Seokjin moves over when she steps back, fingers brushing the shelf just below where the film sits. He honestly can’t believe that he’s here. That he actually found it. What’s more baffling is that it seems that no one ever thought to check with Backovic’s wife for the location of the film. The easiest place to hide, in the most obvious place. “Ever since I’ve been tracking this, I’ve been seeing flashes. Circles with images inside.”

“The cigarette burns?” Katja’s eyes fill with pity at his nod. “When did they start?”

“I heard this interview, with Hans, from the night of the premiere-”

“You were marked. That’s how potent the film is. You don’t even have to watch it to be affected by it. As soon as you start getting close to it, it’s got you. Slowly, like sinking into quicksand.” She gives him a last sad smile, like she already knows what the future holds for him. “Take the film. It’s already too late.”

Seokjin takes the films from the shelf. He feels strange, something not quite sitting right with him. He’s not sure if it’s her cryptic answers or the way the films feel heavier that film reels should. But he leaves, flies back home because his current employer happens to live within driving distance of his apartment. He takes them as soon as he makes it back to his apartment. He wants them gone as soon as possible.

He leaves the reels in the trunk of his car because they make his skin crawl to have them on the seat beside him. He doesn’t want to touch them anymore than he has too. 

When Seokjin arrives at Bellinger’s house, the man in question and his butler are both waiting on the steps. Seokjin pops the trunk open and Bellinger is quick to rub his hands across the cases, a pleased hum leaving him. Then he’s pulling them out and handing him to his butler with the instruction to go set up the projector. 

Bellinger turns back to Seokjin. “I never showed you how I knew that this film still existed. Would you like to see before you leave?”

Seokjin shifts. He doesn’t really want to. He wants to go home, forget that he ever looked for this film. Go back to his normal life, taking care of his theater and spending time with Taehyung. But it seems rude and so he nods. Bellinger leads him into the house and down a short hallway. When he opens a door, Seokjin feels like all the air has been sucked from his lungs with what he sees. 

It’s the woman from the circles. Chained to the floor and wings mounted on the wall. Bellinger enters the room and she immediately cowers, giving Seokjin a view of her back and where two long, red cuts sit. Right about where wings would attach. They look fresher than decades old wounds should look. Because Seokjin knows she must be the one from the stills. One of the angels in Backovic’s film. The man from the warehouse’s words comes back to him as he’s staring at her. Divine blood spilled on camera. Seokjin’s chest aches.

Bellinger runs a hand across her head and she curls more into herself. “I happened to be lucky enough to acquire a few props from the film.”

Seokjin’s stomach turns at a being, an angel, being referred to as nothing more than a prop. “Can I have the rest of my payment?”

“Ah! Of course!” Bellinger reaches into his pocket and hands Seokjin an envelope. 

Seokjin doesn’t even care if it’s the right amount. He needs to get out of here. He wants to claw his skin off the longer he stays. He turns and leaves, missing the look the angel sends him. 

Seokjin rests his forehead against the steering wheel once he’s in the car. He allows himself a few deep breaths before finally pulling away from the house. He needs to just not think about this for a few hours. And then he can figure out what he should do with the new weight of information that’s been bestowed upon him. He taps the console, dialing Taehyung.

“Hey! You’ve been pretty quiet lately, you good?” He answers cheerily. 

“Better now.”

“Oh?” Taehyung sounds excited. “What happened?”

“I found it. Fuck, I can’t… I can’t even explain anything properly. But… fuck, Tae, I really found it. I found La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

“Where is it now?”

Seokjin frowns. That’s a weird question. Taehyung knows pretty well how this works, plus Seokjin left Bellinger’s information in his office in case he needed Taehyung to get in contact with him should something go wrong. “Tae, what-” He cuts off when his call waiting pops up, revealing that Bellinger is calling him. “Sorry Tae, that’s the other line. I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

“Seokjin no! Wait! Whatever you do, don’t watch-” Seokjin cuts him off as he switches to Bellinger’s call. 

Bellinger starts babbling, it sounds like he was babbling before Seokjin even answered the call. It’s hard for Seokjin to follow most of what he’s saying. Eventually he gathers enough that Bellinger needs him to come back. Had he grabbed the wrong film? Had Katja switched them on purpose? Or lied about it still existing? That seems unlikely, but he supposes he’ll find out when he gets back to Bellinger’s mansion. He turns the car around the first chance he gets. 

Bellinger’s house is quiet when he enters after he receives no answer to his knocking. But he makes it only a few feet past the foyer when the butler staggers out from a room, covered in cuts and knife still in hand. He points a finger at Seokjin.

“This is all your fault. You brought this evil here!” 

And Seokjin can only watch with a horrified expression as the butler stabs the knife into one eye and then the other. Panic wells in his chest and Seokjin moves quickly through the house, finding the small theater room with ease after heading the direction that the butler had come from. There’s no one in the seats, but he sees movement in the projection booth so he heads back there. 

Bellinger stands on the other side of the room, next to an empty projector. He murmurs something, though Seokjin’s unsure if he meant it for him or if he is just talking to himself. He lifts a straight razor, setting it on top of the projector like it’s a normal thing to do. He’s sweaty and winces every so often as his arm moves behind the projector. Seokjin wants to help, but he has a feeling he might be a little too late for that. And he’d prefer to not get closer and see just what Bellinger did with that straight razor. 

“I’ve done some terrible things,” he gasps out. “You have to to become this rich.”

Seokjin sees a flash of the angel and realization washes over him. “You watched La Fin Absolue du Monde.”

Bellinger jerks forward, wincing at the sudden movement, but there's a wild look in his eye. He seems unphased by the jarring motion that caused him further harm, too engrossed in the need to tell Seokjin about the movie. “Yeah… I recommend it.” He shakes his head and groans. “It’s not a movie though. Just a preview. The coming attractions of the soul.”

“You said you needed help.”

“I was going to ask you to find another movie for me. But… I don’t need it anymore. I have been… inspired.” There’s a disconcerting squelch and then Bellinger flicks the projector on and a second later something red and gooey slides through the projector like a film reel. It takes Seokjin only a second to realize what it is and he covers his mouth in horror and backs out of the room as he retches. Bellinger’s wheezed laughter follows him out as he sits heavily in one of the theater chairs. He just needs a minute to collect himself. He’s never been faced with so much blood and death in person. Movies sure, but those are fake. Actors with makeup and corn syrup. People who get up and walk away after the scene is done. Not this. 

He buries his face in his hands. He has no idea how long he sits there, but when he looks up, he’s horrified to realize that the film restarted. He has no idea if it was Bellinger doing it and that’s why he called him here, compelled by the film to get someone else to watch or if there’s some other force at play that started it. Taehyung’s warnings float through his mind.

He squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t watch this. He doesn’t want to, he wants to leave and never come back. Maybe never watch a movie again. But then there’s a scream and something makes him open his eyes. And there, projected on the screen, is Taehyung. Strapped belly down on a table as a masked man laughs and hacks at the base of Taehyung’s wings. Screen Taehyung lets out another anguished scream and Seokjin forces his eyes closed again. 

He’s not going to watch. He won’t. There’s a need to do something in his chest but he can’t figure out what it is. A woman screams on screen and with a sudden, bright clarity, Seokjin knows what it is that he needs to do. He scrambles out of his seat, blindly feeling his way out of the room as best he can. Once in the relative safety of the hallway, he heads immediately towards the angel. She’s staring directly at the door when he enters, like she was expecting him. And Seokjin would be disconcerted if he hadn’t just seen his best friend and the guy who he’s maybe interested in getting his literal, actual wings cut off. Seokjin thinks that nothing could ever phase him again after this. He moves to the desk on the far wall, tearing through the drawers until he finds the shackle keys. 

He approaches slowly, getting to his knees and crawling the last few feet to her. He reaches out just as slowly, but she doesn’t move an inch. He’d think she was a statue if he hadn’t seen her moving before. He undoes each of the cuffs then slides himself back to give her space. 

She doesn’t move at first and when she does, it’s to look back to the door, a small smile gracing her lips. “Taehyung,” she sighs.

Seokjin jerks, turning to see Taehyung standing in the doorway, shirtless with the film reels tucked under one arm. He quickly approaches the woman, completely ignoring Seokjin’s presence. The lack of attention gives Seokjin the opportunity to see Taehyung’s back and see that the same two marks that marr her back also marr his. 

The two press their foreheads together and stay like that for a long while. Seokjin begins to feel like an intruder and so he tries to quietly stand and slip out. But he only makes it to standing before Taehyung is turning towards him. 

Seokjin…” His eyes are watery. “Thank you.”

Seokjin gives a jerky nod and quickly leaves. He doesn’t know what he’d say to Taehyung. He just found out that he’s actually an angel. What do you even say to that? Sorry some asshole film director mutilated you on film and someone else captured your angel… friend? Partner? Seokjin doesn’t want to think about it. They seem to know what they need now that they’re in possession of the films. He’s not needed anymore.

Seokjin tries to get back to normal life. He really does, though Taehyung’s disappearance leaves a bigger hole in his life than he would’ve thought. It’s a little heartbreaking too. He’d been seriously considering seeing if the younger would be interested in something more. 

Plus he’s now lost some of the help he had at the theater. He hires someone else, a sweet kid named Jungkook and he lets him help find more current or interesting films to show alongside some older and more indie films and business steadily picks up. Yoongi questions his sudden change of heart on the films he shows and Seokjin staunchly refuses to admit that he did it in honor of Taehyung who always nagged him to get newer films in. He spends more time with other friends and tries not to think about how much he misses Taehyung. 

That is, until he’s home one night and there’s a knock on his balcony door. Which is baffling because Seokjin lives on the 25th floor and it’s a fucking balcony. Cautiously, he slides open the door, jaw dropping when he sees Taehyung and you, looking full and happy and with pretty black wings folded neatly behind you both. Seokjin rubs at his eyes. There’s no way. He’s got to be dreaming.  

Taehyung moves in to give Seokjin a hug but Seokjin takes a quick step back. Taehyung’s face falls slightly and you reach out to rub his arm comfortingly. 

You give Seokjin a soft smile. “We wanted to come thank you.”

Seokjin flushes. “It was nothing.”

You shake your head. “No you don’t understand. It was everything. Taehyung and I were bound to that film. As long as it existed, we were trapped and broken. But you saved us.”

“Seokjin…” Taehyung’s voice sounds so small and Seokjin aches to hold him. 

But he can’t. Not yet. He has to know. It’s been festering in his mind ever since Taehyung disappeared. “Did you befriend me just so I’d find your film?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he’s quick to shake his head. “No! I was your friend because I wanted to be! I was trapped here. It was so lonely without Y/n. But I found you and… I don’t know. Something just drew me to you.” Taehyung ducks his head in shame. “I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you what I was. I didn’t want you to think I was crazy and stop being my friend.”

Seokjin’s heart breaks and before Taehyung can utter another word, Seokjin is crushing him in a hug. Taehyung lets out a watery laugh and they stay like that for a long minute before finally pulling away. 

“You two should probably come in so people don’t see the wings and think I’m hiding mothman or something.”

Taehyung perks up. “Oh, we can fix that.”

And before Seokjin can ask what he means, the air around the both of you shimmers and when it clears, you’re both standing there, wingless.

Taehyung grins. “Angel powers are pretty cool, huh?”

Seokjin blinks. “Y-yeah… Uh, you can still come in though. Wings or not.”

Taehyung grins and ushers both Seokjin and you into the apartment. You all sit and an awkward silence settles on the room. 

“So… Where did you disappear to?”

Taehyung grimaces and you reach over to take his hand before turning to Seokjin. “Hand to find a creative way to get home without powers so we could get the film destroyed and recover. The recovery didn’t take long. But trying to find the way home proved tricky when we didn’t have our powers to locate other angels.”

Seokjin glances at you then at Taehyung, a lump forming in his throat. “Are… you going to stick around?”

Taehyung smirks and slides closer to Seokjin. “Depends. Do we have a reason to stick around?”

Seokjin gulps. “We?”

You rise and settle on Seokjin’s other side and both your hand and Taehyung’s come to rest on Seokjin’s thighs in perfect synchrony. “We.” You confirm with a coy smile. “We’d really like to thank you properly first though.”

“Can… Can angels even do that?”

He gets two giggles in response and then both you and Taehyung are slipping from the couch to kneel before him. Seokjin wonders how much you’ve done this to be so in sync with one another. It makes him equals parts aroused and jealous. Two hands slide up his thigh, playing with the waistband of his sweats. Taehyung looks smug and you have a matching expression as you bat your eyelashes up at him, looking every inch like an innocent angel despite the hand that is dangerously close to his rapidly filling cock. 

“You can say no,” you offer, when his silence continues to stretch. 

“No!”

Taehyung snickers. “I told you. We already had a thing almost going. And who wouldn’t go for you.”

You nudge Taehyung playfully. “Stop that. This is about Seokjin.”

Taehyung turns back to Seokjin, grin much darker than before as his hand tightens on Seokjin’s waistband. “You’re right. So? Will you let us thank you?”

Seokjin blinks. He’s still trying to figure out how he ended up here. The two of you look far more salacious than Seokjin thinks a pair of angels should ever look. He wonders if you’re not just some demons pretending. He can’t deny that the thought of both of you doing whatever you deem as showing your thanks is intriguing. And Taehyung’s not wrong. They had been close. He just didn’t expect that to work out this way. He doesn’t think he can find a thing to complain about when he looks at how pretty you both look between his legs and eager to please. 

“Hm, do you think he’s distracted by the thought of what we’ll do to him?” Your gaze slides towards Taehyung.” “Or how we look together?”

A groan rumbles in Seokjin’s chest. Fuck, he hadn’t even thought about seeing the two of you together. You both smile at the reaction and take that as consent to tug Seokjin’s pants down and off. His cock rests hard and heavy against his belly as the both of you greedily drink in the sight. 

Your tongue darts out to lick your lips as Taehyung presses Seokjin’s legs a little further apart so that both you and Taehyung fit between them. You make eye contact with Seokjin and wink before turning to Taehyung and pulling him in for a kiss. The kiss is immediately filthy and Seokjin groans at the slick sounds coming from you both. It’s clear that you are familiar with each other, an ease that oozes from you both as you kiss. Taehyung’s hands tangle in your hair, drawing a loud moan that he’s quick to swallow. 

Seokjin starts to feel a little like an intruder, but as soon as he has the thought, there’s your hand is sliding up his calf. You stop at the bend of his knee and Seokjin only has a moment to ponder what you’re doing before you’re tugging him closer until his ass is perched on the edge of the couch. He’d be a little scared at the casual display of power if it didn’t turn him on more. Not breaking contact with your kiss with Taehyung, your hand continues its path up his leg until you can wrap your hand around his cock.

Seokjin’s hips jerk into your grip and he can see the slightest edge of a smile tugging at your lips. You give him a squeeze before sliding your hand up the thick length. Seokjin wants to squeeze his eyes shut but he’s too drawn to the way you and Taehyung look together. He almost wants to bat your hand away and see what the two of you do together.

Jolting, his gaze drops to where Taehyung’s hand has joined your’s on his cock, thumb circling the head and gathering precum. Then he’s pulling his hand back and slipping his thumb between your mouths. Seokjin sees your tongue brush the pad of his thumb and then brush against Taehyung’s to share the taste of Seokjin with him. It’s unfair how erotic the two of your are together. 

Seokjin just might die. Actually, maybe he’s already dead. Maybe that film actually did kill him. If this is the afterlife, he certainly can’t complain. Your hand settles at the base once again and you use your grip to tilt it closer to your and Taehyung’s mouths. You both shift closer, until your tongues brush the head of Seokjin’s cock just as much as they do against each other. 

Groaning, Seokjin’s hands curl into fists where they rest on the couch, at a complete loss of what to do as the two of you seem content to torture him by making out with his dick trapped in the middle. The two of you continue like that, tongues brushing the sensitive head of his cock with every brush against each other, lips occasionally dragging with the movement. 

Seokjin kind of hopes that he is dead, because he might die with how slow the two of you decide to go. He hesitates for only a moment before he’s unclenching his fists and resting his hand on each of your heads. Getting a pleased hum from you, he takes that as encouragement to push a little more and he pushes both of your heads further down his cock. Your lips barely touch Taehyung’s now that Seokjin’s cock is properly between you, girth forcing you too far apart. You work your tongue, moving lower as Taehyung moves back towards the tip. 

You trace a vein until it disappears at the base of his cock, shifting then to lap at his balls. Taehyung’s tongue swirls around the head, taking his time playing with the slit before wrapping his lips around and sucking. Seokjin moans, hands tightening in both yours and Taehyung’s hair. 

You let your hand closest to Taehyung trace his thigh before you’re pressing against his clothed erection. Taehyung whines, accidently sliding further down Seokjin’s cock and making himself gag. You smother your laugh against Seokjin’s thigh and Seokjin uses his grip of your hair to pull your face up. 

You blink up at him with wide eyes at the sudden action and Seokjin smirks. “I don’t think that was a very nice thing to do, princess.” He gently pulls Taehyung off his cock. “What do you think, prince? Was that very nice?”

Taehyung stares up at Seokjin with wide, blown out eyes, lips plump and spit slick. He licks his lips and shakes his head and Seokjin gives him an indulgent smile and cups his cheek. Taehyung leans into his palm, eyes slipping closed. Seokjin turns back to you and the soft look melts away and you gulp. 

He smirks. “Why don’t we give her a taste of her own medicine, my little prince?”

Taehyung shoots you a smug look and nods again, making Seokjin chuckle. He releases Taehyung, who shifts slightly out of the way. Seokjin grips his cock with one hand and guides you down onto it with the other. You open easily, squirming as Seokjin slowly feeds his cock into your mouth until he hits the back of your throat. 

He drags you back, just as slow, before pushing you back down, cock hitting the back of your throat with more force and you gag. Taehyung’s hand finds yours, giving it a squeeze as Seokjin quickly works up a rhythm fucking your mouth. You struggle to take him, Seokjin thrusting before you have a chance to catch your breath. 

Tears spring to your eyes and Seokjin chuckles. “Where’s the laughter now, hm, princess? It was so funny when Taehyungie was the one gagging on my cock.”

You whine around him and Seokjin picks up his pace, thighs flexing beneath your hands. Taehyung’s nails scratch along Seokjin’s thighs, sliding up to cup his balls and give them a tug. Seokjin moans and takes only a few more thrusts before he’s cuming in your mouth. You suck him through until he pushes you off and you sit back on your heels waiting for him to look at you. 

When he does, you open your mouth to show the mouthful of cum and then you smirk and pull Taehyung back in for a messy kiss, swapping Seokjin’s cum between you both. Seokjin groans, watching the time you take to make sure every drop is cleaned from your lips. 

Once you’re finished, you both crawl back onto the couch, each straddling one of his thighs. Seokjin cups each of your faces with one of his hands. Taehyung leans forward to press a soft kiss to Seokjin’s lips and when he pulls back you lean in to place a kiss of your own on his lips. 

Taehyung grins when you both press your foreheads to Seokjin’s. “We’re gonna stick around for a while.”

Seokjin can’t say he minds having two angels stick around. It’s a good thing he’s got a king sized bed.

[reader-no-danna]

character(s): amai mask/sweet mask/handsome kamen

request: @fijiflower “Amai Mask learns how to do his black s/o's hair as soon as he starts getting comfy with them. It's like a bonding activity for them. (Also, if he NEVER hires a stylist that can't do black hair, no matter how good they are. That's a crime in his eyes.)”

synopsis: amai’s career has prevented him from spending time with his black s/o. so when he finds out that they plan to twist their hair for a special occasion, what better way to make amends than to help them?

fandom: one punch man

warnings: none!

a/n: i decided to make this a one-shot. i had a reallyyy good time writing this... thanks for making me simp for amai, yet again 🤧 and yes, stylists not knowing how to manage black hair is a crime 🙄 i hope you enjoy!!

the room was filled with the aroma of shea butter and natural oils. Several products had been strewn across the bathroom sinks countertop, some opened, more regrettably untouched. you were lounging comfortably in a small, plush sofa chair that had been placed in the room especially for you. and behind you, busying himself with the task of managing your hair for the day, was amai mask.

the two of you had been together for a month now. and while dating the famous hero had numerous perks, you had also come to realize its downsides. with his demanding career as a hero, and his even more demanding career as an entertainer, he couldn’t spend as much time as he wanted with you.

for the longest time, your communication was limited to texts and yearnful phone calls, only late at night when he arrived home after a busy day would he find you half asleep in your condo, slipping into the sheets beside you and whispering quietly so as not to rouse you.

today, however, was a special occasion.

he hadn’t been oblivious to your actions for the past month. surprisingly enough, he had been very observant of you since you began dating. he took notice of the frequent trips you made to your favorite beauty supply stores, reluctantly using the credit card he’d gifted to you to purchase products for your well kept hair. thanks to the receipts, he was able to make note of all the leave ins and creams you preferred, and he’d even developed a fair idea of your hair regimen.

so yesterday night, when you had told him of your plans to do twists on your hair, he was ready. it was atypical for him to refuse a booking for his numerous talk shows, but he’d canceled his plans to appear on them the entire weekend. today, he decided, would be best spent helping you. and tomorrow, he’d treat you to the best restaurant in the city, one only he and a few select others had permissions to.

it was long overdue, and he was looking forward to talking to you as he worked. of course, he hadn’t anticipated its difficulty.

he was sectioning your hair as you instructed, marveling at its thickness. he could tell your hair was healthy, despite its length. “just because hair is short doesn’t necessarily mean it’s unhealthy.” you had said once. he now understood what you meant.

you winced slightly as he tugged a little too hard on some strands. “my apologies, y/n!”

“no, no, it’s alright,” you said with a slight smirk, watching him work through the mirror. amai had always been overconfident, and to be frank, a little conceited. it was actually amusing watching him work with your hair, his brow knit in frustration, his eyes narrowing slightly as deeply concentrated on the task at hand.

you’d had to guide him through the entire process, telling him which product he was supposed to apply and when. he had been surprisingly patient, a stark contrast to his normal irritability around most people, spare you. but you could still tell it frustrated him. “i don’t know how you do it… wouldn’t it be better if you just left it alone for a while?”

“that’s what braids are for. now use the mousse you bought for me,” you felt his hands pause. “i… thought that’s what i was already using?” “what? amai, no- that was the leave in- nevermind…” you laughed as his face flushed red with embarrassment. “oh, don’t feel bad about it. my hair just needs more product than yours,”

he nodded slightly, but you could tell he didn’t fully understand. you thought to yourself for a bit, trying to word it in a way that he would get. “here, think of it this way. you take good care of your hair, right?” he opened his mouth to respond before you spoke again. “-don’t answer that, i know you do… you typically just wash your hair in the shower and then moisturize it and it’s all good, right? well it’s different for me,”

“i wash mine less often, otherwise it’ll be too dry. and there’s a process to moisturizing it that helps lock in that moisture, you know?” you eyed the mirror to see amai nodding slowly. he was picking up where he’d left off, on the last section of your scalp that had yet to be conditioned, after spritzing it with water, he gently applied the conditioner to your hair, careful to separate the strands delicately and detangle them with his lithe fingers. “so the water and leave-in is just to ensure the hair is hydrated, yes?”

“right! usually, that’s enough, but i wanted to twist it out for our date tomorrow…”

“...so we’re using the mousse.” he finished for you. you beamed at him in response and he knew he’d gotten it right. he gave a little sigh of relief, he’d finally understood something at least. “i see… it looks like won’t be long until i’m fully equipped to style your hair,” he mused. you gave him a look through the mirror, noticing the smirk on his face. “...i wouldn’t bet on that, amai.” you replied with a laugh.

the two of you spent the rest of the time talking animatedly. you could feel the previous distance between the two of you dissipate as he worked through your mane. amai had forgotten to comb your hair from the ends first at a point, yanking on the root with the comb. you elbowed him in the side as he laughed out his apologies.

you explained how he was supposed to apply the curl definition mousse, lifting one hand to pantomime the way you normally twisted your hair. he nodded as if he fully understood before making a few limp, uneven, and honestly saddening twists. “put your hand down, y/n,” he said when you tried to help him. “i want to figure it out for myself…”

it wasn’t long until he’d gotten the hand of the twists. and he worked fast, too. soon enough, he’d finished. “how… how do they look? not too bad, i hope?” he glanced at your face, trying to discern how you felt about the hair. your eyes flickered with amusement. was he… nervous?

“these look good! not bad at all for your first time,” you replied truthfully. amai simply smiled in response, and you were surprised yet again that he hadn’t basked in the compliment like he usually did. “oh! hold on just a minute,” he shuffled through his pockets before pulling out his phone. you covered you face, clearly embarrassed as he flipped through the apps before opening the camera.

“come on, y/n, my darling, just a few pictures? i won’t share them if you don’t want me to,” your face was heated with embarrassment as you laughed, your head bobbing in a nod. amai clicked away as you recovered, giving him a smile for the last few shots.

“these last ones look beautiful. i’ll share them with my stylist. if she sees what i was able to do, then there’s really no excuse for her not to learn how to manage hair like yours too.”

“and what about the others? sorry, i was laughing too much... i hate getting my picture taken. you can delete those,” you finally turned around in your chair to face him completely. his eyes met yours as he flashed a grin at you.

“i think i’ll keep them.”

[sinner-as-saint]

Predestined - 2.

Part 2 of the Predestined series.

Run-through: Your wealthy family marries you off to a family friend’s son – famous businessman Sebastian. You two have known each other for a long time, so none of you oppose your families’ decisions. Life as Sebastian’s wife is pure bliss, he’s everything a woman could ever want. Until a certain secret of his resurfaces, and once it does – nothing in your lives is ever the same again.

Themes throughout the series: ceo!seb, fluff, smut, mob!bucky

“You…you guys are twins?”

Your question sounded more like a statement than a query. And the smirk on James’ face wouldn’t go away.

Sebastian took a deep breath and spoke, “Looking back on it now, I should’ve mentioned it last night.” He sounded much more chill than you expected him too. You searched and searched for the slightest amount of discontent or disgust towards you in his ocean eyes but you couldn’t find any of that.

But why?

If the situation was reversed, you were sure you’d be a little upset. Even though it was a mistake. But your husband was beginning to worry you. Was he faking the calm demeanor? Was he hiding something bitter behind this calm façade?

James chuckled, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against Sebastian’s desk. “I’m not complaining. At all.” He commented, smirking still.

You shook your head and opened your mouth to say something, but then you couldn’t find the right thing to say so you just looked at your husband apologetically.

 He smiled at you, and took a step forward. “Come on, babe. Let’s go.” Sebastian spoke and took your hand in his, walking out of the room.

James spoke up from behind. “Don’t mind me, I’ll just make myself at home.” He paused and added, rather playfully, “See you around, Y/N.”

 You rushed out of the room. And you didn’t stop until you reached your bedroom. Sebastian followed you and closed the door behind him once he stepped into the room.

You turned to face him, eyes getting glossy real fast. “Seb, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You pleaded, begged for his forgiveness.

He just smiled and came in for a hug, pushing his face into the crook of your neck; where James’ face had been just minutes ago. “Hey baby, you didn’t know. I should’ve told you last night, I should’ve told you he was coming over. Besides, we’re identical and he’s a bit of an idiot, you’re not to be blamed. It’s okay baby. It’s not a big deal, really.” He spoke gently.

You apologized again. And again. Yet, each time Sebastian’s reply was the same as the last. He reassured you that it wasn’t your fault and that he should’ve warned you beforehand. But still, you felt weird each time you thought about how you just made out with your husband’s twin brother who’s back from the dead after so many years.

You were overthinking, you knew. And you hated yourself for how easily the thought of James slipped into your head. His cologne, his taste, his lips – and how you just melted in his arms right away.

 You took a long shower, and spent most of the evening in your room. Turns out, now your mood was off so you simply asked your husband if he could bring you a bowl of cereal – which was dinner for you. Because you knew James was still downstairs, and you didn’t have the guts to face him again. Plus, you thought the two brothers would rather talk among themselves – given they had reunited after a long time.

Sebastian turned in for the night a few hours later and there was no awkwardness between you two but you couldn’t help but feel like you were being weighed down by the guilt. So you asked him again, when he was getting under the covers with you.

“Is he still here?” you asked about James.

Sebastian shook his head. “Nope, he left. But he’ll be back, I know.”

“Are you mad at me?” you asked, kneeling on the bed and facing him. Sebastian chuckled and faced you with that same soft look in his eyes.

“Baby... I told you already, I’m not mad, I…” he paused and sighed, leaning against the headboard and extending his arm towards you. “Come here.”

You took his hand and immediately straddled his thighs, settling on his lap and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I love you, okay?” he spoke again, and leaned in to kiss you finally.

 You kissed him back immediately. And you instantly got flashbacks to when you were kissing James earlier. But you pushed it all away as soon as it came, and focused on Sebastian in the moment.

His hands slipped under your thin PJ shirt and he tickled your sides, making you pull away and giggle.

“There it is, that’s what I like to hear. I hate it when you’re upset, baby.” He kissed you immediately after and slipped a hand in between your legs, teasing your wet folds with his fingers, making you arch your back and moan.

Sebastian knew just what you wanted, and he had missed you all day as well. So he laid you down and kissed you senselessly; undressing you rapidly in the process. He kissed every inch of your skin on his way down your body. He pushed his face in between your legs in no time; his tongue teasing your entrance softly while you tugged in his hair.

He made you come undone all over his tongue rather quickly, and his hunger only grew more and more from there. He kissed his way up your body and pinned your hands down above your head while he pushed inside you, slowly.

“You’re mine.” he whispered in your ear in between grunts and moans as he sped up into you, making you feel all of him while he stroked your walls perfectly.

You knew Sebastian, and you could point even the smallest little changes in his behavior or tone. And tonight, when he made love to you; something was different. Not unpleasant in any way, just different. He was meaner and a little more rough than usual.

He tugged on your hair harder when he flipped you around, lifted your hips up and pounded into you from behind. His grip on your waist was tighter each time he pulled you closer. His kiss was a little more passionate. He was more loving and needy, if anything. He made love to you as though he was measuring himself against someone else. And although you loved it more than anything, you couldn’t quite figure out why he acted so.

Sebastian bit down on your shoulder as he pounded into you mercilessly, making you scream loudly and beg him for more. He placed one of his hand gently around your neck while he sped up even more into you; he leaned in to whisper in your ear again. “I love you.” he simply said, feeling your walls beginning to clench around him.

You mumbled you loved him too, and whined and moaned as he made you come undone violently around him. Sebastian pushed his face into your neck as he growled and grunted, coming right after you.

You panted, basking in his body heat as you held him close to you; sliding your hands into his hair and kissing his shoulder. “I love you, Seb. More than anything.” You spoke into his hair and he chuckled and pulled the two of you under the covers again.

“Go to sleep, baby. I’m right here.” He pulled your worn out body into his and cuddled you to sleep.

You drifted off to sleep soon after, but he couldn’t.

Sebastian knew why James was here. And he saw the look in his brother’s eyes every time he looked at you. He saw the harmless envy and the inevitable adoration in James’ eyes each time he looked at you and he knew his brother wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Sebastian smiled, sighing and pulling you closer and kissing the top of your head. “Things might change a little, baby. But it’ll be okay, I’ll be here with you. I love you. More than anything.”

 ---

The next morning you woke up, a little sore from last night, in an empty bed. It was Saturday, and Sebastian usually made breakfast on weekends so you figured he might be in the kitchen.

You went about your morning routine and got ready for the day, and then walked into the kitchen to find Sebastian cooking – shirtless – with his back to you. You wanted to run and wrap your arms around your husband and give him a big morning hug, but then you hesitate when you thought about the events of yesterday evening.

So you lingered around the kitchen entrance until he spoke up. “It’s me, baby. Come here.” He spoke in his playful voice, turning around for a brief second to look at you before focusing back on the pan. You smiled and walked over to him and wrapped your arms around him, kissing his neck and making him chuckled.

“Good morning.” You said and he turned around to give you a deep kiss. And you deepened the kiss, making him smile as always.

Midway through, you heard a very cheery voice speak up, “Can I get me a good morning greeting like that as well?” James teased, walking into the kitchen and making himself comfortable on the kitchen island like he owned it.

 “Stop, before she kicks you out.” Sebastian gave you one last kiss and gave his brother a warning. But that didn’t stop him.

James chuckled. “Okay, okay I’m kidding, alright? Unless…” he trailed off, winking at you. And Sebastian threw him a death glare, and he finally stopped.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized and walked over to you, surprisingly his smirk wasn’t on his pretty face this time. “I understand due to some misunderstanding that, you and I haven’t met properly, Y/N.” He extended his hand towards you as a friendly gesture, “Hi, I’m your husband’s secret twin brother.” He smiled at you.

And he looked so much like Sebastian it was downright insane. You took his hand and shook it gently. “Hi James.” You spoke, scanning his face to at least look for one feature which would differentiate them.

James smiled, letting go of your hand. “Call me Bucky. Oh and give up, there isn’t any.” He spoke, confusing you.

“I don’t understand.” You spoke, surprised at how much alike they actually were. He chuckled.

“You’re doing that thing that everyone does, where they stare at us and try to find a way to tell us apart. You won’t find it, doll. Unfortunately, I’m stuck with his face and he with mine.” Bucky joked and you laughed a little, and something told you that you’d be thinking a lot about how he called you ‘doll’ so effortless, like it was second nature.

Watching this whole exchange, was Sebastian, with a little smile on his face. Oh how you three would look back on this and laugh one day, he thought, hopefully.

“Come on, breakfast is ready.” He spoke, breaking the staring contest between you and Bucky.

 It was freaky at first, seeing two identical people at the same time. Same face, same hair, same voice, same body language – it took you some time to get used to it and actually stop staring at both of them the whole time.

You found yourself quite liking Bucky’s company. He wasn’t sassy all the time, he could actually keep a conversation going, and he always had funny anecdotes.

You couldn’t believe how well you all were getting along at breakfast. Initially you thought there would be this weird tension between Sebastian and Bucky given last night’s misunderstanding, and also the fact that Bucky hadn’t met his brother for years. But that wasn’t the case. Him and Sebastian got along really well, like old friends reuniting and feeling as though time hasn’t passed at all.

The two joked and laughed, and you joined them. Everything was so smooth and there was no need to always try and make things flow in between you three at that breakfast table that morning; it just happened naturally. It felt like Bucky had always been a part of you and Sebastian. And you knew Sebastian felt the same way. For some reasons, it felt like – even without verbally ever saying it – you all understood that for you, Bucky would never be your ‘brother-in-law’, instead, he was just an extension of Sebastian you felt like.

 After breakfast, Bucky asked if he could spend a few days over at yours because he was still trying to find a place of his own. You and Sebastian shared a soft look and a faint smile and agreed on the spot.  

Things weren’t awkward at all, which you thanked God for.

You were able to tell them apart, since they wore different clothes. But around the evening, when Bucky had settled into the guest room and borrowed Sebastian’s clothes; that’s when the confusion started.

You walked downstairs, and found Sebastian standing in front of the fridge, looking for something and given how irresistible he looked in his burgundy, long sleeved sweater – which you bought him a while ago; you couldn’t help but walk over and hug him from behind, nuzzling his neck and kissing his skin gently.

But then you heard someone chuckling not too far away. “Wrong twin, babe.” You heard your husband’s voice coming from the other side of the room. And then you realized that you had been hugging Bucky this whole time. The latter laughed, they both did as you walked out of the kitchen; blushing and groaning.

And that happened again and again. By Sunday morning, you’d even ask Sebastian if he had seen where your husband is. He just laughed and pushed you against the wall and kissed you deeply, chuckling as he pulled away. “I am your husband, baby.” He whispered softly, making you hide your face into his chest and groan again.

But then, sometime they would purposely mess with you.

You would be talking and holding Sebastian’s hand on the couch or even kissing him. And Bucky would just show up with a shocked expression on his face, pretending to be Seb and he’d look at you as though heartbroken. “Wrong twin, baby.” He repeated Sebastian’s voice and watched your face morph into pure terror momentarily as you pulled away to check again.

Then they’d both laugh and Sebastian would make Bucky apologize.

And so, a week passed.

You noticed that your house was a little more cheery with Bucky in it. It was definitely louder, like right now as the two were having a drink downstairs and you were replying to some email for work upstairs. Bucky and his antics and pranks definitely brought out a side of Sebastian which you had never seen before – his mischief. And you liked it.

Sebastian noticed it too, how he didn’t mind Bucky being close to you. And how the three of you laughed a lot more when you were together in the same room. Or how amusing the whole ‘wrong twin’ thing was. He had missed his brother immensely, and he loved him. He just wished life would take such a turn where everything will fall into place perfectly. Not that it wasn’t already perfect, but just a little better.

 “…you’re a lucky man. She’s incredible.” Sebastian saw that look in Bucky’s eyes again while he spoke about you. He smiled, sipping on his brandy.

“She is. There’s never a dull moment with her around. She’s amazing.” Sebastian added, agreeing with his brother and looking over at him.

Bucky stared out of the floor-to-ceiling windows, an unfamiliar emotion on his face. One which his brother noticed.

Bucky might have tried to hide it, how he always immediately smiled whenever you walked into the room. Or how he blushed for a brief second each time you randomly walked up to him and gave him a hug, thinking he was Sebastian. Or how he’d purposely borrow more and more clothes from Sebastian, despite having his own luggage, just so you would make mistakes and hug him more often. Or how each time Sebastian complimented you, Bucky would always one up him. Or how he’d feel real proud and good about himself each time you laughed at one of his jokes. Or how he tried to impress you with his cooking and his bad boy charm.

Bucky might have tried to hide it all, but Sebastian knew him all too well. “You like her, don’t you?” Sebastian finally asked, carefully watching Bucky.

Sebastian caught the look of surprise, and how quickly it was replaced by guilt. “I shouldn’t.” Bucky replied, finishing his drink at one go.

“But you do, correct?” Sebastian wasn’t mad, he just needed to get confirmation from both sides. So none of you would feel guilty over your feelings.

“I do.”

 a/n: *gasp*

---

Tag List for this series (OPEN):

@0501m

@unsent-voicemail​

@nostalthicc​

@dumbbitch11​

@sweetlittlegingy​

@tabalugax​

@reniescarlett​

@unicornpoweeerrr

@luv-buggie​

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@montypythonsholysnail​

@i-just-feel-like​

@amirahiddleston​

@lokigonnakmsforbucky​

@thinkaboutmara​

@matsumama​

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@littlemisskosmix

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@shippers-heart​

@nostalthicc​

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@chrisjaay​

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@arianna-17-11​

@chontellaa

@downheartedboi

@justcallmesweets​

@autty0314​

@justlovelifeblog​

@smollest-soybean​

Seb / Bucky Tag List:

@virgoroses

@oliviastan17​

@moshymosh​

@great-goddess-of-sin​

@richhdesire​

@nd1998sc​

@theoralpha​

@nostalgic-bucky​

@gabypatd​

@amirahiddleston​

@unknown-salvatore​ 

Permanent Tag list:

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@unlikelycandylove​

@sparkling-gayyyy​

@minetticatinwonderland​

@imsoft-barnes​

@destiel-artemis​

@avnngrs​

@pleasforhelp​

@randomfangirlonline​

@peaceinourtime82​

@blvck-stabbath​

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@everything-is-awesomesauce​

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@ashlieadelia​

@enigma-xlii​

@imrisaluk​

@grayxswan​

@freshprincessofwakanda​

@scuzmunkie​

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@xinyourdreamsx​

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@yikes-buckybarnes​

@partlybcrnes​

@givinggoodvibes​

@supernatural-fanfic​

@honeyydippaa​

@siriusjohnpotter​

@bastianbarnes​

@luvu3000times​

@sebastian-i-stan​

@msruchita​

@xoxabs88xox​

@gingerbread-in-july​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@buckystanluvr​

@babyyysucc​

@heartislubbingdubbing​

@zainabmmm​

@rynabarnesrogers​

@rororo06​

@xcravingyoux​

@morrellica​

@134340-cm​

@nsfwsebbie​

@cerberux​

@mvrtjnafc​

@disaster-rose​

@thesumofmychoices​

@nickyl316h​

@sberumenm​

@blindedbyyourgrace17​

@ultimatesadboi​

@unlikelygalaxygiver​

@thefridgeismybestie​

@ariesmadness97​

@jamierdr​

@marshyymello​

@saliarheva​

@shakespeareanqueer​

@xbuckxnastyx​

@goodgodimaweirdperson​

@dibsonamericasass​

@unicornslothfish​

@jenn0755​

@uhh-katie-griffiths​

@joannie95​

@jesseswartzwelder​

@chennyetomlinson​

@wannabetonkin​

@darlingtholland​

@bucky-lents​

@gabbie-is-sad​

@2017booklover​

@oliviastan17​

@kiki5283​

@mrsbarneswillseeyounow​

@hailmary-yramliah​

@notyourtypicalrose​

@moshymosh​

@jesseswartzwelder​

@just-a-littlebit-of-everything​

@infinityexe​

@dyanna-corona​

@marshyrebelcloud​

@jenn0755​

@sebastianstanslefteyebrow​

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​

@rororo06​

@paperrstark​

@crazymexicanfangirl​

@kelly-fasel​

@supernaturaldean67​

@marvelsangels​

@twsbuckybarnes​

@lovvliies​

@deadscarlight​

@vapingisntmything​

@thesoldierrogers​

@neerness​

@pinkcigar-ettes​

@ladymidnightt​

@godsaverosemary​

@mandi616​

@h3xenkind​

@sebbysstangirl​

@theoria850​

@angelsuni​

@phantom-soilder​

@softboibarnes​

@kaetastic​

@that-place-called-middle-earth​

@squirrelacorngliterfarts​

@20coldhearts​

@marvelismysafezone​

@for-the-love-of-the-fandom​

@groovyhumantrashherring​

@boho-chic-123 @buckybarnesatemyheart​ @sebastianbarnesandchrisrogers​ 

Everything Tag List:

@charmed-asylum​

@ravenmoore14​

@stangirl-fangirl264​

@xbuckxnastyx​

@starkerhowlter​

@fafulous​

@smolandrare-coffee-bean​

@alexxcorona113​

@heartislubbingdubbing​

@buggy-blogs​

@livsheph​

@tt-nikithakppr​

@chowder200​

@curlyhairedandconfused​

@beckloves​

@inez-lannister-stark-martell​

@amantedelcalcio​

@reniescarlett​

@siriusjohnpotter​

@scarygoodgirl​

@ladymidnightt​

@unlikelycandylove​

@fentybucky​

@marshyrebelcloud​

@talk-geek-to-me​

@tasteslikeblueberries​

@the-jer-bear​

@aynaraxas​

@dreams-in-blxck​

@socksracoon10​

@moony-tonks-lupin​

@anncutamarica​

@secretlyactivated​

@xoxabs88xox​

@noirwarrior20​

@chrisevansgirl​

@starydreamer​

@shutup-sorry​

@sofutostuff​

@coconutqueen21​

@precious-starkerr​

@bangtan-serendipity​

@swoonhui​

@mayumiirenetheodora​

@fvithsxo​

@sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​

@sambucky8​

@marvelrose​

@morrellica​

@mrsbarneswillseeyounow​

@thewitchysoldier​

@gogokeener​

@fivesosbucky​

@trop-mango​

@grayxswan​

@rvgrsbrns​

@buckysegerton​

@tonib666​

@el-lizzie​

@wintersswidow​

@snazzyjazzyjayy​

@enigma-xlii​

@ii-ir-ii​

@marvelousell​

@banananiqua​

@angel-spidey​

@the-omni-princess​

@nsfwsebbie​

@ahappylilybug2019​

@babyboyjames​

@stonerosedheart​

@amirahiddleston​

@undeadvampwere​

@grincheveryday​