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ninisdollie · 1 month ago

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Melting - Asakura Jo ✩•̩̩͙*

♫ ͏⠻⢦͏ ✧ ✦

“In which reader is failing one of her most important classes, so she asks the cute nerdy boy for tutoring, no expecting to fall for him”

content: +18MDNI fem! reader x Jo, nerd! Jo, experienced!reader x inexperienced! Jo (although he knows things, because he’s a wise boy), blowjob, soft vanilla sex, a bit of dirty talking, pussy drunk! Jo, he’s a little overwhelmed mess, fluff, happy ending! Protected sex, facial

You looked down at the paper in your hands, your lower lip caught between your teeth. Failed, again. The C- in the corner making fun of you, laughing at you as telling you “Huh, you thought” and the tears threatened to come. Didn't matter how hard you tried, how many hours you spent trying to understand the numbers in your Finance book, you always failed. At this point, you thought about giving up in your degree.

“This is your last chance, Ms. Y/N, you better get a better score next exam, i’m sure you wouldn’t like to see all of your friends graduating except for you”. The professor raised his eyebrow, handing the results to the person behind you.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, exhausted. You did really try with this one, you almost conviced yourself that finally you had it all figured out. Turns out you were wrong.

Maybe an economics degree wasn’t the option for you, maybe you were just a dumb pretty girl, shallow, nothing beneath your perfect facade, maybe everyone who doubted you were right, you just thought about how you would tell your parents that you failed them, failed yourself. This was bigger than you. These thoughts consumed you as you walked outside of the classroom, heading towards the cafeteria where your friends were waiting for you, your head down, your pace slow, all you’d been doing is literally study, your baggy eyes were the clear evidence of this.

They turned around to face you once they saw your watery eyes.

“Don’t be sad, we know you did really try”. Sana hugged your shoulders, placing a little kiss on your head, and you sighed again, drying your tears with a napkin.

“A C- isn’t really that bad, right?” Harua scratched his neck, trying to ease the tension, it didn’t work.

You buried your face on the table, letting out a sob, you just wanted to get home and cry yourself to sleep, you were already thinking about finding an informal job to return your parents the money they’d spent in your years of college.

“I’m just tired at this point, tell me the truth, am i really that dumb?”

“Of course you’re not” Sana caressed your hair, talking to you with sweet voice.

“My friend Kei was failing Math last year, he asked this guy for tutoring, a complete nerd, perfect grades, maybe he’ll accept if you offer him a few dollars” You raised your head at Harua’s words.

You thought about it a few seconds. You had tried everything, study groups from other colleges, studying by yourself until late hours at night, even listening to online classes until you feel asleep, none of it had worked, the numbers, formulas, complicated problems just wouldn’t get inside your head.

“I don’t know…”

“What can you loose? Just try it, i heard he’s really patient and good at explaining, maybe he could help you finally understand?”

You bit your lip, it was true, you had nothing to loose, one more try could be worth it.

“Give me his number.”

Later that day you were laying on your bed, a quiet night that was only consumed by your thoughts. Maybe you sounded like a privileged girl, but you really didn’t need anything growing up. Your parents worked hard their entire life to give you everything you wanted, always signing you up in the best schools, dressing you with the most expensive designers, making a perfect lifestyle for you to enjoy. You had promised them you’d get into Economics so you could follow their steps and become a succesful business woman.

This wasn’t going really well.

You took a deep breath, unwrapping the wrinkled paper and staring at the depressing, humiliating score. Then you took out your phone, typing the number Harua had texted you.

Y/N: Hi, is this Jo’s number?

You locked the screen, throwing the phone by your side, waiting for him to answer. You didn’t have to wait so long.

Jo: Hello. Yes, who’s this?

Taking your phone again, you stared at the message a few seconds, going into his contact and zooming in the picture. You grinned softly, he was cute. He had silky, black hair, his features were soft, he was holding a cat in the photo, glasses perfectly placed over his pointy nose.

Y/N: I’m y/n, from Economics? I heard that you offered tutoring sometimes, i was wondering if you could help me? I’ll pay anything please i’m desperate, don’t wanna graduate at 30 :(

You sounded so embarrassing, but it was true.

Jo: You won’t graduate at 30, that’s actually mathematically impossible.

Of course, you forgot you were talking to a nerd for a second.

Jo: But yes, i could help you. Just tell me when you’re free and we’ll meet at the library.

Y/N: Oh god, thank you so much!

Jo: Left you on read.

Guess you had a tutoring lesson to attend next day.

Asakura Jo was the perfect child. Born from a wealthy family, he was the dream son every parent could ask for. His grades were always the best, his manners impecable, the adoration of the grandmas and annoying aunts. But it was mostly just his family who adored him.

He didn’t have many friends, thanks to his very, very lacking social skills, he was just awkward, didn’t talk much, and when he did his voice was always so low, everyone had to ask for him to repeat what he just said, his father would get angry sometimes and tell him to raise his voice like a man. But he was fine with that, he didn’t need other people, he would just get through college and become a succesful accountant for his parents company.

It wasn’t in his plans to start tutoring, to be honest, but people just started asking for it, and when he had too many study sessions per week for him to handle, he started to charge. Not much, just a bit so he could save money to spend in his other hobbies, such as videogames and comics, his guilty pleasures.

He emersed in his book until he felt a shadow right in front of him, raising his eyesight, he saw you standing there.

Everyone on campus knew who you were, the rich girl that everybody loved, always looking so perfect, so… polished. You had numberous friends, like the complete opposite of him, and your reputation was impecable.

So when you texted him the night before asking for tutoring, to be honest, he was quite surprised.

You swallowed, adjusting the coffee cup in your hand. You hesitated for a second, wondering if this was a terrible idea, but then decided—why not?

You placed the coffee in front of him with a soft clink.

Jo looked up, startled, his eyes wide behind his glasses. "Uh, thanks, but I didn’t—"

“Decided to bring you a coffee,” you cut him off with a smile, trying to act casual. “I figured it’s the least I could do since you're about to help me survive this class.”

Jo blinked a couple of times, his face unreadable. He glanced at the coffee, then back at you, his expression softening just a little. “You didn’t have to. But… thanks.”

You shrugged, dropping into the chair across from him. “It’s no big deal. I figure if I’m going to survive this torture, I should at least try to make it enjoyable.” You paused, then added, “So, you’re the finance guru, huh?”

You always talked too much, and he seem the kind to stay quiet and just listen. You approached people with so much confidence, tossing your hair and smiling with sweetness. It made him nervous for some reason.

Jo gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug. “I wouldn’t say guru. I’m just a person who doesn’t mind spreadsheets.” He took a sip of the coffee, winced slightly as if he didn’t love it, but then pushed the mug closer to himself. “What exactly are we tackling today?”

You took a deep breath. “Compound interest.” Your tone was light, but there was a flicker of panic in your eyes. “You know, the thing that’s going to make my brain explode.”

Jo’s mouth twitched, as if trying to suppress a smile. “That’s a classic. But don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it seems. You just need to think of it like a snowball rolling down a hill.”

You stared at him blankly. “A snowball?”

He nodded, more confident now that he had a starting point. “Yeah. The snowball starts small, but the longer it rolls, the bigger it gets. Compound interest is kind of the same way—it’s interest on both your initial investment and the interest that’s already been added. The longer it compounds, the bigger it gets.”

You leaned back, tapping your acrilic nails on the table thoughtfully. “Okay, I get that. Kind of like… when you let something sit in your savings account and it just grows slowly, right?”

Jo gave you a quick, almost surprised look. “Exactly. I didn’t think you’d get it so quickly.”

You smirked. “What, you think I’m just here for the ride? No way. I’m not totally hopeless. Just a little directionless.” That was a lie. You paused, a little awkwardly. “But really, I’m just hoping this snowball doesn’t crush me in the end.”

He didn’t laugh, just went back to the notes. He wasn’t mean, but he surely was a little bit dry. You didn’t mind, you were there for tutoring anyways, not being friends.

The once-full coffee cups were now empty, sitting off to the side like forgotten relics. The sun had dipped lower in the sky, casting long golden rays through the library windows. Your table, once neat, was now a battlefield of open notebooks, scattered pens, and wadded-up scratch paper—most of it covered your handwriting and crossed-out equations.

You et out a groan and dropped your head dramatically onto your notebook. “This is actually cruel and unusual punishment.”

Jo, still calmly scribbling in the margins of a textbook, raised an eyebrow. “It’s literally just division.”

“It’s division with anxiety,” you shot back, your voice muffled against the paper. “Big difference.”

Jo chuckled under his breath, just a breath, you still heard it, and weirdly, it made your heart do a thing. You peeked up at him through your hair.

“I don’t get how your brain just does this. Like, you actually enjoy this?”

“I enjoy solving problems,” he replied, without looking up. “There’s something satisfying about finding the right answer. It’s clean. Predictable.”

“Wow,” you said, sitting up and stretching your arms above your head. He tried not look at how your tank top tightened around your chest, enchancing your figure. “That must be nice. Nothing in my life is predictable. I mean, I accidentally bought three planners last semester and still didn’t show up to my 9AM.”

Jo looked at your eyes then, an amused smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “Three?”

“They were color-coded, Jo. I had high hopes.”

He let out a real laugh this time—quiet and quick, but real. It caught you off guard. You blinked at him, startled by how much warmer he looked when he wasn’t buried in formulas like an hour ago.

“What?” he said, noticing you staring, a little awkward under your gaze.

“Nothing,” you said too quickly, trying to cover with a shrug. “You laugh. I didn’t think you could. I figured you were like one of those serious, silent types who only speak in finance metaphors.”

“I’m not that bad,” he said, a little defensive but still smiling. “Okay, maybe a little.”

You grinned. “Yeah, well. It’s kind of cute.”

Jo froze, eyes flicking to yours in something close to panic. He wasn’t used to compliments, much less coming from an outgoing, popular girl like you. It made him feel weird.

He cleared his throat, going back to the notes on the table.

“You should try to finish this one before we go.”

You exhaled slowly and refocused, pencil in hand. Your fingers hesitated over the numbers, then moved—slower this time, more carefully.

A minute passed.

Then another.

You put the pencil down.

“…Okay,” you said, tapping the paper with your fingertip. “I think… I think I got it.”

Jo leaned over and glanced at your work. His eyebrows lifted.

“That’s… actually right.”

You blinked. “Wait. What?”

“You did it.” He turned the notebook toward you, pointing at each line. “All the steps are there. You even got the decimal in the right place.”

“Oh my god.” You stared at the paper like it was a miracle. “Jo, I just—I did math. Like, real math. Finance math!”

Jo smiled—proud, and maybe just a little impressed. “Told you it wasn’t impossible.”

You looked at him, your smile lingering. “Thanks. For not giving up on me after the third meltdown.”

“You only had two,” he said dryly. “The third was more of a dramatic sigh.”

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. “Okay, I deserved that.”

You sat in a comfortable silence for a beat, the kind that only comes after a shared struggle—like you two were on the other side of something now. Different than when you started.

Your first session with Jo ended up and you felt good, you felt you could finally understand all of this He gave you some extra problems for you to practice, and you drove to your house that night feeling extra happy because of your advance.

What started as awkward, caffeine-fueled tutoring sessions in the back corner of the library quickly became a routine neither of you wanted to admit you looked forward to.

At first, it was once a week, strictly business. Notes, formulas, practice problems, rinse and repeat. But somehow, it turned into twice a week. Then three. Then random texts at midnight with memes about interest rates or dramatic “HELP” messages from you right before a quiz.

And Jo, who had once been borderline allergic to human interaction, started replying faster than expected. Sometimes with answers. Sometimes with sarcastic gifs. Sometimes just, “You got this.”

You fell into a rhythm.

Jo would bring snacks, quiet ones, like pretzels or gummy bears, because you claimed loud chewing was “the enemy of focus.” You, in turn, made it your mission to guess Jo’s coffee order correctly (after three weeks and seven wrong guesses, you nailed it: iced Americano, light ice, no sugar).

He learned you couldn’t sit still for more than twenty minutes without some kind of movement, so he’d suggest five-minute walks around the library just to reset. You learned he doodled in the margins of his notes when he thought no one was looking, little geometric shapes and abstract lines, always drawn in blue pen.

You teased him less now. Not because he didn’t deserve it, he was still a total finance nerd, but because somewhere along the line, you’d stopped seeing him as just “the tutor.”

He was Jo. Quiet. Steady. Smart in ways that had nothing to do with textbooks. Surprisingly funny when he let his guard down. And kind, like, really kind.

On a random Tuesday, before a final exam, you two were studying late night in your room, turns out the library closed early that day and you were super nervous because you really needed to nail this test, so you suggested your house. At first Jo was a little hesitant, but he ended up accepting, and now you two were laying on the floor, papers, notes and pencils all accross the place, it was a nerd-mess. The soft light of your night lamp being the only source of brightness, making the air a little cozy.

“I can’t i’m literally gonna fail this.” You groaned, closing your eyes into an stressed expression.

He was laying across from you, his hoodie sleeves rolled up, his hair messy, his glasses above his nose, and he chuckled, he did that now more often around you, teasing you back with confidence.

“You won’t, just keep trying, we both know you’ll get it”

“I think my brain just clocked out” You dropped your pencil, dramatically “Like, fully walked off the job. Filed for early retirement”.

He didn’t look up.

“It’s because you haven’t taken a break”.

“That’s literally what i just said.”

He looked up now, raising an eyebrow.

“You said your brain quit. I’m saying it’s unionizing”.

You rolled onto your back, laughing as you stared at the ceiling, you didn’t notice but your shorts lifted a bit, showing more of your soft skin than before.

“Ok, finance boy, that was funny.”

“I have my moments” Jo muttered. “We can take a break, five minutes. You need to finish this one, is essential for your test.”

“Make it 20 pleaaaaase.”

Jo leaned back against the side of your bed, stretching out his long legs. He looked tired, in that soft, late-night kind of way, his hair messier than usual, hoodie wrinkled, glasses pushed slightly down his nose.

So you started talking about different things, things that weren’t math. Like your interests, hobbies, and passions. He told you about his love for video games, and you teased him about it telling him he couldn’t be more of a nerd. And you told him about your frustrated dream of becoming a ballet dancer.

You turned your head to look at him. “You ever wonder why we do this to ourselves? Like, why are we even taking Finance if it makes us miserable?”

“I don’t know,” Jo said. “I guess I like the certainty of it. The numbers always make sense, eventually. People don’t.”

There was a pause. One of those quiet ones that felt heavy.

“Speaking of people…” You said, turning onto your side to face him, “can I ask you something kind of personal?”

He sighed, raising his shoulders. “It depends.”

“Have you ever dated anyone?”

Jo blinked. Of all the things you could’ve asked, that clearly wasn’t what he expected.

“Uh… no. Not really,” he said slowly. “I’ve… liked people, I guess. But I don’t think it ever got that far. Not for me.”

Your gaze lingered on him, intrigued. “Why not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who really saw me. Most people just see the grades. Or the quiet guy in class who they think will do all the group work.” He gave a small, bitter laugh. “Not exactly rom-com material. Plus, my social skills are nowhere to be found, i could never take the first step.”

You didn’t smile. Instead, you whispered, “I see you.”

Jo looked at you, eyes catching yours in a way that made the room feel warmer, closer.

“What about you?” he asked. “Ever been in love?”

You hesitated. “Once. In high school. I thought it was the real thing. He was charming, said all the right things. But he wasn’t good at showing up when it mattered.”

You looked down at your hands, fingers idly playing with the edge of the rug.

“Since then… I don’t know. I’ve dated, but I think people only see the version of me that’s easy to like. Not the messy parts. Not the parts that panic over exams and cry at car commercials.”

Jo’s voice was soft. “The messy parts aren’t a dealbreaker.”

You glanced up at him, your breath catching slightly at the way he was looking at you, open, gentle, unflinching.

“Yeah?” you said quietly.

He nodded once. “Yeah.”

Silence settled again, but it was different now. Heavier. Charged.

You sat up slowly, your legs crossed in front of you, knees brushing his. You hair falling lazily over your shoulders, your round, bright eyes still locked onto his. Neither of you moved away.

The air between you two buzzed with something unspoken, something that had been building over late nights and half-finished coffees and quiet smiles across textbooks.

And then, from one moment to another, he leaned over, and kissed you. It was small, just a little peck, and you flinched, not out of disgust, but because you were surprised. You widened your eyes, and he looked at you embarrassed, already trying to apologize.

“S-Sorry, i shouldn’t have…”

“If you’re going to steal a kiss from me, Asakura Jo, at least do it properly”. You cut him off, a little smirk on your lips.

He blinked, once, twice, lips parted like trying to catch his breath. And then he leaned over again, now really kissing you.

And you melted into the kiss, immediately placing your hands on his cheeks, which were warm, red with blush, and moved your lips above his in a slow dance. It was a soft, slow, tender kiss, his mouth was sweet, his breath warm as he sighed and tilted his head, as if he had been waiting for this moment. As if he had been wanting you.

And who were you trying to fool, you’d been wanting him too.

So you tangled your fingers in his beautiful, dark hair, and he sighed again, you taking the opportunity to deepen the kiss, stickinv your tongue out and exploring his mouth, both tangling, a crash of hot breaths and saliva, and you could tell he felt overwhelmed a bit, probably never been kissed like this before. You liked that. So you kept going, breaking the kiss just for a second to take off his glasses, placing them on the floor next to you, and you crashed your mouths again, now moving onto his lap, and he grabbed your hips slightly, still a bit hesitant. His body tensed when you moved in top on him, whimpering in the kiss, and he broke it now, slightly shaking.

"Wait, wait..." He was breathing heavy, his voice low "I... I've never..."

You stared at him, resting your forehead over his.

"We don't have to if you don't want to" your voice was sweet, and he sighed deeply, his hands caressing your hips above the thin fabric of your tank top.

He stayed silent for a few seconds.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

"I want to."

Smiling softly, you kissed him again, a little deeper this time, needier. Your tongues were tangling, the sound of your lips crashing along with your shaken breaths, and his hands gripped your waist tighter, making you rock your hips slightly, rubbing yourself against him, making him whimper and tremble, a bulge in his sweatpants starting to built. A shiver went down your spine when you felt it, hard against your crotch covered only by your silky shorts, and you couldn't help but moan low. You grabbed his hands, like giving him permission to touch you and him, with clumsy movements, touched your body, your thighs, your ass, moving up to your torso, squeezing one of your boobs, and the touch made the amusement between your legs bigger, wetness through your panties.

"Let's get into bed." You asked, and he nodded slowly, you getting up from his lap.

His body moved hesitant to the bed, laying, and you locked the door with a little smile, that made him chuckle a bit. You crawled into bed, and placed yourself between his legs, kissing along his jaw and neck, sucking, licking, your warm tongue tracing his burning skin, this made him groan low, tilting his head so you could have more space. Then you placed your hands under his hoodie, and you bit your lip finding a set of perfectly built abs, you traced your fingers along his lines, delighting yourself with his body, and in one movement your slid it out above his head, his bare, milky skin in front of you. You wasted no time in kissin there, going down with your lips, and he was a whimpering mess, his face red, his hair messy. He looked like a whole meal, and you were starving. You lips met with the waistband of his sweats, the bulge inside of them thick, hard, and you looked up at him, like waiting for a confirmation.

He nodded at you, exhaling.

And then you slid down his pants along with his underwear, his thick member in front of you. You didn’t want to sound cheesy, but it was the prettiesr you’d ever seen. Thick, long, veins popping, hard, swollen red tip, your mouth watered at the sight, your eyes sparkly with desire. So you licked, long, slow, from the head to the base, tasting his skin and veins in your wet tongue, and he whimpered loud, shaking, overwhelmed.

You smiled at him.

“You like that?” Your voice was sweet, tender.

“Y-Yeah… please don’t stop” His eyes were sparkly too, and you thought he looked so fucking cute.

“Wasn’t planning on it.”

Then you spat, wet saliva falling down his length, and he moaned again as you took him in your mouth, wrapping your plump lips around him, bobbing your head so you could take him deep in your throat until your eyes watered and you had to suppress a gag, then repeated the process, sucking him off with skill, but you put a little extra effort since it was his first time, you wanted him to love this. So you moved sloppy, messy, the dirty sounds of you swallowing his dick and his shaky moans being the only ones in the room, you looked up at him, locking your gazes, and he bit his lip, his cock twitching inside of your mouth.

Oh, so the cute nerdy boy liked eye contact.

You took advantage of that, fluttering your eyelashes and smiling as you took him out of your mouth and smiled, stroking him a little easier this time thanks to the saliva that was covering his length, and took him in again, until the head of his cock has deep in your throat.

And Jo, well, we has a mess. Face all red, his lips parted as he tried to catch his breath, chest moving up and down, eyes watering as the pleasure took over his whole body.

You loved how he looked.

You moved faster, and his whimpers became needier, desperate. You took him out of your mouth and kissed his tip, his legs twitched slightly. Then you kissed him again, placing your thighs in the sides of his hips, sitting straight on his aching length, an rocked your hips as you kissed, rubbing yourself against him, the wetness in your panties imposible to ignore, and he grabbed your hips and lifted just a bit so he would rub himself too.

His hand reached between your legs, and you let out a surprised gasp when his fingers found your clit above the lace of your underwear, tracing circles, making you squirm and moan.

He looked at you, like not wanting to miss any of your expressions.

“Is this ok?” He asked, voice broken, and you nodded, smiling softly.

That made him gain confidence, so he pulled your panties to the side, his warm fingers making contact with your bare, dripping pussy, and he moved them again, spreading your arrousal all across. You hid your face in his neck as he touched you, suprisingly good for being a begginer, but of course he knew things, he was a nerd after all. A moan left your mouth when he slid a finger inside, your walls clenching around it, needy.

“I-Is this ok?” He asked again, and you chuckled breathless, nodding.

“Yes, baby. It’s perfect.”

So he slid another one, thrusting them in and out of you, creating a wet sound, and you moaned louder, rocking your hips until his knuckles disappeared inside of you. He curled his fingers, and that made you tremble, teasing your g-spot, a jolt of pleasure showering you. So good.

“Fuck, that’s it…” You moaned in his ear and his skin jumped, his fingers moving faster “Need you so bad…”

He moaned at your words, cock twitching beneath you. Then he slid his fingers out, your aching, needy pussy clenching around nothing, then his hands took your tank top and slid it out of you, your bare breasts in front of him, and his eyes shined with lust.

“You are so pretty…” He cupped your breasts, and you whined as he squeezed them. “Is this—

You chuckled again.

“Jo, it is ok. You can touch me all you want, i want you to.”

He smiled softly, a little ashamed, and squeezed your breasts even more, rubbing his thumb in your nipples, and they hardened at the touch, your rocked your hips again, and he groaned low.

Now you took your bottoms off, and stood there, bare, naked in front of him, and the look in his eyes made your whole body shiver, he looked at you as if you were the most beautiful thing in the world.

You got on top of him again, kissing him, and he let you do it. You wrapped your hand around his cock, and he whimpered above your lips.

“Wait.” He licked his lips, his face red again. “Do you…? I mean, i’m not trying to offend you or anything i swear, it’s just, could we use… protection? I think it’s safer that way, i-if you don’t mind…”

His nervousness made you melt, and you laughed softly, nodding. Of course, protection, always important. You bent over the bed and stretched your arm, searching inside the cabinet of your nightstand, and put out a condom.

He raised an eyebrow at you, and you lifted your shoulders. “What? I’m a cautious girl” He chuckled, rolling his eyes, and you pecked his lips.

You slid the condom around his length easily, and he hissed at the feeling, grabbing your hips tight. Then you grabbed him, and rubbed the tip between your wet, dripping, needy folds, teasing you both. You looked at him again, he was biting his lip, anticipation in his pretty face.

You let yourself fall around him, his cock stretching your walls so good that you had to grab his shoulder for balance, and he moaned too. Your pussy clenched around him, he was big, so it took you a few seconds to adjust to his size, but it felt so good, his thick, throbbing length inside of you.

“F-Fuck…” he whispered, trembling, and you sighed deeply before starting to move your hips, up and down, slowly, your breasts bouncing at the movement.

“Feels good?” You asked, weak voice as whimpers left your lips.

He nodded fast, and you smiled again, biting your lip.

“S-So good… you’re so warm and tight.” His eyes were sparkly, filled with desire and pleasure.

And you started moving faster, jumping up and down on his length, burying deep inside of you, fucking yourself, and he could only moan louder and grab you tighter, his fingers marking the skin of your hips, your skins crashing, sweaty.

He kept groping your body, hands shaky, overwhelmed by the pleasure as you bounced on him over and over, your legs trembling because you were feeling so much pleasure too, everytime he slammed your insides so good, cock so deep, your wetness dripping between your thighs. Jo then kissed your neck, licking while you kept moving, and you moaned and whimpered, loving his lips on your skin.

“You’re so thick, you feel so good inside of me…” He groaned louder at your words, and you jumped, harder, now really riding him.

You breasts bounced with every move, your forehead bathed in sweat, your hair sticked to it. He lifted his hand and removed it, kissing your lips.

“You want to switch?” You talked between gasps, and he bit his lips, nodding.

So you did, you got up from his lap and laid on the bed, legs spread, glistening pussy dripping and he sighed at the view, groaning before holding your legs to your chest, and he slid inside of you again, and you screamed, not caring if your parents would hear. His thrusts were messy, not a clear rythym, but you didn’t care, it felt so good, he stretched you so good. His body was heavy above you, his hips crashing with yours, his groans and moans in your ears.

“I-I can’t… it feels so good, so good” his voice was completely broken, and you moaned and grabbed his hair, feeling him bury his cock deep inside of you.

“I know, baby. Feels so good, you’re so deep and good inside of me.” you talked sweet, whining, staring at his watery eyes.

He looked completely destroyed, his cheeks red, his hair sweaty, his body trembling, his thrusts sloppy but hitting every spot, making you shake and whine and moan his name time and time again. Your hands caressed his body again, touching, burning skin beneath your fingertips, his heart was racing, bumping against his chest. You felt like you were dreaming, your body floating as he fucked you.

“I’ve never felt this… i-i” He was mumbling nonsense, his brain completely shut down, pussy drunk. You just felt so good around him, he never wanted to stop, he wanted to die inside of you.

Then your hand went between your legs, your own fingers finding your aching, swollen clit, and you rubbed them against it, fast, at the pace of his erratic thrusts.

“You’re doing so good baby, fucking me so good…” you praised and he moaned, his head thrown back, slamming in and out of you until his thighs crashed with the back of yours.

You didn’t know why, but you came so fast. The knot on your lower belly exploding in a strong, earth shaking orgasm that made you scream high-pitched and arch your back, walls of your pussy clenching so tight around him, face completely teared apart by the pleasure. And his movements became completely nonsense, sloppy, so you knew he was so close too.

So you pushed his chest, making him stop, and he looked at you a bit confused, but you wasted no time in pushing him onto his back, removing the condom from his member and he knew what you wanted, so he stroked himself fast, whining, hissing, low moans and lip between his teeth as he masturbated in front of your face.

“I’m gonna… fuck, i’m…”

And you felt it. Warm, sticky, wet strings falling on your face, you opened your mouth, tasting him, swallowing his cum as he arched his back and groaned loud, covering you with his orgasm.

Then he stayed still, immobile, chest moving up and down.

You took the leftovers from your cheeks and forehead, licking your fingers clean, and he blushed completely, hiding his face in the pillows.

You chuckled, laying by his side, kissing his face.

“You’re so cute.”

“Shut up.” He said against the silk of your pillowcase, and you laughed loud, clinging to him.

It didn’t take much for you two to fall asleep. Naked, bodies against each other, a silly smile on both of your faces.

You had a good feeling about tomorrow’s exam.

The professor started to hand out the results, and you bit your nail harder, your legs shaking, your heart racing.

This was the final test, this was the moment for you to prove yourself, to prove that weeks and weeks of studying until late night were worth it, that you didn’t waste your time.

That you didn’t waste Jo’s time.

Of course, you did this for yourself, for you career. But a small part of you, really wanted him to be proud of you.

So your heart stopped when the professor stood by your desk, an eyebrow raised. You swallowed, blinking at him.

Then he handed the result, a smirk on his face.

“Good job, Ms.Y/N, looks like you really did put effort”

Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you looked at the paper. A bright, happy, big, red pen A in the corner.

You almost jumped from your seat. A gasp leaving your mouth. There were no words to describe how you were feeling, finally, finally you did something for yourself, you proved that you weren’t just a dumb pretty girl, that you had infinate potential.

All of your friends were waiting for you as you ran into the cafeteria, waving the paper in your hand and the all cheered you up, wide smiles as they congratulated you.

Then you saw him, he was chewing on a rice ball, eyes sticked to a comic in his hand. You hesitated, but the excitement got you.

So you ran to him, Jo looked up as he saw you approaching, but you gave him no time to react, jumping in his arms and almost making you both fall from the chair, his eyes widened, grabbing you by your waist helping you gain balance.

“I fucking did it!” You screamed, and he laughed, cheeks full of food.

You stared at him, so happy.

And you kissed him. Right there.

His face turned all red, and he glanced at your friends, their faces full of surprise, jaws to the floor. You didn’t care.

Then he chuckled, finally swallowing.

“If you’re going to steal a kiss from me, Y/N, at least do it properly.”

So you did. At the end, he was the cute nerdy boy that not only helped you finally master finances, but the cute nerdy boy who melted your heart.

Jo drabble we cheered!!

i’ll fix the mistakes tomorrow i’m sleeeeepy <3

hope you liked it !!

#&team smut #andteam smut #&team jo #andteam jo #andteam jo smut #asakura jo #&team hard hours #&team x reader #&team imagines #&team hard thoughts #andteam hard thoughts #andteam hard hours

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facewithoutheart · 3 months ago

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What if Eddie got a beanie baby for Christmas one year and it’s dumb because stuffed animals are for girls and Eddie’s the Man of the House but secretly he likes his little white bear with the heart on his chest. He cuts the tag off it and his mom yells at him because they’re supposed to be worth a lot of money someday but secretly Eddie’s glad he did it. If the bear isn’t worth anything but the joy he brings to Eddie then maybe he’ll get to keep it. He does, eventually, forget about the bear. Or, he puts him on a shelf when he enters high school because high school boys don’t sleep with toys and maybe there’s some nights he sees the bear on his shelf and he thinks it might be nice to hold him but he doesn’t.

The first time Shannon comes into his bedroom she immediately sees the bear. “Who’s this little guy?” she teases and Eddie gets irrationally angry seeing it in her hands. “My stupid sisters leaving their stupid toys in my room,” he says, grabbing it out of her hands and throwing it in his bedside trash can. He waits until she’s left to fish him out. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” which is dumb, so dumb, that he’s apologizing to a doll, that he’s crying.

Eddie wants to bring the bear with him to Afghanistan but he doesn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the bear, no matter what little comfort it might bring to Eddie.

When his mom gives Christopher a stuffed bear after his birth, Eddie stares at the way Chris hugs it to his chest and wonders what would ever make him tear the toy from Chris’s hands.

Chris finds the stuffed bear when he moves to El Paso. It’s weird, how he wants it to sit on his nightstand, but not as weird as the tight look his abuela gets when she sees it. “Where did you find that?” Chris shrugs. “Behind some books in the closet.” Chris becomes fascinated with the bear. He looks it up online. Valentino. There’s a little red stain over one eye, maybe someone spilled something on it. He sends a picture to Buck. “He kind of reminds me of you.” “Yeah, Superman! He does! How are you doing?????” Chris doesn’t reply.

When Chris is packing up his items to move back to LA, he doesn’t think about it when he throws the bear into his suitcase. He puts it on a shelf when he gets back home. Nothing else has changed about his room; his dad kept it exactly the way he left it, so the bear sticks out. “Where’d you get that?” His dad asks when he sees the bear, his hands are flinching into fists by his side. Chris’s breath picks up. “You can’t be mad at me for taking him. You obviously didn’t want him; you left him behind!” “I’m not mad,” Chris’s dad lies. “Yes, you are. You are!” “Okay! I’m a little mad!” “Why?!”

“Because he was mine!”

Eddie takes a breath. He looks at his son. He loves him so, so, so much. “Because he was mine,” Eddie says, “but I wasn’t … I never felt like I was allowed to have him.” This time, Chris’s question comes out softer, more earnest, “Why?”

It’s not easy to put into words all the ways the world has shaped Eddie into a form he barely recognizes, but he tries. For his son, he’ll always try. At the end, Chris walks over with the bear. He places it in his dad’s hands. “I think you need this more than I do.”

Eddie laughs and thumbs over where his sister spilled cherry koolaid on him the one time he let her play with Bear.

“He kind of looks like Buck, doesn’t he?”

Eddie holds Bear to his chest. He squeezes tightly.

“Yeah. He does.”

#911 show #buddie #eddie Diaz #I dunno yall I was going to bed and I thought Eddie Diaz stuffed animal and this came out

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arsonisticscholar · 25 days ago

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Disciple Shen yuan au, but he transmigrated as a pre/early arc reader of pidw. Say in canon he transmigrated at like 22, if pidw was written over the course of a couple of years he might be in his late teens. Innocent pre cucumber era where he had high hopes for pidw and hasn’t totally been stomped down by health issues and frontal lobe development

This is heavily inspired by Sy’s temp transmigration system because it’s a great fic and I love it but I can’t get it out of my head of what if situation is basically the same exept he hasn’t read pidw yet

Maybe he realizes he’s in a book, maybe he even realizes it is pidw (still in early stages, MAYYBE became more mainstream recently due to the start of the abyss arc) based on just seeing things online. But he doesn’t have the same biases about what the characters should be like or the foreknowledge of all the native life

I’m torn between him being the only Shen yuan there so there can be disciple bingyuan or to make cumplanes relationship more interesting by putting in not only another transmigrator, not only one that doesn’t know the world, but one that is literally the (to them, sy would kick anyone who called him this) child version of the most beautiful intelligent cunning bordering cruel wife of the emperor that lbh and sqh have gotten to know

Not only that, but I think it would be really funny if without the bias towards binghe as his blorbo since he hasn’t read pidw yet takes one look at lqg and is just standing in shock (UUUGGGHH FEED MY MULTISHIPPING TENDENCIES) but you cannot tell me he wouldn’t have a big fat crush on him. I think it would be really funny if he also is automatically drawn toward lbh and I think he would be absolutely ecstatic about it but would prob get scared away by their pda after like a week and a half

I also think it would be soooo funny if bingyuan end up adopting teen sy and find out about it and approach him like ‘you are NOT dating that BRUTE’ or some shit and he’s like huh?? Wdym?? I just think he’s really cool for when he saved me that one time and when he let me fly on his sword and gave me a cool fan and also I like watching him train and he’s just objectively pretty anyone would admire a face like that how could I not but Id never want to date him he’s a guy!?!? I’m an ally but I’m obviously not gay??? And bingqiu would just sigh and shake their heads and try to keep him away from lqg

And I think it can also be an interesting point of introspection like if I never met binghe would I really be with lqg? If I didn’t get to shizun first would lqg have stolen him away from me? I think on sqq’s part like so much of what sy does is a source of (first hand? Second?) embarrassment because ohh wow I was an annoying kid or oh my god why is teen me staring at him so much this is embarrassing I have a husband what does this say about me. And for binghe it can become a place of insecurity like if I never came along I’d this how it would end up if I never made it out of the abyss what if shizun leaves me for lqg has shizun ever thought of him that way what if what if what if what if

And i think sy would have an interesting relationship with sqh if he was still in the process of reading the early arcs when it was still mainly exposition and he’s already gotten a taste of the plants and monsters and plot set ups but it hasn’t gone downhill yet into fan service. He would totally gush about how much he’s interested in the story and share his theories and hopes for it and they might even end up brainstorming for another book for sqh to write together. And I love the idea of sqh not only being older post transmigration but also pre like he was a full adult when he STARTED writing and sy was a teen when he started reading and sqh just has the realization of ‘wow I was like 26 beefing with a high schooler online’ but also the fact that sy LOVED pidw pre fan service like you don’t stick with such a long and shitty story if you weren’t obsessed with it at some point. And I think it would give sqh a new perspective on sqq’s criticisms and upset about how it went. Yeah, he chose to keep reading, but he chose that because he had faith in the world airplane created and the character he loved.

He would like immediately out himself as a transmigrator because he went to the new kid ceremony thingy overheard cumplane being dumb and had a really obvious reaction bc wdym these two fantasy men are talking about miku in English in public out loud like what is happening here so they catch on to that, sqq accepts him as his disciple and the three of them have tea together and their interaction goes something like

*all sat at the low table in the bamboo house*

Sqh: so you’re a transmigrator

Sy: uhm I guess so

Sqh *to sqq*: psst Shen yuan bro (or something clearly Shen yuan) say something

Sy: how do you know my name!?!?

And that’s how they find out sqq and sy are the same person they eventually figure out timeline and stuff and sqq is like oh my god this is a child but also child me without pidw knowledge I need to keep him away from any trouble including plot, kidnappings, dangerous beasts, and mystery plants and obviously the most effective way to (not) keep him safe from this is adopt him BINGHEE COME HEREEEE we’re adopting this one now also remember how I came from a different world yeah this is technically me when I was a teenager before I read your story so he has no knowledge of this worlds dangers or customs we must protect him at all costs binghe locks eyes with him and the internal monologues are going in completely different directions binghe is cooing and brainstorming ways to booby trap the house so he can’t leave and sy is just gazing into his eyes like wowww what an objectively handsome guy yk his muscles are very big his hair is very big his eyes are very big,,,, I want to BE him I def don’t want him I want to BE him,,, gym goals fr,,, then he asks who he is and lbh’s like ‘oh my qingqiu’s husband 😊’ and sy just passes out on the spot

I also get the vibe that he would not be a very horny teenager like he might catch himself looking once or twice but I mean sqq didn’t really care about the porn in pidw so either he’s very particular or he’s very time and place so I don’t think his inner monologue for pretty people would be as body oriented as sqq’s is. I also want him to take a liking to yqy since he’s just like his older brother back home and sqq is like ‘no get away from this bad man’ and sy is all ‘but he’s so nice to me 🥺 he doesn’t mean bad’ like bro doesn’t know the lore also he would maybe not quite wifebeam but he would endear himself to like every single peak lord immediately.

I like to think he’d keep his body p much plus dianxia robes And the story is that bingqiu found a magic plant and made a plant son using bingqiu qi or something idk so that’s why they not only suddenly have a kid, a kid that looks similar to sqq and acts pretty similar to him but has no idea about anything in the world. These people think he was born yesterday and they might as well be right with how little he knows about the world or it’s customs

This is all I got for right now but feel free to expand on this or write it because I am a shit writer and boy have I been craving this

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kitcat-italica · 4 months ago

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My Problem with Good Omens Season 2

For those unfamiliar with my fandom experiences: I fell in love with Good Omens in the summer of 2019, a few months after Season 1 came out. I wrote a bunch of fanfic, had lots of fun interacting with fellow fans on Tumblr, and made some great one-on-one online friendships through the fandom. It was a great couple of years.

I was very excited for Season 2 when it was announced. But between fandom overexposure, me picking up a new fandom interest, and losing touch with said friends from GO fandom…my excitement fell away, until I barely registered when S2 dropped in July 2023.

To this day, I still have not finished S2 in full. I’ve gotten through a couple episodes, but mostly it’s been me watching clips on Youtube, and learning through Tumblr osmosis what happened. And boy, was I big mad and big disappointed with how the season went.

But KitCat, you say, surely you are but a butthurt fan, because your ship became canon in a painful way! You are but upset about the Final Fifteen! The doomed kiss was what has your knickers in a twist! Such a silly thing to be disappointed about!

But it isn’t that. The Final Fifteen is bad, yes, but it’s not just because it’s tragic and upsetting. And it’s not just because it’s poorly written (and it is, don’t get me wrong, more on that later). But no, the Final Fifteen isn’t why I’m disappointed.

The Final Fifteen is the outcome of the problem. To find the root of the problem, we have to go back. Way, way back. Back to the beginning. To Before the Beginning, even.

Because that’s what I’m here to talk about: the problem with Season 2, the whole root of the problem, is the Before the Beginning sequence.

To recap: Before the Beginning takes place out in the universe, moments before it’s started up. Angel!Crowley has to prime the engine, but he can’t do that and hold up the scroll at the same time. (Idk why he can’t just make the scroll levitate next to him, since he has his instruction manual book floating next to him literally 20 seconds later, but eh, that’s a minor nitpick.) He calls out to a passing angel for assistance, and GUESS WHO HAPPENED TO BE THE ANGEL PASSING BY. THAT’S RIGHT, BABY MICHAEL SHEEN, READY TO INVENT THE FIRST CRUSH ON FLOPPY-HAIRED DAVID TENNANT.

The scene goes on, Aziraphale holds the scroll up so Angel!Crowley can crank the engine, he says “Let there be light”, has some neurodivergent wiggling about the new nebula, Aziraphale tells him it’ll be over in 6000 years, Angel!Crowley wants to complain to God about the planned short runtime of the universe, blah blah blah. But the damage to their characters is already done. (More to Aziraphale’s character than Crowley’s, but I think it does affect them both, because it’s about their relationship as a whole.)

In Season 1, their first meeting in Eden was a stroke of ineffable fate. Heaven had to send one angel to Earth to guard Eden, and Hell had to send one demon to “make some trouble.” And I’ve always loved the fact that either side could have chosen literally anyone. What if Gabriel or Michael were guarding Eden? Or, could you imagine if Hastur or Ligur were sent to “make some trouble”, and what might’ve befallen the first humans then? Maybe Eve or Adam would’ve been killed. Maybe they would’ve died of exposure or wild animals, without a flaming sword to help them after their banishment. But instead, Hell sent a crafty and curious and sometimes-kindhearted demon, who simply tempted Eve to eat from the forbidden apple tree. And Heaven sent the softhearted, generous angel, who gave them a tool for warmth and protection when they were sent into the wilderness. Aziraphale and Crowley gave rise to humanity together, simply by being their wonderful selves.

And humanity aside, can you imagine how that meeting on the Garden’s wall would’ve gone, if it were Gabriel or Michael, and Hastur or Ligur? It could’ve very easily become a game of cat-and-mouse, holy smiting edition. But instead, Aziraphale and Crowley—two strangers, remember! All they know is they’re on opposite sides, and that they’re each lonely and unsure on this strange new planet—talk casually to each other. They laugh together for a moment. And when the first rains start, Aziraphale—without hesitation—shelters this complete stranger of an Enemy under his wing. Like…you don’t get any more magical of a meeting than that???

This chance meeting of perfect strangers who happen to be kindred spirits, perfectly sets the tone for the rest of their friendship throughout time. Yes, they happen to be soulmates, but they don’t know that yet! It takes literal thousands of years for them to get to know each other, and build up their mutual trust and physical/emotional safety with each other. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither was Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship! And that’s what makes it so strong, even in the face of Armageddon!

The whole time, Aziraphale’s purpose on Earth is clear: 1. follow Heaven’s instructions, completing his assigned blessings and miracles; 2. spread general Good among the humans; 3. enjoy himself; and 4. spend time with Crowley. (The first two are what Heaven expects of him; the latter two are what he decided to do on his own.) He might have vague inklings that Crowley was once an angel, but it doesn’t appear to be his entire driving force behind seeking Crowley out. He only briefly mentions at the bandstand breakup scene that “you were an angel once”, but this was only a direct response to something Crowley says (refuting the notion that Crowley is “unforgivable” because he’s a demon). It’s otherwise never mentioned again.

Not only that, but in Season 1, though we got several glimpses into their shared history and their dealings with humanity behind the scenes, we still get the sense that there’s so much more to their individual stories. How did Aziraphale first decide to try eating food? When did Crowley get his car? What was so horrible for him in the fourteenth century? We can fill in those blanks however we want, and while answers are nice, they don’t all need to have answers provided in canon. It makes the story feel bigger, y’know?

But then Season 2 comes out. And oh, boy.

Now, their first meeting is no longer in Eden, as humanity was first starting out. Now, it takes place untold eons beforehand, when Crowley was still an angel. Now their relationship’s foundation has nothing to do with their shared love of humanity, because it starts before Crowley had ever even heard of Earth.

Now, their meeting in Eden is no longer miraculous. I know there’s still some debate among the fandom of how much Crowley remembers of his time as an angel, but since he tells Aziraphale in Job’s home that “the angel you knew is not me”, it’s fair to say that he at least remembers they met as angels. So while maybe they’re first realizing that they’re on opposite sides now, and are trying to gauge how the other will treat them as an Enemy, they are at least somewhat familiar. The tension of a random angel and demon meeting is gone, because these two know each other! They were friendly beforehand!

And the wing-sheltering thing…don’t get me started. That was a random act of kindness from an angel, who still wants to do Good by protecting a demon, and doesn’t that say everything about who Aziraphale is? While it’s sweet to see a parallel of Angel!Crowley protecting Aziraphale from some crashing stars, it doesn’t hold nearly the same weight. They’re both angels, working together! They’re already friendly! Why the fuck wouldn’t Angel!Crowley protect Aziraphale then? And by showing this S2 wing-sheltering…it cheapens the S1 wing-sheltering, because Aziraphale is just “returning the favor”, and protecting a former angel who he already knew and had a crush on. It’s no longer completely altruistic, and trusting someone he could easily not trust; it’s paying a debt, and hoping he’s still the same angel in there.

But the biggest storytelling crime in all this isn’t confined to one particular scene. It completely colors their entire relationship, from Eden onward. In S1, all the scenes throughout history, and in the present day with the Armageddon plot, is Aziraphale slowly letting his guard down to this demon he doesn’t know, and realizing they have more in common with their mutual kindness and love of humanity than they do with the rest of Heaven and Hell. The only question is, is that enough to throw in with Crowley completely, to stop Armageddon? He can either stick with Crowley and Earth, or stick with Heaven; he tries to have it both ways, but eventually he has to choose. And we all know how he chose :) But during that whole time, he’s motivated by kindness for a stranger, and escaping his loneliness, and seeking emotional intimacy with this demon who’s becoming his friend.

But Season 2’s Before the Beginning sequence changes all of that. No longer is Aziraphale simply trying to connect with this new friend; now, Crowley is an old friend, and the first time they met was as angels, and he remembers how happy Crowley was. And now on Earth, Crowley isn’t happy. He’s grumpy, and sarcastic, and bitter, and jaded. He’s traumatized. And Aziraphale remembers that happy, innocent angel who made the nebula, and he desperately wants him to go back to being that happy.

So, no longer is Aziraphale simply becoming friends with a demon, and trying to balance Heaven vs humanity and Crowley. Now, his relationship with Crowley is entirely motivated by changing Crowley back into an angel. He doesn’t see Crowley’s flashes of kindness as something strange for a demon; they’re glimmers of hope that he is still an angel underneath all the bitterness, maybe he can be reinstated if I work hard enough. He’s not just lonely, and falling in love with Crowley; he’s trying to change Crowley to how he was before.

It leaves such a bitter taste in my mouth. If I take all of S1-2 as a full canon now, I can’t look back on the moments of sweetness and friendship and connection between Aziraphale and Crowley, without that horrible gnawing thought in my head that Aziraphale remembers Crowley as an angel, that’s what he’s thinking about when he smiles at Crowley like that. It’s…disgusting? It’s gross? I hate it. I hate what sort of character this turns Aziraphale into. Not just S2 Aziraphale, but even S1 Aziraphale. It’s not the same character I fell in love with onscreen, when I first watched S1 in 2019. Same wardrobe, same platinum blond hair, same Michael Microexpression Sheen portraying him. But it’s a far crueler and more cynical view this angel now has, to want to change his traumatized friend into the previous, un-traumatized version of himself, instead of accepting and loving his friend for who he is now, trauma and bitterness and all.

All of S2’s flashbacks play into building up this motivation for Aziraphale. The Job flashback directly addresses it, where Aziraphale confronts Crowley with “I know the angel you were!” And beyond that, it deals with Crowley not being as cruel as he pretends to be, by not hurting Job’s goats or children. Meanwhile, the Edinburgh flashback shows Crowley being kind by saving Elspeth’s life, and the 1941 flashback has Aziraphale ending it with “you could have walked away, and you would have done, if you were truly as evil as you like to paint yourself.” All of which could add up to simply adding more backstory to A&C trusting each other over time…but taken with the Before the Beginning sequence, it also serves to build up Aziraphale’s belief of Crowley’s hidden angel-ness being confirmed over and over.

Which brings us to the Final Fifteen. Metatron makes Aziraphale the surprise offer to become Supreme Archangel, and brings up his close relationship with Crowley, sweetening the deal (and also implicitly threatening them) by offering the chance for Crowley to become reinstated as an angel, and working for Heaven again under Aziraphale. And given the Before the Beginning flashback, which set up Aziraphale’s desire to make Crowley an angel again so he can be happy…taken together with every flashback and present-day scene that shows Aziraphale melting under Crowley’s kindness, cementing his belief that Crowley can be an angel again…is it any wonder he jumps at this offer, and excitedly tells Crowley about it?

I think a lot of us were so shocked and upset about the breakup and the heartbreaking kiss in the Final Fifteen, that it distracted us from looking at Aziraphale’s motivations before the kiss. At least, that’s what happened when I first watched it. But looking back on it now, before I ever saw the kiss (although I had heard it was going to happen in a breaking-up way), I was still as confused as Crowley when I heard Aziraphale say all excited “He said I could appoint you to be an angel! You can come back! To Heaven! And…and everything. Like the old times. Only even nicer!”

Like. What. Didn’t Aziraphale already have this character development last season? Where he learned that Heaven doesn’t give a shit about Earth or humanity? Where he told Heaven that “I have no intention of fighting in any war!” Where he stood up to the Archangel Fucking Gabriel on the tarmac? Where Crowley told him “you don’t have a side anymore, we’re on our own side”, and then went to Hell in Crowley’s place to save his life????

But here he is, suddenly proclaiming that Heaven is the good guys, the side of truth and light???? Like…what? What? I cringe so hard, because it’s such poor writing.

My biggest gripe though, is what I mentioned about Aziraphale’s motivations in S1 being tainted. I could ignore a bad S2 (and I do, for the most part). But tarnishing S1, the season I fell in love with? That feels so much worse. That’s what crosses the line for me.

So that’s why I have erased Season 2 from my own personal Book of Life (which is also another dumb plot device imo, because they had to come up with some kind of personal stakes of what would happen if Aziraphale was caught sheltering amnesiac!Gabriel, so Crowley would agree to help him and keep it secret). It’s also why I’m not very enthusiastic about what S3 has in store, because it will be all about undoing the damage done to Aziraphale’s character arc, and salvaging his and Crowley’s now-broken relationship. The fact that it all has to happen in 90min is also bad, but I felt this way back when it was still going to be 6 full episodes. I’m not at all looking forward to it.

Tl;dr: Season 2 is bad, and damaged a lot of Season 1 retroactively, by making Aziraphale and Crowley meet as angels before Earth. It takes the magic and humanity-helping foundations out of their first meeting in Eden, and changes Aziraphale’s motivations from here’s-a-stranger-who-makes-me-feel-less-alone, to I-can-fix-him-by-making-him-good-again. It’s gross, and I hate it.

#good omens #good omens s2 #good omens s2 critical #i'm still writing good omens fanfic #but i realized that i keep making references to past events that contradict what's established in s2 #so i figured i'd explain my reasons why i disregard s2

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trulyunholy · 1 year ago

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no in-between | part two

matt murdock x reader, college au

notes: 18+, minors please DNI. reader is written as afab, but it's not specifically stated. no use of y/n. word count: 3.6k

part one here

“Shit, shit, shit.”

“What’s going on with you?” Annie asks when she finds you cursing in the hotel lobby.

“No room, apparently,” you tell her through a frustrated sigh. “Online reservation got fucked up and they don’t have any more vacant rooms.”

“Shit, indeed,” Annie says. “What are you gonna do?”

You sigh deeply again and shrug. “Figure something out, I guess.”

“Do you wanna crash with me?” she offers. “I’m staying with Quin too, but-”

“No, no, that’s alright,” you decline quickly. This trip is already stressing you out, and as much as you love Annie and how close the two of you have become over the past few months, staying even a night with her and her girlfriend sounded like hell. “I’ll figure this out. But thanks.”

“Well, let me know if you change your mind,” she says. And then she’s off again, flouncing up the stairs toward her room to do whatever it is she does to get ready for the rest of her day.

You sink down into one of the lobby chairs and bury your face in your hands, allowing yourself a moment of self-pity. But it’s quickly interrupted when someone politely clears their throat next to you.

“Oh, shit, uh, I mean- Dr. Murdock. Hi,” you stutter, a mixture of embarrassment and surprise in your voice.

“I couldn’t help but overhear,” he says politely. “You’re out a room?”

“Yeah,” you say defeatedly. Then, a little too quickly, you add, “But, I mean, it’s not a big deal. I can just, like, sleep in the lobby or something. Maybe they’ll make an exception for me since they screwed up.”

Your attempt at a joke falls flat. But the way he says your name then, followed by a humorless laugh, like you going without a bed was the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard of, well, it tightens something in your chest.

“You aren’t sleeping in the lobby,” he tells you. “And it’s unlikely you’ll find any other hotels nearby with vacancies. Turns out this conference has most places pretty booked up.” Then, only seconds later, he holds a plastic card out toward you. “Just take mine.”

“I, uh-” You laugh uncomfortably, thinking maybe it’s a joke. “I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can,” he tells you, matter-of-factly.

You feel frozen in place. You don’t want to be rude and turn down the more-than-generous offer that Dr. Murdock has no obligation to make, but you can’t possibly accept it. Besides, wouldn’t it be inappropriate? You aren’t sure where the line fell on that, but it feels blurry at best.

“But where would you stay?” you ask solemnly. “If I take your room, I mean, where would you sleep?”

“Don’t worry about me,” he answers, flashing you a smile so hypnotic you couldn’t look away, even if you wanted to. “I’ll figure something out.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” you say, a joking tone contrasting against your racing heart.

“Come on,” he tells you, slipping the door key back in his coat pocket and starting toward the front doors of the hotel. “We can argue about this on the way to the conference.”

The first day of the two-day conference is…uneventful. Okay, it’s boring. But it’s not like you can skip, and you have to admit that several of the presentations did give you solid ideas for your own thesis project. But after several hours of speakers and polite conversations with acquaintances and scholarly strangers alike, you’re ready for the day to be over. As luck would have it, you run into Dr. Murdock in the hotel lobby, both of you arriving at nearly the same time. Unfortunately, he’d won the argument earlier, and you’d agreed to take his room. But now, standing in front of the door to his hotel room, you’re hesitant again.

“I still don’t feel good about this,” you tell him as he holds the key card toward you expectantly. You take it. “But thank you.”

You wait for him to say something, to say goodbye, anything. But he doesn’t. When you don’t say anything either, he clears his throat.

“My, uh- my suitcase is still-”

“Oh, right!” You feel like an idiot. “Sorry.”

You unlock the door and step inside, taking in the room. It looks just like every other hotel room you’ve stayed in, with a decent sized bed and a television perched on top of a chest of drawers. There’s a desk pushed against the wall with an office chair in front of it, and a small couch opposite the bed.

It gives you an idea.

“Okay, this may be strange, but hear me out. What if I sleep on the couch?” you ask before you can think better of it.

He steps in behind you and shuts the door. He doesn’t immediately answer you, so you quickly continue.

“I can sleep on the couch and then you’ll still have a bed! I- I know it’s not ideal. Hell, I know it probably isn’t exactly appropriate. But it won’t be weird, I swear. Or, maybe it will be, but it doesn’t have to be.”

You hate the way you ramble when you’re nervous, and you hate that you’re always doing it in front of Dr. Murdock. His face remains unreadable, so you take a deep breath and start again.

Look, I don’t like the idea of sleeping in the lobby or a broom closet somewhere, but I don’t like the idea of you having to, either. Especially since you’re, y’know…”

“Blind?” he suggests with a smirk.

“Well, yes,” you admit sheepishly, heat rushing to your cheeks. “But there’s a perfectly good couch here, and there’s no reason either of us should go without if we don’t have to.”

Silence again. More than anything, you wish you could just read his mind, know what he’s thinking.

“It really is a win-win right?” you add in as a last-ditch effort to convince him. “I’ll stay on the couch, I’ll stay out of your way. And I’ll be gone first thing in the morning.”

What is wrong with you? This is such a bad idea, and he’s probably going to admonish you, tell you how inappropriate the mere suggestion of it is, that he’s going to have to report this. You’d probably deserve it, too.

“Alright,” he finally says hesitantly, to your surprise. “But you can have the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“What? No-” you begin to protest, but he raises a hand to stop you.

“You can have the bed,” he repeats, slower this time, “and I’ll take the couch.”

It’s not up for discussion, you realize. You nod your head, say okay, and move to put your bag on the bed. As you begin to unpack, you remember another awkward aspect of room-sharing.

“Is, uh, is it alright if I take a shower?”

You aren’t sure why you feel a little embarrassed asking. Taking a shower isn’t anything intimate, and there would be walls and a door with a lock between the two of you. No chance for accidental slip-ups. Still, the thought of him being in the next room while you were in such a vulnerable state, well, it’s enough to send something icy through your body that you know a hot shower won’t wash away.

“All yours,” he says, not turning toward you as he shuffles through his own suitcase.

“Thanks,” you say, hurrying to the bathroom. “Promise I’ll be quick.”

You think he says something else, but it’s lost behind the heavy click of the bathroom door.

You aren’t sure why your heart is racing again as you adjust the knob in the shower, trying to figure out which way to turn the damn thing to get the water to a decent temperature. Well, that’s not quite true. You know exactly why it’s racing. It’s racing because you’re sharing a room with Dr. Murdock. Because he’s only feet away from you as you kick off your uncomfortable heels and slip out of your dress. Because you know that tonight you’re going to see your professor -your kind, helpful, smart, stupidly attractive professor- in a very less than professional setting.

God, what are you doing?

Why did you agree to this? As you step into the shower and struggle to find comfort in the low water pressure, you can’t help but think about how much better sleeping in the lobby or a broom closet or literally anywhere else would be.

Well, maybe not better. But it would avoid a situation that could so easily ruin things. The way it could make these ridiculous and stupid and inappropriate feelings you’ve already formed so much worse. But what else were you supposed to do? It’s the logical choice. And he agreed to it.

But you suggested it.

You push down the thought as you make quick work of washing your hair and ignoring the temptation of easing the uncomfortable pressure building up inside of you. By the time you’re done and dressed in your pajamas, no more than twenty minutes have passed. You aren’t sure you’ve ever gotten ready for bed so quickly in your life.

“All done,” you say cheerfully as you step out of the bathroom, leftover steam rolling out of the door behind you. “Bathroom’s free if you…need it.

“Great,” he says, shooting you a comfortable smile that almost feels forced. Like a mask. One of politeness, of tense togetherness. You wonder if you’re wearing the same one. “I hope you didn’t rush.”

“No, no,” you say with a tense chuckle. “Just, uh, exhausted. Ready for bed.”

He nods, and without another word, he’s gone, the bathroom door closing softly behind him.

You sit on the bed for no more than a minute before you start devising a plan. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on this couch. For one, it’s insanely small, and you’re significantly shorter than he is, so it only makes sense. Also, you can’t, in good conscience, let your professor, your senior, sleep on that tiny couch while you, his student, take up the entire queen sized bed yourself. It just wouldn’t be fair. And since this whole situation was your idea in the first place, you feel you have to get the short stick. You can’t justify this whole thing to yourself otherwise.

So you quickly grab a couple pillows off of the bed and an extra blanket from the closet, and you make yourself as comfortable as possible on the couch, your legs curled closer to your stomach than is strictly comfortable, but you manage. If you can fall asleep here before he gets out of the bathroom, you figure he’ll just let you sleep and take the bed. He couldn’t argue with you that way. Another win in your book.

At first you’re worried that you’ll have a hard time falling asleep. You always have trouble sleeping away from home, away from your own bed with your own pillows and blankets and your little sound machine that you forgot to pack for the trip. But you’re exhausted. From the plane this morning, from the long day, from the hours and hours you spent before the trip preparing for this conference. And as you lay in the dark, listening to the rain against the building and the thunder growing more distant, and as you hear the fall of water as the shower is turned on again, you finally drift off to sleep.

When you wake up, you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the thunder that moved closer while you slept. Maybe it was your full bladder from all of the water you nervously kept drinking to keep your hands busy at the conference hall. Maybe it was just how uncomfortable this damn couch was. Whatever the reason, you’re awake now, and you take the opportunity to get up and stretch and take a quick trip to the bathroom.

You’re careful to be as quiet as you possibly can, even washing your hands under the smallest stream of water you can manage to get out of the sink. But by the time you crack open the bathroom door, you see him in the light that spills out, sitting up in the bed and rubbing his face.

“Shit,” you whisper, even though there’s no real need to whisper. You’re both up now. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry, I tried to be quiet.”

“I’m a light sleeper,” is all he says. His voice, though, doesn’t sound like he was sleeping. It sounds clear, alert. Much different from your still-groggy voice. You wonder if he always wakes up so alert.

“I’m sorry,” you offer again, voice still quiet.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Which makes sense. What is there to say? But you move from the bathroom back toward the couch, and click on the lamp on the coffee table next to you. The room wasn’t huge by any means. But there’s enough distance between the two of you that it doesn’t feel as awkward as you were afraid it would.

What is awkward, though, is the silence. The air is tense while you stand by the coffee table and he sits resting against the headboard, looking completely lost in thought. You take the opportunity to look him over, taking in his slept-in appearance. The comforter is pulled up to his waist, but you admire the light t-shirt he’s wearing, so different from his usual professional attire. You take in his shoulders, his arms, and stare at him in the soft lamp light longer than necessary. You’re completely startled when he finally speaks up.

“Why did you take the couch?’ he asks, his voice soft but his tone serious. “I told you-”

“I couldn’t take the bed,” you start, defensively. “You’re my professor, and my superior, and you’re blind, for god's sake. What kind of person would I be if I let you sleep on this couch when you paid for the room? Especially because that thing is so damn uncomfortable.” You rub your back dramatically as if to prove a point, but a genuine stretch and groan follows.

He goes silent again. You don’t think you've ever seen him so quiet. You aren’t sure if it’s the night, or if it’s the situation, or maybe both. But you would give anything to be in his head right now. To know what he’s thinking, what he’s contemplating, what’s taking up so much of his mind.

“Sleep on the bed,” he says, and there’s no hint of a question in his voice. As if he’s worried that the demand was too harsh, he adds a soft, “Please.”

“You can’t sleep-”

“I won’t sleep on the couch,” he says, beating you to your own tired argument.

“What, are you going to sleep on the floor?” you bite back. You’re tired. It’s late, you couldn’t have been asleep long, it’s still dark outside, and you wish he would just give in and let you win this one.

“No, I-“ he cuts himself short, seeming unsure for just a moment before regaining his composure. “This bed is more than big enough for two people,” he says, voice level. “It’s big enough that two people could sleep on it without…being in each other's way.”

Oh. He’s suggesting…that. He’s actually suggesting that the two of you share a bed.

He wants to share a bed. With you.

No, that’s not right.

With you? No, of course it’s not like that, you tell yourself. He’s just being diplomatic. It’s an easy solution to come to, just like you suggesting the couch. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t mean anything.

But if anyone finds out that you shared a bed with your professor., even if it was nothing like it sounded, well, it could be disastrous. For both of you.

But the bed looks warm, and inviting, and a thousand times better than the scratchy extra blanket and that uncomfortable couch. And he’s right, there’s more than enough room for you to each sleep on one side with plenty of space in the middle. There won’t be any risk of…anything. You stop yourself immediately from thinking about what that anything could be and take a deep breath.

“Only if you’re comfortable with it, of course. I understand that it isn’t exactly appropriate and if you’re uncomfortable, forget I even suggested it. But…” He lets the word linger in the air, and it’s so full of possibilities, of actions and consequences and everything in between, and your chest starts to feel tight again. “It’s a win-win. Right?”

“What if someone finds out?”

The question is out of your mouth before you even realize what you’re saying, and you wish you could take it back. It makes it sound like you’re insinuating that something could happen, when that isn’t a possibility at all, of course it isn’t, because he’s professional and smart and kind, and you’re…well, you.

Luckily he doesn’t give you much time to spiral.

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

You know it’s meant as a joke, as a tongue-in-cheek, let’s make light of an awkward situation, kind of thing. But…maybe it’s the hushed tone he’s still speaking, or the soft yellow light casting shadows in just the right way, or his soft t-shirt and his disheveled hair and his arms and my god those arms.

It’s almost like he notices your reaction; maybe he hears the way your breath catches, or maybe your heart is beating so loudly he could hear it out of your chest and across the room. It sure as hell feels like it’s pounding loud and fast enough for that to be possible. But he tenses up too, just a bit. Just enough to be noticeable under your admiringly sharp stare.

“We both need the rest,” he adds, voice much calmer than his appearance would suggest. It sounds practiced, measured. “You won’t get any rest on that couch, and I won’t be able to sleep knowing that you’re miserable on it. Besides, I’ll be gone before you wake up.”

It’s meant to reassure you. Or maybe to throw your words back at you to lighten the mood, to try to show that things aren’t as tense as they clearly were. But you swallow it down and force a pathetic smile onto your face and into your voice.

“There’s enough pillows here to make a barrier between us,” you say, trying out a joke to lighten things on your end, too. He chuckles and shakes his head and the tension does melt away a little. “I am exhausted. And you’re right, I won’t get any sleep on that poor excuse for a couch,” you say. “Just…as long as you’re sure it’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” he says, and, almost immediately, throws the comforter back, settles himself back in bed, and turns to his side to face the wall. To face away from you.

Without another word, you flip the lamp off and carefully make your way to the bed. You go slowly to avoid tripping or hitting your foot like you’re prone to do, but also to delay the inevitable disappointment that being so close to him will undoubtedly bring. Once you get into the bed though, you swear it’s the most comfortable bed you’ve ever laid in, and the sheets are so warm. And the rain hitting rhythmically against the window reminds you of your sound machine that you left at home, and your exhaustion washes over you and weighs down your eyelids once more.

“Thank you,” you mumble a few moments later before drifting off.

When you open your eyes, the room is flooded with gray morning light. The rain stopped overnight but you can tell from your view through the window that it could start up again at any moment. You’re so warm under the thick comforter and the thought of having to get up makes you groan out loud. You have to admit, you haven’t slept this well in a long time. As the sleep dissipates from your brain, you remember where you are and the situation that transpired the night before. You feel a coil of anticipation growing tight in your stomach, but when you turn around and shuffle to sit up, you see the bed is empty.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. He told you he’d be gone by the time you woke up. So why does disappointment grow in your stomach and snake through your veins? You pull the comforter up across your chest and grant yourself a few seconds to sit in that disappointment. Would it have been worse if he had been there when you woke up? Would what seemed so simple in the soft lamp light last night be more complex, more uncomfortable in the gray light of the overcast morning? You aren’t sure.

But you don’t have much time to think about it now anyway. You have to get up and get ready for the busy day ahead of you. With one more stretch and a deep breath that leaves you ignoring the fact that the sheets smell like him, you force yourself out of bed and toward the bathroom.

You wonder if you’ll find any evidence of his daily life in the hotel bathroom, toothpaste or body wash maybe. You can’t help but think about what his domestic life is like. What it could look like and where you could fit into it. Would you ever be able to fit into the life of a man like him?

No. Of course you couldn’t. And you should really stop thinking about things like that, you tell yourself.

The bathroom is totally clean, stocked with fresh towels and all. You tell yourself that the feeling tugging at your stomach again is nothing more than a need to eat breakfast.

#matt murdock reader insert #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil fanfic #matt murdock #college au #reader insert #x reader #professor!matt murdock #student!reader #professor x student #matt murdock x f!reader

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tgmsunmontue · 1 year ago

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Jake's Cakes

Hangster AU MeetCute. 2k. (Teen for swearing but more General). Complete. Iceman has tasked Bradley with organising Maverick's 60th birthday cake. This goes as planned until Mav decides to be a gremlin.

He’s filled in an online form and gotten confirmation that they can make a cake for his time frame, and he’s not sure when ordering some baked goods required such a procedure. He’s pretty sure his mom always just bought his cakes from the grocery store. But it’s Mav’s sixtieth, his first significant birthday since they started patching their broken relationship a few years ago. Ice has asked him to organize a cake, enough for a hundred people, and okay, that seems extravagant but Ice is the one planning the party and he feels like he’s in his bad books, so he’ll do as Ice asks.

There’s a bell attached to the door and it jingles as he pushes it open and he looks around the store called Jake’s Cakes. It’s crisp and clean, sparkling glass display cabinet showing a selection of carefully decorated cupcakes, some cookies and slices, all looking delicious, which is what the reviews had said, and he hopes like hell they were real ones. He doesn’t want to screw this up.

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, I have an appointment?”

“Bradley?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Great. I’ll let Jake know you’re here. He won’t be very far away. We have an album if you’d like to look at pictures and get some ideas.”

He expects an actual physical album, but instead it’s a tablet and he can flip through the pictures with a swipe of his finger and he feels more confident with his choice of bakery. There’re lots of photos and also photos and even short video of the cakes in-progress, and it’s pretty damned cool seeing the time and skill that goes into making and decorating, but also knowing that he’s chosen a place that takes care to show that to the customers as well.

Then a guy is walking toward him, wearing chef whites that have a colorful trim, maybe a cupcake pattern? He’s taller, younger than Bradley expected, also a lot more male than he was expecting, which he realizes is incredibly sexist of him. He’s grinning, pulling off disposable gloves and holding his hand out to shake and Bradley takes it.

“Hi. Bradley Bradshaw?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

“Hi. I’m Jake. So, how can I help you?”

“Uh, hi, I need to order a cake for a birthday party?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s generally why most people make appointments with me. You have an idea on flavor and how many people you’re wanting to feed?”

“Yeah, about one hundred people, and his favorite flavor is vanilla.”

“Boyfriend?”

Bradley pulls a face.

“No. Godfather. It’s his 60th. But you can’t refer to his age on the cake, he’ll kill me and they won’t find my body.”

The guy lets his eyes sweep down the length of Bradley’s body and then back up and he feels himself flush. He’s not used to guys checking him out so blatantly. The Navy might have moved a little with the times, but that is not something he’s ever encountered outside of a nightclub.

“That would be a shame.”

“Uh.”

“Back to the cake… What were you thinking in terms of decorations and frosting? Any hard no’s or flavor profiles?”

“He likes lemon. He’s pretty boring when it comes to cake flavors actually,” Bradley realizes, and it actually makes a nice change to have something that is just simple when it comes to Mav. Not the complicated mess that has been their relationship in the past.

“We can afford to have a few flavors if we’re feeding one hundred. Maybe a classic chocolate mudcake for those that don’t like vanilla?”

“Yeah, sure. You’re the expert.”

“So, what’s he into? Do we have a theme for the party or something I can use to guide me for decorating?”

“Uh, there isn’t a theme I don’t think. Let me check. He’s a naval aviator.”

“Does it run in the family?”

“What?”

“Being a naval aviator?”

Bradley shrugs.

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

“Okay, so long serving naval aviator and obviously proud of it. Does he have a call sign?”

“Yeah. Maverick.”

“Okay. that’s a cool callsign, I was hoping for something a bit goofy, like Possum or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint?”

“Oh, there is nothing disappointing about you…”

Bradley flushes again, not sure how to flirt back in the face of such brazen interest. He’s used to far more subtle approaches, but he doesn’t want to make the guy think he’s not interested.

“He fixes up motorbikes, and planes. His favorites are a P51 Mustang plane and a Kawasaki-Ninja bike… he loves flying. A lot. More than anything else probably.”

“Is it the sky or the speed?”

“Uh, the speed probably. He’s a bit of a daredevil.”

“Okay. I’ve got some ideas. You want me to sketch them up and send them to you, or do you trust me?”

“Just tell me what you’re thinking…” Jake just raises an eyebrow at him, and Jesus fuck, does the man never stop flirting? “About the cake?”

Jake grins, his eyes crinkling like he knows he’s flustering him and he’s taking a lot of pleasure in it.

“Three tier on a large board, using fondant because then I can paint it. One half of the board is a road in the desert, with the bike, the other half of the board an ocean with a carrier and then the cake itself painted like the sky but have a whole bunch of silhouettes of planes and then a model of the P51 at the top. That’s what I’m thinking. For the cake.”

“Sounds good,” Bradley manages to croak out.

… … …

After paying the deposit and organizing pickup for a couple of weeks’ time he somehow leaves without a date, or even the guys number; he’s never felt so mentally undressed while remaining fully clothed. Maybe it was just flirting and he’s that out of practice.

… … …

Pete looks at the cake and it’s gorgeous, clearly made with him in mind and he’s glad he’s managed to see it without an audience, because he feels a little emotional looking at it. He definitely wants to try it, even though it’s one of those pieces of almost art which some people feel bad about cutting up. He doesn’t, cake is made to be eaten. He pulls out his phone and snaps a few pictures, then decides a video is necessary to capture the proper amount of details, the little white tips on the waves as the carrier breaks through the water, the planes in the sky, and he can identify the different types and he’s really impressed.

It is making him quite hungry though, but he can’t cut a slice, Tom and Bradley would both kill him and be each other’s alibi… He spies a little box, sealed with the sticker of what must be the bakery and his eyes light up, opening it easily. He’d expected maybe a slice of cake, instead there’s three cookies… They’re heart shaped, like the conversation heart candy you get around Valentine’s Day. Except he knows Tom had asked Bradley to organize the cake.

Call me.

Hot stuff.

And there, finally, on the last cookie is a phone number and Pete laughs, because clearly Bradley made an impression himself. He quickly snaps a picture of all of them and sends them to Tom along with the message ‘why do you not get me cookies like this?’ because these are giving him the ability to wind up both Bradley and Tom at the same time, which is a rare and unusual treat. Just like these cookies.

He takes the Hot stuff biscuit and takes a bite, and it’s tangy with lemon, not sickly-sweet like he was expecting and he finishes it off, ponders whether they’re all the same flavor. Taking another photo to make sure he has the number in full he reaches for the Call me cookie and mmm, yeah, raspberry. He deliberately breaks a few crumbs off and scatters them in the box, eyes the last cookie and decides that Bradley’s wrath is worth it. If he ends up dating the baker then he’ll have an endless supply of cookies. The cookie with the phone number on it is passionfruit flavored and he’s impressed that none of them have crossed the line into sickly sweet. He could have a fourth one, if there was one. Instead he looks at the photos he’s taken, takes another of the empty box with nothing but crumbs. He then sends two pictures, captioned with Before and After… making sure the number is not completely visible. Cookies were delicious. Thanks. Think the bakery person wants to ask you out.

… … …

Jake hasn’t read a person that wrong in a while, the message he’d received yesterday a little surprising. Normally when he flirts with people who are in a relationship they’re quick to let him know, rather than act adorably flustered and like they’ve never been flirted with before. He’d been pretty sure Bradley had been into him, but he shrugs, plenty of other fish in the sea and birds in the sky. He hears the bell ring from the door opening and heads out, the only one not yet elbow deep in baking or decorating, although when he sees Bradley standing at the counter he wants to do an abrupt one-eighty.

“Morning. How can I help? Was everything okay with the cake?” Jake asks, smoothly professional.

“Yeah, it was great. It looked amazing and tasted great. Uh. Thanks. I was just wondering…”

Jake frowns, wonders if the guy is going to ask him out.

“I was just wondering if you��d be interested in a date?”

“Your husband let me know in no uncertain terms that you are not available.”

“What?”

“I’m not married.”

“Well, this guy seems to think the opposite,” Jake says, pulling up the message from the number, sliding his phone across the counter, offering it to Bradley to pick it up.

… … …

>>The person you gave those cookies to is happily married. While I agree that he is hot stuff, he will not be calling you, he’s mine.

Bradley frowns, looks at the number and doesn’t immediately recognize it but he’s got an inkling… He pulls out his own phone, starts typing in the number and within five digits it’s showing Ice’s contact information.

Of fucking course.

He groans.

“Find your husband?”

“Not my husband. My godfather’s husband. My Uncle Ice,” Bradley says, slides both phones back across to Jake to show the matching number. “Mav took the cookies, ate them and sent me a message with a photo of the crumbs. And a before photo, but he didn’t show your whole number, but I, uh, got the message.”

“Oh…” Jake’s grin is slow, but it’s there and it warms Bradley from inside-out.

“Ice obviously got a photo with your whole number… And I didn’t need your number, I know where you work.”

“Yeah, but I was asking you out.”

“And I’m here to say yes. Well, assuming you’re not scared off by my apparently very possessive Uncle, who I swear won’t have a problem with you as long as you’re not trying to actually ask Mav out, then… yeah. Let’s go out.”

“I finish at three.”

“Three. See you then.”

“Look forward to it.”

#Hangster #Sereshaw #rooster x hangman #top gun maverick #IceMav

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m4iya · 4 months ago

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ᝰ.ᐟ✮⋆˙ Matchup #8 @rinaland˙⋆✮ᐟ.ᝰ

Hello! Once more I’m trying to regain motivation for writing! That might be the reason why these have been coming out so slowly… lol

After a while, deciding and ‘analysing’ I’ve decided to match you to Oikawa Tohru!

Let’s begin with the hobbies c: I don’t think we know a lot about his hobbies in specific (other than volleyball obv) but he seems like the type to play video games in his free time, or just do random things in general. I think the two of you might play video games together, linking with each other in games and playing over call, or in person. Maybe something cozy, or an RPG or maybe even a shooter game where the two of you are in a call and he gets mad, insisting the people are ‘hacking’. He’d either suddenly go quiet and stop speaking out of annoyance, or become so frustrated that he yells at the console. He might even mutter the occasional “Ppft, whatever. I’d probably beat them in volleyball anyways.”

In a similar fashion, I can see the two of you wearing matching jewellery; something you made or something he bought. Maybe even matching lock screens, or his would be a candid photo of you.

Since you mentioned keeping your interests to yourself until you get close to someone, I think he’d be the type to find someone like you pretty interesting. At times, he's either an open book, or super hard to read, so if he met someone like you, who (I might be wrong here, ignore if me if I am) is quiet and reserved yet still polite, open up and become flowery, beaming with a bunch of different interests and hobbies, might really keep his attention focused on you.

One thing we (kinda) do know about Oikawa is the way he struggles with his perception of himself and his skills. He might find solace in venting his worries to you, noticing how you listen and provide an environment that makes it easy for someone to feel understood.

He might tell you something, worrying and expecting to be scolded, but get the exact opposite. Maintaining a level-headed perspective on his issues, you might point out his wrongs but in a way that’s easier to digest than a lecturing session. To listen, but not be ready to attack at any moment. Because of that, I can see him being the type to ring you up at random times of the day, (mainly late night) and tell you about his day even when he had no issues or complaints.

He’d ring you just when you were about to sleep, whining that the bread shop near his house was all out of his favourite milk bread.

“…and get this, I had to get red bean bread instead.”

“Couldn’t this have waited until tomorrow?”

“Nope, I felt like you should know right now.”

Soon, it turned from venting worries to sharing the smallest details about his day. You’d smile and listen, and he’d feel understood.

Here is a short story I wrote regarding outfits, gift giving and what not:

At last, he was free from practice for at least a day and you were able to spend some time together. Even if all the two of you were doing was laying on his bed, chatting and watching videos.

“This is so cute, isn’t it?” Turning the screen towards him, he squints.

“I mean, it’s okay.” His attention shifts back to his phone as he scrolls through training videos.

“I’m gonna check it out.” Pressing a link which led to the website, you search for where the store is located “It’s close by, wanna come?”

“Can’t we just stay here?” He groans.

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

Slipping your shoes on, you step outside his house. Joining you after closing the door, the two of you walk there with your arms linked. On the way there, he stops by a juice bar, buying something for the both of you to drink. Even though he placed the order, after trying yours he repeatedly hinted at ‘how much nicer it was than his’ until you gave in and swapped your drink with his.

Once you reached the store, you began browsing, looking for the dress you saw online. Once you found it, you took it along with a few other things to a changing room to try on. Instructing him to wait on a seat nearby, you told him that he’d be the judge. With a sigh, he gave in, assuring you that he’d ‘do his job properly’

Outfits upon outfits, he’d give you ratings. Not on how you looked, but on how the outfit itself looked. After a while, he tapped on the door and told you that he’d be right back, and to wait for him before trying on the next outfit.

A few minutes passed, and another knock sounded on your door. Cracking the door open, you peeked your head through. In his hand was a satin, pearly light pink dress. The hem flowed down to the floor, and it adorned an asymmetric, one collar design with a pleated bottom.

“I thought you weren’t really into this.”

“Well, I did say I’d do my job properly.” He smugly replied. Taking the dress from his hand, you slipped it on with ease. Looks like he knew your size pretty well. Maybe all these shopping trips eventually paid off..

The changing room had spare heels situated near the mirror, so you used them to boost your height so that the dress didn’t drag behind you.

Stepping outside, you held the side of the skirt with a hand, flourishing the dress design.

“What do you think?” Truth be told, you loved it. The way it hugged your waist, but wasn't too tight, and the elegant feel of it made you wonder how you hadn’t noticed it on the clothing racks before.

“Well..” He tapped his chin in thought. “The dress is.. alright.”

Crossing your arms, you shot him a glare. “Hey, I’m not done yet!” He chuckled, throwing his hands up in defence.

“The dress is alright, sure, but it looks better with you in it.”

Ignoring the warmth flushing your cheeks, you gushed. “Oh, come on!”

“I’m being serious! Like, it went from a 5 to a 10.”

“I take it you’ll be paying then?”

“Sure, sure.” He sighed. He secretly didn’t mind spoiling you from time to time.

The two of you left the store with the dress as well as the outfit you saw earlier on your phone. Though, he made you to promise to wear that specific dress the next time the two of you went to dinner together.

The pink dress is kind of what i was trying to describe. The rest of the pics are things I imagined as the aesthetic!

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foxghost · 2 months ago

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Hi Foxghost! First, I’d like to say that I hope you are doing well these days, and also thank you for the work you did for Joyful Reunion; you gave me the ability to discover a novel that soon became one of my favourites. I’m not too sure you’ll be able to answer this given your pinned, but I will give it a shot anyway. A lot of people seem to not be open minded to the new translation and act as if you were slighted, are you able to speak on your own feelings in regard to those assumptions?

I wasn’t able to fit this in with my previous question, so I’d also like to add that I’m very much open to the new translation and think there’s nothing wrong with something being interpreted through a new lens! I will be reading the official translations you are signed on for as well and look forward to them. Much luck to you.

Hi anon! I'm doing much better these days -- I'm in a wonderful new relationship, have an abundance of work I enjoy, a cat, my kidlet, and a freezer full of dim sum. This is such an improvement from just over 1 year ago.

As for your other question -- let's start with this: I don't have any social media. If it wasn't for my Tumblr, I'm not very online at all. Which means that aside from those who read my fan-tl or know me from the Dragon Age fandom, I'm an invisible entity on the internet -- this is intentional, as I wanted to NOT BE STALKED ONE DAY BY EX. So when initial decisions were made about the JR project, I was not involved because nobody knew about me. It was also right around the time I was leaving abusive ex, finding a place for me and my cat and my kidlet, and I was turning my life upside down in a good way, but it was still quite upside down and I barely had time for my ONE contract.

I never felt slighted by this -- I think it is my place as a fan translator to get the work known to the world, and maybe I might have felt bad about it for a little while if I had to take it down as soon as I finished it, but it was already up for a year and a half. The only annoyance I felt at having to take it down was entirely due to Tumblr's lack of mass-editing capabilities. (I had to do it one file a time)

And as for the now: I'm very much involved in the JR project now, and as someone who've read book 1 and went through it with a fine-toothed comb, I can tell you that the current translation is excellent and I endorse it 100%. It retains that feeling of majestic landscapes, that hallmark of FTYX writing where you can see every scene. I can perfectly understand how some might think it "won't be the same", and no, it won't be the same. A fan translation allows a translator to do things that you cannot get away with in a localization, but ultimately what matters is how it makes you feel in the end. The new translation will still make you cry buckets. (I hope it hurts you as much as it hurts me)

Thank you for saying you'll read my future work! :3 I still can't believe that I get to work on this classic sometimes.

And if anyone else still want to read my translations, preorder The Wife Comes First or Three Hundred Years of Longing! The quality and amount of FOOD we're going to be serving over here is amazing.

#fox text #joyful reunion related #kinda #i'm not joking about the food #we're going to be so well fed

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 1 year ago

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Sometimes Your Soul Family Is The Only Family You Need - Part 1

Marvel AU

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader x Steve Rogers

Summary: 18 months ago you were a mess but with the help of your close friends you start to rebuild your life. Your soul friendships maybe chaotic but they're your family, just as you're theirs. With one of them about to have a baby, you and your misfit friends are here to visit. But will you stay? And what will the small town think of you having two soulmates and why do you keep finding yourself in the same place as a bunch of hot bikers.

"Sometimes families are assholes, sometimes your soul connections mean far more than family ever can. Sometimes your soul family is the only family you need." - Nurse Maggie

Chapter Warning: Premature labour mentioned, brief mention of sexual harassment in the workplace.

Chapter Summary: We meet our reader and one of her soul friends. Does she need a bat?

Message Received Daniel Are you on your way yet? I think she might be calmer if she knew you were at least on route.

Daniel, soulmate to one of your best friends, had woken you this morning with a frantic phone call. Annemarie, one of your soul friends was in labour, but it was too early for baby to make an appearance and you and your other best and soul friend, Ryan, were her other birthing partners and were now in a race to get there.

You were all in. You’d taken classes, baby first aid, read books and had your bag packed for weeks already just in case. You were going to be a godmother and this was serious shit. Ryan had watched most of the online labour classes from behind a pillow like he was watching a Blumhouse horror.

You sent a quick reply to Daniel.

I’m just waiting for Ry, I’m going to start beeping the horn in a minute.

Ryan often kept you waiting. Always a change of outfit or something he’d forgotten. He hated the impatient beeping.

You leaned your head back against the head rest and let out a yawn. Not the best start when you had a 6 hour drive ahead of you.

You were startled by the ringing of your phone coming through the hands free, Ryan calling displayed on the dashboard.

“Why are you calling me? Hurry up, Annemarie is freaking out that we aren’t on the way yet.”

“Start the car and get ready to floor it?”

“What? Why?”

Your attention was caught by a familiar figure entering the stairwell that you could see from where you were parked.

"Why are you running?"

“They wouldn’t let me leave!”

“What do you mean they wouldn’t let you leave? This was all agreed! You’re owed the time!”

“I know! But she’s not here!”

By she, Ryan meant his boss, Jo, who also happened to be your old boss. You’d both sweet talked her into letting him have the leave when the baby was on the way. Short notice leave was never agreed to but Ryan had gone in early and stayed late, covering for others and helping out as much as possible. Being the life and soul of the office and covering for others so they could leave for their kids or appointments meant his colleagues had also been ok with it too. You and Jo were good friends and had stayed in touch after you’d left. She’d been a huge support to you since your almost (it probably was) breakdown post breakup, so you’d thrown in some babysitting for her adorable twin boys and a deal was made. But Jo and her adorable kids, and her soulmate husband were currently sunning themselves somewhere exotic. That’s management earnings for you.

“Brian is pissed off, I may have told him to go fuck himself when he said he wouldn’t let me leave and he’d sack me if I did.”

It was then you spotted Brian at the top of the stairwell in pursuit or Ryan.

“He’s following you. I’m getting the bat.”

“Alright Harley Quinn calm the fuck down.”

“You’re the one who said he wouldn’t let you leave.”

“Yeah well he can go fuck himself.”

“Wait why do you have a box? Are you stealing? Am I an accessory? I’m getting the bat.”

“Just start the car!”

You started the car and put your seatbelt on. The fire exit flew open as Ryan dashed through it, jacket a mess, backpack half on and the box still in his arms, Brian and now a security guard on his heals.

Ryan practically threw himself into your car, partly falling onto you in the process.

“Go, go, go”

“Why do I feel like there’s more to this?”

“Go!!!”

You spotted Brian nearing the car and put your foot on the accelerator.

A mile down the road with Ryan still squished in the passenger seat you’d pulled over to sort out your chaotic friend. You placed the box in the backseat, along with his backpack, spotting he’d stole the office plant, as Ryan took off his jacket and stretched like a cat. You smirked at him.

“What?”

“What the fuck was that? And you stole the plant!”

“He’s an asshole!”

“Oh I know, my ass still lives in fear of his grabby hands!”

“Exactly!! I may have brought that up, along with a few other things.”

“So are you fired?”

“Possibly.”

You pulled him into a hug.

“Proud of you.”

He laughed into your shoulder. You were always proud of each other in weird ways.

“The ten years ago Ryan would never.”

“Well I learnt my dramatics from the best?”

You gasped in mock horror.

“Meeeeee, no you meant Darcy right? Or Wanda? It was Wanda, wasn’t it?”

“Really? Wanda is the least dramatic of us all!“

“She set fire to her ex boyfriend’s clothes and got us to dance round it in our underwear.”

“Oh I miss that little witch.”

“Speaking of the little witch. You’re on phone duty, get those two on a group call but call Annemarie first. She’s in a state and we need to move our arses. Then call the lady re the Airbnb.” You replied, moving back to the drivers seat.

Ryan slipped on his sunglasses and leaned against the car. You pressed the horn hard.

“Hey unemployed, get in the car!!”

He startled and got in.

“Asshole.”

“I learnt from the best” you said pulling on your own sunglasses and turning on the radio.

“I love it when you’re assertive!” He replied as you snorted with laughter.

You were half a mile down the road when Ryan spoke up again, as he looked for his phone.

“I wonder if we’ll see any hot bikers this time.”

#avengers au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel au #soulmates #soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky barnes #avengers biker au #biker au

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realityshiftwithkassie · 2 months ago

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Heyyy Huns!!!

Introduction-

My names Kassie, I’ve been shifting since 2019/2020. I am also into Wicca and different types of divination. Some of my DRs include Supernatural, Hogwarts, Percy Jackson, Stranger Things, Deadly Class, Group Shifting Waiting Room, and Devil’s Night! I first discovered shifting through a friend in 2019 and in 2020 I was victim to 2020 shifttok😔. I stopped shifting in 2021 and started again in January of 2024. Since starting again I have successfully shifted an unknown amount to soooo many parallels! I have mini-shifted (all senses but sight) to my Devil’s Night DR TWICE!!!! I LOVE teaching people about shifting and giving all of my insight! I have done HOURS upon HOURS of research and love topics even remotely similar to shifting. This blog will mainly be about my experiences and where I will log my experiences from here on out as well as some past experiences! Although, I also want to make shifting easier for others and will make shifting information posts as well.

Check out my groups shifting podcast-

YT-Shifting Police

TikTok-@shiftingpolice222

Disclaimer: CHECK YOUR SOURCES AND DO YOUR OWN RESEARCH!!! YOU DON’T KNOW IF WHAT OTHER PEOPLE ARE SAYING IS FACTUAL!!! DO YOUR RESEARCH!! I will have people you can search online and on YouTube that are professionals and have studied this their WHOLE LIVES! I understand it can be hard to know where to get information and other things on this topic. All I have to say is DON’T IMMEDIATELY BELIEVE EVERYONE ONLINE!! Thank you! 🩷

Disclaimer: My name in this reality is NOT Kassie, I use Kassie for my socials names because it’s the name I go by in EVERY other reality!!

What is shifting?

I’m gonna be real. I hate the word “shifting” now. It’s true. Sue me. Shifting was just recently renamed to shifting back in 2020. It has had many other names. I personally use “shifting” a lot just because it is so widely known as that now. In my beginning years I referred to it as Quantum Jumping. It may be easier to find information on shifting by using its old names similar to Quantum Jumping. Anywaaayyyys. Shifting is, at its base, a change in your awareness's place. Think of it like a book with dual perspectives. When reading the boys perspective you are getting his emotions and what his life is like from his perspective and then, by the turn of a page, you're reading the girls emotions and what her life is like from her perspective. This is how I think of shifting. It’s simple and easy to explain in that way. Unlike shifting as a whole. Shifting as a concept is confusing but shifting as an action is easily acquire-able with the correct materials. Now shifting isn’t always easy. It isn’t always hard though either. Some people shift first try and others it takes years. Although, in my belief your always shifting. And I’m not saying “every decision you make is you shifting” cause let's be real that isn’t helping anyone. I’ve heard that maybe a MILLION times and have always thought it to be so insignificant. Though, that’s neither here nor there. I will go farther into beliefs later on.

Why do I shift?

Everyone has a core reason they started shifting and continued even if they weren’t successful. For example, I STARTED shifting because a friend introduced it to me. I CONTINUED shifting, even though I wasn’t very successful in my beginning years, because I’m always down to try something new and prove someone wrong. Even if that person ends up being myself. I would love to hear your stories and tips and ideas!

Lots of Love ❤️

Resources-

Robert Bosnak- He is on YouTube and TikTok

I will have more resources later on, however Robert is the only one I mentioned in this post!

Recommendations-

CarlyShifts111-She has fantastic subliminals and has a really helpful TikTok page

Alunir-Great guided meditations

#shifting community #shifting #reality shifting #quantum jumping #meditation #shifting tips #shifting motivation #podcast #supernatural #devils night #percy jackson #stranger things #waiting room #desired realities #shifting help #deadly class #shifting to hogwarts

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pensat-i-fet · 2 years ago

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Finding the perfect gift (Rúben Dias x Reader)

**Not much to say about this one, just a cute little request 😊 enjoy!! ❤️**

Word count: 1266

Masterlist

Wattpad

The news of Ines' pregnancy had made everyone happy, of course. But Rúben was probably the happiest of all of Bernardo's teammates. You could tell by the way he beamed whenever Ines called him Uncle Rúben and found it adorable. He was ready to spoil that baby as much as possible.

"We are invited to the baby shower", he announced one day when he came back from training.

"I would be more surprised if we weren't", you laughed. "When is it?"

"Next week. And I need to buy a present".

"Sure. I have a couple of things saved on my Amazon wishlist that we can order".

"But that would be your present. I have to get one that's mine".

That made you raise an eyebrow. "Pretty sure that, as a couple, we can get away with something that is from the both of us. You know, like we do for birthdays, Christmas, …".

"Yes, but it's Bernardo. Not a random teammate. So I want to make a bigger effort".

"Alright. I know what I'm ordering so go ahead and get something on your own".

He thought it would be so easy. It was just a baby, right? And his friends would appreciate anything he got for their child but…he just couldn’t find the right gift, at all.

“Can I see your Amazon account for a second?”, he asked you one day when he saw you ordering something.

“What for?”

“I ordered something from it once and I need to check one thing quickly if you don’t mind”.

“Sure”, you said, not thinking much about it. “Let me finish the order”.

When you were done, you passed the iPad to him, still logged into your account and he went to your wishlist right away but…there were no baby things! Your order history showed the clothes and toys you had bought for baby Silva but all the other things you were supposed to have saved on your wishlist were gone. You and your being an organization freak. It wasn’t the best time for that.

Rúben realised his mistake was probably wanting to buy the gift online. He couldn’t see the sizes or colours well so better to go to a shop. But once he was there, he was overwhelmed. One of the ladies who worked there tried to help him by showing him half the store but most of it just seemed like things the baby was probably going to get from everyone or just useless stuff.

When he got home that day, you were on the sofa reading a book and didn’t have time to say hello to him before he sat down dramatically.

“What’s that face for?”

"I give up", he said, placing his head on your stomach.

"You are giving football up? Come on, you are not that bad".

“The gift”, he said, voice muffled by the jumper you were wearing.

“What gift?”

“The baby’s”.

“You still don’t have one? Rúben, the baby shower is in two days. Just put your name on the cards I got for what I bought. It’ll be fine”.

He looked up at you, still not willing to give up.

“Maybe if we knew the sex of the baby, it’d be easier. It’s the parent’s fault”.

“Don’t be so old-fashioned, Rúben. Toys and colours are unisex”.

He groaned, hiding his face on your stomach again.

“Are you ready to ask for my help now?”, you said, trying not to laugh.

“I’m ready to beg for your help”.

“I quite like the idea of you begging”.

“Can we go to the shop now? Please?”

“Sure, there is one near, around the…”.

“Not that one”, he said, making you frown. “I was there now and I don’t want to embarrass myself more”.

After a 20-minute drive, since the baby shop near your place was now off-limits, you got to the one in a shopping centre.

"Ok, did you have any ideas of what you wanted to get? There are toys, clothes, things for the nursery, for their travel bag, …".

"Why are babies so complicated?"

You bit your lip trying not to laugh at his little tantrum. It was weird to see Rúben not in control of the situation. And it was very amusing too.

"Hi, can I help you?"

He turned hearing the voice of the shop assistant ready to reject her help but you interrupted.

"Yes, thank you. We needed a few things for a newborn".

"Oh, congratulations! You aren't even showing, when are you due?"

Rúben's pale face made you laugh. You couldn't help it.

"I'm not pregnant. It's for a friend. Her baby shower is in a few days and we wanted to get something cute for her baby".

"Of course, sorry. But you would make gorgeous babies. Just saying".

Rúben was now looking pensive.

"She isn't wrong".

"But babies are so complicated", you mocked him.

You put your hands on his shoulders to move him lower and kiss his frown before leading him to follow the shopping assistant that was ready to show you all the things you could buy and then some.

"This is one of our best baby bags. It has space for the diapers, the bottles and all that, but also an area for things the parents might want to carry. So there is no need for handbags or anything else".

"It's lovely", you said. "It almost looks like a normal handbag".

"She probably has one already", said Rúben, annoyed at how basic all the options were.

"Well, they'll be traveling a lot so it's good to have more than one".

He sighed and you took that as a sign to look for something else.

"Rúben, you don't like anything", you whispered to him and noticed his defeated face. "Thank you for your help. We'll think about all the options and come back for something".

"I just…I just want to do something original".

"How about you make your own gift?"

"How?"

"Well, there are all these new things like scrapbooks to write down all the first things the baby does. Or boxes to keep stuff to remember the pregnancy or whatever. I don't know. It was never good at arts and crafts so I went for something basic but useful", you said, shrugging.

Rúben's response was to grab your hand and lead you to another shop…an arts and crafts shop?

"You are always so literal", you laughed. But he finally had an idea. And you could tell how much his mood had improved.

Half an hour later, you left the shop with several bags full of boxes, pencils and other materials he needed for his gift.

And when you got home, it was time to get it all ready. You helped him, picking the colours that looked the cutest together and recommending what each little box could be for. Rúben used that time to teach you more Portuguese words, which he always loved doing.

"Done", he said, looking proud.

"Uncles trying to find the perfect gift for their nephews are so complicated".

When you got to the baby shower, you left Rúben alone so you could join Ines and her family.

"Hey, can you take my gift somewhere else?", he asked Bernardo.

"Why? Just put it with the others".

"It's…fragile".

"What did you get?"

"I didn't get it, I made it".

Bernardo smiled at his friend, not surprised at all.

"That's the most Rúben thing I could imagine. Let me take it to our room. Ines and I will open it together later. I'm sure it'll be the best gift our baby got today".

#ruben dias #ruben dias one shot #ruben dias imagine #ruben dias fluff #footballer fluff #footballer imagine #footballer one shot

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prussiasqueen · 1 year ago

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Hey genuine question: how can someone be both pro-Israel and pro-Palestine? I understand you have family and friends in Israel but how can you be both when Israel has been

-using white phosphorus bombs

-targeting Palestinian journalists for reporting the truth

-shooting children (even BABIES) in the head

-refuse hostage negotiations

-basically running concentration camps and torturing Palestinian civilians

And a bunch of other war criminal shit that even South Africa has recognized

People criticizing Israel and wanting them to give back the land to Palestine is not antisemitism. Yes, there are people who take it too far but historically, Israel is a settler nation and Palestine should get the land back. No sane person is saying they want Jewish people dead/not have a place to go. There are Jewish people in Palestine, it was never about wanting Jewish people dead, it’s about freedom and ending the occupation.

I apologize for the lengthy rant, I just want to help educate people on this matter.

Ok so I’m gonna keep this simple as I can anon, not because I don’t think your questions aren’t important… but it sounds like to me you may need to actually sit down and talk to some Israeli people and get the full scoop and idea of what’s happening on BOTH sides. Can’t really rely too much on listening to just one side, because ya know… propaganda and how the media twists so much.

As stated a lot of what you are saying sounds like a bunch of propaganda and rinse and repeat of the same things being said over and over again.

Truth of the matter is, you’re not seeing beyond October 7th, you’re not seeing what’s been going on beyond 1948, a little bit of searching online and heck, even checking in with Israelis about said information could help a ton with this. Secondly, all the information you provided, Hamas literally did the same things to the Israeli as well and to their own people. Hamas has been torturing people since before all this has happened. Literally you sound like someone who hasn’t batted an eye to any of this until suddenly when things happened during October 7th.

This was never a genocide, this has always been a conflict.

There’s so much here to cover, maybe I should suggest you chatting with parts of jewblr?

Another man I might recommend listening and watching is Mosab Hassan Yousef.

A Palestinian man who not only is just a Palestinian but the son of Hamas co-founder, he is also known as “the green prince” you want some true insight and someone who can really break it down for you to understand, I highly recommend having a listen to his videos online (if you can find them) and also his book “The Son of Hamas” Will help give you a better perspective.

I personally could actually sit down and look at you and say, “alright, so where do we start” but I really don’t feel I need to explain when you can literally see what a lot of us have been saying. I mean hell, if you really wanna know more… (I won’t say tumblr is the best of sourcing but, the Jewish community here and my own reblogs on my other blog have walls and walls and walls of text and sources you can go and read.)

“Shooting children, even babies in the head”

Were you…. Not present when you heard what they did to some of the hostages? Umm… you do know that Hamas killed women and children too, right? I mean this is a conflict and war… I mean like I said so much to cover…

War is gray area when it comes to how it is, it’s never fully one sided, there’s casualties everywhere and there is no winning outcome in it at all.

Also can I just… can I throw one thing in here, yes people want Jews dead. People have been wanting Jews dead since the beginning of human existence on earth, I don’t know what planet where you think this is not the case, but Jews have been ostracized for many many many many years, by the Romans, ancient Egyptian, Greeks, the Germans, the polish, the Russian, the Turkish, and the list goes on and on and on, let’s be real here most of Middle East does not want Israel to exist and the people in it. (Especially Jewish) most Palestinians that support Hamas, do indeed want the Jews dead. That’s not up for debate, so by saying no “sane” person wants Jews dead, well when you support a terrorist group like Hamas, you do want Jews dead. End of discussion.

Many one else willing to help put in more info here… that’d be awesome.

@bottlepiecemuses you have anything to add to this for anon? I’m like really tired and don’t feel like breaking this down more…

#jewblr #anon wants to have all this questions asked and I’m gonna be honest this blog wasn’t meant for politics and war but ok #I am honestly just tired of answering these type of questions because I mean they’ve literally been posted everywhere for these guys to rea #israel #discourse #tw debating on Israel -Palestine war #jumblr #jews of tumblr #antisemitism #🇮🇱

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velvvetcat09 · 4 months ago

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it’s been a while since i just pour out my personal stuff so imma ramble for a bit

my way of coping with irl stuff has always been to indulge in side activities. either playing games, drawing, writing, going online, or watching vids/shows. it’s text book definition of having hobbies.

my creative hobbies need, surprise surprise, my creative drive; something that fluctuates between periods of time. my main source of creative drive is media obsession, i can’t really just draw something out of nowhere, which is why i’m not really into doing original art. while my hoarding mentality will never let me thrash any obsession that i’ve ever acquired, eventually it’ll simmer down. i guess to point out the process of me acquiring an obsession is: 1) consume a new media, 2) enjoy it to the point of consuming the fandom side, 3) create fanworks 4) buy merchs (official or not)

step 4 is not a necessity but step 3 is a pivotal point for me as a creative person. the moment i create something for it, that kind of seals the deal in a way. it becomes personal for me to the point of wanting to create for it. this fire, varies in sizes, whill eventually simmer down to step 2. at that point i return to lurking while focusing on my main tasks. the main thing that p much push me to this burnout is irls, at the end of the day, that’s still my main priority, and it definitely supersedes over my online presence. my sense of responsibility will always make me sacrifice my personal time, i’m not the kind of person who can selfishly enjoy my own things when there’s more important things to do, my own body won’t allow it, in a sense.

hence my sudden absence and then return on the internet. i try to maintain presense (mainly twitter bc for the past years, i’ve gained quite a significant amount of followers from the gintama fandom and kind of still have to maintain my status there), but to be honest, i’m mostly in my step 2 level of fandom engagement these days, i only have enough energy to lurk, i barely have enough braincells to come up with an answer of an ask.

my main comfort during this time is playing games while watching videos. i think multitasking is both a blessing and curse. it’s great being able to do multiple things at the same time but that also pushes your brain to not be satisfied doing one task alone. (though as i’m typing this, thinking maybe the culprit is my commitment issue, i think the main reason is my deep down feeling of not enough time, i cannot waste my time only doing one thing when i can do two things at the same time, i have to make the most of my leisure time; this is probably an unhealthy way of thinking but that’s another can of worm for another day)

this is a long ramble on how i haven’t been able to draw anything lately. not an excuse, but a way inside my mind and how it operates.

rambling like this is my form of therapy. this is p much my personal diary, in a lot of ways. tumblr really is a special place for me. i feel like i can truly be anonymous here, no ties to irls whatsoever. i can truly be open with my mind and heart. writing in here helps me sort out my tangled mess of a brain. i think writing out your ideas, thoughts, feelings, is always beneficial to anyone. you realize a lot of things with writing since for your writing to be able to be read by other, you need to make it presentable, cohesive enough as an essay for anyone to read out in the open. in the process you will have to correct your writing on the fly, you will definitely realize more things along the way. sometimes finding the answer to the question you didn’t even realize asking. this is a good exercise regardless.

anyway if you guys have any fuel to reignite my obsession back, feel free to send me those

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marshmallowprotection · 1 year ago

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What will Saeran react to a MC who is really good at mimicking bird sounds?

Because I’m good at mimicking sounds of spotted dove and Asian koel (these two kinds of birds are very common in the place I’m living in) and I always do it in front of my friends or family member just for fun and they’ll just be like 😦 lol

And I’m just wondering how would he react to his MC mimicking bird sounds for the first time in front of him, or maybe mimic bird sounds to prank him (hope he won’t get mad at me I just like to surprise people with my trick lmao-)

See, GE Saeran doesn't know a lot about animals. He has a limited insight to all the animals that exist in this world.

Sure, there are animals that he knows about, but he doesn't know about them if you know what I mean. There's only so much you can learn about the world when your only experience with learning comes from a few books during a short stint you spent in a church.

After that, if it wasn't pertinent to paradise, he wouldn't have had a reason to learn about it. The only way he knows anything about an animal is if it pertains to paradise, or on the off chance it's an animal you love a lot. Like, he has been exposed to cats because of Elizabeth the 3rd, but he doesn't understand why people like cats or what goes into liking them beyond somebody babbling about how cute they are.

He doesn't know a lot about birds. Now, if you expressed an interest in them online, he would have done some research into them to make sure he understood your hobby. But if you unleashed this party trick with no way of letting him find out, he is going to be all inspired. It is absolutely amazing to think that you can do something like that with your body. He will want to know if you can actually communicate with them though.

"My love, I don't know how you discovered this talent. Did you learn how to do this from scratch...? Did you discover your mouth could make that noise on accident? I'm curious, so curious... and, does it summon birds? I've read that if you do the sound just right, there's a chance the bird may appear!"

#mod kait #ask #mystic messenger #anon #mysme #saeran choi #mysticmessenger #mm #choi saeran #ge saeran #saeray #saeran

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jimin-jungshook-over-literalbae · 2 years ago

Text

Blinding Lights Chapter Six

Hey guys, welcome back! Chapter Six is finally done. Sorry about the impromptu break. I wasn’t sure who I wanted to continue yet. I had a small amount of writer’s block. This wasn’t what I pictured initially but I think it’ll work. I hope you guys like it! Send me any asks or questions you have! I try to respond to those when I can!

Warnings: Fighting, Threats, Allusions to sexual assault, Kidnapping.

Word Count: 3,322

Masterlist

Previous Chapter, Next Chapter

It started as a normal day, the day that the peaceful bubble around us came crashing down. It had been weeks since I had come to live with the boys, weeks since they had rescued me from that hell hole. Days of working out with Jungkook and practicing self-defense, days of painting with Taehyung, cuddling with Jimin, talking about books and gardening with Namjoon, napping with Yoongi, shopping with Hoseok, making dinner with Jin and helping him relax after hectic days at work. They had even set me up with an online therapist, to deal with some of the trauma. Peaceful days that felt like a pretense to the terror now racing through me.

Breakfast started normal, everyone bickering and getting ready for the days ahead of them. Everyone had the day off, for the first time in a while, and we were planning on a nice day in, movies and take out. Low stress, high affection. It started when we all separated to get ready for the day. At first, I didn’t think much of the crash down stairs. Namjoon has tends to break things and he was the one helping Jin with the dishes. The shouting that followed, however, was not normal. Sure, Jin shouted at Namjoon sometimes, but not like this.

My heart feels like it’s going to beat out of my chest. I slip on my tennis shoes, creeping out onto the landing. Smoke fills the room, making everything hazy and hard to see. Someone shut the lights off, maybe the wires were cut, but my feline counterpart allows me good night vision. Sound surrounds me, almost too much to take in at once. This can’t be happening. Not now. I won’t let them hurt my mates. I have to do something. I won’t just sit in one place.

I sneak toward the stairs, my feet noiseless on the carpet. That’s another bright point about being part cat. I see two figures wrestling near the stairs, familiar tiger striped ears glinting at me in the fog. I move without thinking, throwing myself onto the back of the man fighting Taehyung. My arm goes around his neck in a chokehold, like Jungkook taught me. His fingers scrabble at my arms, trying to pry me free, but I refuse to relent. I hold until he stops moving, climbing off of is slumped form.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt anywhere?” My words are hushed and hurried as I crouch by Tae. His hands shake a little but she shakes his head.

“You need to hide. I overheard them talking. They’re after the Omegas. I was looking for Jimin and Jin when he found me,” Taehyung explains in a rush.

“I won’t hide, Tae. I’m going to help. I can’t just sit back anymore,” I say firmly,” You search up here, I’ll search downstairs. If you find Yoongi or Namjoon, let them know. Jungkook or Hoseok would do too.”

He looks like he wants to argue but his shoulders slump a little at the determination in my eyes. He takes my hand and squeezes it, then he’s gone, swallowed by the smoke. I start down the stairs but the sound of someone coming up from downstairs causes me to pause. The stepped on the squeaky stair. Anyone who lives in the house knows to avoid it. I jump over the side railing, landing noiselessly on the floor below. I hide in the shadow of the stairs, listening to the sounds around me. It sounds like there are more people upstairs than down, many feet hurrying around. A familiar chirp, though it sounds panicked, draws my attention. Jin.

I scramble toward the sound, ending up near the sliding glass doors to the patio. An all too familiar man has Jin in his grasp, a growling Namjoon in front of him, his metaphorical hackles raised. The man is the last picture Namjoon had showed me, the man who forcibly marked me.

“I would keep still, if I were you,” The man growls, the hand he has on Jin’s throat tightening imperceptibly,” Wouldn’t want your little Omega to get hurt, would we?”

I can see that it is taking everything in Namjoon to hold back, his Alpha filled with anger at someone else threatening his Omega. I move silently, slinking behind the grand piano. I’m glad it’s closed currently, and silently apologize to Yoongi for what I’m about to do. I grab a heavy glass vase from a nearby cabinet, jumping onto the piano to use it as a landing deck. I dash across its’ surface, jumping and slamming the vase into the back of the man’s head. He crumples, nearly taking Jin down with him. I land in a crouch, watching him for any signs of movement.

“Lets get you somewhere safe, baby, okay?” Namjoon quietly murmurs to Jin. He holds Jin’s shaking form to him tightly,” Are you okay?”

“I’m o-okay,” Jin croaks through his obviously sore throat. Namjoon turns his attention to me.

“The green house should be safe, right? Or the pool house? Taehyung says they’re after the Omegas. That he overheard them talking. I have to find Jimin,” I speak in a flurry, trying to avoid Namjoon’s eyes. I can feel his discontent with that answer.

“If they’re after the Omegas then you need to go and hide with Jin. I will look for Jimin,” Namjoon gives me a pointed look but I shake my head.

“I can’t. You know I can’t. I can’t stand back anymore. I’m going to help,” I finally stand, my hands going to my hips to make a point.

“You can help by keeping Jin safe,” His words are meant to be a compromise but I won’t compromise on this. I shake my head again.

“I won’t let them hurt Jimin. If they do, it’ll be all my fault. I won’t hold back,” Before Namjoon can argue back again, I’m gone. I take off toward the front of the house, looking for my pink haired mate.

Realistically, I know that Jimin can take care of himself, probably better than I can, but I also know that he’s much softer than the rest of the boys. A soft Omega who becomes pliant with praise and cuddles, who can’t hold himself up when he laughs. Who has to cling to people when he’s scared, and likes to have his ears scratched while we watch movies. He’s my softest mate and I won’t let anything happen to him.

For a while, I don’t see anyone. It feels like it’s just me and the dark fog around me. Then, I see a flash of pink from the corner of eye. I follow it, it’s trajectory taking it out of the front door and onto the front lawn. It’s easier to see here, alleviating some of the burning in my eyes. A man is carrying Jimin, who seems to be tied up. He struggles, his whole body shaking with the effort. For a moment, I see red, a bruise already forming on Jimin’s cheek. He drops Jimin on the ground carelessly, like a sack of potatoes. I can see the grunt and wince Jimin gives, even if his mouth is muffled.

Once again, my body moves before I can think. The man hasn’t noticed me, turning to face the front of the house. I hadn’t even noticed that I had moved away from the front door, hiding by the bushes near the front of the house. I move softly, quietly, creeping behind the man and to Jimin. Jimin looks up at me in panic. I pat Jimin’s pocket, finding the pocket knife he keeps for emergencies. The ropes are tough but I manage to get the ones off his wrists. I’m just working on his ankles when a voice causes me to freeze.

“Well, well, well,” The voice is all too familiar and I can feel my anxiety growing. The man that stands before me is my old owner,” I should have known that one cat would lead me to another. My little kitten.”

My mouth tastes like blood. I can feel my chest freezing with anxiety. A hand closes around my own hand and I almost panic, but it’s Jimin. He helps me saw through the last of the rope, pulling me to my feet and backing toward the house. His body covers mine, blocking me from view. Master tuts, his expression sour. He would never allow me to call him anything else.

“Stay away from us,” Jimin growls, his arms caging me in. I press to his back, my whole body shaking. I need to move, to do something. He’s too close to Jimin. I can’t let him hurt Jimin.

“Little cat, you seem determined to stand between what’s mine. Maybe I should take him with us, hmmm, Little Kitten?” He practically purrs, his eyes meeting mine,” I bet you would do even more things for me if I brought you a playmate, huh? And he’s just so pretty.”

He reaches his hand forward, as if to touch Jimin’s cheek, but I smack his hand away. His expression is shocked, and honestly, mine probably is too. My expression is quickly replaced with a glare. He won’t touch what’s mine, won’t hurt what’s mine. Hurting Jimin would hurt everyone else and I can’t let that happen.

“Don’t touch him,” I growl, my words bordering on a hiss.

“Awe, no faith in me? You know I’m always kind to what’s mine, Little Kitten,” Master’s lip curls, his eyes dark.

“Don’t call me that,” I snarl,” That name doesn’t belong to you. And you’re not going to touch him. I won’t let you hurt him.”

Jimin seems surprised by what’s happening, which makes it easier to change our positions, my body now in front, shielding him. He struggles a little, though belatedly, but he doesn’t seem to want to distract me. I can feel my nails lengthening, like claws, my own rage possessing me. Knowing everything that he’s done to me, the idea of him wanting to do that to Jimin, to put Jimin through the same things I went through? That won’t happen. I’ll tear his throat out.

“Little Kitten, you seem to forget who you belong to. Whose brand you wear on your shoulder,” A clicking sound as my blood running cold, and then there’s a gun pointed at my forehead. Jimin stiffens behind me,” Do I need to kill him? To remind you? I’d rather not wound something so pretty. Maybe I should hurt one of the other ones? The Tiger or the Bunny? I could probably make money from the Panther and the Wolf.”

“Please. Please don’t hurt them. Please. If I go with you, will you leave them alone? Please?” I’m pleading, almost begging,” I’ll be a good girl. I won’t try to run.”

“Hmmm,” He taps his chin in contemplation. I can feel Jimin shaking at my back, his fingers curled into the material of my t-shirt,” Sure, I can take you back, Little Kitten. But, I will be taking the Calico too. Male Calicos are so rare. He’d be a good commodity to add to my collection.”

“No, please, please no. Leave him alone,” I feel like screaming, like tearing him limb from limb. His hand closes around my arm, yanking me forward and out of Jimin’s finger tips. I can hear a grunt and the sound of fighting behind me,” Jimin!”

“Let her go,” The voice is dark and almost unrecognizable. I look up, expecting to see someone like Yoongi or Namjoon, but the dark voice belongs to Jungkook. There’s a gun in the Bunny hybrid’s hand, his eyes dark and stormy. Master moves me, my body now a shield for him as his own gun rests against my temple. I can see Jimin from my angle, struggling with the same man from earlier.

“Kookie, please, you have to help Jimin,” Jungkook’s eyes meet me with a surprised look,” I’ll be okay, but you have to help Jimin, please.”

“I won’t let him take you,” Jungkook almost snarls, his knuckles white on the gun.

“I can’t let him hurt Jimin, please,” I can feel tears filling my eyes. Jungkook falters, but a pained sound behind him kicks him into gear. He lowers his gun and run at the man holding Jimin, practically throwing him off. We shuffle backward awkwardly, heading down the driveway toward the estate gates. Once we’re further away, my nails dig into his arm, causing him to flinch.

I sink my teeth into his arm, blood filling my mouth. My hand goes up to twist the gun away from my head, the heel of my foot slamming into his foot. I pull away from him, leveling the gun at him. He freezes. He’s never been much of a physical fighter, relying more on his gun. He doesn’t need to know that I don’t know how to shoot.

“Leave,” I snarl, a fierce glare on my face. He seems shocked, surprised by the look on my face.

“This is the only opportunity you’re going to get, Kitten. I will not be so nice next time,” He backs toward the van I can see just inside the gates.

“If you come here again, I will kill you,” I pull the trigger, the bullet hitting the dirt near him. Then he’s running, climbing into the van and the tires squealing as it drives away. Before it’s out of site, I see a pair of terrified eyes in the back window. A choked sound leaves me. Taehyung. They have Taehyung.

I drop the gun, my feet scrambling in the gravel to run after the van. I’m so stupid. I didn’t think that they would have someone in the van already, that I didn’t stop them. Arms close around me from behind, stopping me before I leave the gates. I scream, fighting against the body holding mine.

“We’ll get them. We’ll bring him home,” Jungkook’s voice is tired and sad in my ear. I slump into him, my whole body shaking with my sobs.

I don’t remember him carrying me back into the house and setting me on the couch. I just remember Jimin’s collapsed form on the floor, his whole body shaking. His best friend, his soulmate, taken. The two have always been close, the separation hitting him harder than anyone else. I don’t know when the interrogation started, when they started to question the ones who were left behind, including the man who forcibly marked me. A numbness has settled in. After a while, I blink, a dark shadow coming across me. I get up and walk to Jungkook, who sits outside of the theater room.

“I want to talk to him,” My voice is void of emotion. Jungkook looks down at me in shock.

“I don’t think-“ He starts but I quickly cut him off.

“I want to talk to him,” I repeat, my voice louder. His eyes meet mine for a moment, before he nods, moving out from in front of the door. I pause before I open it, listening in.

“You should have heard the way she cried after I bit her. The way she begged to die, and screamed,” The man inside boasts, obviously trying to get a rise out of the men inside. I can hear the growls from here. It’s obviously working.

I push the door open, silencing the men inside. I slam the door behind me, marching forward. Yoongi’s hand closes around my shoulder, stopping me. I shake him off, not acknowledging it.

“Baby, you shouldn’t be in here,” Namjoon is the first to speak, seeming to get over his shock first.

“Where is he?” My voice is dark and I can feel a snarl building in my chest,” Where did they take him.”

“Listen, if the panther doesn’t work, you think some pint sized cat will?” The man seems annoyed, even offended. I shove passed Yoongi, getting close to the man’s face.

“The only reason you’re still alive is because of me,” I grab a knife from a nearby table, slamming it into the arm of the chair near his fingers. I can see him flinch, though I miss his fingers and just slam it into the wood,” You think they’re the ones you have to worry about? If you don’t tell me where they took him, it’s me you need to deal with. Me that will hurt you. Me that will end your life.”

It feels weird, giving in to the anger. I’ve never been this angry in my life, yet so in control. I want to kill him, to put an end to his life, but we need him. I can hear Namjoon and Yoongi murmuring behind me, but I can’t focus on their words. My blood rushes in my ears, my hands shaking in rage. This is my fault and I will fix it.

“I’m not scared of you,” He sounds more confident than he’s acting.

“You should be,” My voice is a dark whisper. I lift the knife, tapping it against his chin. His lip quivers a little.

“Look, I don’t know which one they went to,” He starts but I quickly cut him off, the knife leveling with his nose. He swallows.

“Where are his hide outs? Why don’t you start there?” I can see him giving up, the fear becoming evident in his eyes.

“Fuck, fine, I’ll tell you. Just get this crazy bitch away from me,” He finally relents and I back up, dropping the knife on a nearby table. Yoongi hustles me out of the room as Namjoon writes down what the man says. Yoongi takes me to my room, making me sit on the bed and glaring at me.

“What the fuck was that?” His voice borders on a growl.

“He had information, I got it for you,” I shrug, not meeting his eyes. I can feel my anger deflating under his gaze.

“I know you’re worried about Tae. I am too. But you can’t act reckless. Reckless is stupid and it gets you hurt,” His gaze is intense.

“It’s my fault!” I feel like I’m finally exploding, everything bursting out of me,” They should have taken me! I’m the one they wanted! They tried to take Jimin! They did take Taehyung! I didn’t know they had him! I couldn’t do anything!”

“Kitten… It’s not your fault,” His words are soft as his arms wrap around me. My whole body shakes, but I try to push him away. He won’t let me,” You saved Jin. You saved Taehyung once, you saved Jimin twice. You did everything you could.”

“It’s not enough. They’re gonna hurt him. Oh god, what if-“ I choke, realizing all the things that they could do to him, all the things they did to me.

“Hey, hey, hey. Thinking about it will drive you crazy. We need to think about how we can get him back,” His lips whisper across my forehead,” Jimin needs you right now. I don’t think any of the rest of us can break him out of this break down right now.”

Once I’ve calmed down some, Yoongi brings me downstairs to Jimin. I crouch in front of him, running my fingers through his hair. He should blame me, should be mad at me, but he flings himself in my arms, sobs wracking his body. His sobs eventually turn into whimpers, his tears wetting the skin of my shoulder. I nuzzle his cheek, pressing little kisses to his face.

“Will he be okay?” Jimin’s voice I small, his eyes red and swollen.

“He will be,” It feels like a lie but Jimin doesn’t need the truth right now.

“We have a lead,” Hoseok’s voice comes from behind me, causing me to jump. I hadn’t seen him since breakfast this morning,” I know where they are.”

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

#bts hybrid au #bts jin #bts kim seokjin #bts suga #bts yoongi #bts min yoongi #bts jhope #bts jung hoseok #bts rm #bts kim namjoon #bts jimin #bts park jimin #bts v #bts kim taehyung #bts jungkook #bts jeon jungkook

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