#but I WILL try to be more active I promise

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

cute j word stuff 😳

J WORD LITERALLY HASN'T GOTTEN AN EVENT SSR SINCE THE FIRST HALLOWEEN EVENT IN OCTOBER 2020 🤡 (and even then, his role in that event wasn't massive; Twst was still trying to iron out its kinks in event stories back then).

i'M SO HAPpYN THAT HE FINALYLR GETS TO hAVEQ ANTOHER EVENT SSR aND HAV EFUN ANd bE SO sdORDADlBLE IN ULTRAMARINER TOWN fwgvkjwvkwi3qrt463t87pteqgadgnafho OTL It feels like forever since he last got this much delicious new content…

Here’s a list the things J word did and/or said in Eternity Float that I found really cute. This is in no particular order; just consider this a stream of consciousness!! This also only covers episodes 1-3 of the event; the rest of Eternity Float doesn’t come out until May 5th so I may make a separate post for that.

Bro calls it FATE when he pretends to run into Yuu and Grim at Ramshackle. F A T E.

When Jade asked if Yuu and Grim would like to go to a wedding with him, the phrasing was such that he could easily be mistaken as inviting them to HIS wedding. Did he ask it like that on purpose just to mess with them 💀

Jade witnessing an Eternity Float as a child and loving that he got to see the desperate bride and groom screaming as they clung onto their rowboat for dear life… Of course he’d want to participate in one himself, JUST TO SOW MORE CHAOS.

NOT HIM LOW-KEY MAKING EVERYTHING A COMPETITION. Racing to be the first to a bench, catching two crabs AT ONCE in the water instead of crabs skittering on land, suggesting rock, paper, scissors to settle who will be the person to go without crab for dinner…

ALL THE MIND GAMES???? Manipulating Riddle and Malleus (and Rook, but Rook basically needs no convincing to go along with Jade’s invite) by using their weaknesses—Riddle’s wish to maintain the dignity and honor of a dorm leader, Malleus’s desire to be invited and included in group activities—against them… Bro fr played them like fiddles ����

CALLING US HIS “close friends”????????? Idk y’all, do you boot your “close friends” out of their home while you hold their house hostage OTL

Jade bluntly telling his mom “Azul did not wish to see you, mother” AnD THEn ALSO HAVinG THE AUDACITY tO ENCOURAGE HER TO TAlK WITH AzUL AS MUChsAS ShE WANTS NEXt TIME THEY vISIT HOME… Azul, Jade is NOT on your side for this one.

He’s absolutely killing that outfit 😭 GOOD JOB PICKING IT OUT FOR HIM, LEECH MAMA

HUMBLE BRAGGING ABOUT HIS CRAB-CATCHING SKILLS

Clowning on Grim for “using himself as [crab] bait” 🦀 (Rook’s the one who was concerned for Grim, Jade just smiled at Grim’s suffering…)

Him casually mentioning that the Mostro Lounge’s tuna sandwiches use the tasty canned tuna from the Sunshine Lands… Somewhere in the distance, you can hear Azul clapping for this free ad placement.

Calling a stray cat a DOG.

Not only acting out for the puppet show but putting forth the extra effort to use different voices for the different characters (INCLUDING barking for Max the dog). This makes me feel like Jade would be really great at reading picture books to his (hypothetical) child or children!! Or even reading to a whole group of them at like a library event or something.

Buying souvenir puppets for Azul and Floyd!! And then inviting their peers to a puppet show at the Mostro Lounge to pressure Azul to fulfill a promise. That means, in just ONE, Jade has invited Malleus go TWO things: the wedding and to a puppet show at a later date. Jade’s literally breaking all kinds of records here.

Eating his portion of crab VERY conspicuously, just to subtly rub it in Grim’s face 💀

Jade knowing so much about Ultramarine City, even though he wasn’t born there. (I barely know anything about the place I was born in, so this is really impressive to me.) True, he did visit quite often to learn about and prepare for life on land, but I think it’s great that he’s consistently curious and wants to keep learning new things all of the time.

Georgina telling us more about Jade as a little kid 🥺 how he and Floyd would always be in sync when it came to mischief, even if their interests differed and they often spent time apart…

Learning that Jade manifested his magic in his last year of elementary school, two months after Floyd!!

He gets to eat his favorite food… octopus carpaccio… and he gets to enjoy mushrooms (porcini orzo) too!! I’m so happy seeing that he’s eating well

Intentionally slicing the prosciutto pizza into slices of different sizes SO HE CAN WATCH HIS CLASSMATES FIGHT OVER WHO GETS THE BuGGEST PIECES. He would have gotten away with it too, were it not for Rook intervening—

Teaching Riddle and Malleus how to row the boat!! Jade is actually a really good instructor.

Giving a big, dramatic speech about how they should absolutely obey his every word (because the sea is so dangerous, and one wrong move could mean death)… only for him to use this as a pretense to absolve himself of suspicion when he fucks with them 💀 LIKE HE SORTA ShAMES THEM WhEN THEY QuESTION WHY HE DIDN’T CORRECT THE DiRECTION THRY WERE SiTTING TO ROW.

TRICKING RIDDLE AND MALLEUS INTO SHOUTING “Fight on, fight on!! Go, go!!” AND ALSO SING WHILE THEY ROW while having completely serious facial expressions… and getting Yuu to record all of this silliness for posterity 😭

He taught Riddle and Malleus how to row in a straight line but not how to get back… and let them row so far out that they struggle to hear his other directions from the pier.

aHHHHHhHHhhHGgggghhhhhhHHHHHHH J WORD ROWING THE rOWBOaT FOR US IN THE RHYTHMiC, THE KISS THE GIRL RHyTHMICCCCCCCC 🙂‍↕️ HE’S PriNCE ERIC, HEm’S pRINCE ERiCING SO HARD RitFHT NOW 🗣️ (Yuu has a dialogue option after the Rhythmic; YOU CAN CALL YOUR EXPERIENCE “romantic”, THIS IS NOT A DRILL)

Jade speaks Italian this event!!! It’s not full sentences, mostly just short phrases (primo piatto, secondo piatto) and words (ristorante, taverna, names of dishes, etc.) dhshwjdvkekw BUT I STILL FIND IT CHARMING, OKAY.

The way Georgina comments that Jade has gotten very good at using cutlery?? Implying he used to be so much clumsier?? Yeah, I know we all start off with no knowledge but this is significant because his twin, Floyd, just wings everything and can do so well with minimal effort sometimes. Floyd is a genius—but Jade is not. Jade has to work hard to be good at stuff, it doesn’t come naturally to him—and I think that’s really admirable.

Some of his responses to Yuu dialogue choices are cute 😭 Some standout moments: 1) if Yuu says they didn’t recognize Jade with his new hair, he says he must have Yuu get to know him better 2) if Yuu is successful at catching a crab, Jade suggests that they go after bigger game someday do you count as bigger game, Jade—, 3) if Yuu expresses hesitation to dance, Jade essentially replies with, “Not to worry, I will take the lead. No matter how bad you are [at dancing], I will support you.” STONE COLD backhanded kindness 🫣

Jade gets nostalgic seeing all the townspeople dancing in the plaza… It reminded him of when he was clumsy with his feet. Watching those mesmerizing movements gave him the motivation he needed to keep practicing walking and then eventually running. Again, another example of Jade having to work really hard to get to where he currently is!!

Georgina calling her own sons [name]-san (an honorific usually for strangers or to indicate politeness) kills me every time 😂 ShE’s WVEN MORE FORmAL ThAN JADE. I wonder if he intentionally tries to emulate her mannerisms???

Practicing pushing his hair back/styling it for this very event 😭

My favorite moment in this event (so far) is during the dance in Port Inn Plaza. The locals see the NRC students dancing and begin to join in the dance!! Jade smiles to himself and says that this feels so exhilarating; it’s something he couldn’t ever have imagined in the past. “Thank you, everyone, for the wonderful memories.” *SLAMS HEAD INTO THE WALL* ARE YOU kliDDING ME???!!??!!!!!??????? OTL J word, this conniving liar and manipulator, ACTUALLY BEING sENTiMENTAL AnD EARnEST FOR ONCE?????? YOU MIGHT As WELL KiLL ME NOW, TGAT WOULD cAUSE mE LESS EMOTIONAL DiSTRESS.

He’s having so much fun and living his best life out here, it’s great seeing him being in his full element 😭

[sknyuz]

before the storm | na baekjin

pairing — na baekjin x gn!reader

genre — angst, hurt/comfort (don’t expect too much of the latter), found connection, canon to whc2 events

cw — major whc2 spoilers, violence (off-screen), blood, character death, emotional distress, gang activity

wc — ~4k (don’t ask...)

a/n — #neededthat in-depth baekjin backstory and wanted to give him more of a background to his humanity so viewers can empathize with "donald na" that the show lacked so much :c ily na baekjin <333

playlist — astronomy - conan gray | the night we met - lord huron | as the world caves in - sarah corthan | sa susunod na habang buhay - ben&ben | promise - laufey (main)

masterlist | join the taglist | request a fic

the rain’s loud tonight, like it always is when you want to be left alone with your thoughts. it’s relentless, drumming against the windowpane like it’s trying to tell you something. but baekjin doesn’t seem to notice. he stands by the window, looking out, his arms crossed, folded infront of his chest. the city lights reflect off the rain-soaked streets, but his eyes are distant, like he’s not really here at all.

you’re behind him, watching him, waiting for him to turn around. you hate seeing him like this—cold and unreachable. you know what tomorrow is, what it’s going to mean. the fight. eunjang high. baku. si-eun. you know it’s been building up, and you know he’s not going to walk away from it.

but you’re still going to try.

you take a step closer, voice barely above a whisper.

“baekjin, please. you don’t have to do this.”

your words sound too soft against the noise of the storm. his fingers twitch, like he’s heard you, but he doesn’t turn around. not yet.

“you don’t understand, do you?” his voice is low, cold, like it’s been coated in something bitter. “they won’t stop. they’ve pushed me for too long. tomorrow is the only way to settle everything, i have no say in refusing to fight.”

you know why he’s doing this. you’ve seen it in his eyes every time he talks about it—the anger, the frustration, the years of being torn down until there’s nothing left but this. he can’t see past the fight, the need for closure. the need to serve the union.

but you’re still trying.

“i know what this means to you, baekjin. but this isn’t the way.”

you take another step forward, your fingers brushing against his arm. the contact is tentative, unsure, like he might pull away at any second. “you don’t need to do this. you’re better than this fight. we’re better than this.”

he doesn’t flinch, but you can feel the tension radiating off him. his shoulders are stiff, his back rigid like he's trying to hold himself together, even though it’s all falling apart.

“i never wanted this,” he says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself. “but it’s the only language they understand. they all know what i can do. they know i’m not going to back down.”

you hate the way he says it. like this is the only choice he has left.

“i know how you fight, baekjin. but you don’t have to fight this way. you’re so much more than that.”

you reach up, fingers brushing the side of his face. his skin is cold, like the rain. he doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, but you see his eyes close for just a moment. that tiny crack, that hint of something more. it’s enough to make you take another step closer, your hand resting gently on his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips.

“you’re not heartless.”

he finally looks at you then, and for the first time, there’s something softer in his eyes. it’s not much, just a flicker of something that’s been buried for so long, but it’s there. you know him better than this mask he wears, better than the anger and the pride. he’s not just the fight. he’s the boy you met in your first year of high school. the boy who let you in even when he didn’t want to.

“this isn’t who you are,” you whisper, your voice catching. “you don’t have to do this alone.”

he pulls away, slowly, like he’s unsure of the comfort you’re offering. you want to reach for him again, but you don’t. you just stand there, waiting for him to decide, even though you’re terrified he’ll walk away from you.

“i never asked for you to save me,” he says quietly, his eyes hardening again. “i don’t need saving. i just need to end it. i need this to end, y/n. one way or another.”

he sounds so sure, so determined. but you can see the cracks. you always could. you know him better than he knows himself sometimes.

you don’t know what else to say.

you just hold him, pulling him into your arms like you’ve done so many times before. his body’s stiff at first, hesitant, but then his arms come around you, pulling you close, burying his face in your shoulder. you breathe in the familiar scent of him, the rain, and something else—something broken that’s been there all along.

“i’m not asking you to change who you are,” you murmur, your voice barely audible. “but i need you to know that you’re not alone in this.”

he stays quiet, his breath warm against your skin. the storm outside seems to die down a little, but inside, it’s still too loud. too much. the tension is thick, like something’s about to snap, but you’re holding onto him, holding onto whatever pieces of him you can.

you pull back, just enough to look him in the eyes. his gaze is conflicted, torn between the fight and the person standing in front of him. and you’re scared, because you don’t know which side he’ll choose.

“i’m here,” you say softly, your hand brushing against his cheek. “i’ll be here, no matter what happens.”

for a moment, you think he might say something. but instead, he just nods, a barely noticeable movement. his gaze flickers to the door, like he’s already thinking about tomorrow. about the fight.

“then i’ll be there... in case you change your mind,” you whisper, your fingers slipping from his skin.

baekjin doesn’t say anything more. he doesn’t need to. he walks away, his figure swallowed up by the shadows, and all you’re left with is the rain pattering gently on the window and the silence. you don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but you know you’ll be there. even if it’s too late.

— freshman year.

you had transferred midway through the semester, and already, you felt out of place. the private academy was stiff, everyone was too serious, keeping to themselves, absorbed in their studies. you tried to smile at a few people, but no one seemed to care. and now, after weeks of struggling to catch up, you were staring at a test paper—the grade glaring at you, a constant reminder that you were too far behind. you sighed, dropping your pen, sinking back in your chair. everyone else seemed to breeze through it, their papers already turned in. you had barely managed to finish. it was a mess. a failure.

when the test was graded, the score was worse than you expected. you didn’t even look at the sheet at first. you just stared at the red ink, the marks that burned into the paper like a reminder that you were out of place here. the teacher called you up after class, giving you a look that said everything: you need help, and you need it fast.

later that afternoon, you were told baekjin would be tutoring you. great. na baekjin, the guy with the sharp eyes and the reputation that seemed to follow him like a shadow. he was known around here—not just as the smart, mysterious guy, but also for his involvement with some kind of shady organization. you didn’t know much about it, but you’d heard the rumors. he was always busy, always in some kind of trouble, always surrounded by people who made you nervous. 

but here he was, waiting for you in the library after school. you’d walked in, feeling awkward, unsure of what to expect, he had his legs crossed and was leaning back in his chair, his phone in hand, eyes focused on the screen. you weren’t even sure he’d noticed you.

you hesitated before sitting down across from him. there was no greeting, just the sound of his fingers tapping the screen. his face was slightly twisted as if he had just read something that displeased him. when he noticed you, he didn’t say anything at first—just let out a soft sigh, like the last thing he wanted to do was be here.

“sit down,” he finally said, his voice low, still glancing at his phone. “let’s get this over with.”

you sat down hesitantly, glancing at him. he wasn’t looking at you, his attention still on his phone as he swiped through the screen, clearly frustrated. when he finally put the phone down, his gaze finally settled on you—properly, this time. those cat-like eyes, sharp and calculating, now focused directly on your figure. you weren’t sure if it was the way you were sitting or if he was actually acknowledging you now, but there was a moment of pause before he spoke again.

“i’m not sure why i got stuck with you, but here we are,” he muttered, his voice quiet but firm. “answer these sample questions first. show me where you’re at. i’ll see if it’s worth my time, i’ve got places to be.”

he pushed a set of papers toward you. you stared at the first question, feeling a tight knot in your chest. none of it made sense. you looked back up at him, but he was already looking at his phone again, clearly uninterested in your hesitation.

“go on,” he sighed. “don’t waste time.”

you started scribbling down answers, trying your best, but the words felt like they were slipping away. you couldn’t keep up with the pace, couldn’t understand it the way you needed to. baekjin, however, didn’t seem to care. he only glanced up briefly, then back down at his phone.

“this is pointless,” he muttered, clearly displeased by what he was seeing. “okay, stop. you’re really not getting this, huh?”

he rubbed the back of his neck, letting out another exasperated sigh. for a moment, he just stared at the papers, thinking. then, his expression softened—just barely—and he stood up, grabbing his own set of notes.

“fine,” he said, his voice quieter now, a little more patient. “i’ll explain it to you, but you need to actually pay attention this time.” he sighed again, as if this was the last thing he wanted to do, but when he explained, it was clear and precise. you followed his lead, bit by bit. things started to make sense—slowly, but surely. it wasn’t perfect, but it was progress.

the session ended quietly. baekjin picked up his phone again, still not really looking at you. “don’t expect me to do this every day,” he muttered as he stood up. “next time, figure it out yourself. i helped you once because mr. park said so, so don’t get used to it.”

you nodded quickly, feeling relieved that at least it was over for today. but as you gathered your things, you thought the worst was over. maybe you won’t see baekjin one-on-one for a while, at least.

but the next day, when you walked into the library again, there he was, sitting at the same table, phone in hand. no greeting. no complaints. just baekjin—ready to tutor your sorry ass again. you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips.

“don’t get comfortable,” he muttered without looking up, as if reading your thoughts. “this doesn’t mean anything. just get it together.” (정신차려)

you weren’t sure what to make of it, but you knew one thing for sure: na baekjin wasn’t just leaving you to fend for yourself and fail. and maybe, just maybe, you might finally be able to make him warm up to you.

—the aftermath.

you felt cold.

the field was empty now. the fight was over, and the only evidence left were the puddles of rainwater, mixing with the mud, reflecting the fading light from the sky above. discarded broken umbrellas littered the ground, abandoned like everything else. the air was thick, heavy with the last remnants of the storm, but the rain had finally stopped, leaving only a damp chill behind.

there was a figure lying in the middle of the field, chest barely rising and falling. you barely recognized him at first—the blood staining his clothes, his face battered and bruised, eyes closed. but it was him. it was baekjin.

your heart raced as you ran to him, your legs shaky but determined. tears blurred your vision as you knelt beside him, hands trembling as you reached out to him, touching his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin beneath your fingers. raindrops, mingling with the tears already streaming down your face, fell onto him, mixing with the blood and grime, staining his face in a way that seemed unreal.

"baekjin," you whispered, voice barely audible, but desperate. "baekjin, please... wake up. you can't... you can't just be like this."

you were in denial, your mind unable to fully grasp what was happening, what had already happened. why? why did it have to end like this? he had to win. losing this fight was never an option. you knew what losing this fight would entail—the union wouldn’t let him get off so easily. they couldn’t. not with the tension within the ranks already building up the past few weeks.

you couldn’t fathom what would happen to him. the cold, hard reality of it was creeping in on you, but you couldn’t accept it. no, you wouldn’t accept it. "please, don't give up on me." you were shaking, but you couldn’t let him go—not now.

and then, with great effort, he coughed, a weak, wet sound that sent a wave of relief through you. his eyes fluttered open just slightly, meeting yours with an intensity that cut through the fog in your mind. a smile, small and faint, twisted his bloodied lips. it was weak—broken even—but it was there.

his hand reached up slowly, trembling as he felt pain shoot up into every muscle, as if it took everything he had just to touch you. his thumb swiped under your eye, gently, as if trying to wipe away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen so freely. but when you looked at him, you saw red. his thumb was smeared with blood, and the smear stained your cheek too, just under your eye.

the blood was fresh, a stark contrast against your skin, and it hit you all at once—how real this was. how brutal the fight had been. how close you were to losing him. your breath caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head, still in disbelief.

“baekjin, no…” you whispered, voice breaking. “you can’t… i can’t lose you.”

the thought of him slipping away—of losing him—squeezed the air from your chest. you clenched your fists, and before you could stop yourself, they gently thumped against his chest, not hard, but enough to feel the weight of your frustration, of the desperation bubbling inside you. the betrayal of it all—how could he? how could he do this to you when he promised?

“you promised…” your voice cracked with the rawness of it. “you promised we’d leave all this behind... after graduation. we’d leave it behind, together... there’s barely a year left, baekjin-ah... please.”

and somewhere in your mind, that promise plays again.

you were curled up on the office couch in the back of the bowling alley—the one baekjin always holed himself up in after late-night deals and longer days. the place was a mess. no decorations. walls painted a sickly kind of white, like someone had tried to bleach the past away and gave up halfway through. his textbooks were stacked on the floor. your own was half-open in your lap, one hand flipping through the pages, the other clutching onto him like you needed the weight of him to stay grounded.

his arm was around your waist, thumb tracing idle circles into your back. absentminded, but gentle. like he always was with you when the world finally left him alone.

“this place is a mess, jinnie,” you muttered, frowning. “when are you really gonna stop?”

he didn’t answer right away.

“we’re almost seniors…” you added, softer this time. there was no judgment in your voice—just worry, just that ache of hoping too hard for something that kept getting pushed farther out of reach.

baekjin looked at you then. just for a second. then his textbook hit the coffee table with a soft thud. the hand around your back slid up to your shoulders, the other falling to your thigh, warm and grounding. he tugged you closer until your head rested under his chin.

“after graduation,” he said, and he said it like he meant it. like it was already a plan written into the sky. “we’ll leave this behind, you and me. we’ll have stupid quiet lives. cute campus couple stuff. matching outfits, photobooth pictures… you’d like that, right?”

he glanced down at you, and for once, his piercing gaze softened. searching your face. waiting for your answer like it mattered more than anything else in the world.

you nodded. a little unsure, a little hopeful. and that was enough for him.

baekjin leaned down, lips pressing softly to your forehead. he lingered there, breath warm against your skin as he whispered,

“thank you, darling.”

he wasn’t one for affection—not really. but his thank you held every star in the universe. your presence, a light in a boy who had forgotten softness until you showed him, for seeing the na baekjin underneath all the sharp edges, the one who never got to be soft, or scared, or saved. you were a rare kindness in the life of a boy who was taught the world would never be kind back.

thank you for finding me. thank you for failing that stupid test. thank you for understanding. thank you for not cowering away or fearing me.

thank you for loving me.

he didn’t say it out loud—na baekjin barely used his words to express his feelings. but you felt every word in the way he held you tighter, like you were the only thing keeping him from slipping into the dark all over again.

tears blurred your vision again, and you leaned into him, needing to feel his warmth—anything to prove this wasn’t the end. but just as you tightened your grip around him, holding onto him as tightly as you could, a sound cut through the stillness.

the low rumble of an engine. distant at first, but growing louder, closer.

you froze.

“y/n…” baekjin’s voice, hoarse and weak, barely reached your ears.

“baekjin...” you whispered, your voice trembling with panic. “no! please... no, baekjin!” as you held him tighter by the collar of his leather jacket, the faint beat of his heart the only proof that he was still there with you, he was here. baekjin was alive underneath you.

the sound of the engine roared louder, and you felt the reality of it sink in. the union. you knew what this meant. you knew the danger was still there—the threat, looming over you both. they wouldn’t let him go. they couldn’t. even more so after losing this goddamn fight.

and you knew, deep down, that if they came for him now, if they took him, you might never see him again.

the black car appeared around the corner, its sleek body cutting through the gloom. your breath hitched in your throat, and you pressed yourself harder into baekjin, as if that would keep him here, keep him safe.

“don’t…” you begged, barely able to form the words through your sobs, crying against his chest. “baekjin, please… don’t let them take you...”

his hand, weak but still there, found its way to the back of your head, pulling you closer as best as he could. the warmth of his touch was the only thing grounding you to him in this moment of terror. you could feel the tremor in his arm, the effort it took for him to hold you. you wanted to pull him up, carry him, do anything to protect him, but you knew you couldn’t. not now. not like this.

his chest rose and fell with each shallow breath, and though his body felt frail, his grip on you was unwavering. in that moment, he was the only thing holding you together.

“i’m sorry... i broke it... my promise,” he whispered, his voice cracking, but he still managed a faint, apologetic smile. “i’m sorry, i love you, y/n.” tears already streaming from the corner of his eye, his eyes shutting as his body wracked with sobs together with yours.

despite all this, baekjin’s thumb gently brushed the back of your head, trying to soothe you, even though his own voice was barely audible. “i’m here,” he repeated softly. “i’m always gonna be here, darling...”

you could feel the blood staining your skin, the streaks of red marking where his thumb had wiped your cheek. but in that moment, with his arm around you, holding you close, you didn’t care. all that mattered was that he was still there. still breathing.

you knew his words were a lie. but you held onto them like a lifeline. the raw, painful desperation filled you as you clung to him, refusing to let go. you pressed your face into his chest, your body wracked with sobs, hot tears seeping through the fabric of his shirt. you could feel his body, weak beneath your touch, but you didn’t care. you needed him here.

just then, the sound of footsteps drew closer. you felt strong arms grip you forcibly, pulling you away from him, and you screamed, the rawness of your voice echoing across the empty field. “no!” your body twisted in their hold, thrashing wildly, trying to reach him again. “baekjin! baekjin, no!”

please, please, please. please let him go. please, he’s just a boy.

you struggled against the grip that was tearing you away, but they held you tight, forcibly dragging you, thrashing against you with no mercy. you watched as baekjin was practically thrown around with no regard, his body being pushed roughly toward the waiting black car, his eyes barely open, but still locked on you. you screamed his name again, your voice breaking, almost unrecognizable with the fear and desperation.

“baekjin… BAEKJIN, NO!” you cried, your voice raw, as you were yanked away. your feet slid through the mud, your body slamming against the ground, but you didn’t care. all you could think about was him—his face, his eyes, pleading with you even though he was so far from you now. 

they pulled you back, tighter, holding you to keep you from running, from reaching for him. but your hands still stretched out, desperate to touch him, to make him see that you wouldn’t let him go. “BAEKJIN!” you screamed again, thrashing with every ounce of strength you had left. but your body was weak from the panic, your limbs refusing to cooperate, his eyes slowly fluttering close in surrender, as the black car’s door slammed shut on his defeated figure.

you were so focused on keeping him safe, on protecting what little time you had left, on clinging to every moment like it wouldn’t slip through your fingers the second you blinked. you were too busy holding onto him to realize you never got to say it back.

and now he’s gone, he disappeared without ever hearing it.

without knowing that you loved him just as much as he loved you.

and that was the last time you saw na baekjin.

the next time you saw his face, it was framed. adorned with flowers, surrounded by people who had come to mourn him. the world felt hollow as you stood there, staring at his peaceful face, knowing the price of this fight—knowing that he had given everything for something that you didn’t even understand. and now, all you had left were memories and a lingering pain in your chest.

you couldn’t breathe. you couldn’t think. all you could do was stand there, as the cold reality sunk in.

the promise of leaving everything behind. of escaping. of being free. it was gone. baekjin was gone. your baekjin. and now, you were left alone, standing in the ruins of everything you had dreamed for.

because the truth was—no matter how tightly you held him, how many times you whispered that he deserved more—baekjin had always been in pain. maybe he was just good at hiding it. maybe you were just good at pretending not to see how deep it ran.

he was just a kid. just like you. trying to survive a world that asked too much and gave back nothing but scars.

you were two kids in love, trying to dream a future into existence—one with matching hoodies and late-night takeout and photobooth strips and polaroids taped to your would-be college dorm walls. a future somewhere far from the violence, far from the weight he was forced to carry.

but this place—this twisted, brutal position he’d been trapped in—it never let him go. no matter how warm your arms were, how soft your voice sounded when you said his name, it was never enough to save him. you couldn’t save him.

and now all that’s left are the echoes of that dream, scattered around your feet like glass. and all you can do is kneel there in the shards, clutching the memory of his voice in your hands—“thank you, darling.”

like that alone could stitch the pieces back together.

edit: changed the divider to soft bae nara as compensation for my readers crying under this fic 🥺🤏 sorry 2 everyone’s hearts xx

a/n — it’s literally 3 am... edit: i’m sorry for making you guys cry (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) i reread this before publishing with the playlist and homestly teared up too ㅠㅠ

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱ @ateez-atiny380 @alien0n3arth @cuppasunu @dhaliaa1211 @seokminfilm @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez

[cripplecharacters]

Thank you so much for this blog. Can I take a moment to ask the rest of your followers to please stop using it to ask for *permission* to write whatever they're trying to write? On every ask that starts with "can I write XYZ?", I just wanna grab the asker by the shoulders and ask back "what do you think is going to happen if you do?"

Since there's no ableism police going around inspecting amateur creative projects, this is really a poorly worded version of "is this bad/ableist/problematic/gonna get me cancelled/punished?", with an undercurrent of "am I bad? Am I a bad person? Please reassure me that I'm not a bad person", which is a hell of a lot to drop on a handful of strangers online who can only ever give you a bit of information and their own biased personal opinions.

I swear I'm not trying to be a jerk about this. It's good that so many people want to depict disability in fiction beyond flat stereotypes. But it's incredibly hard to create *anything* with this level of anxiety and craving for approval. It's sooo much better to be driven by playful curiosity. Learn to love research! Don't underestimate your capacity for critical thinking! Dare to form your own opinions! The worst that can (and will) happen is that you'll be wrong and make mistakes. Big deal.

I also invite everyone to get further along in the writing process before running to consult here. Writing is rewriting, and it's easier to rewrite what's already on the page than toy with hypothetical ideas forever. Tumblr jokes a lot about the mere existence of bad pieces of writing being "a hate crime", but let's get real. Your accidentally ableist first draft is not an act of violence, and treating it that way is not disability advocacy or activism or helpful to anyone.

Sorry if this ended up too long or verbose. What do you mods think? Agree/disagree?

I can't speak for the other mods but I mostly agree TBH.

There's much more to writing disabled characters than just getting a "stamp of approval" that what you're doing "is OK". And it's not that it's bad to consult others to make sure you're not being ableist (it isn't), but a good disabled character can't just be a character that's Not Offensive.

They should be well researched, they should be interesting, and they shouldn't just be there to be "good disabled rep". They should be a character, not a diversity quota to fill.

I've addressed the whole "no one is actually going to Cancel You if you write something ableist" in one of my older posts about writing characters with facial differences because it's true. One billion movies and series and comics come out every year and a ton of them are ableist, and I promise you no one is getting "cancelled" over having a villain with a scar.

I stopped answering those "is it ok if my villain is deformed and scarred?!??" asks because they don't really add anything, they're usually not looking to change anything or learn anything, they just want a Cripple's Stamp of Approval. And that's not going to result in a good character, ever, it's just like showing a thumbs up to a writer that it's OK for them to write this offensive thing. What's the point? If you want to write it so bad, just do it... There is no Council of Disfigured People that will cancel you and take your house. You don't need my permission to write a generic evil disfigured guy and I'm not going to grant it. If you don't want to actually learn or change anything, there's no point in asking.

As I said, that's my opinion and not necessarily representative of the other mods on the blog.

mod Sasza

As to my opinion I largely agree. You (the general you, not you specifically asker, which is what I will mean in this whole ask when I say 'you') can write whatever you want and no one will send you a certified letter by mail that says you are Cancelled or a Bad Person or whatever.

We just want people to do research and put thought behind what they're writing. To think about why things are considered ableist, by us or by anyone else. And we want people to make disabled characters be characters and not just a Trope.

We as a mod team, but also as just regular people, can't or control what anyone does or doesn't write/draw/do. No one can. If you want to write something we hate, then do it. We won't stop you. We can't. We just won't like it, but if you're that committed to writing what you're writing, you can live with that, or at least you should. Someone's specific piece of art/writing/etc won't change our minds on what we've previously stated. No, not even yours. But you can do it if you really want to because that's how being an individual person works.

mod sparrow

[karikitdemonrp]

-----

Core gulped, he had a feeling Kohaku had flicked the kitsune's tail just to get a rise out of him. To rile Core up and get him to slip up. "You're such a tease." He muttered, tail flicking rapidly. "But I'd have it no other way." He chirped softly, trying to keep his composure. He was doing a decent job, but it was a struggle since the demon slayer was not making this easy.

Once he figured out how to better tease Kohaku, and get better confidence, then Kohaku was in for a rude awakening! But, that would be a while since Core was not used to it. All the lingering touches, the whispering, the comments, everything was simply what Kohaku knew got Core riled up. The things that got Kohaku all flustered and worked up? Anytime Core was being sweet he noticed Kohaku would get a bit flustered. But that was just how Core wa--- Then it clicked, Core just had to be himself but more so if he wanted to make Kohaku flustered. At least, that's how he processed it.

Core purred softly, face relaxing into a tender smile, radiating a sort of kindness only the kitsune could pull off. "Ah, I can't help my purring. When I'm happy, I purr. It's like a dog wagging it's tail when they're happy, they can't help it. Though I guess I have that problem a bit too." The kitsune chuckled softly, still struggling a bit to keep his composure but now he was actively trying to get Kohaku's to stumble with him. Then Core leaned over to whisper into Kohaku's ear. "But rest assured my love, there are only certain sounds and actions you and you alone will witness. I promise that." With a happy purr Core straightened up and took a few steps forward, tail wagging and that purr still rumbling his chest. "Now come on, lets get all we need from out list." He called out, his smile widening.

=K

Kohaku couldn’t help the low, delighted laugh that slipped from him when Core stammered and shivered, trying valiantly to keep his composure. He leaned in just a little, voice dipped in that same mischievous lilt that always spelled trouble—the good kind.

“Mm, I do remember,” he purred near Core’s ear, brushing a few stray strands of hair behind it while his fingers lingered a second too long. “And yet… I still flicked it. Almost like I enjoy watching you squirm.”

He straightened with a grin that was all teeth, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Sweet buns it is then. You’ll get first pick— if you behave,” he teased, eyes gleaming with a playful edge as he bumped their shoulders again and turned to start toward the dried fish stall.

As they walked, Kohaku reached out to brush his fingers gently against the back of Core’s hand, not quite holding it, just… lingering. His gaze flicked sideways as he added with that same warm undertone:

“Y’know, you're terrible at hiding that purr.” He chuckled softly. “It's kind of adorable. Makes me want to push your buttons a bit more… just to see how long you can hold out.”

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

a beautiful little lie. [chapter 5] l Harry Castillo

Summary:  you are the personal assistant of Harry Castillo, a wealthy entrepreneur who asks you to go with him to his friend's wedding. there you meet your ex-boyfriend and things get out of hand

Warnings: fluff, friends to lovers (maybe?), some alcohol (a few glasses of wine and a beer), a few ambiguous situations, some kissing (?!), Mr. Murphy and his wife show up

A/N: i wrote THIS. i'd love to read what you think about it, or the whole story. calm down, i'm getting closer to drama and angst. i didn't feel confident writing this, because i was making a presentation and notes for school at the same time. multitasking! i'm glad so many of you liked this story, it's honey to my heart. thank you for being here.

your feedback is very important to me and I want to thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. I secretly hope you like this story.🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

[my masterlist] [Harry Castillo masterlist] [a beautiful little lie- series masterlist]

“I brought you some coffee.”

You looked at the paper cups Harry was holding in his hands and smiled. “You’re saving my life.” You replied, taking one in your hands and quickly bringing it to your lips.

It was really early, but the airport was already bustling with activity. You had already checked in, but there was still a lot of time before your flight. A few days after the unfortunate party with your friends, you and Harry found yourself at the airport to fly to Los Angeles. Mr. Murphy had his way. He promised to sign a contract with Castillo, but forced him to personally show up at his house for dinner.

“It’s a business trip,” Harry stated as he told you to book tickets for the both of you. “I’ll get to meet a few more people, so you can spend your time however you want.”

You’d never been to Los Angeles before, so once the initial surprise wore off, you figured you should take the risk. You packed your bags and let Harry pick you up at an ungodly early hour so you could spend the next few hours on the plane.

Despite a few sips of coffee, you didn't feel more awake, unlike Harry.

Dressed in a dark green sweater and dark jeans, he curiously watched the other passengers as they made their way through the airport to find their gates. If he looked immaculate, then you were one of those people who traveled in sweatpants and sneakers.

It was only when you were waiting for the plane that you started to wonder if they would let you into business class in what you were wearing. Your worries were unnecessary though. Maybe it was Harry's charm, or maybe the staff was used to this type of passenger and no one paid any attention to you. The flight was really pleasant and you managed to doze off, but most of the time you spent watching movies and talking. The next few hours passed and you were surprised to see that it was time to leave the plane.

Without much trouble, you caught a cab to your hotel and an hour later you were relieved to be thrown onto your perfectly made bed. Your phone buzzed and you looked at the screen.

Harry Castillo: “Breakfast in half an hour?”

You quickly replied and got up to take a shower and change into something more appropriate. When you took the glass elevator down to the lobby half an hour later, Harry was already there waiting for you. The cream linen shirt fit him perfectly as he stood up from the couch and walked over to you.

“You look really pretty,” he said, his eyes adjusting to your dress. “I should have taken you on the trip sooner.”

“You mean I didn’t look pretty before?” you laughed, trying to hide the effect his words had on you. Harry was so casual that sometimes you weren’t sure if you were taking his words and actions correctly. Your brain could be playing tricks on you, and it certainly wasn’t professional.

It all came naturally, too naturally. Talking or being together was like being in a natural environment for both of you. A year of successful working together certainly had an impact on that, but Harry was just an easy person to like. You didn't want to exaggerate his behavior towards you because you knew it wouldn't lead anywhere. Castillo was your boss and that should definitely put a stop to any bold thoughts that were entering your head. But in reality, it wasn't that easy.

“Susan sent an email.” You said, clicking something on your phone and carelessly putting your cup down so it almost fell over. “Mrs. Kruger called to say… Hey!”

The phone was snatched from your hand and the same hand, Harry’s, placed it on his side of the table. “We’re not working right now.” He said with a smile. “I bet you’re hungry and what you ordered looks really good, so – eat.”

You rolled your eyes. “And if it’s important, what? Mrs. Kruger…”

“You’re important now. And your breakfast.” Harry interrupted you and took a sip of his coffee. “Everything else can wait. Besides, I’m your boss, not them, right?”

You smiled, but you had to admit he was right. The area you spent the day in was really beautiful, and the chance to look away from your phone and look around was tempting.

Mr. Murphy wasn't expecting you until the evening, so you didn't have to rush anywhere. Harry took the time to show you around Los Angeles, pointing out all the places he thought you should see. You drank your iced coffee, watching the people stroll along the beach, the sun warming your skin. If Harry hadn't checked his watch, you probably would have been late for your meeting.

"You're irresponsible," you laughed, stepping into the hotel elevator. "You should have gone to him yourself."

“Nuh-uh. Murphy made it clear he wanted you there too.” Harry replied. The smile hadn’t left his face the entire day, and he wondered if he still had control over his facial muscles. “We’ve got an hour, but if we’re late, he’ll forgive us.”

“I’ll do it in an hour.” You announced as the elevator stopped at your floor.

Before he could open his mouth, you slipped through the doors and headed down the soft carpet of the hallway. He watched you for a moment longer before the doors closed and the elevator started moving again.

He liked you. It was obvious to Harry. You were the only woman who had been this close to him for a long time and hadn't disappeared, made excuses or explained anything as "it's about me, not you". You didn't expect gifts or to indulge your whims. Yes, you worked for him. But outside of the time spent at work, Harry had the feeling that you really liked him.

Like today, when you surprised him and bought ice cream for both of you, which you brought while he was on the phone with Mr. Murphy. It was just nice and so natural that Harry didn't even notice when "Thank you, sweetie" slipped out of his mouth.

When he knocked on your door an hour later, he wasn't prepared for what he saw. You were wearing a modest but elegant black dress, your hair nicely done and you had applied lipstick.

"I'm almost ready," you said, entering the room and leaving the door open, which Harry took as an invitation.

The room wasn't chaos, but rather the pleasant mess that people rushing to dinner make. A few colorful magnets that you bought that day were lying on the table next to a cup of tea, and a pair of your heels were lying under the table. A few seconds later, you emerged from the bathroom.

"Can you help me with the zipper on my dress?" you asked, turning to Harry. 

"Sure." 

As he approached, he caught the pleasant scent of your perfume. Damn, he would have taken you to a thousand other places so he wouldn't have to take you to Murphy's manor. But you didn't notice the change in his gaze. You put on your shoes, grabbed your bag and were ready to go.

Mr. Murphy's house was located outside the city center and was surrounded by a beautiful garden full of trees and trimmed bushes. He and his wife greeted you with joy and led you to the spacious dining room, whose large windows overlooked the city bathed in the glow of the setting sun.

"I'm so happy you brought this wonderful person with you." Murphy said as dinner was served. "Traveling is always better when you have nice company."

"Indeed." Harry replied and you smiled faintly at him. "We spent the day walking around the city. It was really nice."

“You should go to the beach. There’s a beautiful place not far from here and there aren’t that many people there.” Mrs. Murphy took a sip of her white wine and looked at you. “You should go there. Nothing is as relaxing as spending the whole day in a place like that.”

“I would. If time permits.” you replied.

“Harry!” Mr. Murphy called to the man sitting next to you. “You have to take this lovely lady to the beach!”

You could barely contain your laughter when Castillo muttered, “Yes, sir.”

The evening passed in a pleasant atmosphere. Mr. and Mrs. Murphy told you about their travels and completely ignored business topics. In their company, you didn’t feel like Castillo’s assistant, but a welcome guest. When you left their house after midnight, you felt pleasantly satisfied with the day spent this way.

“Did you have a good time?”

You turned your head and looked at Harry. His shirt was already two buttons undone, exposing his neck. After a few glasses of wine, his eyes sparkled, the lights of the passing taxis reflecting off them.

“It was really nice.” You replied honestly. “Thank you for taking me here.”

“I had no choice.” Harry grimaced, but the corners of his lips turned up. “Murphy insisted you show up. If I had refused, he probably would have broken the agreement.”

“You’re awful!” you laughed, patting his shoulder. Harry took your hand and before he could stop himself, he brushed his lips across the back of it. Your heart stopped for a moment.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, carefully pushing your hand away. “I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s fine,” you replied, feeling warmth creep up your neck. Thank God it was dark and Castillo couldn’t see how his gesture affected you.

You couldn't take your eyes off him all evening. Maybe it was his fault, but you couldn't deny that there was something about his mannerisms that drew people in and magnetized them. When you looked at Harry, you didn't see the balance in his bank account, but a nice man who made those around him feel noticed. 

Just like you. You were looking for a job over a year ago, and now you were coming back from a delicious dinner with someone who used to be your friend. It would have been easy to fall under Harry Castillo's spell, and you were too weak for that.

The sand beneath your feet was warm and the wind was playing with your hair. You turned your face to the sun and closed your eyes. Even though you had your sunglasses on, you could still see the light shining through your eyelids. You took advantage of Castillo's meeting and went to the beach that Mrs. Murphy had mentioned. You found a nice spot, rented an umbrella, and then set up your things.

You pulled out your phone and took a quick picture, then sent it to Harry. The reply came almost immediately.

Harry Castillo: I'm jealous. Will you be there long? You: All day, I hope. Harry Castillo: Okay. ;-)

You had brought a book with you so you wouldn't have to worry about boredom. Time passed and you stopped reading in favor of short swims in the ocean or trips to the fruit and smoothie stand. You couldn't remember the last time you had been on vacation, but this few days away could easily be written off as "vacation." Harry had made sure you worked as little as possible and you weren't about to fight it.

“Maybe I should move the office here. What do you think?”

You looked up to see Harry standing over you. He was holding a pizza box, still wearing the clothes you saw him in this morning, but the sleeves of his shirt were already rolled up. He looked a little weird standing in the middle of the hot sand in such an outfit.

“I don’t think we can work here.” You replied. Harry sat down next to you and took off his shoes, pushing his feet into the sand. “How was the meeting?”

“Good. Boring, but it went well. I thought you might be hungry.” He pointed to the box. “Pizza. The one you like.”

“Thanks.” You opened the box and took a slice. “So... Two days and we’re back?”

Harry nodded, looking around the beach and watching the people. A few children were running around, playing with a beautiful golden retriever, while someone else was building a giant sandcastle.

“I could stay here longer.” Harry mumbled. “A completely different life than New York.”

“I’ve relaxed more in the last few hours than I have in the last year.” You replied, swallowing what was in your mouth and reaching for a bottle of water.

“That doesn’t say anything good about me.” Harry snorted with laughter.

“Sorry, boss.” You shrugged, but smiled back.

“You know what? I think I’ll go for a swim.” He stated after a moment, and before you could answer, he was already unbuttoning his shirt.

“W-what? If you tell me you’re wearing swimming trunks…”

“Black boxers will do.”

Harry stripped down without any embarrassment, revealing his broad shoulders and sun-kissed skin. You tried to look away, but it was really hard. He looked really good.

"Are you coming with me?" he asked, giving you a quick glance.

"Yeah, I think so." You replied, getting up from your towel and you and Harry headed towards the water.

The waves weren't big, and the water felt nice and cool on your hot skin. You quickly lost sight of Harry as he dove in and swam a bit. When he surfaced, he brushed his wet curls away. You couldn't help but smile. You hadn't seen Harry as relaxed as he was that day in a long time. The water and the beach seemed to be his natural habitat. You spent the whole day at the beach and it wasn't until the sun set that you gathered your things and headed to the hotel.

“Want to watch a movie?” he suggested, walking you to your room. “I know it’s late, but…”

Your lips moved completely unconsciously. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Fantastic.” Harry beamed. “I’ll take a quick shower and be right back. We can order something to eat.”

“Sure. I’ll be waiting.”

The quick shower washed the sand and salt off of you, but didn’t cool your head. You had no idea what you were doing. However, when you heard a knock on the door after half an hour, your heart pounding, you opened it. Harry had already changed into comfortable sweatpants and entered your room without much embarrassment.

“We could watch the second part of the movie we saw on the plane,” he suggested, sitting down on your bed and reaching for the remote.

“Sure, no problem. Want a drink?” You grabbed two beers from the hotel fridge. Harry nodded and a few minutes later you were both comfortably sitting on the bed, watching the movie, drinking beer and waiting for the food you ordered.

“I like it,” he said. His voice sounded like he had been thinking about something for a long time.

“What exactly?”

“That. Us. I like spending time with you,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the screen, even though the movie probably didn’t interest him that much. “I feel good around you, you know?”

You didn't know what to say, or maybe you did, you were just afraid. But you couldn't hold it back any longer and the words spilled out of your mouth. "I like it too, Harry. You're a really nice guy."

Harry turned his head and looked at you. "Nice guys finish last, right?"

"That's not true!"

"Sure!" he snorted a laugh and took a sip of beer.

"Harry." You sat up and looked at him as if you wanted to explain something obvious to him. "I've been working for you for a year, I know what I'm talking about. You always make me feel important and heard, you value my opinion, and even outside of the office, like here and now, we can just be together and have fun. It was a really nice day, thank you."

He watched you for a moment, considering your words. They stirred something in him and he felt he couldn't hold it back any longer. There was something about this moment, or maybe between you. Something that wasn't fleeting anymore, was starting to take shape and was more than a boss-employee relationship. You had long since stopped being just an assistant.

He shouldn't have done that. It was definitely the drink he had with his friend and that beer, or the sun. You looked so comfortable and natural that Harry couldn't help himself. You didn't pull away when his fingers brushed your cheek and jaw, you didn't run away when they rested on your neck, you didn't push him away when he sat up and brought his face closer to yours, kissing you a moment later.

It was completely new and so different from that brush of your lips that you both experienced just to make Daniel believe that there was something more between you. Your lips were soft and gentle as you kissed Harry back. But when you parted your lips, allowing him to slip his tongue between them, he believed that this was actually happening. His fingers slid into your hair, pulling you closer. The kiss was deeper, more intimate and made you sigh, which he gladly accepted.

The hand that was resting on your waist pulled you closer and again - you didn't protest. Jesus, what a relief it was for Harry! He wanted to kiss you, he wanted you to feel that he really cared. But as soon as your hand touched his face, a vigorous knock on the door echoed through the room. 

In one short second, everything was interrupted. You pulled away from Harry, your gaze frightened. He tried to stop you, but his fingers only slid down your wrist as you jumped out of bed and took a few steps to the door.

“Good evening. I brought you your order, ma’am.” A polite male voice said.

“Thank you. I’ll take this. Good night.”

You pushed the small cart with the ordered food inside and when your gaze landed on Harry, despite his concerns, you didn’t look like someone who regretted what had happened. Quite the opposite, your eyes were sparkling and your face was glowing. You looked simply beautiful.

“I hope you’re hungry, because I can’t eat all this by myself.” You joked.

“We’ll manage somehow.” He replied. “Do you have any more beer?”

“Of course.”

And when a few minutes later you were sitting next to each other, eating the ordered food, watching a movie and drinking cold beer, you both felt that something had changed. It was exciting, new. And you just hoped that the next day you’d feel the same.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

taglist: @nrschuster30 @maried01 @lunariantears @thatesqcrush @suzysface @youkeeno @legoemma @nuo0n @sarahhxx03 @hazzzy418 @pedrofan @peepawispunk @readingiskeepingmegoing @maryfanson @anoverwhelmingdin @o-sacra-virgo-laudes-tibi @axshadows @picketniffler @underneath-the-sky-again @kaysfanficcorner @noisynightmarepoetry @xmaykeca @orcasoul @sincerelywithheartt @southernbe @chaoticfestninja @telumendilsoul @hermionelove @paleidiot @lemon-world1 @diabaroxa @scarcetti @thatoneperson38747 @pascal-mynightlyobsession @sunnytuliptime @krystal---meth @nikoanna @capuccinodoll @titlee78

[lincolndjarin]

hollow star ⊹₊⟡⋆ ch. one

chapter one : when flesh meets steal

ao3 kofi main masterlist (series masterlist coming soon )

pairing: din djarin x scientist!reader

rating: 18+ mdni - check chapter tags for cws

word count : 6.1k

summary: Din agrees to help you when he's sees the credits you're offering in exchange for protection, after all, it's a simple mission. Artifact retrieval and data collection.

That's what you told him.

And why wouldn't he believe you?

tags: strangers to lovers, horror, non-consensual voyeurism, slowburn, psycological horror, fear

70,000 CREDITS - PRIVATE ESCORT DETAIL : FREELANCE OPERATIVES ONLY

SERVICE TYPE: Discreet Escort / Protection Detail 

DURATION: 2 weeks (approximately) 

LOCATION: Classified - Outer Rim, unregistered planet (coordinates provided upon meeting)

COMPENSATION: 140,000 credits, 70,000 upfront, and the remainder upon completion of the job. (an additional 10,000 credits will be provided for every day of service required after the initial 2 weeks.)

BONUS: Hazard pay negotiable based on situational escalation.

REQUIREMENTS:  Combat experience, (soldier or soldier adjacent is preferable) must be familiar with navigation and willing to travel through hostile terrain. Preferably a ship that does not require a crew and has a solo operator. (negotiable) Must not be affiliated with the New Republic, or any Jedi-aligned factions. 

Private client requiring an armed escort for the purpose of a personal research trip. The objective being artifact retrieval and/or data extraction. No combat is anticipated but the client requests protection against potential scavengers or environmental threats. Client will not be armed. No questions asked, no answers expected, discretion is non-negotiable. 

There’s several blocked lines of text at the bottom of his monitor, encrypted information about the client that makes him furrow his brow. The black screen flickers a bit, his thoughts accompanied by the quiet hum of the space that surrounds the Razor Crest. 140,000 credits is nothing to scoff at, it’s the type of payment he’d expect on a high risk job, or something far more sinister than this. That kind of money is often offered up for jobs that most people wouldn’t choose because of its morality. Hit’s put out on children, or the defenseless. Or at the very least something that would take well over a few months. 

Not this, not a simple in and out escort job. 

The redacted information is concerning. Too concerning, even with the payout promised. His fingers type into the system for a few moments, trying to push through what he knows to be simple defenses put up by the guild before the screen blinks and the text is easily revealed to him. With a pleased sigh he sits back in his chair and reads. 

Client shows signs of previous Imperial affiliation, though not flagged for war crimes. Known history with a classified archives division. Linguist, no combat personnel history. Last known activity listed as an unexplained incident with a vault located at Station Mourna 2. (now sealed.) Was assigned to the Imperial Historical Recovery Taskforce, or I-HRT, division 12. No last known location. No existing warrants or bounties on head. 

The Imperial affiliation stands out to him but it reads like they had very little to do with anything more than their history department. Which seems benign enough and would explain the exorbitant fee. They can simply afford it. 

But there’s just something off about the listing. 

It should be so simple, it’s a clean cut job, a bit clinical, but nothing of the sort would be required of him. It’s the top left corner of the screen that makes him the most hesitant. 

36 applications received, 0 accepted. 

The client clearly requires someone experienced, it can’t even be seen by anyone without a certain guild clearance level but 0 acceptances out of 36? It’s unheard of, even with the pickiest clients. Anyone who would have applied at this point would have been more than qualified. 

Maybe the client is particular about certain things, or maybe they already found someone and forgot to remove the listing. Either way it’s simply too tempting to resist any longer. He needs the money, or at the very least he needs the distance. 

He can’t just keep waiting here, burning through fuel, for something that is never going to happen. 

He enters his guild code, fingers lingering above the send button before finally clicking it. Rocking back in the pilot's seat he lets his head fall back. Accepting the fact that he won’t be receiving a response before the message has even been fully sent out. 

So the immediate chime made by the ship's notification system is more than a shock as he sits back up. 

Congratulations! Your application has been accepted! The client will be waiting for you on : CORUSCANT 

Attached you will find the message provided by the client, best of luck!

I would like to be retrieved as quickly as possible from the Kaelen Memorial Travel Port. Payment will be exchanged immediately after boarding. Your haste is appreciated. 

Dr. Thorne

The response makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He can’t place the sense of dread this all fills him with but unfortunately his mind is made up. A lot of things fill him with dread these days, so he might as well make a little money. 

It’s not like he has anything left to lose.

⊹₊⟡⋆

Sleep doesn’t come easy to him.

It never has, but especially not these last few months. Almost always it’s just simple restlessness, a refusal to turn off the hunters instincts and relax. Waking up in a sweat after a dream of just barely snagging a bounty, or finding himself at the end of a blaster being wielded by one of the many nameless faces he’s turned in over the years.  

Tonight is different though. Tonight he sinks into sleep slowly, but deeply. 

When he wakes up he’s met with a feeling he hasn’t felt in decades. 

The wind. 

Cold, and sharp against his face as he cautiously gets to his feet. He’s standing in a field of ash, no visible sky above, only more grey and smoke. 

He manages to pull himself together enough to realize he’s dreaming but it doesn’t make him any less disoriented. His hands find his face, scratching at the unfamiliar sting of air on his flesh. Looking around and trying to take in his surroundings proves fruitless until something slowly slips through the smoke above him. Swaying back and forth in the breeze until it gingerly lands in his open hands. 

A feather. 

A dainty, black feather.

When he shifts his gaze upwards to find the source he finally finds something else in the endless expanse of space around him. A star. 

Although it’s barely that at all. 

Hanging from a mess of wires is a poorly made steel outline of a star, desperately trying to stay together as a few sparks twitch out of the exposed cables within. It tries to flicker, to turn on but all it manages is a pathetic glow from the hollow space within. It isn’t a normal light it emits either, he immediately recognizes it as the same glow made by the darksaber, instinctively he reaches for his hip to find it but only grabs air. Looking down in search of it forcefully makes him drop down a foot into the ash. 

Before he can find his footing he sinks again, another jolt down so that he’s up to his knees in ash. Frantically, he tries to hold onto something, anything, but there’s only more grainy ash, he finds no purchase as he sinks, quicker, and quicker, unable to hold on any longer he takes a deep breath, preparing for the punishing lack of oxygen he’s about to be faced with. 

And then he wakes up. 

Gasping, and clawing at the single sheet that lines the mattress in his bunk. 

It’s a tight squeeze when he leverages himself out, falling to his knees in the cargo hold of the ship, wildly ripping his helmet off before the air can properly depressurize, giving himself a sharp pain in his temples. He’s too desperate for air to care about the headache he’s gonna have for the rest of the day. 

⊹₊⟡⋆

It’s late. 

The port you’ve requested boarding at isn’t one he’s familiar with. Coruscant is a large planet though, and there’s plenty of places in the galaxy that he’s never been to. As he approaches the first thing he notes is how dark it is. The entire planet is lit up, especially from a distance. The mass of cities and the vibrant nightlife keep the planet well lit. Unfortunately for him, it seems you’ve chosen the only dark patch on the entire planet. It isn’t easy to calibrate the landing because of the lack of light, he can’t see anything clearly but it appears to be completely empty so he picks a random spot and prepares himself. 

The ship hovers above the crumbling refueling station, slowly descending before landing with a hiss of air. For the price attached to the job he certainly wasn’t expecting to dock in such a shitty spot. Unsure of what to expect he makes his way to the loading dock and lowers the ramp, before it even reaches the stone pathway a pair of boots land on the edge. 

Instinctively his hand twitches to his blaster as he assesses the figure. 

Alone, cloaked, and calm. Before him stands who he is certain must be his client. He was expecting a stony faced doctor, someone older, someone that looked like they’d spent plenty of time out in the field. 

Which is why he’s taken aback by the sight of you. 

Doe-eyed, looking out of place in the dark robes that adorn your body, the only out of place thing about you is the small pale scar along your jaw. In one swift motion you drag a large suitcase up onto the platform behind you. 

“Worn, but efficient.” Are the first words out of your mouth as you take in the sights of the ship, as if he isn’t standing directly in front of you. “I suppose this will do.” Nodding to yourself you finally let your gaze settle in him, a smile that doesn’t quite meet your eyes adorns your face. “Hello, Mandalorian.” It’s almost posed as a question, you want confirmation that you’re in the right place despite the fact that he’s standing before you in full beskar armour.  

He isn’t sure how to respond. The client information section of the listing flashes through his mind as he stares. 

Imperial affiliation. 

Your outfit surely suggests that but the rest of you screams inexperienced. He hasn’t ever seen someone who looks so unprepared for a field job. And he finds himself experiencing a feeling he’s only ever felt a handful of times in his life. 

Surprised. 

But you can’t know that. 

He’s supposed to be the seasoned bounty hunter who can handle anything thrown his direction. At least that’s what you’re paying for. Convinced his voice will betray him, he only nods at you. 

“Good, I’m Dr. Thorne, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” Stepping further up onto the ship you hold your hand out towards him. With robotic movements he gives you a quick and firm handshake before immediately withdrawing. Even through his gloves he can feel just how cold you are. 

With every passing second he’s regretting this decision more and more. 

“I appreciate your punctuality.” You rock slowly, back and forth on your heels as you size him up, making no attempts at being subtle. “And you’re taller than I expected. Not an issue, just something of note.” You force a laugh but he still doesn’t speak. Partly because he isn’t the chatty type but also because he just doesn’t know what to say. Your tone is too clinical, like he’s a patient and you’re his doctor. “And you haven’t interrupted me once, which is… polite, I suppose.” He can’t decide if you’re joking so he continues to nod. 

Everything about you is odd, it gives him a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. This is why he doesn’t usually take escort jobs. They require too much talking, it’s been so long since he’s had someone aboard that wasn’t a bounty he can’t even discern if this is typical conversation. You’re too clinical, too detached from your words, if it weren’t for your constant twitching and unpredictable muscle spasms he’d have thought you were a droid. He has to remind himself that you’re just a person, and he’s met plenty of people, some over twice your size, and never once felt intimidated. 

With an indiscernible shiver he shakes off the feeling, after all there is no direct threat here, just discomfort, and he’s more than well equipped to handle a little discomfort. 

“Would you mind directing me to my chambers so that I might deposit my belongings before we proceed?” The naivety of your statement makes him scoff, and briefly his walls break down. You’re about to be in for a rude awakening as he tilts his head to the left, the airlock doors open on a small storage compartment. Clearly a space used to store weapons or fuel, that has been cleaned and haphazardly refurbished with a cot, a steel dresser, and a storage trunk. 

But you are completely unshaken. 

Despite your neatly kept robes and hair pulled back is a strict tie you show no signs of distress at the tiny living space. 

“Well this is easy enough.” You grunt a little, dragging your large bag forward, tossing it into the compartment before turning to face him once more, riffling around in your robe pockets and presenting him with a large satchel that jingles with the sound of credits as you hold it out politely towards him. 

“You don’t seem up for conversation so I suppose we should just get on with it then.” You click your tongue, softly, it doesn’t seem like you even realized that you did it. “Perhaps I should try speaking your language. My plans are as follows; I would like safe and comfortable transportation to my desired location. When we arrive I would like you to accompany me as I conduct my research. It is nothing of great importance, more of a personal project of mine, I’d like to retrieve an artifact for my personal collection. It isn’t considered particularly valuable by any means, it’s just something significant to the niche of research that I’ve devoted my life to. While I am willing to share more information on it I’d rather not and I’d be willing to bet that you don’t want to hear it anyway so I think it would be for the best to keep it that way. I am not anticipating a need for protection, the site was condemned ages ago, but I find that preparing for the worst case scenario is best. You will accompany me. I will examine the ruins, collect samples and data, and when I’m done, we will board the ship and you will bring me back here.” 

Your eyes dart down to the credits and then back up to his visor. 

“70,000 credits, as promised upon arrival. With another 70,000 to be transferred electronically automatically at the end of the two week period along with a bonus for your discretion.” The end of your sentence drifts off to a whisper as you wait for him to accept. 

You barely breathed during your ramblings and his brain is fighting to process everything at the same speed as your voice. 

A moment of eerie silence swallows the space around them, something of significance that he can’t quite place, nor can he discern if you feel it too. A sour taste in his mouth and the feeling of bile rising in his throat, a feeling of being watched, all eyes on him. Waiting for him to make the choice, the right choice. 

And as he thinks it over you react with enough tiny tells to finally let him know that you’re just as nervous. 

You’re in a constant state of motion, even when you appear to be still, as if there’s something under your skin keeping you going. 

But it was foolish of you to even think you could hide from him, he was trained to do this, to read a situation like this with deadly precision, despite how low stakes it might look to an outsider he can feel the weight of the situation, heavy on his chest as his eyes roam the oncoming storm that is you. 

The way your jaw ticks, the subtle flex of the muscles in your cheek as you fight the urge to grind your teeth. Your nails chewed down to the quick, and the skin around them red and angry from nervous scratching and picking. The color of your undereyes is just a little too bright, you’re covering up something with makeup, almost certainly dark under eyes. The scar that runs along the bottom of your jaw is barely visible when you’re facing forward but he can tell it’s old, it healed long ago but everytime you look in the mirror you’re reminded of whatever it was that gave it to you. Oddly enough, the culmination of all of this is enough to finally relax him a bit. It’s what finally makes you human in his eyes.

You put on a good show. 

At first glance he was entirely convinced that you were this mysterious, calculating Imperial doctor, but he can see through all of that with a closer look. You’re a survivor. You’re scared of whatever mission it is that you’re about to embark on, but you’re not the threat you try to discreetly present yourself as. 

“Trust is expensive out here.” The stare of wide eyed innocence you give him makes up his mind as he holds his own hand out and accepts the credits. You visibly exhale when he does. “I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.” 

The nod he gives you provides no promises, you’d be stupid to think that he trusts you, but at the very least you’re putting some trust in him. 

And that’s enough to make him speak his first words to you. The question that’s been on his mind since he saw your listing. 

“Where are we going?” He can immediately tell that how ragged his voice is from disuse is startling. He can’t seem to recall the last time he had to speak. 

Politely, and anticipating this question you reach into your robes once more before producing a small slip of paper with coordinates neatly written on them. 

“I don’t know the name of the planet, it’s old and I haven’t been able to find many records of an official title.” He’s quickly realizing that you speak like you rehearsed this all, it’s an odd, robotic, tone. It makes him want to ask more but he knows that he probably wouldn’t like any answer you gave him, the way you speak unsettles him. Instead of dwelling he tries to map out in his mind how long the trip will be from here to this mystery planet based on the coordinates. 

“Should be about two days of travel, is there anything else you need before we leave?” He has rations set aside for the two of you but with the possible end date of this job being ambiguous it’s troubling to think that all you have is one bag. “I have enough rations stored away for four weeks worth of travel, with four days total in round trip travel time I’d advise you to make sure you’re properly equipped.” You aren’t looking at him anymore, instead your eyes wander and begin to study the ship around you. 

“I have everything we’ll need.” He watches as your temperature rises, just a degree or two, wondering if it’s your nerves that are causing this reaction. “I’d like to leave as soon as possible.”

There’s no reason to draw this out any longer than necessary, with his pockets weighed down with his payment he makes a beeline for the bay door panel, with a deafening groan the steel doors slide shut. Ignoring the feeling of your eyes on him he pushes a series of buttons, ensuring a proper seal on the airlock. No going back now. 

“Shall I join you in the cockpit? Perhaps I could properly brief you on the mission and we could exchange pleasantries.” You give him a polite smile but he shakes his head. The last thing he wants right now is more conversation with you. 

“Get some sleep, it’s gonna be a long trip.” He tries to control his tone, attempting a cordial manner of speaking. 

He can’t get to the cockpit quickly enough. Careful to lock the hatch behind him he starts to set the course. It’s a fifty hour trip there, fifty hours until the unknown. Setting the ship for an auto pilot trip he leans back in his chair, taking deep breaths until the blinking light on the control panel breaks him out of his silent meditation. 

The ship's motion detectors. 

He’s never used the security system, he’d had it installed as a sort of baby monitor for the kid but he’d never needed it. He so rarely has anyone on the ship to monitor. 

He fiddles with the controls briefly until the monitor to his left hums to life with the grainy image of you, standing alone right where he left you. 

As you look around the room, taking your time to note everything around you he finds himself fascinated by the sight of you. Being able to watch you from the outside makes you much more interesting. 

When you finally move it isn’t too rushed to your chambers.

Instead you move slowly, drinking in the space. You lift your hand and your robe flows like water around you, and you touch the closest wall. Pacing, circling the room you brush your hand up against everything, not searching or scheming, just feeling. Mapping out the space. You pause in front of one of the many supply lockers crammed in against the interior wiring of the ship, tilting your head as if you’re listening for something. A small, private smile tugging at the corners of your mouth before you move on. 

His gloved hands flip through the switches, cycling through the different feeds until you’re back on the screen, stepping lightly into a cargo hold. 

You’re so careful. You don’t pry or rummage through his things, instead you just do a lap around the room, fingertips dragging along the seams of the walls that conceal panels, the cold steel of storage crates. 

You linger over things like the emergency oxygen masks and the first aid kits, like you’re memorizing their placements. Everything in the room feels your featherlight touch as you slowly trace every edge and curve. He feels like he watches you move from room to room for hours until you finally make your way into your quarters. Instinctively he changes the feed again only to be met with static. A frown forming on his face until he realizes why. 

When he’d purchased the ship he had to calibrate the system to his liking, and he’d marked any rooms used as sleeping quarters as private. He didn’t normally have guests on the ship but he wasn’t a creep. His thumb hovers over the manual toggle anyway, and a thought crosses his mind. 

He shouldn’t be watching you, you clearly have no ill intentions. It would be wrong to keep watching. 

But you’re wearing all those layered robes. 

A concealed weapon isn’t just a possibility, it’s smart. And with your intelligence it should be expected. 

And of course he hadn’t searched you upon boarding, you’re a paying customer, it would have been rude and might have lost him the job. 

He flexes his hand. 

Something about you was off, even the listing had been strange. The wise decision here would be to make sure that everything appears typical. His mind argues back and forth with itself as he tries to justify this, eventually his curiosity gets the best of him. 

Just until you’re done changing, he tells himself. Just to be sure. 

The feed cuts to an unblurred view of your room. 

For a moment you just dig through your bag, and his jaw tightens. You pull out a few notebooks and pens, tossing them onto the cot. Your movements are so much more fluid now, without rush, more natural looking than you’d been in front of him. 

Standing with your back to the camera your fingers find the ties at your waist, loosening them, the fabric falls off your shoulders. Slowly and methodically you slip off each layer, catching them before they hit the floor, and folding them neatly. It’s a long and arduous process as you go layer by layer until you’ve got a stack on your dresser and you clasp your hands together, finished. 

Now revealed is a thin underlayer, a close fitted tunic and pants that end just above your knees. Clothes meant for sleeping, nothing else. Tight enough to make it obvious that you’re concealing nothing. 

He tells himself again that this is all just a precaution  

His throat feels terribly dry. 

He should turn it off. But he can’t.

Reaching up, you undo your hair, arching yourself back in a stretch that makes his entire justification for watching you suddenly feel twisted and dirty. 

There are no weapons. Nothing hidden. 

Nothing but you. 

And then, you froze in place.  

Halfway through a groan of relief as you stretch, you turn towards the wall. 

Head tilting up until your gaze is facing the camera. 

Not just towards it, right at it.

Your eyes are calm, not accusatory, not shocked. 

That somehow makes him feel worse. A bead of sweat sliding down his forehead and over the bridge of his nose. 

And you tilt your head to the side, just a smidge. Like you’re staring right at him. Like you’re the one observing him. 

He cuts the feed. 

Turning the monitor off entirely as the cockpit goes silent and he’s staring at his own reflection in the now blank screen. Helmeted, emotionless, guiltless. 

He certainly doesn’t feel that way, as shame is starting to set in like cement in his chest. 

Leaning back in his chair he exhales slowly. 

He certainly isn’t going to sleep soundly tonight. 

⊹₊⟡⋆ 

The familiar scent of the motel room fills your head as you rush back in, slamming the door shut behind you with a panicked breath, scrambling for the lock before relaxing. 

It’s a shitty place to stay, with even shittier neighbors. Your research is too important to be kept here, you know that, but you don’t have any other choice. This was and continues to be the cheapest option. Just as you’re setting your bag down your tablet across the room chimes. For the last three months you’ve felt your heart race at the sound of that notification dozens of times, only to immediately be disappointed. Tonight is no different. Your breath quickens immediately, almost to the point of hyperventilation as you dart across the room, kneeling in front of the bed as you type your password into the device. 

[ YOU HAVE : 1 NEW APPLICATION - WOULD YOU LIKE TO REVIEW IT? ]

Out of habit you’re tapping the space where the “yes” icon is going to appear before it’s even there. The screen changes to the applicants guild code, but that’s not the information you’re after, your eyes skip over it the redacted information portion, you’ve already put a system in place that reveals it and you desperately search for the one word you’ve been waiting for. 

And for the first time since you put out this damn listing, you find it. 

Mandalorian 

It feels like your heart stops, you know you shouldn’t get your hopes up, but this could be the one. 

Male, 40 years of age, (estimate) combat capable, well experienced, specialties in location and extraction of bounties, Mandalorian, solo operation. 

He fits all the parameters, even if they’re vague. It isn’t a guarantee that he’s the one you’ve been waiting for but you don’t even think about it as you type in your response, signing it with the name you were given during your time serving the Empire. 

Dr. Thorne 

You hurriedly pack everything you can into your bag before laying down, heart racing, the moment you get a response you’ll be checking out of this hell hole. If the guild member arrives and isn’t the Mandalorian in full silver with a mudhorn signet on his pauldron you’ll just turn around and try again. 

… 

In the morning you have an estimated arrival time and it’s all finally coming together. You tell yourself over and over again to not get ahead of yourself. It’s more than likely that you’ll be checking back into hotel hell tonight. 

There’s nothing left to do at this point but wait. So that’s exactly what you do, you sit by the small window and wait for the sun to set, your eyes locked onto the clock on your tablet. Until finally, a little after ten o’clock there’s another notification chime and you know he’ll be landing soon.

You dress yourself in the only nice clothes you have left, your robes, and travel to what you know to be an abandoned space port. Pulling your cloak more tightly around yourself as the cold settles into your bones. You aren’t standing in the dark for long, soon enough there's a rush of hot air as a ship materializes out of the darkness, landing directly in front of you. You’re absolutely wired at this point. It feels like there’s an electric current running under your skin as a loud hiss fills the quiet air around you and a large ramp lowers itself to the ground and you can see the soft golden light within. 

You’re too fired up to wait for it to hit the ground, careful not to lose your balance you hoist yourself up. Taking in the sights of the ship, forcing a smile, preparing yourself for the wave of defeat that will wash over you when you see him. 

And then you do. 

And he sees you. 

And the weight of the world is lifted off your shoulders. 

Your brain stops working but thankfully your mouth doesn’t, you’re on auto-pilot, introducing yourself, shaking his hand, greeting him. 

Him. 

Standing before you just as you’d dreamed. In a full suit of silver armour, the signature Mandalorian helmet adorns his head. He’s taller than you thought he’d be, more menacing. You aren’t scared of him though, you couldn’t be. Your eyes drift to his shoulder, the mughorn symbol visible from where you’re standing. 

You finally manage to shake off the sense of awe and ask him where your chambers are and he scoffs, how odd. He nods to an open room to your left and you drag the bag carrying your entire life over, tossing it in. It’s a palace compared to the types of places you’ve been living in. It’s clean. It’s safe.

He doesn’t seem to want to talk to you yet, that’s fine, he needs to warm up to you. You just need to get him to accept the payment and then there’s no going back. You grab the credits, the precious compensation that’s going to be your salvation and hold it out towards him. When he doesn’t react, panic starts to rise like bile in your throat. 

He’s just staring at you. 

Suddenly you’re terrified. 

Terrified that he’s changed his mind.

Terrified that he’ll want to negotiate for more money, something that you can’t afford. 

Terrified that you’ve said something that’s convinced him that this isn’t going to work. 

And most of all, you're terrified that he sees right through you. 

That he can see this facade you’re putting on solely for his benefit, this image of a weak and helpless girl, desperately in need of help. You’ve worked too hard to look broken, like a damsel in distress, you’ll be damned if this crumbles now. 

“Trust is expensive out here.” The words tumble out of you before you can stop them. Stupid! He just needs a little time, if you keep pushing him you risk losing everything before you’ve even begun. 

Your heart flutters as he closes his hand around the bag. 

Of course he accepted. He’s going to protect you now, you knew he was the one. 

“I just hope that with this, I’ve earned yours.” You give him a much more relaxed smile. Of course he doesn’t trust you. That’s why he’s perfect. None of this would work if he trusted you immediately. It needs to be slow, gradual, and earned. It needs to be real. And with what likely awaits you at the station you know you will need that trust soon. 

You know you shouldn’t push it, you should go to bed now and leave him to his work but you want him to trust you now, you want him to be everything you know he can be. 

But he doesn’t want that.

He isn’t ready. 

He tells you to get some sleep but you aren’t tired, how can you be expected to sleep at a time like this? You don’t argue though, and you don’t follow him when he retires to the cockpit. You know you likely won’t see him until you land so you familiarize yourself with the ship. 

Taking deep breaths to ground yourself. 

You can’t remember the last time you felt at ease like you do now. 

You’ve spent the last decade in and out of highly hazardous working conditions, and then for a few years after that, you were in and out of the worst hotels in Coruscant. Always running from the thing that just won’t leave you be. 

It’s a breath of fresh air to enter your chambers and know that you can sleep soundly tonight. 

Careful not to wrinkle your only presentable clothing, you fold it all neatly, setting it aside for the days to follow. You’re ready to get into bed when the hair on the back of your neck stands up mid stretch. The all too familiar feeling of being watched. 

That can’t be right, not here, not now. 

Nothing should have been able to follow you here, turning and scanning the walls of your room you don’t see any obvious signs of danger. 

A patch of discolored paint in the corner catches your eye. It vaguely resembles a shadow and your blood runs cold, ever so slowly you tilt your head, trying to see if it’s a trick of the light. Slowly, the feeling of being surveilled eases. It’s just paint, dark patches of paint. 

It’s normal to be nervous. That’s what you tell yourself. 

Good things don’t happen to you.

They never have. 

You deserve to enjoy this fleeting sense of peace, for however long it lasts. 

After messing around with the buttons near the door you manage to turn the lights off. Leaving you in complete and total darkness as you slide under the wool blanket that’s been left on your cot. 

You have no control over the smile that creeps across your face as you deeply inhale the air on the ship, allowing yourself to savor it. 

Oil, iron, gunpowder, sweat. 

With the lights off and your vision completely obscured, your other senses are enhanced. You don’t just smell his sweat, you taste it. The distinct and metallic tang. Him. 

A combination of flesh, and leather, and something deeper, something so uniquely him. So familiar. 

Something that lit up that sharp and all consuming fire inside you. It started as a quiet hunger but has been growing for days, for weeks, for years. 

You feel your pulse quicken and fight to keep your breathing steady. How are you supposed to maintain your composure when you aren’t afraid? When was the last time you didn’t feel a constant underlying sense of dread? Unable to contain yourself any longer, you whisper into the silence of your cabin. The name that you’ve been repeating in your head for ages. 

“Din Djarin.” 

The name that has lived only in your mind reverberates around the small space, as if the galaxy itself was whispering it to you. You’d never spoken it aloud before now. You’d been saving it for a special occasion, it had taken time to learn it, patience, a deep dive into records, and rumors. It had taken quite some time but it hadn’t been hard. Not for someone who knew where to look, not for someone who was meant to know it, not for you. 

You’ve spent nearly a year on his trail, your studies, your life's work, they'd all lead to this moment. To him. 

You don’t have to be afraid anymore. 

He’s real, he’s here. You can feel his presence here, taste him, smell him, feel him. All of him, as he fills the space, you bury your face in the blanket and deeply inhale. The stress and the panic that have been building in your chest for Maker knows how long, starts to melt away bit by tortuous bit. 

You found him. 

And he’s going to save you.

a/n : I'm super super rusty so if this is bad let's blame it on that and hope it gets better lol, love y'all and thank you for reading if you made it this far <3

follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates!!

[yoiisa]

hello! I just read your pining fics ab windbreaker boys!! can we also have that with sakura, suo, kiryu, sugishita and kaji if that’s okay? but with a crush that is very popular that even small little thing they do get fawned over? like they could be walking and people would say: “theyre so pretty!” “how cute” “I can walk them in any aisle!” cue the boys getting jealous + points if reader knows their crush on them yet rejects their advances every time in a playful way? Like wb boys would confess their feelings for the Hundred time and reader only say: ”awh how sweet!”

eeeee! ofc ofc! these ones might a lil short for each though since i'm doing multiple characters! also this prompt totally reminded me of Aoi and Akane from TBHK iykyk (>ᴗ•) !

➜ sakura haruka is already incredibly romantically dense, so i feel like having a crush on someone who's constantly being showered with flirtations and romantic advances just makes it worse ➜ i can imagine him being like really protective over you though in an overt way ➜ like he will actively tell people off/to leave you alone when their flirtations get to be a bit too much ➜ in my mind, the reason why the two of you haven't started dating is because sakura still has a lot of issues socially that he needs to work towards fixing before he can take on the responsibility of the relationship ➜ but you've promised to wait for him, and that's really all he could ever ask for, so cue a romantic limbo for the ages!

Saturday mornings always meant the market was a little busy, but you didn't mind it one bit. The hustle and bustle made you feel a lot more energized. However, there was one thing that was thing that was draining your spirit, and that was this middle school kid following you around and continuously pestering you for your number. You'd told him off multiple times, and he seemed to take the hint, but nope. You'd turn the corner and he'd be right there, with another cocky grin and a can do attitude that made you want to put your head in a wall. "Please! Just one shot!" the boy says desperately. "Here, where's your phone? I pull my number in-" "I told you no!" you say adamantly, "Now please leave me alone! How many more times do I have to say it?" "Please-" the boy reaches for your arm and his hand wraps around your wrist, but just as it does, a chill runs up that boys spine. Sakura appears, and looks ready to throw the boy into the nearest vendor's stall. His two-toned eyes are all fury and he growls, "She said no. Now beat it." The middle schooler rambles out an apology before turning on his heels and promptly diving back into the crowd, desperate to avoid Sakura's wrath. Sakura turns to you and gives you an unimpressed look. You meet it with a wide smile and say, "Thanks Haru!" Sakura's face burns and he shakes his head as if to try and dissipate the heat. He grabs the same wrist the guy had, but infinitely more gently. His thumb smooths over the skin and he gently leads you throughout the rest of the shopping trip, making sure to keep watch for any more creeps lingering about.

➜ suo hayato's honestly the most mature of the bunch, so i feel like you getting showered with attention wouldn't bother him that much ➜ at least that's what he'd like you to think ➜ honestly, i feel like suo would be a weird shield from all the comments directed at you. he would always hang out near you and try to distract you from the hoard of attention coming your way ➜ god forbid you pay attention to anyone other than him. he wants to be the apple of your eye, and he knows exactly how to do it ➜ if a guy is particularly persistent, suo will promptly take him to the side and as passive aggressively as he can ward that other person off ➜ see, he likes to pretend that he's all mature and stuff, and he definitely is in the show, but at the end of the day, he is a high school boy. he's got that immaturity in him too ➜ even if you lowkey eat it up . . .

"Suo?" you ask as he returns to your side. You'd been standing on a bridge and tossing some bread down to the fish in the water below when he walked up towards you. "What're you doing here? "I was just walking by and saw you, so I wanted to come over and say hi," he says, a soft smile gracing his features. "But you went to the bakery . . .?" you ask, but then Suo raises his hand and gently pats your head. In doing this, he also directs your gaze downwards by gently pushing on your head. Your eyes land on his hand, where he's holding a small bag with the bakery's logo on it. A baguette sticks out of the bag, and you can see the top of what looks like . . . strawberry cake?! "I wanted to feed the fish with you," he explains, " and they were having a sale on cake. Two slices for the price of one!You like strawberries, right? I got chocolate for myself." "Ahh!" You squeal and hug him, your eyes squeezing shut. He sets the cake down and hugs you back, his hands going to your waist "You're the best Suo, thank you so much!" He looks up just in time to see the poor soul wandering out of the bakery and sending him a withering look. He's holding his own bag, because you see, that kid initially wanted to pull what Suo's doing right now. The two of them had been in a race at the bakery, anxious to see who'd get checked out first and make it to you. By some stroke of luck, the other guy's cash register crashed, and Suo was first to leave. He'd made sure to flash the guy a . . . daring smile at the guy as he left, an invitation of sorts. Just try it, Suo said with his eyes. I dare you. But you don't need to know all that. Not while you're enjoying your cake!

➜ kiryu mitsuki has a bit of a playful personality, so i feel like he'd enjoy you teasing him back a little the most out of all the boys ➜ after all, he's canonically known as a ladies man, so you can't let yourself get drawn by some potential fuckboy! ➜ you've known kiryu since you were little, and occasionally would bring him some food for lunch. the first time it was a little scary since you were going into a place that had no girls, but everyone was super nice to you, so you got used to it by your third time going ➜ however kiryu knew a lot of the niceness was just because of how cute you are, and honestly you do too ➜ but it makes you happy seeing kiryu get riled up a little bit from all the attention you're receiving, especially since he's normally even keeled

"Ah! Y/N! Hey!" someone calls from behind you. Anzai and a few of his friends are walking with him. Anzai is waving at you and you slow to a stop in front of the classroom door. "Hi Anzai," you say sweetly, and you wave at his friends as they catch up to you. "Hi guys." "Wow! Is that another bento for Kiryu?" one of them asks, eyeing the small box in your hands. You nod. "It's just some sushi I got from a convenience store. I was super busy yesterday, I'm so sleepy~ I couldn't be bothered to cook anything at all!" "Wow Y/N, you're so hard working!" Anzai marvels, opening the door. You step inside, and all the attention falls on you. "You were so exhausted, but you still look so put together," his friends point out. "You're so cute!" "Thank you!" you say cheerily, running your hands through your hair. It falls perfectly back into place, courtesy of the amount of product you'd put in it to keep it healthy and strong. You shrug and sigh, "I try." "It's really paying off!" Anzai says with a bright smile. "Enough!" Kiryu calls from the other side of the class. Tsuguera and Nirei giggle at him, Sakura rolls his eyes. Suo just smiles at the pink-haired boy's attitude. "Y/N's here for me not you!" "A little possessive there, no?" Suo asks. Kiryu pouts and buries his face in his arms as he puts his head on his desk. "I'm hungryyyyy~" "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming," you laugh. You wave Anzai and his friends bye before walking over to Kiryu and his friends. You set the bento down in front of him, and talk with his friends. Your smile grows a little as Kiryu links his pinky with yours.

➜ i think sugishita kyotaro is a little like sakura, but like, silent ➜ whereas sakura's more likely to verbally call the person out, sugishita will just loom ominously near you, and chase away anyone who wants to make a pass at you ➜ he's so doberman coded, it's honestly hilarious ➜ i think the one person he can stand that kinda behavior from though would be umemiya. he worships that man, so he'd just bite his tongue, and let umemiya just say whatever. ➜ he still gets mad though, so if he's a little more touchy later on, well, how can you blame him? ➜ after all, blushing, jealous sugishita is the cutest thing in the world!

You're sitting on the roof with Tsubaki, Umemiya, and Sugishita for a tiny tea party. Tsubaki and you organized it, and just brought your respective . . . people with you. "Hey, Y/N," Umemiya starts after eating a macaron, "did you do something different with your makeup?" "Yeah, I was gonna say something," Tsubaki says, pouring more tea in your cup. "I just tried a different blush," you explain. You touch your cheek, and quietly ask, "Does it look bad?" "No, no, no!" Umemiya hurriedly says, holding his hands up in defense. "It looks cute! It compliments you really well! Matches your eyes and stuff?" Sugishita sits up a little straighter at Umemiya's compliments and you laugh softly at his rigid posture. You look at Umemiya and ask, "Have you been getting into makeup lately, Umemiya?" The white-haired boy shakes his head and says, "Nah, I've just been spending too much time with this one." He rests his hand on Tsubaki's shoulder and smiles. "But seriously, you look gorgeous." "Thank you!" you say taking a sip of your tea. You look over and Sugishita out of the corner of your eye, and you freeze momentarily at the look on his face. His eyes are lidded and his face is flushed slightly. He nods and says, "He's right." It takes everything in Tsubaki and Umemiya not to combust right then and there. They feel like crying, as if they're proud parents. As the tea party continues, you and Sugishita link fingers under the table, and he scoots ever so slightly closer to you. Umemiya gives him a knowing look and smile, and Sugishita does everything he can to avoid his gaze for the rest of the party.

➜ think kaji ren's solution to all of this is to just put his headphones on you instead ➜ because in his mind, if you can't hear it, it never happens! but like . . . that's not true ➜ you refuse to keep his headphones on. first of all the two of you have different music tastes, and second of all, you like making him upset ➜ like everyone around him says, he's a cat! to a certain degree, messing with him is endearing ➜ so you don't actively encourage the flirtations you get, but you will lean into them just a little bit to get under his skin ➜ plus he's hot when he's protective

"Where are my headphones?" is the first thing he says to you when he sees you. "I gave them to Hiragi," you say, blinking at him innocently. "Why?"" A vein pops in his forehead and he snaps, "Why did you take them off." "My ears felt like they were bleeding," you whine. "You set the volume up so high!" "You could've lowered it!" "It's too much work!" "Y/N!" "Ren!" "What is wrong with you?!" "Why do you caaarreee-uh!" you protest cutely. Kaji stares down at you, his cheeks turning red. He stutters something incoherent, his voice raspy with frustration. You can't help but smirk as you stare up at him, knowing that now you've got him exactly where you need him to be. You cup his face in your hands and pull him closer to you. He freezes and his eyes go wide as you brush your cheeks with his thumb. "I'm playing," you giggle. "I know why, but seriously Ren, you don't need to worry. No one else is this fun to annoy." Kaji can't decide where or not her wants to kiss or kill you. His brain short circuits and he settles for something in between. His forehead falls against yours and he grumbles. "You're so stupid," he grumbles, a pout forming on his lips. "I know," you smile.

[hoonieyun]

final girl

pairing: sim jaeyun x reader x park sunghoon

warnings: slasher horror movie themes, mentions of death and murder, blood, true crime obsession, psychopathic behavior, guns, physical violence, threats, violent activity, a little suggestive, serial killer behavior, 18+ not proofread

wc: 2361

the sound of jake’s heavy footsteps behind you sound a lot closer than they seem, it was like the fear that this whole ordeal has instilled in you has corrupted your perception. in a moment of fear, you decide to turn around as you’re running up the stairs which turns out to be a big mistake as jake takes this as an opportunity to gain on you, his hand tightly gripping your ankle; causing the both of you to fall onto the steps of the stairwell. 

a grunt leaves your lips as you try and get away from jake, a crazed look in his eyes as he tries to tighten his grip on your ankle and pull you towards, but with your free leg your foot comes in contact with his nose; causing him to let go and allowing you to scramble back onto your feet. 

you use that time to run away and find a place to hide, choosing the first room you find that was open which just so happens to be jay’s bedroom but before you’re even able to slam the door shut behind you; jake is pushing into the room. his strength was unmatched to yours and it leads you to falling onto jay’s bed. glancing over at jake, you couldn’t even look at him the same. 

your once best friend who you, at some point, loved so much; was now someone you couldn’t look at with nothing but disgust. you slowly crawl backwards on jay’s bed as jake towers over you. his knife held tightly in his hand was all you could look at, “i don’t wanna hurt you.. 

yn.. i love you. i promise i don’t wanna hurt you, please don’t make me hurt you.. i can convince heeseung to keep you alive. we don’t have to kill you. just– all you have to do is say that you’re mine and everything will be fine..” 

jake’s gaze was glued onto your face, you could only imagine the type of frightened expression you had on your face– “you don’t want to hurt me..?” you ask, a tremble in your voice and jake just nods as he gets closer to you. his face was just a foot away while his hand slowly made its way to hold your face. 

if you didn’t have a plan in mind, his touch would’ve made your skin crawl– and it did, but you couldn’t let it show. jake was too focused on your face that he didn’t notice your hand creeping towards the guitar that was laid to the side of jay’s bed. 

“well.. i want to hurt you.” and before jake can react, you’re swinging the guitar with whatever strength you had left and whacking jake. the guitar cracks and breaks in several pieces as jake stumbles off of the bed, freeing you. a pain groan and cough leaves his chest as you run away, throwing the guitar neck at jake as you leave. 

“sorry jay, i’ll get you a new guitar..” you mutter, running away and shutting the door behind you. 

you make your way back downstairs in hopes of finding jay or aiding sunghoon in some way but before you could even get to sunghoon, you see jay laying on the floor of the kitchen with heeseung standing over him. his knife gripped between his gloved fingers, preparing to finish jay off the way jake couldn’t. 

with quick thinking, you rush over to them and hurl the blender towards heeseung’s head. heeseung staggers over, grunting as the glass blender shatters over his head while you quickly help jay off of the floor and back to the living room to get sunghoon. 

now that you knew sunghoon was alive, all you had to do was survive and escape, which is a lot more said than done. 

before exiting the kitchen, you grab a knife of your own to have some sort of protection, if heeseung and jake wanted to gut you with blades, then two could play that game. you’re running behind jay, watching him crouch down to his brother and help him up, a sigh of relief leaves your lips as you see sunghoon is still conscious but that sigh soon turns into a sharp gasp as two strong hands snatch your body from behind. 

jake, who was waiting in the shadows, wraps his hands around your throat and waist. pulling you flush towards his body, “drop it.” he whispers into your ear and you have no choice but to drop the one piece of protection you had. the knife hits the carpet with barely a sound before jake is whispering in your ear again. 

“good girl… i’m glad you know how to listen.” 

his words make you feel sick but fearing for your life; you aren’t able to do anything but stand pushed up against jake’s body as he holds your life in his hands. the knife pressed to your neck was cold, despite being used tonight, and his breath on your skin made the hair rise on the back of your neck. 

your gaze is fixed on jay who is tending to sunghoon, putting pressure on his gash after freeing him from his restraints and the gag in his mouth. everyone’s eyes shoot towards the front when someone bursts through, “fbi, hands where i can see them!” taeyong emerges from the door and for once you feel relief knowing that someone has come to save you and your friends. 

jake stiffens behind you at the sight of taeyong holding a gun that was directed towards him. you could tell that he was slightly thrown off, hearing him swallow the nerves down his throat as his grip tightens on your waist and neck. “jake, drop the knife..” taeyong warns but your joy of being saved is short lived when a knife is suddenly pierced through his neck, blood pouring down his clothes as he coughs. 

taeyong’s body drops to the floor and you’re left with your mouth ajar as your only chance of surviving was now lying in a pool of his blood. 

“that was easy.” heeseung says as he snatches the knife and walks over taeyong’s body, cleaning it off with his glove. “so.. who’s next?” he asks, pointing his knife towards the twin brothers, moving it side to side as if he was playing eeney meeney miney moe. “actually..” heeseung says, bending over and grabbing the gun from taeyong’s lifeless hands. you were afraid that he was going to resort to shooting you all instead of his traditional knife but all heeseung does is empty the bullet chamber and tosses the weapon aside. 

“please, you didn’t think i was going to use that? gross.. i may be a serial killer but i’d never use a gun. a knife is way more fun and… satisfying.” he says, a tight lipped smile on his face. you struggle against jake’s grip, writhing under his grasp but he isn’t letting up.”you know yn.. none of this would’ve ever happened if that fucker right there never came into the picture.” he says, pointing his knife at sunghoon who was furrowing his thick eyebrows at jake. 

you couldn’t help but feel pain and guilt while you looked at him. pain and agony paired with anger was painted across his face and all you could think about was the fact that maybe jake was right. none of this would’ve ever happened if you never met sunghoon, let alone became his girlfriend; jake probably would’ve confessed at some point and maybe you would’ve dated him instead.. 

these thoughts run through your mind as you weigh your options and it seemed like there was truly only one option in your head that seemed the most possible. 

“it’s not too late, baby.. you could still be mine and all of this would be over.” jake whispers, pressing a slight kiss onto the shell of your ear. your lips quivered as you looked at sunghoon and for a moment, it was just the two of you. like all of the dangers in the room disappeared and it was simply you and sunghoon standing together. you had a silent agreement and it was as if he could read your mind with the way he gave you a small nod. 

“okay..” you muttered and jake repeated it back to you in the form of a question. 

“ok.. i’ll be yours jake. just like how you want.” you confessed, tears in your eyes as you turn around when jake’s grip loosens. you take that opportunity to turn around and face him, gently placing your hand on his cheek as you stare into one another’s eyes. “really?” he asks and you nod in response. “i forgive you.. please don’t hurt me, jake…” you tried your best to not let your tears fall. sincerity was dripping from your words and jake couldn’t feel any happier to hear what you were saying. 

only if it were true. 

your hand finds its way to the knife in his and you snatch it away and jump out of the way just as sunghoon lunges forward and tackles jake to the ground. his shoulders pummeling into jake’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. jay watches this play out and follows suit, tackling heeseung before he could interfere while you scramble to figure out what to do next. you watched the four boys wrestle with one another, jake and sunghoon are trading punches while jay is sitting on top of heeseung, letting him have it. 

you needed to find a way to gain some leverage and that was when you remembered that you weren’t entirely hopeless. the night that you had come up with the plan and told sunghoon you needed to go somewhere, you met with someone you had been speaking to and bought a firearm from him– knowing that you’d be able to use it in some way to help you. and that was now. you run towards the closet that they had used to hide sunghoon and your hunch was right, there on one of the hooks was your bag. 

rummaging through it quickly, you feel your fingers graze the cold metal of the gun and with a swift motion to ensure that there were still bullets inside of it. “one, two, three- five.. ok.” you count to yourself as you load the gun back up and with the click of the safety, everyone’s eyes are on you as you aim the gun at jake. 

“get the fuck off of him..” you warn as you threaten jake who now found himself on top of jake, hammering down his fist onto your boyfriend’s face. jake brings his hands up in submission, eyes wide at the gun in your hands, “woah.. pretty girl, let’s calm down, ok?” he says but his words only piss you off even more. 

sending one warning shot into the ceiling, jake flinches and climbs off of jake. sunghoon and jay limp to your side as you keep your gun aimed at the two people in front of you. you were all in a standstill as the tension in the room continues to get thicker and thicker. 

the gun in your hands was getting heavy and it was getting harder to breathe the longer you pointed the gun at the two people you once called friends. 

jake suddenly dashes towards you and almost like it was an instinct, you fire three bullets into his chest. everyone gasps at your action, jake who was once standing and running towards you is halted in his path when the bullets shoot through him. blood moistens the fabric of his clothes as he falls to his knees, one last glance into your eyes as he falls forward. 

heeseung, who was standing to the side, watches this in anger as his once perfect plan was now falling apart. he grabs the knife by his feet and when he rushes forward you try to shoot him but in your state of shock, you miss. 

a second attempt at shooting heeseung fails as the bullets in your gun had been used up, “shit!” you exclaim and as you prepare for the impact from heeseung while sunghoon moves himself in front of you, shielding you from the danger but it never comes as another gunshot rips through the air. 

heeseung falls forward with a thud and reveals detective irene, holding a gun that was aimed to where heeseung was just standing. the three of you look at irene with wide eyes as you soon realize both assailants have now been taken care of and irene was here to save you. 

you and the twins make your way over to irene but jake suddenly lunges upwards in an attempt to grab sunghoon but you’re quick to grab the gun from irene and shoot him in the chest one more time. his grip on sunghoon’s leg loosens as he looks at you once again. 

“i would’ve never hurt you, i love you too much..” jake coughs as blood from his mouth splatters the carpet. you blink at his lifeless body while irene escorts all of you out of the hellhole that was this house. before leaving, you decide to shoot heeseung again, causing everyone to whip their heads around to the sound, “just making sure that fucker’s dead..” you say, handing the gun back to irene as you and your friends finally walk through the door; leaving the gruesome crimescene behind. 

the cold night air nips at your bruised skin as you walk hand in hand with sunghoon, who easily slips his hand into yours; a sense of comfort that you haven’t felt in so long. you rest your head on sunghoon’s shoulder as jay leans on the support beam of his front porch. 

the sounds of sirens get louder as you look into the distance, the colors of red and blue bleed into the night sky, and for once in a long time; you breathe a sigh of relief knowing that it wouldn’t be followed by something that would make your breath get caught your throat shortly after. 

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detectives notes: the decelis killers have been identified as sim jaeyun and lee heeseung, who orchestrated and committed the murders. both assailants are deceased, leaving 3 survivors, yn, sunghoon, and jay who are now in police custody for questioning and medical aid.

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[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

alright guys so important announcement...!

i'm probably going to be writing for blue lock way less now. don't get me wrong; i still love blue lock and it's still my 2/3 favorite manga series ever (tied with wind breaker), but i just think that now that we're finished with the nel and there'll be a barricade of new characters that we won't know much about, i don't want to write for one of them and look back on my fic a few months later when more of their personalities and background and egoist bible profiles are revealed and realize that i've mischaracterized them. as a writer, mischaracterizing a character is one of my greatest fears as a writer.

not only that, but i think that since characters like kaiser and nagi are both leaving blue lock and will likely not return until a few years later during the serialization of blue lock, it's a bit harder for me to write for them. they are both some of my favorite characters to write for, and having to constantly reuse and embellish my ideas for previous fics because we have such little content of them would be exhausting to me. i thrive off of new ideas and content; constantly using old content will drain me.

i also feel like i've just been losing passion for blue lock a lot. this could be because i just caught up to a manga i really enjoy and recency syndrome is catching up to me (wind breaker is the manga if you're interested) or because it's on breaks so often these days--which i do not blame kaneshiro and nomura for; their health is important--or because i know that the u20 world cup arc is going to be an excruciatingly long arc or maybe it's just because i'm complaining for no reason. i still really love blue lock, and it's always going to be special to me. i just think that at this current moment, blue lock is probably at it's lowest.

and i don't blame the authors nor the actual manga for it. i think that after such a series-defining arc such as the neo egoist league ended and so many characters are going to be leaving soon or have already left, blue lock is just really empty right now. and this is mostly a me problem; i tend to get pretty bored and irritated easily, and since this is the current state that blue lock is in, i'm just really having a hard time writing for blue lock. i've scraped wips after wips because of it.

with that being said, i'll still write for blue lock. not as often as i do right now, but still enough for you to see me every once in a while on the blue lock x reader tag. i promise; i won't disappear. if the manga has some sort of exciting update or a new volume of the egoist bible or some sort of big series development, i'll probably come back and start writing more often for bllk again. probably. no guarantees. i'll still try to be as active as i can with my writing (as many of you might know, i tend to disappear for a few days then come back for a few days then disappear again and the cycle continues), but i'll be in different fandoms. i'm currently thinking of focusing on wind breaker.

so don't get too sad; it's just temporary until my passion for blue lock comes back. and i'm so sorry to anyone who is upset about this! also btw, please don't see this post and get scared to send me any bllk asks or requests. i love all of your bllk asks and i think some of them are great ideas and really entertaining.

i love you all,

helen

[trstalks]

……I need your thoughts on moony (the werewolf)…… like does he exist inside of Remus and comes out to play for kinky sex? Is he obsessed with Remus and calls him mate and will die trying to give that man pups? Or even during full moons does he still actively search out for regulus and (WE HAVE TO BE OK WITH MONSTER FUCKING HERE) have his way with his since that pesky human (Remus) can’t stop him?

TRUST TRUST TRUST I am so okay with monster fucking ‼️‼️‼️‼️

I think that Remus and Moony have a lot of disconnect, but are ultimately the same entity and want (mostly) the same things. Like Remus is ashamed of Moony and thus Moony acts out and cannot be controlled. One thing they both definitely want is Regulus.

I think somewhere around his last years, Remus starts hearing Moony a little louder when it gets closer to the fulls. Little intrusive thoughts in a way. I think Moony really is just trying to unrepress urges that are already there (like needing to have Regulus) because Remus had hidden so much of himself away in shame.

Once he starts taking wolfsbane and starts dating Regulus he starts to work through the shameful feelings surrounding Moony and his urges. Wolfsbane allows him more control during the fulls but more importantly it allows him to connect and communicate better with Moony (in my opinion) so they start to become one a little more. (More of a give and take if you will)

I’m imagining that a couple of times during sex Remus would accidentally let slip one of his “moony thoughts” which include a lot of breeding and possessiveness. Like “you’re all mine.” “I’m gonna breed you full of my pups, baby.” WHICH Remus is very embarrassed about after the fact until he realizes how into it Reg is.

As for Moony coming out to play during kinky sex, this ABSOLUTELY happens once Remus becomes more comfortable with that side of himself (which Regulus helps him with) it starts small with dom/sub dynamics that they switch around with, because Remus likes equality, but then they start getting into some harder scenes where Remus will tie Reg up and use him for his own pleasure, tie him down to a breeding bench, slap him around a little bit. Etc. Anytime he does something that Reg loves he’s enticed to go further into this Moony headspace.

But Moony DOES start getting greedy, because he can tell that Regulus wants more. So much more that Remus hasn’t worked up to yet. He can smell the desire radiating off of his mate anytime he’s closer to the surface, and he’s tired of Remus holding him back.

The next full moon when Remus transforms (which he now does in the comfort of their home since starting wolfsbane) Moony FIGHTS hard for control. He’s manipulative about it, telling Remus that he wants to see his mate to cuddle. Deep down Remus knows what Moony really wants, because he also wants Moony to take over and fuck Regulus until he can’t walk, but his conscious won’t let him take that step.

Still, Moony is like the little devil on his shoulder, saying, “no, no, no, I just want to see him. Nothing more.” And “just one taste- I won’t do anything else.”

Werewolf Remus walking towards Regulus wakes him up and he can immediately sense that there’s something going on. Especially when Remus/Moony starts sniffing at him and licking him. Remus is pushing Moony back, but he wants it just as bad as his wolf does.

Moony convinces him more “just let me taste him- just once and I’ll stop.” Which Remus knows is bullshit but he allows anyway because he wants a taste too, and when Moony’s tongue swipes over Regulus’ lips he moans and opens his mouth for him, staring up at the wolf with wide, trusting eyes.

“Moony?”

The wolf preens, and Remus’ resolve is slipping, but he doesn’t want to ever hurt Regulus, so he takes a step back.

“Wait!” And Regulus is already taking his clothes off, and spreading his legs for Moony. Remus stares at him and comes closer, lowering his head to nuzzle at Reg’s inner thigh.

“I want it, please? I can take it I promise.”

And at that moment, Remus doesn’t have it in himself to hold Moony back anymore, who’s fighting him harder than ever to give over control so that he can claim and breed his mate. His mate who is sitting there and offering himself up to Moony.

——

Regulus looks down and can see when Remus relinquishes control over to Moony, he can feel the air shift and the intentions radiating off of the werewolf. He knows exactly how this night is going to end, with him getting fucked into next year, and bred so roughly he’s passing out.

Moony lifts his snout from Regulus’ thigh and licks from Regulus stomach all the way up to his neck, lightly brushing his teeth over the spot there in a mock display of a bite.

He doesn’t want to change him, but he can’t help himself from grazing his teeth over sensitive skin feeling the younger man’s blood rushing through him.

He lifts his paws up to either side of the couch that Regulus is sitting on, effectively caging him there and he licks his long canine tongue into his open mouth. Regulus moans around it, and closes his mouth to suck on it for a moment before releasing him.

Moony growls, nipping at him before lowering his snout down between his mate’s legs, sniffing the wetness gathered there. His mate is ready for him, even without being touched.

He starts licking into Regulus’ cunt, sloppily shoving his long tongue into his hole. Regulus is moaning and writhing and his hands come up to rest in Moony’s fur while he continues to fuck him with his tongue.

It doesn’t take long for Regulus to cum like that, and when he does, Moony licks it up eagerly.

Regulus is panting, already spent on the couch, but Moony is nowhere near done. He wraps his teeth around Regulus’ wrist, careful not to break skin, and pulls him off of the couch onto the floor. He takes his large paw and rolls Regulus over onto his stomach.

————

A few hours later and Moony is still fucking Regulus into the floor, uncaring for his mate’s discomfort over his own pleasure. He’s bred him multiple times already, but has been triggered into a rut and likely won’t be done for quite some time.

Regulus is just laying there taking it like a good boy, not fighting or moving much, just letting himself be fucked open by Moony’s huge werewolf cock. With every thrust in, more of his cum leaks out. Regulus can barely let out a little “uh, uh, uh.” Every time he’s pushed into.

———

He wakes up the next afternoon, clean and wrapped up in a huge blanket in Remus’ arms.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König of the Icks - The Great Return of the King

Now, I know what you all are thinking. Gremmy, why are you linking a 40 minute STRANGE ÆONS video? Why is a video of one man's journey into DIY hell so important for me to understand? What is the importance of Groverhaus in the world of König?

It's because he is Grover.

I'm telling you right now that König is a DIY nut and he fucking sucks at it.

Art from This Post

König grows up with a professor for a father who was always called effeminate for being a quiet, mousey man.

Growing up, children used to make fun of König for how sweet and gentle his father was. Kids always used to make fun of König's masculinity, which when you're a developing 12 year old boy, has devastating consequences that ripple through the rest of your life

One of the many consequences is the fact that he thinks he's more of a man when he does his own DIY for his house. He genuinely thinks you do not need a degree or training, you cna just watch youtube videos and you'll never need to hire a contractor

To add onto this, König is the most frugal fucker you've ever met. That will be it's own later post, I swear, but for right now you need to understand that's he's super cheap, and he thinks he can fix any problem he faces on his own without professional help

As such, König goes out of his way to buy a really shitty little house with you. He promises he'll make it into a palace. He's a strong, powerful military man and he is a man of commitment.

His promises mean nothing.

König first tries to do his own plumbing. This has disastrous repercussions.

After you finish draining the basement, König decides he wants to replace everything in the bathroom because it's all been water damaged.

After he finishes cleaning out the mould he artfully cultivated on the ceiling, he gives in and hires a plumber.

He tries to put in tiles on his own after the plumber is gone but they end up looking more like a Roman floor mosaic rather than a smooth tiled floor.

You both end up tearing up what he did and hiring a contractor to put in a beautiful tiled floor with a resplendent back splash

After about two months of König's destruction followed by a contractor coming in on short notice to fix the damages, the bathrooms end up exactly how you wanted.

You suffered too much. It's a Pyrrhic victory

Then König turns his eyes to the kitchen. You can scream all you like, but in one day he pulls down all the cabinets, throws out the appliances, and all that's left is a deep freezer in the basement and a sink.

He tries to explain that putting a head of lettuce in and out of the freezer at regular intervals is perfectly fine and can be done for weeks on end, but the next morning you're kicking him out of the house to get a new fridge.

He tries installing the cabinets into the drywall and then tries to attach a microwave underneath and the whole thing comes down in five minutes.

Another day passes, and König hires a contractor to install his cupboards. He ends up having to buy another copy of the ones he already had because he ended up destroying the ones he tried installing and the contractor couldn't use them.

He then goes on to try and jerry-rig the electrical system and ends up in hospital.

The electrician that comes in afterwards. He flicks three switches, drinks a glass of water, uses the washroom, eats lunch and charges you over a hundred for the whole ordeal.

Every mistake König makes comes with devastating costs. You can only hope that he keeps his job at KorTac because he burns through cash.

He's so cheap in every other area of life, but the problem is that you can't get it through his thick man skull that no, he is not more of a man for doing his own DIY projects. No, he is not saving money by doing it himself. He is actively digging a hole with his own pride and manhood on the line.

After five years, you do actually end up having your promised palace. The house is fantastic. It's stunning. Everyone loves it.

König did none of it.

König had to hire contractors each step of the way, nearly doubling the price by the end

Your house is perfect, but the cost of the professionals and the cost of therapy is daunting.

You love your husband, you really do, but sometimes you wonder why you love him

It's because he's a wonderful husband

He's just too stubborn for his own good

Bonus

When he offers to help set up a nursery, you end up setting it up yourself

The only thing he does is put the furniture together.

He gets huffy about it, but there's nothing he can do.

He tries to make some toys for them, but he ends up sewing the most horrific teddy bear you've ever seen.

Teddy bears should not have fuzzy teeth.

It's a genuine abomination and you end up using it as a Halloween decoration.

He goes back to the drawing board and ends up whittling a set of cute toys and building a dollhouse.

Evidently, König can't paint a wall without destroying the carpet, but he can make some impressive wood statues and whittle some cute animals

He ends up selling these toys on the side as an old man, and it's very cute, but you'll never forget when he tried to build the home of your dreams together

Cute little ducks mean shit when you had to freeze lettuce

Konig Dump

Konig Headcanons

[vagueposting-femnb]

“Sinners” movie spoilers!!!

I’m going to be diving into two characters, what I’ve seen folks say about them & why I disagree.

On mobile, can’t do read more, sorry! Pls scroll if you don’t want spoilers!

Remmick:

Folks have been sayin “He’s the devil!” And the argument has been that he came because Sammie wasn’t following what his father preached, and “the devil can quote the scripture too!” As well as sayin “He’s purely manipulative and just saying whatever he thinks will get him in!” “He only wants Sammie!”

I firmly disagree.

Remmick was drawn because of Sam’s music, sure, but folks ain’t payin attention to WHY.

Remmick SAYS that he was THERE when the Christians invaded Ireland, forced their religion and took his father’s land, he also became a vampire leading him to outlive anyone who did make it through the Christian invasion. Remmick, as far as we know, is alone. His culture was erased, his family is dead, he has no one and nothing.

He comes across the Juke, sees folks he KNOWS been through similar shit that he went through, he’s seen this shit before. Hell, in the 1930s I believe the Irish were STILL dealin w BS in the US! Remmick sees their sense of community, their love for one another, he sees/senses Sam’s gift… and he sees folks who got it worse just bc of how they were born.

Remmick seems insulted when accused of being Klan, he’s playful with our main characters- “oh, is it because we’re… :(“ “we’ll walk real slow, in case you change your mind… *glances back*”

Plus… if he ONLY wanted Sammie, he coulda easily grabbed Mary when she walked out and used her as a bargaining chip. He didn’t.

I ain’t sayin he isn’t manipulative, or it was ALL truths.

I’m sayin that it’s entirely possibly that he is meant to be essentially “the road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

He wants a family, and he wants to see HIS family. He sees these ppl who have family, the ability to connect with their ancestors, but who are stuck with having to function within a fucked up society. He sees their desire for true freedom… which he might think he can provide, at the very least in a racially based context.

I think Remmick is meant to be a complicated character in a sense. I think he’s meant to be an example of how dangerous someone can be when they assume to know what’s best for other marginalized communities, and trying to push them into adhering to those beliefs. Personally, I think it’s entirely possible that he’s meant to be an example of the harms of colonization and even oppression in general, and how even victims of these things can “give in” and become what they hate if they’re not careful. If they don’t remain mindful, empathetic, and willing to learn.

Mary

(This is an important place to start I promise)

I’ve seen folks say that they wish she had been a “visibly black, but white passing” woman. This seems to stem from the perspective that “white passing” implies an ACTIVE effort to do so (straightening hair, lightening skin, nose job, etc) instead of simply something someone can be if they don’t happen to take after their more melanated parent/grandparent.

Perhaps it’s because I’ve grown up in a fairly diverse region/school system, but… that has never been what “white passing” truly meant to me. I’ve seen folks of a wide array of skintones, haircolors/textures, eye colors, who still claimed their non-whiteness proudly, and were nearly never chastised against it, at least not once we made it to high school and at least the majority of us seemed to realize that simply being paler than most black folks and having lighter colored eyes didn’t make you white. That’s just bein lightskinned.

The folks who WERE considered “white passing” were people who DIDNT need to do anything to be perceived as such at a quick glance. So, if Hailee had (prominently) green/blue eyes. Otherwise, if any girl at my school looked like her, pretty much everyone woulda been like “ooh girl what are you? Hispanic? No?? Got a lil somethin else in your family tree then, right??” So that’s perhaps why the “visibly black, but also white passing” complaint just… does not make sense to me.

PLUS… Mary is meant to be a naturally white passing woman.

This is IMPORTANT.

She is meant to be fully capable of marrying a rich white man, living amongst white folks, and not getting side eyed by them.

She also doesn’t seem to TRULY accept that she is, naturally, white passing to most folks, ESPECIALLY (and in this context, most IMPORTANTLY) white people, at least at times.

She talks absolutely RECKLESS to Stack at the train station. She loves him deeply, clearly, and yet seemingly doesn’t realize just how DANGEROUS it is for her to even speak to him casually, let alone how she was speaking to him, in broad daylight. Iirc it was said that another (minor) character had been snatched up, strung up, and gotten his genitalia cut off at that station for speaking to a white woman.

Mary later forces her presence at Juke with no thought as to how others there might feel, let alone the potential ramifications of her being connected to that place by (white) outsiders.

THEN, she convinces Stack to let her go talk to Remmick & co, BECAUSE “they’re more likely-“ to talk to her. Because she is white passing.

(Pause, bc I feel this needs to be said- I ain’t blaming her. OBVIOUSLY the vampires were gonna get folks one way or another. People gotta piss, gotta get home, etc. that being said…)

I think it was another intentional choice for Mary to have been the one to go out, to have been the first turned, to have been the “foot in the door” in a sense…

And that’s a shared point between her and Remmick- not necessarily truly realizing the harm one can cause by not being aware of one’s own privileges essentially.

Remmick and Mary both essentially lost their cultures and families. Both wanted those things back. Both risked/caused harm.

Now, I will say- Remmick is 100% a villain. He’s had hundreds of years. He’s seen shit. He’s lost shit. He’s had to carry that weight this whole time. I do think, at the very least, he knew he was causing IMMEDIATE harm & disregarding these folk’s potential desires in favor of his own longterm goals. Those descendants we saw in “I lied to you”? Many will never exist because of what happened that night. Even if they had ALL been turned & lived happy lives w each other, NONE of those descendants would exist.

Mary is more so a more… “direct to life” example of the harm it can cause an individual to be “cut off” from their community, to have to give up their culture, to be left feeling isolated bc they don’t truly fit in anywhere, as well as the harm people can cause when we focus more so on our own wants and needs vs the impact that could have on others.

Remove Remmick, & we could have still ended up with essentially the same exact ending…

Only, this time it’s the Klan members that show up. At the very least the “main family” would likely still have been there, cleaning up. Only this time, Mary might have been the sole survivor… forced to watch her family suffer at the hands of the Klan. At “best” she would have been spared (severe, visible, physical) harm, return to her husband a mysteriously broken woman. At worst…?

NOW, somethin else I’ve seen is folks online talkin about how Mary is proof that folks shouldn’t be with anyone outside of their race.

I disagree with that as well.

Yes, the movie could have ended essentially the same minus the vampires.

But that ain’t because of Mary. REGARDLESS of if Mary was there, the vampires would have found a way. Even without Mary AND without the vampires, the Klan STILL would have came! Mary had nothin to do with them. They were simply racist assholes who did this routinely. Stack’s comment about Juke being “a slaughterhouse”… bc the white folks would sell the shack to black folks, kill them the next day, rinse and repeat.

Mary is not some “bringer of evil.” Sammie wasn’t some “sinful being that brought the devil.”

They’re just hurt people, who wanted to be WITH THEIR LOVED ONES. Just people stuck in a dogshit society, in a dogshit situation, in a dogshit position where no one was gonna win.

Take away the vampires, Mary, and Sam… the fuckin Klan was STILL GOING TO SHOW UP. The twins likely still would have ended up with a decent turnout, plenty of community members there. Plenty of folks JUST wanting a night of freedom, community, fun. Who knows how many would have been gettin scraped off the floor after a few too many at the end of the night? Who knows how many would have stuck around to help clean up the place? Who knows how many might have, at best, only been getting into their cars by the time the Klan arrived?

I NEED people to stop and THINK.

The movie is deeper than “easy” lessons like “don’t mix with others” and “don’t stray from god/the god your preacher talks about.”

Sammie survived BECAUSE of his guitar, because of the SILVER from the guitar. God didn’t save him when he prayed. His father didn’t check on him when he showed up at mass beaten and bloody and traumatized. He left, and went on to become seemingly a successful artist.

Mary and Stack survived the night, and for decades more at least. They’re together, happily, no longer having to hide.

Smoke didn’t survive, but even if you don’t believe in an afterlife, his last moments were happy- he was with Annie and their baby. If you do believe in an afterlife, he is likely STILL with her and their baby, which is what THEY wanted… to be together, with their baby.

No, it’s not a happy ending… not a truly clean and happy ever after type ending at least.

But… the alternative?

Sam giving up his passion, which leads him to settling into a life he clearly ain’t really want if he made it to be old af and still performing.

Mary pretending to be fully white, going her whole life missing the person she TRULY loved, missing her family, having to pretend to be someone she isn’t as well?

The twins? Dead. Established that.

The ending, while not a clean “happily ever after!” Type of ending, still makes it obvious to anyone paying attention that you are better off following your heart.

Sure, we could pick apart “well Mary should have just left with Stack to begin with!” “Sam should have just left to do his own thing at the start!” But… then we wouldn’t have had the movie. We wouldn’t have had these complex characters. We wouldn’t have seen folks make bad decisions yet still in different ways manage to overcome the bad shit.

I feel like, for once, everything happened as it was meant to.

Even Grace hollerin for the vamps to come in, is in line with HER character. When Stack died she ain’t wanna stay, she wanted to dip. She was working at the “whites” store. She doesn’t feel the connection to these people like her husband does. Her welcoming the vamps was bc she didn’t value the folks around her like her husband might have. Smoke lost his brother. They’d all lost pretty much everyone at that point. AND YET, because Grace didn’t have as deep of a connection as her husband to the people, she prioritized her revenge over their LIVES.

Basically: it was an AMAZING movie. There was so much that went into it, into the characters, into the story. Everything felt intentional, everything had MORE to it than what you might have first thought on a surface level. The movie was a genuine work of art, and so much love went into everything.

If you’ve already seen it, but perhaps you were wrapped up in the moment and a lot of this seems new, didn’t occur to you, etc, I definitely encourage you to see it again if you’re able. Even if you still disagree… if you genuinely enjoyed the movie, ain’t any harm in enjoying it again and supporting the creators & actors!

[queerprayers]

I am appalled that sometimes, my prayers come in the form of cuss words, especially when I’m in pain or I feel lost.

I'm not, beloved!

I mean, I don't know what exactly you're saying, but that's how most curse words came into being, I'd imagine. Research points to swearing actually helping with (physical) pain. Most people swear at least once in their lives.

We only have human language with which to approach God. You're using the strongest/angriest/most evocative words in your language to try to express the pain in your life, and you're taking it to God. I'm not necessarily advocating it, but I'm not appalled--it makes sense to me. And I wouldn't advocate it not because it, like, offends my sensitive morals, but because there's probably something deeper you should learn how to say, if not instead of at least in addition to. Start where you are, with what you have. Honest prayer (however crude) is infinitely better than stilted, repressed, unemotional prayer.

When it comes to swearing, I'm much more interested in the how and why than the concept. I answered this ask about specifically "taking the Lord's name in vain," if you're interested. Most talk about swearing in the Bible is about the promising kind, not about stubbing your toe. In terms of swearing at people, we can definitely point to verses that remind us how we should talk to others. But these different perspectives only show how varied and contextual language is.

Is the specific language you're using twisting or making light of something you want to take more seriously? Are you actively harming anyone else? What are you not able to express through other language? Are you having trouble managing your emotions? These are the kind of questions I'd encourage you to ask yourself, instead of centering any gut reaction to being what is considered "rude" or "offensive" in this time/place/culture.

And don't figure this out before you come to God. Don't prepare yourself or change yourself and then pray. Why would you violently express yourself and then gather yourself and pray nicely? Pray violently! Pray now, with the language you have, with unmanaged emotions or no words that can do your experience justice. Come as you are--however you speak. God can take it. God could take Job cursing the day he was born--and I can't imagine Job was using nice, thought-out language.

It sounds like you have a lot to deal with--deal with what you have to deal with, don't add on guilt about whether you're saying everything the right way. I mean, if you're going around being mean to people, work on that, but let out what you need to let out otherwise. You're gonna find new ways to say things, and receive more peace the more you walk the path of prayer, and also you're gonna stub your toe (or an emotional equivalent of that) and say the strongest word you know. And it's gonna be okay.

God is not appalled. God is listening. God knows what you mean--and sometimes what you mean is [redacted].

<3 Johanna

[luhv-always]

Hello, fam.

You guys know me as Mun for Tony, and some as Mun for Bucky, others as various different characters.

I wanted to tell you that firstly, it is summer season, here. And so, there will be a lot of errands that involve me and a lot of guests over at my house. Including my studies for the month, it is a hard task to tally.

Secondly, just yesterday my favorite driver has had a baby daughter Lily, for which I am very happy and my congratulations to the couple. It has left me with mixed feelings and a questionable slump space of mind, for god knows what reason. I am trying to recover on it but I feel like I'm gonna need more time.

Both of these points will be a major reason for my unstable activity on here and for a while I might not be regularly able to attend to asks or interact with long replies. Please forgive that for this while. It is a tough thing to articulate on my part, at least. The situation I'm in right now.

I cannot promise any regular goodnight posts or regular replies but for the time that I will be available, I will surely interact as much as possible. I love being here but it stretches my ability to attend to many things at once also because of the timezone issue. So, I will try but for a while, I may not be active in Discord too. Texting me here is better in any case. Untill 12 May at least.

I hope my absence will be considered at times and I hope none of you find it difficult.

I love all of you and I hope I can be here.

Love, Always.

Tags: @oh-to-be-a-murderer @strange-little-spy @sillybigbird @crazyinlovewithfandoms @that1-midgardian @insomniac-lifestyle @peter-parker-official @over-bi-the-wayside @the-revolution-official @lunamarvels @hydra-failure @the-red-widow @nathan-shrieks @cursed-with-knowledge @moon-x0 @multifandomer537 @sunny-the-intern @littlejamiebarnes @m0n5t3r-3n3rg7

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤ 𝖠 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝖨𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗋𝗍𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖰𝗎𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 || 𝖲𝗁𝗎𝗇𝗌𝗎𝗂 𝖪𝗒𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗄𝗎 ||

(Or: Shunsui’s 2AM Crisis Over Baby Accessories)

A/n: He is so fucking fine.

The room was cloaked in the quiet stillness of late night.

Outside, crickets chirped softly and the wind nudged gently at the curtains, letting moonlight spill in over the tatami floors.

In the center of the warmth and hush, you laid curled up on your side, nestled under a thick quilt. Your hair was a mess of soft waves across the pillow, one hand resting protectively on your stomach, where the gentle swell of new life stirred every so often in sleep.

You were almost asleep...almost entered that blissful state.

Almost.

Until—

A weight shifted onto the futon beside you.

A familiar arm slipped around your waist.

And a deep, velvet voice, slightly unsure but still full of mischief, whispered near your ear:

“…Hey, petal?”

You groaned into your pillow, your voice muffled and adorably raspy.

“Mmmwhatnow?”

A pause. Then a beat.

“Is it weird if I get the baby… a tiny hat?”

You cracked one eye open, your brain trying to boot back up.

“…What?”

“A hat,” Shunsui whispered again, clearly taking this very seriously. “Like… a little one. With maybe a sakura pattern. Something classy, you know?”

You blinked slowly, trying to decide if you were dreaming.

“You woke me up…” you mumbled sleep laced in your throat, “to ask… about a hat?”

Shunsui, entirely unapologetic, tucked his face into your hair and whispered,

“It’s important. I’ve seen them. They’re adorable. Very respectable. It could match mine.”

You let out the faintest groan. “Shunsui…” you were actively fighting the urge to slap your husband across his face.

“I mean, it’s never too early for style, right?” he added, clearly spiraling. “What if we’re invited to an official function and the baby shows up without a hat? What if people judge us? What if Ukitake gets the baby something cooler and we look like amateurs?”

You, still half-asleep and barely clinging to reality, reached up, patted his face, and mumbled into the quilt: “If you buy the baby a hat, you have to promise you place it on the child until they are at least a few months old”

Shunsui grinned like a man who had just received divine permission.

“So… that’s a yes?”

Another groggy sigh. “Fine. One tiny hat.”

Shunsui pulled you gently closer, resting his hand over your belly, and whispered with infinite satisfaction:

“I’m gonna get one with little fox ears.”

You didn’t respond to him though, You were already asleep again.

But the soft, sleep-slurred smile on your face said it all.

The next morning, a custom order was already placed at the Soul Society’s finest seamstress shop:

One infant-sized hat.

Black silk.

Sakura embroidery.

Optional fox ears.

Matching adult version available upon request.

Because Shunsui Kyōraku may be the Captain-Commander—

but more importantly,

He was going to be a very stylish dad.

[nabi-unveiled]

I like how most of the time you seem to try and understand all of the characters. sometimes it helps me see things I missed.

But you aren't doing that with something's not right.

Why do you hate ba woo so much? I dont get it. Ji hoon is annoyingly clingy.

Hey Anon!

First off, I'm happy to hear that you typically like how I approach things. There are a few different things to unpack in your message. But warning: This is lunch break, and I have no time to think as carefully as I normally would. I cannot promise that I will word things eloquently.

Let's start with this one:

But you aren't doing that with something's not right.

I am doing that with Something's Not Right. But I haven't been writing detailed meta for that particular show so you haven't seen that process. You've seen the conclusion not the processing.

In short, I looked at things from Ba Wu's perspective too. I did. But when I judged his actions, even taking his perspective into account, I didn't like what I found.

Ji hoon is annoyingly clingy.

I could go with a simple "I love him, your honor" to excuse everything this sunshine does. I'm certainly doing that for reading the diary which I didn't think was his best move. But I'll elaborate as I have seen a few people say he's too clingy.

He is clingy, but I don't agree that he's overly clingy.

Yes, Ji Hun prioritizes Ba Wu. In high school, he changed the direction of his life to try and stay with Ba Wu. In a high school drama, where we didn't have a designated piner telling the story, people would have found that sweet.

But you know what Ji Hun DIDN'T do when Ba Wu quit music? He didn't quit too. He may have went to the same college as Ba Wu, but he's developed his own friend group. A friend group that doesn't know Ba Wu well, and a friend group that we see him FREQUENTLY hang out with without Ba Wu. Ji Hun HAS built a life for himself outside of Ba Wu. He just really wants Ba Wu to be a part of it.

Have we seen Ba Wu's friend group? If you don't count Ha Min who is a new addition to Ba Wu's life, no. We've seen him work in the cafe and study alone in the library. As Ha Min said, he's way too easy to find. He might SAY he wants a life outside of Ji Hun, but he hasn't taken a lot of steps to build one. And he gives confusing and mixed messages to Ji Hun on a regular basis. For the record, it's also possible that Ba Wu chose the college after Ji Hun. We don't know for sure how that went down.

I also think it's important to remember the time frame of this show. The modern timeline is essentially one day per episode. We're seeing what happens in the course of the week.

What people may see as clingy (the phone calls, seeking Ba Wu out) are signs that he is actively reaching out to Ba Wu to try and figure out what's going on with his best friend.

But you know what - if my bestie of over a decade suddenly said they wanted nothing to do with me and stormed out in the middle of a meal, I'd be actively trying to figure out what was up with my friend too. Even without the added layer that (I believe) Ji Hun very much has an "unrequited" love story too.

If my bestie said even a few of the things that Ba Wu has said to Ji Hun in the span of essentially a couple of days, I'd be immediately loading into my car and driving 5 hours to their doorstep. Because SOMETHING was up, and friends don't let friends drown in pain or spiral alone. There have been too many suicides in my life for me to let a "it's none of your business" from someone close to me just slide without making sure it was an actual boundary and not something more.

Ba Wu has YET to communicate in the sincere, honest way Ji Hun would need to understand that his friend (and person he loves) is really okay or to grasp what's actually going on. As Ji Hun repeatedly said and Ba Wu should know anyways as his best friend, he needs it spelled out for him. And yes, there were ways for Ba Wu to do this step without confessing his love.

Add in that losing Ba Wu even as a friend has always been Ji Hun's worst fear. Add in that Ba Wu essentially walked away from what was always his dream. Add in that Ba Wu seems generally unhappy and depressed. Ji Hun's actions make a lot of sense to me. If anything, I don't think he's been in his business enough. As I said, I would've been considering a road trip after episode 1. Loaded up and driving after episode 2.

Why do you hate ba woo so much?

Hate's a strong word. Essentially, he's a college student. For part of the show (the flashbacks), he's a high school kid. He's figuring himself out. I don't think he's a villain. But I definitely don't like him, and I don't think Ji Hun and him will be good together.

In basic terms, I can't ship it. He can go get with Ha Min. That's fine I guess. I don't like either one of them. Ha Min may be getting negative energy by extension though. I honestly haven't thought about him much at all.

Ba Wu has "loved" Ji Hun since high school. I fully believe Ji Hun has loved him that long too.

Ba Wu decided that the relationship was impossible. Ji Hun did too.

Both ended up in their own "unrequited" love story.

With unrequited love, there are choices - cut ties, confess, or stay silent/stay in the friend zone.

Ji Hun chose the latter. He decided that Ba Wu was important enough to him that he wanted to remain in his life and do everything he could to make Ba Wu's life the best possible even if he really wanted more. I also figure he was biding his time until Ba Wu decided he was interested in dating. Remember, Ba Wu directly told him that he didn't want to date, and Ji Hun implicitly trusts Ba Wu. Jealousy would eventually prompt Ji Hun to take action. We already see that.

I'll also add in that some of Ji Hun's statements like "I treat all of my friends this way" are a direct response from him thinking Ba Wu will cut him out of his life if he asks for too much. His "ambiguity" or "obliviousness" is him trying desperately to not ask for too much from Ba Wu.

On the other hand, Ba Wu can't decide. He confesses, and then he takes it back. He cuts ties, but then he calls him up. Which...I'm actually okay with that fickleness. It's not great to do, but figuring stuff out is hard. I wouldn't judge him if he did decide to cut ties and did so cleanly too.

You know what makes me dislike him? He's mean to Ji Hun. His words are sharp and targeted. His actions too. And not in the type of playful, sarcastic way that I enjoy. The friends do that type of roast. They just take it too far especially since Ji Hun isn't giving that energy back. It should be obvious to them (in ep 5) that he's hurting.

I need to clarify that I'm adding a layer of judgment onto Ba Wu here, because I think Ba Wu DOES have the right words to use. Some people struggle to word things. Some people don't know that their words are painful. That has to be considered for some characters. But from what we know of Ba Wu from his diary and narration, he can use words and use them well. We see him do it with Ha Min. But with Ji Hun? He's choosing either to not use his words or to use them in a hurtful way. It's a choice not lack of skill.

I considered whether it was just lashing out in pain. And it IS coming from him finding his "unrequited love" to be painful. Ba Wu does it because he's trying to protect himself and his own heart. But that's also why I don't think they'd be good together.

Ba Wu will prioritize himself. Ji Hun will prioritize Ba Wu. Ji Hun is too gentle to stop/counter Ba Wu's self-sabotage and he isn't the type to be able to figure out the difference between a mean word said in pain and a mean word said in sincerity. He's going to feel every one of them as a small knife cut to his heart. He will believe Ba Wu's words.

This relationship will shred Ji Hun's soul over time, because Ba Wu will resort to this behavior EVERY time there is a problem in their relationship. Ba Wu will lash out and run, and Ji Hun will run after him and slowly bleed to death.

Yeah, I don't ship it.

They both need something different in a partner than what the other can provide.