#idek how they got connected in the first place

[squintsintwink]

If anyone knows how to fix please let me know bc I am SO SICK OF THIS

[vixensbrainrotts]

The one behind the mask

Content: Short imagine

Tropes: tattoo artist! reader, hairdresser! reader, vaguely gothic! reader, Draken is kind of obsessed with the reader here, but nothing really too deep

Warnings: some mention of scissors and tattoos (lmk if i missed anything)

Summary: Takemichi has to find out more about the past-you, so he decides to ask around the gang to see if anyone has any connections. To his luck, Draken deems him fit to meet you, and so Takemichi gets to experience your expertise first hand

Vixen’s two cents: This is such a random idea, idek where it came from but lmk if you like it or not. Also! Requests and asks are open, and if you’d like to be a moot (to perhaps proofread or triangulate ideas) pleaseeee feel free to message me!!!! Now enjoy

"She's the best at what she does, trust." Draken's voice left no room for argumentation, his gruff voice sealing the deal as he leans back into the couch behind him. He was on an endorphin high of sorts, his confidence boosted due to the fresh lineup he just got, the growing hair now cut shirt, his signature style refreshed.

Akkun frowned behind Takemichi a little, a bit disheartened by the 'threat' you posed to him and his future business. "So... She cuts hair and therefore she's under special gang-internal protection?"

Draken chuckles heartily and shakes his head. "No, no. More than that. She‘s the best tattoo artist i know too! Ask any guy who got a tattoo in the past three years who tatted it, and she's your answer. She does it well, too. I remember back when a guy wanted an impossible coverup for an ex's name- she made it work, right as rain! And there was an awful lot of ink to cover."

Takemichi didn't quite grasp why or how you achieved the status you unintentionally had in the gang, but it was vital information for his future, real-time version. When Naoto had asked him to research you a little closer in person, Takemichi had expected you to be another fierce gang leader- one who dons the same scary-looking plague mask as you in the future.

What he had not expected was to learn that you were apparently a hairdresser-tattoo artist fusion type thing. Why did you play such a big role in the future? Sure, he understood having a favorite barber, Akkun being the best example for that, but placing them in the closest circles of a highly criminal gang for exclusive trimming rights? That's a little far, no?

"You don't get it, do you?" Draken asked, his hands on his thighs, rubbing them as he rose to a stand in one movement. Takemichi flinched a little, a bit taken aback at how easily Draken would read him. "No, not really. I-" Before he could finish, he was interrupted.

"What's this about?" he was cut short by the other twin Dragon. "Mitsuya-kun!" Takemichi startled. "Y/n. He doesn't quite get why she's has the place she has here." Mistuya's eyes widened a sliver at Draken‘s words, and he threw an arm around Takemichi's shoulder. "You got any plans Hanagaki?" Takemichi shook his head no in response. "Good, 'cause we're givin' her a visit."

And with that, Takemichi's fate was sealed. Mitsuya and Draken pulled him along towards their bikes, Akkun tagging along behind him per Takemichi's request. The group settled onto their bikes and drove off, and Takemichi tried to keep track of the path from hither to thither, but lost track after the turns got too confusing.

After a while, both bikes came to a stop, pushing down the Kickstands in front of a grungy-looking little shop, the doors glazed in a matte cover, only leaving an outline that looked like a Plague-doctor's mask. Ah. There was a parallel he could draw. "Is this the place?" Akkun asked, his voice laced with a bitter touch of distaste, probably intimidated by your place in the hairdressing market.

"Yup! This is where dreams are made a reality!" Mituya spoke, his voice a lot livelier and genuine than usual. "She's gonna have a field day with you Mitchy." Draken snickers as they push open the doors to the shop, a little jingle playing in response.

"What's that supposed to mean-" Takemichi's voice died in his throat when his eyes fell on the interior. Dark, weird, gothic, wonderful. Those were the words that come to him t describe your shop. Kooky portraits, lacey details, and a million different shades of black were highlighted only by the mahogany of the front desk and the dimly glowing lamps and candles littered around the walls and surfaces.

There was a black bulletin wall with a few dozen sketches pinned to it, the title "Please let me put this on you" in the center of pictures of flowers, bugs, lace designs, birds, and many, many others that didn't fall into the eye too directly.

On your desk and on a shelf behind it laid a few skulls of animals Takemichi couldn't even begin to place, the only hint being the type of sharp, white teeth they did (or didn't) have.

There was a scent of something in the air, but Takemichi couldn't place that either. It was a pleasant mix of natural and synthetic, a unique mix that lingered in his nose and clouded his mind with a very welcomed sense of calm.

"Coming." An unexpectedly soft voice called. What however emerged from the corridor leading off to somewhere next to your desk, looked nothing like the voice Takemichi just heard. The guy was almost bigger than Draken and just about the same amount of bald, his face littered with piercings and clad in a style much too modern to fit the shop.

The guy didn't talk to them however, he only turned to the desk, pulled out a wallet, and started fidgeting with the bills. With his back turned his scalp was on display, an impressive image of a burning, hyperrealistic black and white skull faced the group. It was new, they could tell by the slightly red skin, and the shiny coat of a second skin placed carefully overtop. Takemichi held his breath. So that's what you do. Draken pointed a finger at the fresh tattoo and pulled his brows upwards for a moment, clearly impressed with how clean it looked.

Then a second pair of footsteps sounded from the same hallway, and this time Takemichi was sure it was you. Lo and behold your figure emerged, clad in something much more appropriate to the shop's aesthetic, black latex gloves still on. "Ah." you looked a little unimpressed when you caught sight of the group looming in your reception.

"Didn't I just get rid of you?" it was purely rhetorical, because the moment you passed them, you were tending to the guy standing at the desk, showing him a clipboard and then mumbling a price at which the guy nodded and passed the money, saying his thanks before bidding you a pleasant afternoon before leaving the shop, the door falling shut and the little jingle playing again.

"And to what do I owe the pleasure?" You ask, sorting the money into the register, separating the tips and putting them into a little box beside it. "Hi y/n." Draken started, grinning from ear to ear. "Hello, Ken. Speak. What do you want?" You didn't spare them a glance as you finished up and pulled the gloves, chucking them into a bin under the desk.

"Right, so, I've brought you someone in desperate need of your assessment." Draken finished finally, stepping to the side to reveal Takemichi in your line of sight, and it was as if you felt the shift, you looked up.

When your and his gaze locked, a shiver ran down his spine and he could feel sweat trickle down his nape. He gulped and shakily brought up a hand to send you a little wave. “Oh fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, eyes darting form his face to his hair and down to his face again. “Yeah alright thanks for the charity case.” Takemichi didn’t know whether to feel offended or not.

“It’s bad, isnt it?” Draken leaned over your desk and jerked a thumb over his shoulder at Takemichi. “Worse.” You replied curtly and then waved your hands at the group, ushering them to back up a little. You bustled your way to the hallway, waving a hand to them again. “Come then.”

You left the group a bit aloof, but after a few seconds of standing in silence Draken and Mitsuya started following you into the side rooms. Take Michu and Akkun shared a look before following cautiously, a little unsure of what to expect.

Once they entered a room you had already set up a chair in front of the biggest mirror Takemichi had ever seen, and were sorting out different tools and products on a tray in front of the mirror. Draken and Mitsuya had taken a set on a couch adjacent to the seat and were idly chatting about this and that to you in terms of the shop as well as a few questions regarding your previous client.

Idle chit-chat halted when you laid eyes on Takemichi and gestured for him to sit. “Well then, please sit.” Takemichi shares a brief look with Akkun again, who by now has taken seat in the grandfather armchair beside the couch the others were on. “Mkay..” he mumbles and sits stiffly.

“Relax!” You say as you come up behind him “You look like you’re about to shit yourself. I promise i wont stab you or anything.” Your face morphs into something that might resemble a smile before you grab his hair cautiously, carding your fingers through it, judgemental eyes scanning his hair. “Hmm Ken, when i said you should bring me your worst i didn’t really mean it.“ Ken laughs in response “You should know me by now, i dont make promises i cant keep!”

You roll your eyes a little “I would have appreciated a heads up if i knew that this is what you’re bringing me…” you pull the hair out of his face and tilt his head to different angles. “He has a good face with strong features, its just unfortunate how he’s decided to work with it.”. You speak as if he’s not in the room with you.

After a few moments of silence you release his head again and grab the scissors hanging from your belt pointing them at Takemichi through the mirror. “I know what i have to do with him.”

Mitsuya and Dranken whooped in response. You tell him about what kind of hair he has, how to treat his scalp, what colors and shades would (and wouldnt) suit him and how to style it properly.

By the time you’re done, you and him had agreed on a cooler, slightly darker shade of blonde as well as a more maintainable cut thats easier to style. Then you began unleashing tool after tool, product after product, and Takemichi thinks that this is the longest and simultaneously shortest hour he’s ever experienced.

When you finally deem your work as finished, you have him turned away from the big mirror in anticipation. “You ready?” You ask him with a slight smile on your face and grab the back of his chair, ready to spin him around. Before he answers, Takemichi looks over to the guys sitting on the couch.

Draken nods approvingly, “You’ve dont it again y/n, i cant believe it!”. Mitsuya wolf-whistles jokingly, “Damn Mitchy! Your girlfriends about to be real happy.” and Akkun’s mouth hangs open in pure admiration “How...? what…?” And thats all the approval he needs to turn nod at you, allowing you to turn him around.

For a second Takemichi wasn’t sure who was looking back at him through the mirror before he realized that it was his reflection, eyes just as wide as his felt, but the hair about a million times better than the last time he looked at it. All of a sudden he understood why the guys cared so much to keep you to themselves- you were a one in a million find.

“So.. What do you think” you ask, knowing well what the answer was. Takemichi wishes he could have answered but the words caught up in his throat, so he stayed open-mouthed like a fish out of water. “I think he likes it.” Draken answered for him and rose to a stand, the others following suit behind him. “We’re done here then.” You conclude and pull the cover off of Takemichi’s still frozen body.

“How much do i owe you?” Takemichi finally chokes out once Akkun had pulled him out of the seat and towards the shop’s front. You glance up at Takemichi and shake your head. “Nothing. I had enough fun fixing you, so perhaps just consider coming back when time’s due?” You walk behind the counter, checking something that looked like a schedule. “Now it was a pleasure doing business, but i have a client coming in for a sleeve in half an hour and i think i want a lunch break beforehand.”

“Thank you so much!” Takemichi says again before turning to the door, running a hand through his hair confidently. Akkun follows closely behind him, keen on inspecting the new cut from every angle, whilst Mitsuya throws a “We’ll leave you to it then!” Over his shoulder to you and leaves the little shop as well.

Takemichi is still too caught up in the bliss before he realizes that one of them is missing. “Wait!” He stops abruptly, “What about Draken?!” Akkun gasps in realization too and goes to turn around but is quickly stopped by Mitsuya who pulls the both of them along.

“Leave him to it, I think he’s getting lunch before his appointment so dont you worry about them.”

[vixentheplanet]

afterglow

“just don’t go, meet me in the afterglow.”

shuri x black!reader | 18+

Summary: You've been dating Shuri for a year. For a year, your relationship has evolved, revealing the challenges and joys of deepening connections.

A disagreement puts a momentary strain on your communication after the two of you fail to see eye to eye. You stop for something that will undoubtedly capture Shuri's attention before your next journey to Wakanda.

part one: heartbeat

word count: 4k

themes: heiress reader, little couple disagreement, make-up sex

warnings: sex

hi 💋 - idek what the summary was for this but LMAO the first time i posted this i never specified how long they were together and everyone was like typical lesbians 😭 BUT IT DOESN’T MATTER 🙄 they got married and had kids i’ll post the last part later.

also idk if i’ll post versace on the floor it doesn’t really add anything unless people want to read it

Since you and Shuri began dating, your time was divided between home and Wakanda.

You were now Esmé's Head of Interior Design back at home. Your father appointed you to the role after you assisted in overseeing the interior development of the Monaco Resort. The next step was to renovate the interiors of all Esmé Hotels one city/country at a time. That entailed a lot of flying between countries to look at furniture and meeting with a number of designers to help you get the aesthetic you wanted. Surprisingly, you enjoyed all the hard work that went into it.

Wakanda was breathtaking, the most gorgeous place you'd ever seen in your life. Shuri took you on a tour of her lab, telling you about its products and features. You had no idea what she was saying, but her face lit up as she spoke, and you enjoyed seeing that spark of excitement in her eyes. She took you to all of her favorite spots, and you got to meet Okoye and M'Baku. It pleased you that she had a support system when you weren't there. Now that you were dating, it made little sense for Shuri to fly to New York when you had more freedom to come to her; she could remain where she was needed.

By the end of this week, you’d be back in Wakanda for a two-week vacation. The two weeks were strictly no work, phone calls, or emails. You were going off the grid and away. You would never expect Shuri to do the same thing, but she always prioritized you.

There was an issue, as excited as you were. You and Shuri were fighting, not fighting but at an impasse. Making your relationship public was a tricky subject. On the one hand, Shuri's response was a firm no. You could understand at first, but as things progressed and became more serious, you brought it up repeatedly, a no. So you pushed and pushed and pushed until finally, Shuri raised her voice, which she never does.

Every couple argues. It's human nature to find yourself on opposing sides. Nobody will ever agree on everything. In those moments when things got heated, your fault, Shuri would tell you she’ll talk to you once you calmed down. Never did you think she would yell at you. In response, you did the first thing that came to mind and hung up on her.

Though, from the outside, Shuri would appear to be in the "wrong," you knew it was primarily your fault. You felt bad for bringing up the topic, but you wouldn't live in New York if you were afraid of otherworldly danger. You eventually cooled off and acknowledged that she had a point and that perhaps you hadn't been as reasonable as you could have been, but a week had passed without either of you apologizing or bringing up the incident.

She contacted you again to ensure you were still coming to Wakanda on Friday. Did she expect you to change your mind? Though you'd be back in each other's company, everything had been tense since that night. You hate it, and the distance wasn’t helping. You changed into your pajamas and went downstairs to the bar as soon as the call ended; it was more responsible than heading out to the club.

There were already people inside dressed in suits and designer clothes, presumably looking at you as if you were insane. Who cares what they think, this is your hotel. After all, you had more important things to worry about than the opinions of strangers.

"Marco, what do you do if you get into a disagreement with your significant other?" You whine as you stir the straw in your second Bronx Cocktail.

Macro paused in the middle of polishing a glass and placed a hand thoughtfully on his chin. "Well, Madam Esmé, I'd apologize."

The opportunity for apologizing had long passed. It was too late by the time you acknowledged you were being stubborn and that something this trivial wasn't worth it; there was tension in your relationship. "And when an apology isn't enough."

“Sex.” He responds as if it’s the most obvious answer.

You take another long sip of your drink. You're not drunk enough to start talking about your sex life in public. "Marco, be serious. I need a real solution.” Sex was tempting, but what if Shuri was too upset to consider it?

The bartender served a martini to an older woman seated a few seats apart from you. You figure she's alone until you notice a ring of at least ten carats on her finger. Impressive. Marco refocuses his attention on you, "That is a real solution. It's a way to reconnect after a fight, indicating that the relationship is still intact and that you still want the other."

"I don't mean to interrupt. I couldn't help but overhear." You look to see Mrs. Ten carats trying to interject herself into your conversation.

Well, she’s married, and at this point, no suggestion was a bad one, so why not listen? You turn your body to grant her implicit permission to continue. "Make-up sex is some of the most enjoyable sex you'll ever have."

“Sex can be an excellent way to reconnect with your partner if mixed with verbal communication to resolve your argument after," she explains.

Marco makes a sound of agreement. “Exactly! Sweat it out before you talk it out.” That makes you laugh. You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

They were both making good points, but you had one other concern. “And what if this significant other isn't in the mood?” You say, frowning.

To be honest, you and Shuri fucked like rabbits. When the two of you were alone, you couldn't keep your hands to yourselves. You've lost track of all the places you and Shuri have spent private moments. A limo, her lab, the Sunbird, inside your purple Maserati, which was impressive considering how little the back seat was. Perhaps it was the distance, but every time you saw each other, you had to go through several rounds to get everything out of your system.

You could not believe you were doubting yourself, given your track record. You just wanted this resolved; this issue had you questioning everything and bringing up sex with Marco and strangers. Jesus.

Nonetheless, you needed to consider all the variables.

“You’ll just have to get very sexy.” The woman says, shrugging her shoulders. “Shouldn’t be hard for you.”

True. Still, you groaned. “Ugh, do you know how hard it is to already be sexy and have to be extra sexy?”

You down the rest of your drink, “You two be happy you don’t have my problems.”

“I would not dream of it, Madam.” And with that, you thank the woman and Marco for their advice and leave a generous tip before heading back upstairs.

The next day, you found yourself in a downtown luxury lingerie and bodywear store. You had your assistant call ahead to reserve the store so you could shop comfortably. You didn't need anyone in your business. Amaya was with you because shopping with a companion is always more fun, plus she was probably the only one you hadn't stopped talking to.

“Wow, you must really be in love.” Amaya is watching you with curious eyes.

“What?” You ask, confused at such a random outburst.

“At first,” she pulls something from the rack, stopping to look at it before shaking her head and putting it back. “Everyone thought you were joking about this relationship.” ‘Relationship’ in air quotes. “Because you never brought them around. Then you entered what I’ll assume is your honeymoon phase because you cut everyone off. Then you started working for your dad. You’ve changed.”

When you and Shuri began dating, you were enamored and wanted to spend as much time as possible with your girlfriend, which led to you spending a lot of time in Wakanda, away from everyone. While it is true that you cut everyone off, it was because you understood your worth and didn't want to be around people who took advantage of you. Furthermore, partying gradually faded from your daily activities, and your time was spent on more important matters.

You roll your eyes, “First of all, outside of you, I don’t know those people. Second, yes, I’ve changed. Sorry, I don’t want to take shots off of strippers anymore.”

“Don’t be so defensive. I’m not saying you’ve changed in a bad way. Whoever this is, it must be serious. You're clearly in love. They’re good for you.”

No doubt you're in love, and it was serious, but how serious? You'd never doubt Shuri's emotions, but you can't spend the rest of your life together, fearful of the outside world. It was a complicated matter which neither of you could agree on.

You were starting to feel overwhelmed. You had twenty-four hours before you had to depart, and you had far too many options before you. Everything looked stunning, with 24K gold hardware and satin elastic banding paired with various luxurious fabrics. It's a lot of choices.

“Do you think this is too much? We should just go to Victoria’s Secret or something.” You ask Amaya while admiring a garter on one of the mannequins. Interesting.

Amaya scoffs as if you said the most offensive thing in the world. “Cheap things like Victoria’s Secret are meant to be thrown off. Altier lingerie like this is meant to be admired. It’s an art, while your body is the canvas.”

She calls the sales associates over for assistance. “Let’s start with a color. Trust me, whatever you pick will drive whoever this is wild.”

Something was off.

Ayo, not Shuri, escorted you to Wakanda. "The Queen has been quite focused these past few days. She will meet you in the Golden City." Ayo explains. Fine, you could accept that. It happened in the past, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary.

However, when you arrived in Wakanda, Shuri was nowhere to be found. The personnel at the Palace recognized you for who you were and your close relationship with their Queen. Two attendants take your things.

"Uh, the pink box is a present you don't have to unpack," you tell one of the staff. The woman nods in acknowledgment.

When you enter the Citadel, two additional Dora Milaje members are waiting for you. "Miss Y/N, the Queen has arranged a spa day for you. These attendants have come to accompany you."

Spa day? “Where’s Shuri?”

“The Queen has business to attend and regrets not being here upon your arrival.” She says immediately. It almost feels rehearsed.

A relaxing day is fun and all, but you want your girlfriend. You put on a robe and a bikini. The facial and massage were comforting, but while you sat in the heated pool, you couldn't help but wonder. Nothing made sense. She didn't pick you up or greet you; now you're being pampered. Wow, she’s trying to distract you. What exactly were you expected to do? Can you imagine going two weeks without seeing each other? You sighed as you exited the pool and found your towel. How can you unwind while your girlfriend is avoiding you?

You put on the robe once more and proceed past the staff, who are prepared to attend to your needs. “I’m fine, thank you.” You say, despite their best efforts to care for you. You figured you would keep your distance and await Shuri in her chambers. You take the elevator to Shuri's floor and notice a familiar face entering the hall.

“Ah, Y/N, it is good to see you. I thought you’d still be in the spa.” Okoye said. So this was definitely planned.

"I was, but I won't be able to relax till I see my girlfriend." You say honestly. You didn’t mind opening up to Okoye. She has always been so kind to you, plus Shuri trusted her.

She hesitates for a moment as if carefully considering her response. "It's not my place to ask, but did something happen between you two?"

"Both yes and no, but yeah." You confess with a sigh. "I know she's avoiding me, but I need to find her and apologize."

"I think if you know your partner well enough, you know exactly where to find her,” Her tone is cryptic, allowing you to determine Shuri's whereabouts. Of course.

You smile. “Thank you, Okoye.” You both go your separate ways after she gives you a slight nod.

Inside, the pink box sat on the rectangular table in the living space. With more difficulty than you would like to admit, you change into the lingerie you bought. The Bordelle set matched perfectly with your YSL sandals. You take a second to admire it in the mirror before wrapping your silk robe over it to conceal what’s underneath as you travel down the hall and into the elevator to Shuri's laboratory.

“Panther, Y/N-“

"You're trying to avoid me." You accuse, cutting off Griot’s introduction of your presence. Shuri is sitting alone in front of the multiple displays, typing away at something. You can see her shoulders stiffen as she turns around at the sound of your voice.

You proceed to list all the things that are wrong with today. "You didn't come to pick me up. You didn't greet me, and the spa was a distraction." As much as you tried to be annoyed, she looked great in her black tracksuit, hair braided back, and the gold of her habitat peeking through the collar. She’s so fine, and it turned you on already.

Shuri lets out a heavy sigh rubbing a hand over her face. “I know. I’m sorry, my love.”

“I wanted to give you some space. I'm ashamed of how I spoke to you, and I wanted to do something nice."

Your heart ached as you saw Shuri's pained expression and realized how guilty she felt. You were so preoccupied with your thoughts that you didn't recognize how your argument affected her.

"I've been putting something together for you." She motions to the panoramic screen as if you comprehend anything on it. You'll ask afterward. "I planned on finishing it before dinner so I could properly apologize, but I see my actions have made matters worse."

You sit on one of the empty surfaces making sure to keep everything intact. With a crooked finger, you beckon Shuri over, and she comes, stopping right in front of you but not close enough. “We can talk about it later. Right now, I don’t want space. I want you.”

You take her hand in yours, putting it underneath your robe so her fingers can brush against the garters on your thigh. Shuri bites her lower lip. “You have five minutes to join me in your bedroom, or the next two weeks will be hell when you can only look but not touch.” With that, you remove Shuri's hand. Her eyes widen at your boldness before smirking, and her pupils dilate, signifying arousal.

It took everything you had to get up from the lab table and walk away from her. As much as you didn't want to, you knew you had to. "Five minutes, Shuri," you call out.

With that, you left, making the journey back to Shuri’s bedroom. You hadn't even gotten past the entryway when you felt a pair of arms lift you from behind. "How long was that?" Shuri whispers into your ear. All you can do is giggle as she carries you inside and places you softly on the bed. She watches you curiously from a distance.

“Want to show me what’s hiding under that robe?” You smirk, making a show of untying the knot in the front and letting the satin fall open and slip down your shoulders. Shuri bites her lip, her eyes roaming all over your body. Your body truly is the canvas showcasing the art of the intricate designs of this atelier body wear.

“Griot,” Shuri called to the AI, flinging off the jacket to her tracksuit. “Please inform everyone in the Palace I will not be disturbed for the rest of the evening.”

“Yes, Panther.”

“All this for me?” She asks, placing her kimoyo beads on the side table.

“Only for you.” You tell her biting your lip.

Shuri comes back in front of the bed. “You look so beautiful, angel.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Are you just going to stare?” She was taunting you, and god, you needed her now.

“I’m just admiring how gorgeous you look before I ruin you.” And that does. You moan while the moisture between your legs grows. The power she has on you, and she hasn't even touched you.

Shuri spent the first part of your evening activities between your legs, using her tongue to coax some of the most delightful screams out of you. You had no idea how long this had been going on; your mind clouded. Shuri adored the sounds you created so much that once was never enough. She took her time taking you apart. Her warm, wet tongue spread you open and greedily soaked up everything your body had to offer.

“Baby,” Your fingers rest on top of her head as your breath hitches. You weren't sure whether to push her away or fully surrender to the pleasure again as she sucked and licked all your most sensitive spots.

Shuri wouldn't let you go when the sensation finally became too much for you. You attempted to escape, but she grabbed hold of the elastic straps that covered your thighs and dragged you back. The flutter in your abdomen grows into a warm pressure, and you know you're coming again.

On instinct, your thighs close around Shuri’s head. She slaps your legs as a warning, and you let go, leaving them parted. As if to reward you, your girlfriend slips two fingers inside you, finding a rhythm that creates the right amount of pressure.

You have another moment of euphoric bliss as you grind down on Shuri's face and fingers. Shuri's palm has a solid hold on your trembling thigh, but it's spread just enough that it doesn't restrict her access. She doesn't stop until you're gasping for air, and you can only say her name as if it were a prayer.

Instead of getting up, she licks her way up your body, and a trail of moisture follows behind her tongue as she stops at your lips. You waste no time bringing her lips to yours, tasting yourself on her lips. Intoxicating.

When it comes time for you to take charge, you're still a little dazed and sensitive. Shuri is relaxed and lets you do all the work as you sink into the strap. With the strap being designed to fit inside you, the stimulation is instant. Not only was it ideal for you, but Shuri created it to provide the optimal pressure level for your girlfriend, which you can control based on the pace and depth of your movement.

“You’re doing so good, baby.” Shuri encourages you while you ride her. As you bounce up and down, you place your hands on the bed above Shuri's head for leverage. Shuri breaks your rhythm when she pulls you close to her.

Even though the bra is sheer, she tugs it down just enough to expose one of your breasts and begins sucking on the nipple. You groan at the suction. Your new position forces you to change your movement, slowly swirling your hips. "Fuck," you gasp, overwhelmed. You sense another climax near and decide to shift angles.

Leaning back slightly, you press both palms on Shuri's thighs behind you. “Mmm, such a good girl.” Shuri groans. The praise makes you throw your head back and work harder.

Your hips stutter as you cry out. The feeling is too strong, and you know your body will stop you, rejecting the possibility of another orgasm. Shuri draws you back to her as if she understands your hesitation.

"Baby, come here." Shuri rises and brings you in closer. You wrap your legs around her waist. Your arms encircle her, and you nuzzle her neck with your face. It was the closeness you had been desperately craving. You were so blissed out that you couldn’t speak anymore.

Shuri guided your hips to create a steady and consistent rhythm. It was slow, but you could feel the warmth increasing with each rock of your hips. Your entire body quivered. “You did so well.” Then she tells you how beautiful you are and how hard you've worked.

“Are you going to come again for me?” You nod.

"You don't have to say anything, but you have to look at me." Shuri rasped, her breath heavy as you let out gentle gasps as you felt her moving inside of you, the heat flowing through your body again, and you wanted to cry. It's way too good.

You lift your head from her neck and stare into Shuri's dilated pupils. Everything is heightened because you can see the intensity in her chocolate-colored eyes and how fixated she is on you. This position is less physically demanding, enabling you both to concentrate on how the pressure is affecting you.

When you come, your sighs become moans, then screams, as the hand on your waist rocks you back and forth faster and faster, driving you further into oblivion. It's pure desperation. Your head is flung backward, and your spine arches as your body spasms. When Shuri comes, the hand guiding you freezes as a loud shout of your name fills the room.

As you melt into Shuri's arms, your body becomes light. The intense orgasm and overwhelming intimacy take you over the edge, and you find yourself crying. "I know, baby," Shuri replies as she strokes your back. "You did amazing."

It takes a few minutes for you to let Shuri separate from you so she can get you both comfortable. It was a normal part of your routine to practice aftercare, but today you found yourself overcome by emotion. When Shuri returns, she removes the remainder of your garments and wraps you in her arms.

Later, when your bodies are intertwined under the tangled sheets, you start talking. You look at Shuri and whisper, "Hi," to find her looking down at you with such tender eyes.

“Hi,” she says, kissing your forehead.

Though you regained your voice, the rush of the orgasm has you fuzzy, so you speak whatever comes to mind. "I'll never have sex with anyone but you." Shuri laughs and shakes her head slightly.

"I hope so," she replies, reaching out a hand to caress the side of your face. "I apologize, my love."

"I'm sorry too." You pout because you adore her.

Shuri intertwines your fingers and brings your hand to her lips, leaving a warm kiss on the skin. "I love you, and your safety is something I will never bargain with. That's why I got angry, but I shouldn't have yelled at you."

“But, I realized instead of saying no, there are other options. So, when you're ready, I'd like you to live here with me." Shuri says it plainly as if she isn't proposing that you spend the rest of your life with her without a ring.

“What?” You can’t believe what you’re hearing.

"I know you want to make our love public, but I can't protect you if we're thousands of miles apart. I'll know you're safe if you live here." Not only does Shuri agree to publicize your relationship, but she's also asking you to move in with her in exchange. Did your orgasm transcend you to a parallel universe?

“I was working on an A.I. for you. If you agreed to live here primarily, I wouldn't expect you never to leave, but significant security precautions would be put in place. Non-negotiable.” She watches you, waiting for a response.

You don't realize how much you're grinning until your cheeks ache. "I'm going to require a closet with an elevator." Shuri rolls her eyes and leans in, your lips joining for a kiss sweeter than any you've shared tonight.

"You can have whatever you want, angel."

[slytherinshua]

SUMMER KISSES

genre. fluff. warnings. they're making out but it's not rly suggestive at all. just a lot of kissing and them being in love w each other :( pairing. yongseung x fem!reader. wc. 544. request. no. a/n. i got the absolute worst brainrot for this fic while i was watching belbel land and it was honestly just insane because i suddenly needed to write making out with yongseung and dropped everything to do it 😭 tagging @zarazmnie-cos cause idek if you wanted to be added to my vrvr taglist but i feel obligated to tag you whenever there is a fic bcuz we are both so starved 😭😭

Summer vacations with your friends and boyfriend meant hours spent at the lake playing water games, endless snacks at the villa, late night barbecues, and, perhaps your favourite: make-outs on the couch when all your friends had left the house.

You and Yongseung were both tired from the hours you had already spent at the lake that morning. There were countless rides and numerous games played, all of them physically exhausting you, but it was definitely the most fun you’d had in a while. While the rest of the boys showered quickly and went out to find food, still somehow energetic and excited about the trip, you and your boyfriend decided to stay back and relax. 

Now, with fresh sweats on after your warm showers, you were cuddled up on the couch, legs tangled with each other. You tangled your fingers in Yongseung’s hair, smiling as the floral scent of the shampoo hit your nose. He turned his head up slightly, bumping his nose with yours and letting his breath hit your lips slightly. A second later, his lips were interlocked with yours, moving slowly against you in perfect harmony.

It was relaxing for you to just be able to focus on the feeling of him after the day of chaos and fun. All the warmth and love you had for each other seemed to float in the air and surround you as Yongseung kissed you just a little bit deeper.

You were quick to get completely lost in the feeling. Yongseung’s subtle citrus cologne was addicting to you, and by far your favourite scent in the whole world. There was no place you’d rather be than in his arms— you couldn’t help but feel that everything was as perfect as it could get when his lips were interlocked with yours.

He seemed to be as lost in the feeling as you were, trying to pull you closer with his hands even though you were as close to him as humanly possible. One of his hands brushed up behind your neck, holding the position so you couldn’t slip away from him and continuing to pour out all his love for you where your lips connected.

You had to pull apart once your breath ran out, but even then, your lips kept finding their way back to Yongseung’s again and again in short sweet pecks. You could never get enough of the feeling, even if you were to kiss him for an entire lifetime.

“Are you tired?” You mumbled against his lips, a hand trailing down to his cheek to cup it, leaving its original spot in his hair. At first, he nods his head, but a split second later he’s shaking it and it makes you chuckle. “That wasn’t a clear answer, Yong.” There was nothing but fondness present in your voice, and that paired with how close your face still was to him brought a smile to Yongseung’s face.

“I am tired, but not enough to stop kissing you.” He whispered, his eyes staring up at you as if pleading for you to kiss him again. You were sure the last thing you would ever do is say no to Yongseung, so with your regained breath, your lips crashed onto his once more.

↳ verivery taglist: @eternalgyu,, @minholing,, @ddeonudepressions,, @candewlsy,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien

[sueske]

sorry if you've already answered this before! but i just saw a post saying "naruto didn't deserve sasuke's friendship" and how naruto didn't bother to understand sasuke and only cared abt sucking the boot. that naruto kept asking sasuke to come back to konoha, the very place that ordered the hit on his entire clan.

idek where to begin with this.... bc it's a nuanced topic to talk abt but what r ur thoughts on this?

yes I have talked about this before, either briefly or in the context of other things like here, here, and here. (I'd recommend reading the first link at least cuz it's most relevant). but ppl that say the above are literally missing a vital part of naruto's character arc - because while he didn't understand sasuke at the start, something naruto himself recognised and voiced aloud, he does come to understand sasuke.

in vote1 sasuke says to naruto 'you who never had bonds can't understand what it is like to lose them!' so do u need to experience what other people go through to understand them? well in sasuke's case this is what he thinks and feels like, that naruto can't, and it's what the narrative also points towards. (but then that also means that sasuke doesn't fully understand naruto either cuz sasuke doesn't know what it means to have no one from the start.)

that being said, people say that sasuke's words in vote2 of understanding naruto when they were children are therefore a retcon cuz of what sasuke said in vote1. but it's important to note that sns understood each other's loneliness from the start. they understood the pain that comes from being alone, that is the thread that connected them from the beginning, even if their loneliness stemmed from different things. what naruto and sasuke didn't understand, at the point of vote1, is the actions they took in response to that loneliness. naruto didn't understand why sasuke was going so far for revenge, while sasuke didn't understand why naruto was willing to go so far for him. and throughout the story while naruto comes to understand sasuke's actions, sasuke also comes to understand why naruto would go far for him. that's... that's the story.

so let's look at all the moments naruto chased after sasuke to get him back to konoha (gonna repeat myself a bit from the first link but still recommend you read that first cuz it's more detailed) because no where, in all of these moments, was the reasoning due to naruto just wanting sasuke to be a good little konoha shinobi to lick boot.

in vote1 naruto went ballistic trying to get sasuke to come back to konoha because naruto was scared that orochimaru was going to hurt sasuke. and of course naruto was also upset on a very personal level - cuz he thought him and sasuke were friends after all they went through, but that sasuke was still willing to kill him.

so then naruto becomes aware of orochimaru's body transfer jutsu so naruto decides to become a fool all his life and go training so he can get strong enough to bring sasuke back. and listen - is wanting to save your friend from the clutches of a dangerous person who previously trashed the leaf village and caused so much pain to your most precious person a bad thing? it's sasuke's safety that naruto brings up first when they meet up in shippuden, that's why he wants to bring sasuke back to konoha.

when naruto finds out sasuke killed orochimaru, naruto thinks that sauske's going to come back to the leaf village. wishful thinking on his part right? sasuke got strong, surely he'd come to the village right? but no. he's still going after itachi. and naruto doesn't get why sasuke is still so fixated on revenge. naruto had his run in with the akatsuki. he knows how dangerous they are. why can't sasuke come back to konoha where it's safe and they can laugh together like they used to in team 7? naruto still doesn't understand why sasuke would go so far in the name of vengeance, why sasuke would still seek it out, naruto just doesn't get sasuke's actions yet.

and then jiraiya dies. the pein arc happens. naruto undergoes his own revenge/forgiveness arc. and in the wake of everything he says this:

naruto recognises it himself that he couldn't understand sasuke back then! in contrast let's look at everyone else who just condemned sasuke for what he did and wanted to kill him, even sakura for all that talk of how much she loves him. no one else tried to understand sasuke. these are the people that don't deserve sasuke's friendship, these are the bootlickers.

how about all the moments where naruto trained all night long to get strong enough to save sasuke from orochimaru, at the expense of his own health. at the expense of his own life if need be. sasuke is naruto's 'driving force'. it was never about 'beating sasuke's fire', it was about 'assisting his flame'. and how about all the moments naruto spent all night thinking about sasuke, wondering if he feels fine, if he's okay, if he feels better, wondering why he was doing all this - are these the actions and thoughts of a person who never bothered to understand sasuke? lol.

and then obito tells naruto and kakashi the truth. naruto's first instinct is to tell everyone about it but kakashi shoots him down. and then at the bridge scene when team 7 meet up again, sasuke tells them he killed danzo. that it's former team 7 to him. and naruto never brings up laughing together in team 7 like they used to again because he understands things can never go back (in comparison to sakura and kakashi), and naruto doesn't ask sasuke to go back to konoha again. naruto says that he understands sasuke's actions. but naruto can't let sasuke kill everyone in konoha, so naruto comes up with a proposal - when sasuke is ready to fight, he comes at naruto first. and naruto stops chasing sasuke at this point, naruto waits for sasuke to come to him. and sasuke agrees.

so then vote2 comes along. do people honestly think that fight is to beat sasuke into submission? LOL. tell me you didn't understand vote2 without telling me you don't understand vote2. vote2 was a battle of love.

when sasuke left during chapter 699 naruto didn't tell him to stay or kick up a fuss. he realised that sasuke needed to go and they left on a promise of settling things between them in the future.

also about keeping everything about itachi a secret - sasuke was the one who said that he'd take on itachi's wishes as his own - which means keeping it a secret. do I like this? no. do I agree with it? no. do I think it was only so boruto could happen and konoha could live as it did in order to not address the 'darkness' of the leaf? it played a huge part in it I'm sure. but why do people blame naruto for it?

saying that naruto doesn't deserve sasuke's friendship and that naruto didn't understand sasuke, that naruto's just a bootlicker that forces sasuke to stay in the leaf is just plain wrong. if people want to hate on naruto they're gonna have to come up with better than that.

[nobodieshero-main]

kinda an intense question but for new and old followers would you give a basic rundown of What Nobodies Hero Is? id love to have smthn to reblog bc im terrible at describing things myself i just start going ‼️‼️‼️ NOBODIES HERO ‼️‼️‼️

this was harder than it had any right to be and idek if this is any good but it's what i've got. bon appetite.

anyway Nobodies Hero is a fantasy series i've been working on for years, centered around a quest for a dragon and the clusterfuck of destinies-gone-wrong.

the story begins when the quest is already in full swing, when an adventuring party (Atlas, a noble who spent his life seeking adventure; Cecily, his partner in crime + Ahria, a sword-master and faithful wife) arrive in a town that shouldn't exist. (arlet, the only civilisation at the end of the world, my beloved)

we're introduced through the eyes of the towns librarian, an acerbic man with a complicated past (Keika) who the party hires to act as their guide. after he's only slightly guilted into it.

they need an impossible man from an impossible town to get them to an impossible destination. The Mahina Woods are an ancient and terribly magic stretch of woodland staining the bottom of every map of the continent; it's a place no one has ever returned from. It's also the only place that might have anything to say about dragons-- a creature long extinct.

Keika's job is to get them in and out of the woods without any of them dying. He succeeds! That is where his story is supposed to end.

Unfortunately (for more than just him), it is only the beginning; and he finds himself dragged through all manner of ordeals and trials as he struggles to keep up with his new companions while battling his own grief and increasing loss-of-self. (and dealing with falling in love for the first time. loser.)

Nobodies Hero explores a lot of things regarding identity and stories with fixed endings; but my favourite thing about this series is the way it plays with it's own story <3 there are two paths: what was supposed to happen (as written in the stars), and what ends up happening because of one little change to the narrative (the story that i am writing).

NH looks at a story with a fixed ending and decides to see what happens when you switch the unimportant bits around. What if the sister dies instead of the brother? A lamb reared for slaughter is left to wander loose, a scholar is handed a sword too heavy for his hands, an adventurer locks himself behind a desk, a friend becomes a traitor.

The story, unchanging, says that a sibling, a dragon, and a king will die. These are facts no matter what else changes. but I love how everything else has to twist itself into knots to make it happen. (the mordred and ahuru connection still makes me insane)

The world of NH is set within an unnamed continent split into 4 countries: Omos, in the north; Miednic, in the west; Nevmones, in the south; and Kauae in the east. Each has their own histories and relationships with one another, their own customs and cultural norms (poppies as a symbol of death in nevmones you will always be famous) BUT i couldn't fit all of it into the main parts of the story which is why i also created the side quests!! aka: stories that let me play with my world-building without impacting the main series <3

(i don't count the splintering as a side quest seeing as it has A Significant Impact On The Main Series, Actually.)

anyway yeah it has spooky dragon myths and a two-faced ruler, there's a queen who's rumoured to eat babies to remain eternally youthful, love curse shenanigans, found family, magic, humour and romance. like all my writing it explores every kind of love there is: family, friends, romance, the love you hold for your favourite type of bread, for your pets, for your favourite seasons or the way sunlight dances over the scales of a fish.

it seems dramatic, and at times the story is pretty heavy, especially the deeper you get into it but there is always always warmth and kindness and moments that offer a soft landing. a place to rest. i love these characters and this world too much to deny them that.

OH ALSO the gods aren't separate from their domains (eg. the goddess of mountains is quite literally the mountains), magic is called stardust bc it comes from Vietua (the night sky) and magic-wielders are called casters (atlas, cecily + keika are all casters) the terms for shapeshifters (werewolves, selkies etc) and halflings (harpies, centaurs etc) can depend on where you are on the continent, same thing with the undead; other magical creatures that dont fit in those categories are usually called tani or just referred to specifically (RUAHOI MY BELOVEDS)

um. i hope this is helpful. 🙏🙏

[kokoshfts]

The finished story that I was telling on tiktok so yeah just a recap what happened was I think I was in the room with my sister (idk what was on the TV but it was probably sum interesting) and yeah but like I think it switched over to the McDonald's place idek why but there was sum girl I must've went to McDonald's with her and my sister and like there was this like big square thing for chargers (I think it was like not placed right idk maybe the beginning part of her charger was too big) and she was like how is the chargers gone fit here if it's like that or sum but I don't think I cared cause I don't have iPhone products like that but like we thought of sum and was like wait what if we charge both of them at the same time oh wait no first she plugged her phone in and then we said if we charge it at the same time so we was like ight bet if these mfs charge at the same time we buying everything in this bitch so we was all hyped and like she was putting the phones together cause if it connects that way (if I was to describe it it's like when people put they phones together and get each other's number) and like at first we didn't think it would work but then it did like the charging signal thing popped up on both and we was HYPED so we went to the front and the cashier lady was up there and me and my sister was just ordering random shii so we was sitting there and like there was like a machine like putting down icing or sum and I was like ts look like a documentary and we just started dying bruh the worker looked kinda annoyed but she was kinda laughing too she was probably like (can y'all hurry up) in her head or sum and then my sister pulled out this random ass pinkalicous ass cupcake and i was like holon i want that TELL ME WHY the lady went to the back and was like 'aye do we still got those cupcakes from 20 years ago' and they said yeah (idk if i should question if its been sitting there for 20 years or if they just still have it on the menu somewhere) also idk who was gonna pay for all that so🤷🏾‍♀️

[tellywoodtrash]

// trigger warning for abuse and panic attacks //

hello TT. I'm so sorry for oversharing but i literally don't know what to do right know.

I'm 18 and my parents are abusive in an physical, mental, emotional, and every other sense.

I'm going to college this year and for years i thought that if i could just move away for college, i would be able to heal away from them. i would finally be free.

but they didn't let me apply to any out-of-state colleges. so now I'm stuck with them till idek how long. i wish i could just rent a tiny appartment or something but i don't have the money. and i can't live in any in state hostels either because they don't accept students who live in the same state.

as a result, my depression and anxiety has gotten so much worse. im having multiple panic attacks a day and i don't know what to do.

i don't know how i will survive anymore torture from them. i don't see a way out for myself. what should I do?

Dearest baby friend,

First offf, sending you biggest and tightest hugs. You are being very brave reaching out to me through your pain.

Crappy parents are just a shitty lottery result, and the worst bit is, you cannot change them. What you can change however, is how you react to them. It will take a lot of work, but train yourself to not hear the shitty things they say to you. It's extreeeemely difficult to grow out of wanting your parents' approval (esp. for us desis) but that's what you've got to do. By now you must have realised that no matter what you do, there's no pleasing them. So fuck it. Do what you think is right (PRUDENTLY, within reason; try not to rock the boat too much) and fuck their opinion. It's just white noise. Stop allowing them to affect your mood. Free yourself from them emotionally, and you'll see a lot of their power over you is diminished.

Is there anyone in the extended family you could reach out to? An aunt/uncle/grandparent etc? Maybe just work on forming a bond with someone like that, an adult whom you can trust to have your wellbeing at heart. Worst situation, you can move out to their place. But that's just in case of emergencies.

Now that you're starting college, I assume you'll have a little more freedom than you did in school, time wise. Try and use that to spend as much time away from your parents, whether it be in the college library, or with friends, etc. Come back home at reasonable times, and then just say you're exhausted and go be in your own space. Try and build a life outside of home and treat this just as a place to come rest your head at night.

Most importantly, you need to start creating an action plan to become financially independent as soon as feasibly possible. The sooner you have your own money, the quicker you can break your parents' control over you. You can move out to PGs or working women's hostels, or whatever. There are a buncha places that will pay you for small online tasks, like fiverr and upwork and stuff. All you need is your computer and an internet connection. If you have skills like graphic design and video editing etc, even better. Do some research into those. Depending on your college major, your professors might be able to help you get some small stuff within the college as well, as a research assistant or something of the sort. If/when you find a professor you form a good bond with, tell them you're interested in participating in projects or whatever, and that they should keep you in mind. These professors will also be able to give you good recommendation letters and connections when you graduate and are looking to move into the job market.

Since you don't have much disposable income rn, I realise it might not be feasible to suggest therapy to you; but please know there are online options that take like, a 1000 - 2000 bucks per session (look up The Mind Clan.) If that's not possible, I'd like you to try doing some self therapeutic reading that might be helpful. Research books written by professionals in the field (for eg Toxic Parents: Overcoming Their Hurtful Legacy and Reclaiming Your Life by Dr. Susan Forward; and Childhood Disrupted: How Your Biography Becomes Your Biology, and How You Can Heal by Donna Jackson Nakazawa) and absorb their messages and do the exercises if any, to help yourself understand how this relationship has affected both your mental and physical health, identify patterns that you may have built up as defense mechanisms to cope, and how to move forward with healing.

Please know, that you WILL eventually make it out of this situation. Maybe not now, maybe not in the current foreseeable future; but eventually you WILL become financially and emotionally independent from your parents and will be able to do as you wish. It's just about hanging in there a little longer. Use this time to prepare yourself to be self sufficient in the real world, and freedom shall come sooner than later.

Please take care of yourself in the meantime. I love you lots and am rooting for you.

[theomnicode]

Imagination of the universe

Someone actually made a good point on reddit.

"Imagining"? They imagined the universes inside themselves and turned each atom in the opposite direction. And then Saitama moved in time, as if he had turned the atoms in the real world. That is, has his imagination become real? Or did he really create an entire universe that was connected to real

At this point? I'm gonna say yea, to the first one at least.

That much I've made a meta about that he visualizes things and it just happens. With his cognitive powers, what he imagines happening, happens.

Bending hyperspace gates, multiply himself, multiply his arms, appear where he imagines to appear from, imagining how he can fight and dodge things by slowing down time...just one aspects of his powers. Divine power is helluva drug, you can do anything with it.

(Saitama casually bending reality meta here)

But did he accidentally create an entire inner universe by imagining it? Err...if he imagined his atoms mimicing Garou's atoms. I'm gonna go out on a limb and say it means he's imagining the universe that exists in each being, the soul. Divine power. Stuff.

Not saying it would be out of his grasp though...imagining an entire universe, that is. If he can vividly imagine his own soul, which would be this in cosmological terms. He'd just need to think on bigger scale lol.

The confusing part comes from whether it means if saitama just imagined his inner universe to become real or if he imagined the inner universe that was part of him.

And... you know what guys?

I think I got what this uncanny feeling is with all these chapters.

I'm going to go out on a limb here and say what I think is happening...

Don't click if you don't want a potential surprise ruiners just btw.

Saitama is STILL imagining his own inner universe.

Saitama imagined punching monsterization out of Garou? Bam, people are suddenly forgetting the essence of monsterization.

Saitama saw Garou turn into salt? Zombieman is confused about how Homeless Emperor actually met his end.

Garou should not remember fighting Blast either in that order. But Garou who imagined his inner universe with Saitama would.

Garou too, is imagining his inner universe.

No wonder chapter 170 was so idyllic...it was exactly what Garou wanted lol.

No wonder everyone looks so weird at times too. Like Sitch is lacking his large nose from far away. It's hard to imagine all the minor details.

Like Tareo's shirt.

Or that the couch should not have a rendition of God's cube in it.

Or that Genos does not actually look like a cat. And rover keeps changing sizes depending on who is looking. Black S imagines Rover as pathetic or that's how Rover actually looks like if Black S is not affected.

All the inconsistencies and weirdness.

The road should probably be straight too, if I am all honest and not look like fata morgana, uneven and very much not straight. And the world not be full of holes after Boros's attack like the last time Saitama saw City A. Erosion might happen, but not a straight road? Idek, these roads look pretty nice to me. Hell there should be more roads, but they are conspiciously lacking. Probably because Saitama doesn't imagine them being around.

Funnily enough, even the heroes in the cafe seemingly respond like Saitama would have responded. Despite having their beepers which provide location information where the distress signal is sent from, they try locating based on the sound when they can't find their way around the place.

Then they arrive late to the scene, much like Saitama himself. A rendition of how he would imagine himself responding to a monster attack indeed.

Something happened that we still aren't privy to in between chapter 169 and 170.

Like, idk...Saitama going to fucking bed and falling asleep because he had been up for longer than 24hrs.

Either Saitama is having some wild ass dreams or his powers are messing with everyone else's cognitive thoughts or this is all some fucked up dream scenario made by OPM God sending subliminal messages to everyone and everyone is just imagining all kinds of shit happening.

Still imaginary fake stuff regardless. Someone has some really fucking vivid imagination. It's either Saitama, Garou, OPM God, everyone or all of em.

Maybe OPM God is trying to superimpose webcomic parallel world into manga verse lmfao.

Zombieman threw lampshading at God, so I'm going to point my finger there.

Iaian in redrawn chapters has this to say about it.

"Being of immense power that is the very incarnation of despair and beyond human ability to defeat."

Oh and Garou is not past Garou, pretty sure it's not. It's future Garou imagining his own inner universe, the same as Saitama.

That's why he spouts his rhetoric into a dine and dash investigation and skips the actual interrogation entirely, because he cannot imagine how that one would go for real.

The one problem though is that future Garou is still dead.

Who knows if Garou being dead means he can actually get to uh, meet this being of immense power that is the very incarnation of despair...that would be fun wouldn't it.

Imagination is getting pretty real though. A bit too real if you ask me.

What is real and what is fake anymore?

However...if one gets too immersed in their imagination, it may be too difficult to stop daydreaming to notice the dangers.

Saitama's finally getting what he wishes for too. Some actual, real and not so boring monsters I bet.

Someone has to slap him awake before it's too late.

[uozlulu]

Hmmmm...okay so like

DP3 movie spoilers because I'm going to talk about that consciousness trait swap fic

I'm writing this DP3 fic where when the Time Ripper thing happened, Wade and Logan became one consciousness and then after that moment ended went back to their respective bodies as their respective minds. Except some stuff gets a little mixed up like Wade can understand animals, Logan is aware of the fourth wall, Wade grows fangs, Logan can hear the voices in Wade's head, etc...etc....

And that got me quite far in terms of fic, but like I thought I needed to give them some sort of something to do instead of like random missions that are unrelated. So I created a multiverse situation of a villain and a situation that not just happens in Wade's universe, but connects back to whatever went down in Logan's universe (because I can remember most of the movies but details elude me as per usual so I am vibing]

Anyway, got to the part where the villain gets defeated and now it's time to start wrapping things up and I'm a little worried that this villain might be a little too cracky and I'm having a little bit of fic anxiety about it, but at the same time what else would I really do in place of it? And idek. I'm going to keep it and hope that as I finish the draft and then edit the fic I'll feel a little less ahhhhhhh about it, but we'll see how that goes.

I think part of what it is is because this first draft is ROUGH and so it's a little contradictory because I'm kind of figuring out what I'm doing as I go with some aspects of the fic, so maybe in the next draft things will feel more solid and I'll feel less man who is going to read this?!!!! about it.

[taenys]

i've just read some of the personal posts you wrote about your dating life and i'm like giiiiirl fuck these men 😭😭 i'm so sorry that they all SUCK this hard. i've been a super casual lurker for over a decade and if i remember correctly you used to identify as bi/pan at some point? are there any cute girls in your area or is it literally fuckboy city rn?

no girls. or if there are, they're all polyamorous (portland, oregon is big in the poly scene...) or "ethically non monogamous." the few girls i've matched with ghosted me relatively quickly so we never actually got to an in-person date. too many femmes, not enough butch women (my preference). very slim pickings, and girls are much more selective and we all want to be pursued lol so no one is doing the pursuing LOL. no one wants to make the first move.

men on the other hand, will fuck anything with a hole so i've always got hundreds of dudes matching with me and making "an effort" (at least in the beginning lol) so i've only been dating dudes for now.

also, i live an hour away from portland, so i'm actually in a small EXTREMELY CONSERVATIVE little rural town so another issue is the distance. even when i match with girls in the portland area, none of them can drive and ain't no way i'm killing myself to drive downtown portland to meet them LOL so dudes it is for now. they all love to drive (usually) so that's at least never an issue.

i have one guy left that i still talk to, but he's so busy with 3 jobs with evening and weekend hours, he responds to my texts like twice a week (and rarely flirts back lmao ugh). idek what we're doing anymore lol. i get that he's busy and tired and probably not in a place to be dating (and definitely not prioritizing it anymore). we matched in march and had a really good connection and 3 great dates, but then my summer schedule started and now we both are working like crazy and our schedules don't align as well. i keep telling myself to stop initiating contact, but then i'll crack after 3-4 days or he'll do my favorite thing and randomly send me a selfie and i'm back to chasing, waiting, and hoping for another date. he's so cute and so fun. but he's married to his work lol he legit has no days off right now.

but considering how busy i am at work right now too, i’ve stopped actively dating. i deleted all my profiles on all the apps back in may and i don’t plan on opening them up again until october. i need some time on my own. but i’ll keep that last dude on the back burner until he straight out tells me he’s not interested lol i like him too much and he’s stuck around the longest 😂 he’s the main character from the bear, carmy. he’s a professional chef who works at 3 different restaurants and is EXTREMELY passionate and dedicated to his craft, he legit has no free time. he only had one job when we first met so he had mondays off and so did i so that’s when we could meet up but now we both work pretty much all the time so i don’t view his “ignoring” as fuckboy behavior. he’s just genuinely busy working all the time 😭

[official-mistah-j]

REIGN WAS MY RX FROM A WANNA-BE HARLEY

he was a man

that said he aint straight

idek

cover up

or cover girl

who f****** knows

a friend of hers

got me through

when there was no one

just songs and tears for you

dancing in my head,

the things we did and words we said

but were they my own, the songs i heard

we wre connected

everything

cycling again

morticia smokes but she doesnt use nic

i think its quite lovely

whatever are we

divine

times 3

a foot for a fucking foot

devil box

my passion

says a dream

joker box

making the world

suitable for Enki

my father in Translyvnia Vampire Cour

The necklaces

are to keep

Dracula's ponty teeth

away

from an andreline rushed

artery--

everything will come to pass

again

nothing ever lasts

maybe though

it will be ink

i create from ashes of you

and i will

blacken

everything

and i will still see

you're riding with death

and im so grateful

maybe the only thing

if being able to see you

right now, my emotions tell me im alive

and my pulse quickens

rocking out, gathering crystals and gems

deejeeing and making and doing silly jokes

that belong in museums

but are quickly forgotten

and our lips are locking

cat has my tongue

and i cant sleep

my nymphetamine,from hell are we, not our fault, this unwanted place, a 3d realty, lol.. to 4d, a little better, in our shadow are we, and i like it, you all men dont deserve to see, a friend of them ill always be, ill always choose a goddess over any man,

well

thats kinda embarrassing

-----------------------

louie did the dishes

samael swept the floor

asmodeus vaccuumed

and satan hid us from the bullets

and jet cursed his woulda been cousin (how cute, our family is being followed ugh by skinwalkers that are more real, more "in the flesh" of a skin walker, you know, clawed hands and points knows, im a man with a heart black as sin, and they said leave that one alone, boy, and they will again, and yes,my sisters youngest son, they never let em grow up, he's a bit of a suck up, but if you believe in santa, you';l get mre presents and in my house, im carolling, cause thats my prison

christmas land

he said i did a good job

with a smile on his face

of handling gifting this year

and things to bake

(though i didnt partake)

im clean off everything,

so much time on my hands

meant to play

and wither things

it screamt she is a bad mommy and shes soory

prolly cause shes really the dad

in heaven and hell and prison and in the well

and between these dimensions inbetween these realms called heaven and hell

you arent the first to see this dream this, scene

she said

"little girl"

and i will forever

guard our dream, no longer dead

using these powers, to bring to life instead

and happy nightmares

[luaspersona]

i think one of our greatest struggles as fic writers is dealing with predictability. even sadfics are tagged as such (with very few exceptions), and we usually lay out the prompt and the tropes in the warnings as good practice. upon starting this story, from the very request, we know that reader is 1. a runaway bride 2. yoongi and reader are ending up together, which basically sums up the 3.3k words. but it's precisely because of its predictability — in this sense that, most often than not, we already know the beats of the story and are able to anticipate major events ("a very unfortunate namjoon") — that fanfiction, to be, is the best way to find genuinely talented writers. i'm not reading your story to find out if reader and yoongi are ending up together, but to delve into your words and be someone else for a minute or so. i'm reading your story to be able to evoke reactions within myself. literature is not really about what, but about how, and i think your drabbles, especially because you often receive given prompts that are very predictable on their own, are a prime example of how much power a word choice, an exposition creatively thought out, a precise dialogue and an amazing imagery development can make a cliche sound fresh.

so — after that long af intro — i want to talk about some of those "how"s 🥹

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours. 

this paragraph reveals a depressing hopelessness. the feeling of not being able to do anything, but wanting to do everything — seeing someone that you love happy and not wanting to burst that bubble when you couldn't be more miserable yourself 😩 so fucking well written and such a marvelous way to establish what's going on and the conflict inside the character.

but omg the last sentence is SO good, idek. i think you always find such clever ways to convey complex things and it never ceases to amaze me. the idea of reader slipping through his fingers — of him losing his grasp on the possibility of "them" — looms over him as fate, as he says in the next paragraph:

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

and he just has to sit politely and smiley while passively watching his doom unfold, as he says, and that's such an interesting scenario you put us in.

i also love the way you suggest reader's feelings here:

His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth. 

an empty smile, a cracking facade that only yoongi seems to be able to spot.

and here (i didn't plan on doing a close reading analysis but! 😩 this is just too good not to):

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

the way yoongi is terrified of losing a connection by spotting something only he could, but not being able to decipher its meaning. i LOVE this cus he can read into the reader's every emotion, but can phantom the possibility of reciprocity — that's the only reality he doesn't dare entertain, so he rejects it all together.

ok, now this:

Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then. He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with. He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around. At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

this sequence is one very dear to me cus it sums up one of your greatests talents (that i feel like i've mentioned a couple hundred times by now) which is control of exposition. contextualizing backstory is terrifying because summary tends to be boring or too clinical — a procedure you have to endure before reaching the fun parts. but exposition can be just as good if done correctly, and you're SO good at it. the sweet way you convey: passage of time, reader's personality, yoongi's gradual realization throughout the years and just how deep-rooted their bond is without explicitly saying any of it is just so amazing and enveloping, driving us deeper into their world and affection, i can't DEAL with it 😩🔪

as for this one:

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

i think the word choice is just perfect. "none of them ever threatened to last", i mean... god, idk it might seem silly for me to point out those things, but it enhanced my experience tenfold, and i want you to know that the time you spent crafting this didn't go unnoticed and it was worth it. these sentences are the ones that, whenever im reading, i have to stop for a second to collect the breath that you just punched out of me.

this:

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

was another super interesting choice! the personification of time in reader's character's steps is so creative. the way he feels trapped and everything around him just reminds him of his missed opportunity, of his waste of time. and the idea the the reader is a personification of it — as in, every time he sees them, he can't think of anything but what he lost due to his waste of time — is 🤌🏽

also, this:

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead.

feels like something that should be in boy with luv

another thing i wanted to mention was the weight of the confession. while for readers it’s the most awaited event in a story, for writers it’s the most intimidating. it’s a scary moment that demands a lot of thinking, i feel, because we have to be just to the characters we created, to the expectations and predict reactions and aftermaths, so i always love to see how writers come up with solutions to the problems evoked by the premise.

so when you decide to do it without dialogues, just through yoongi’s eyes:

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

it felt so different. it felt like a moment of dissociation, of when you feel unaware of your own actions and choices — inevitable just like fate. something that had to happen, something that couldn’t be held back anymore. it’s just so visceral, and the harsher word choice enhances this feeling (like in the highlighted parts) of a confession that’s almost violent, physically painful to yoongi — so much so that he’s surprised it didn’t stain the reader (that’s such a beautifully sad image, i’m obsessed with it).

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

their reaction, somehow, feels like the shock of violence — a shattering of something. and i just love the way you phrased his disappointment because even if he never really planned on confession, he still had hope, regardless of how suffocated by doubt. 

and like, yeah, i knew from the very beginning that they are ending up together — or at least expect so. but here?:

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered,  “Yoongi, that is not —  Why would you —” As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive. “Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob.  “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

god, it felt heartbreaking. reader’s clear frustration, yoongi’s turmoil and regret and just the overwhelming and heart clenching way his confession hits them (again, almost violently) and they hit right back, as if trying to protect themselves from the blow. 

also, i don’t know why but i also love the idea of reader not predicting to cry at their own wedding:

He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

crying at your “big day” sounds like something more than reasonable and expected even, but all they gave was empty smiles, seeking eyes and the certainty of no genuine emotional response.

when we switch to reader’s pov, i really loved the way you decided to describe doubt and regret, as a kind of heartburn you can’t solve with encyclopedias, only with words.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

it just sucks us right into their mind and makes us feel with them.

when i read it for the first time, this was a sentence that took me a while to get through:

Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

the weight of a decision that has already mobilized so many people, and knowing that — after all the promises and wasted time — choosing yourself opens far more wounds than it mends. so is it worth it? to choose false perfection over honesty? well, no lmao. but i found it interesting that you don’t free the reader from those responsibilities. you make us follow her steps as they slowly make a decision that will hurt someone who feels nothing but love for them and that person being namjoon of all people feels like a sin. if it was a random oc we wouldn’t mind, but omg 😭 all this time namjoon watching out for hobi when yoongi was the one simping after his partner. 

and aaaaaaa got nothing smart to say on this:

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

rather than oh my GOD what a beautiful way to describe him and their love for him 😭 — he as their heart??? jade babe, you trying to kill me or something??

i loved here too:

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. 

it feels like reader’s about to have an anxiety attack — their life slipping through her fingers as they are trapped around their fate! such good imagery 😭😭😭

(also, reader placing hello kitty sticker in a pack of cigarettes is the most endearing and ineffective way to make someone quit smoking lmao i just thought it was the CUTEST fucking thing)

very much like the confession, the getting-together is another major event, and here:

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait.  Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

their conversation is so chronic, so simple — not as deep shit, but as a “returning home”, and i don’t know if i can describe or elaborate it better than that. it feels right, it clicks, and his body knows before himself. 

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb.

i liked it because there’s no need for reader to say it back — he knows. knows why they are there and finally can recognize their expression for what it is: reciprocity. it’s not violent, is embracing.

ugh, i just love your stories jade, and you KNOW it. i’ve missed you and i’ve missed your creativity. i’m in a literary analysis mode because i’ve been working nonstop with it these last weeks so if this review feels kinda abstracted and messy well… that’s why. but thank you for this AMAZINGLY SWEET fic, thank you for the angst and the immediate comfort, and thank you for sharing 🩷 hopefully my next review wont take forever lol, sorry.

Yoongi + “runaway bride” I’mma leave this one up to your interpretation bc I know I’ll love it either way and also wanna see what you come up with 👀

oooooooh!!! v excited by this prompt, lol. this is, um, going to hurt kind of a lot at the beginning, but stick with me!!!! also, i accidentally made this >3.3k words….. which i will proofread when i am no longer exhausted 🤪

the one with yoongi and the fucking hydrangeas

ft. POV shift, pining & correlating angst, reader who’s🎵 a runner she’s a track star 🎵, a #nonspon vans product placement, a very unfortunate namjoon (sorry, buddy,) childhood idiots in love

Yoongi sat in a seat chosen specifically for him not because he wanted to, but because he knew how much time you’d sacrificed in writing every place card by hand.

To be clear, he’d never wanted to attend this rehearsal dinner in the first place. Unfortunately, he knew the stakes. That wasn’t something he’d dare to say out loud — especially not to you. Not in that restaurant while you fluttered between tables and shined your warm light on every single guest, one by one. Not ever, because you’d slipped through Yoongi’s fingers the second Namjoon slid that ring on yours.

If, in twelve hours’ time, Yoongi could force his deflated body out of bed, he’d have to watch quietly while you got away for good.

There was nothing he could do about it, either, so he swallowed that grief with a mouthful of bibim nengmyun. He knew it wasn’t the food that tasted so bitter on his tongue; however, on the off-chance that it was, he followed suit with another ill-advised swig of makgeolli.

During the two subsequent hours he sat and stewed at that table, Yoongi had lost count of just how many glasses he’d had. His eyes never lingered on the bottle, sticking instead to you and the smile that didn’t seem to spread beyond the curve of your lips. Every now and then, you’d glance his way — and every time you did, there was a microscopic twinge at the corner of your mouth.

It felt like a signal, something cryptic, but he wasn’t in the proper headspace to begin making assumptions. For the first time ever, you’d hit Yoongi with a look he didn’t know what to do with, and that fact drove him insane. This was what he was afraid of, after all — that the invisible string between you would be re-routed to someone else, and the telepathic link you’d always shared would disappear with it.

Your friendship had started early because your respective mothers had grown up together, and found each other once again as adults with two kids each. Back then, both of your front teeth were missing and — if Yoongi made you laugh too hard at routine, weekend gatherings — banana milk would occasionally fly out through the gap. He was nine-years-old and had no concept of it, but now he knows that he loved you then.

He loved you when you were ten, and you kneed a classmate in the dick for bullying Yoongi on the basketball court. You were two years younger and half his size, but you were a force to be reckoned with.

He loved you when you were fourteen, and a wave of brand new hormones made you a little bit of a fucking nightmare to be around.

At seventeen, twenty-one, still.

Now.

There, while everyone around him clinked their chopsticks against their glasses and Namjoon accepted the crowd’s wordless demand that he kiss you.

Yoongi had done well enough with your previous relationships. None of them made him feel like this, though, and he’d spent two years unable to put his finger on why. Sandwiched at that carefully chosen table between his mother and older brother, it finally clicked: None of them ever threatened to last.

Yoongi had never been a particularly hopeful person, but buried deep in the back of his brain, there had always been a crumb of it. Part of him, however stupid, thought you’d end up together at a dinner like this. All of this was the last nail in the coffin, the alarm clock screaming that it was time to wake up.

Suddenly more nauseous than he’d ever been before, Yoongi scooted his chair back so abruptly that it scraped along the floorboards. Just as quickly, he got to his feet and made a beeline for the exit. Of all the heads that turned to watch him leave, yours was the only one he noticed in his peripheral vision. He could feel your eyes on his back — pictured how confused you must look — and it only made his stomach acid churn faster.

When he finally made it out to the patio behind the restaurant, Yoongi’s suspicions were confirmed: closed for the season. Fitting. He wasn’t in the mood to heed the signs, so he stepped carefully — one leg at a time — over the hip-high metal gate and gulped down sharp, late autumn air. As he did, he begged himself to get his shit together for you, if not for him.

He spent several minutes out there, maybe even hours, sitting on a bare, metal chair and glowering out at the trees at the edge of the property. He hated himself, he realized, for how easily he wasted time. Let it slip by unnoticed while he stood still.

The clock seemed to mock him, ticking faster from behind him as if time was going to outrun him again.

At least, that was his first guess.

Yoongi quickly learned that the clicks weren’t signaling the passing seconds; they were broadcasting the urgent beat of stilettos on brick. So, having figured that his mother had appeared outside to gun him down, Yoongi glanced over his shoulder and braced himself for the be-all, end-all of scoldings.

What he got instead was you and the undeserved concern that caused your eyebrows to furrow.

“Are you okay?” You asked quietly once you reached the gate. With your manicured hands on the cold metal, you shivered, but you didn’t seem to notice. “Did you eat too much of the gochujang? I definitely did, and now I’ll be up all night with heartburn.”

Yoongi felt as though he’d been punched in the chest. The memory caught him in a riptide, beat him bloody against the rocks because he could’ve sworn he was sixteen again, stacking old encyclopedias under the headboard of your bed. He’d read somewhere online that, while sitting upright in a chair can exacerbate reflux, sleeping at an angle could help.

He was dizzy when he blinked back at you and saw your lips moving. He had to focus hard to figure out what you were saying.

“You remember that?”

Yoongi struggled to even out his breathing; he had no hope at all of finding the plot he’d lost. “Huh?”

You grinned and it made up for all the stars that had been hidden by grey clouds overhead. “The encyclopedias,” you chuckled, “They worked, you know.”

Yoongi didn’t mean to say it. He knew it before, during, and after it slipped out of his mouth that it was the worst goddamn thing he’d ever done, but he couldn’t stop himself — couldn’t shove the bullet he’d shot back into the gun. With the way it exploded through his chest — I love you — he was surprised that his body was still intact. No viscera sprayed out from the exit wound, no stains appeared on your chic, white cocktail dress.

You opened your mouth but closed it soon after, so clearly stunned by his unsolicited admission that you couldn’t find the words. Yoongi had no expectations whatsoever when it came down to your reaction because he hadn’t meant to provoke one in the first place. Even still, the wounded look on your face was worse than anything he might’ve imagined.

The two of you stood in tense silence for so long that Yoongi’s soul had nearly ejected itself fully from his body.

“That’s not fair,” eventually came your shaky reply. You clenched your fist tight around the top of the gate to anchor yourself and stammered, “Yoongi, that is not — Why would you —”

As soon as he aimed to take a step in your direction, your shock gave way to a scowl that could’ve boiled him alive.

“Why would you dump that at my feet? Tonight, of all fucking nights, Yoongi — seriously?” You snapped, though it sounded like a sob. “What am I supposed to do with this now?”

Now?

He didn’t know how to respond. He was paralyzed, inside and out, and he deserved it. Who the fuck was he, forcing the burden of his feelings onto you?

Selfish. Stupid. Out of time, as usual.

The makeup you always took so much time on started to run alongside your tears. Yoongi had seen you cry before, though he’d always been the reason you stopped, rather than started. He hated every single one of those muddied, black tears because he knew you. He knew you would have worn waterproof mascara if you’d had any reason to anticipate crying on your special night.

“I’m getting married in the morning!”

Your reminder was a dagger flying out of your mouth, sticking him right between the ribs. It stung as images flooded his mind — of you and Namjoon, your guests, and your out-of-season, imported fucking hydrangeas. It hurt even worse to see how badly you shook as you glared at him.

“Yoongi — fuck!”

Before you walked away, your eyes locked on his for a fraction of a second. In that moment, Yoongi promised himself that it was the last time you’d ever have to see his face.

When you were little, you pictured your wedding day like a moment ripped straight out of Cinderella. In your head, you’d wake up to birds singing at your window and mice scurrying around your feet, eager to dress you in a gown of epic and magical proportions. It’d be perfect. For years, you’d been sure of it.

In reality, there was no waking up because there hadn’t been a single second of sleep to begin with. No beauty rest, no sweet dreams of marital bliss — just you, feeling as if you’d swallowed a car battery. It sat heavy in the pit of your stomach, let acid burn all the way up to your esophagus. And it’d been all too easy to toss and turn in your hotel bed, which laid perfectly level on top of a plush, floral rug.

You crawled out of bed without the assistance of altruistic rodents and shuffled your dead weight over to the mirror hanging on the opposite wall. For once, your imagination had been accurate. Your puffy eyes were red in the aftermath of all your tears. They ached above circles so deep and dark that they would’ve alarmed you if you hadn’t expected them.

Namjoon had seen you at what you both believed to be your worst. Neither of you could’ve ever predicted that the Corpse Bride would be the one staggering down the aisle towards him. He’d love you anyway, you knew it, no matter how you looked. But if he knew what you spent all night toiling over…

You shook your head and abruptly turned away from the mirror. There were several of your dearest friends bustling around the room next to yours, all of whom were waiting on you. Swallowing hard, you headed for the adjoining door and promised yourself that the only person you’d let down today would be you.

You lost all track of time when a blur of hands went to work on you. If you’d closed your eyes while you dissociated, you could’ve pretended that your assistants were those woodland creatures you used to dream about. But you couldn’t close your eyes, couldn’t sleep through this part, couldn’t let your mind wander all the way back to that patio.

It’d been terrifying, staring your own heart in the face like that. More than anything, it was confusing because it didn’t look like you expected it would — not like an organ at all, but a person. You’d gotten so good at ignoring it that you couldn’t reasonably expect yourself to recognize it. It knew you, though, and loved you. Apparently, it always had.

As you sat in that hotel room, far away from the patio, you pictured every other moment you wished Yoongi had said what he did. The thousand times you’d thought for sure he felt the same, and all the ways you distracted yourself when you resigned to believing he didn’t. Every person you dated until you finally managed to move on —

“— please, love?”

You blinked rapidly to force your eyes to focus. In front of you, your mother stood with a knowing smile on her face and a sokchima in her hands. You didn’t need to ask her to repeat herself; you took the hint and rose slowly to your feet.

“I was nervous on my wedding day,” she hummed as she pulled the undergarment gently over your head. “Hungover, too, but your grandmother does not need to know that. Frankly, I’m surprised she couldn’t tell with how bloated I was when she helped me get ready…”

The bright scarlet chima followed without so much as a word from you. Your heart slammed helplessly against your rib cage when your mother proceeded to tug the sleeves of your jeogori up your arms. This moment should be special, you thought bitterly. All you wanted to do was cry; to apologize to your mother for your total inability to care while your wedding happened around you, not for you.

Soon enough, you were dressed. Your friends and older sister gushed about how beautiful you looked — the perfect bride — like you weren’t caught in the web of an anxiety attack. Like it wasn’t all wrong, and you weren’t dangling on the precipice of your life’s greatest mistake. Like you hadn’t spent so much of your hard-earned money on invitations and greenhouse-grown, special-ordered fucking hydrangeas.

Like you could catch a fucking breath under all the layers of your hanbok.

Sensing that a moment alone was necessary, your mother kissed your cheek and ushered the others out the door ahead of her. Before seeing herself out, too, she stalled in the threshold, turned back around to look at you, and exhaled through a pause.

“I left your shoes by the dresser,” she chirped.

The gentleness of her tone was reassuring, but there was a faint gleam in her eyes that caught your attention. Before you could ask after it, she nodded firmly once and let the door click shut behind her.

Alone again, your instinct was to do the same thing you’d spent ten consecutive hours doing — burying yourself under pillows and crying until you ran out of tears. But you had run out, which was precisely was the problem. You had no options left, nothing left to do but lean in.

At least, that was your first guess.

Your list of choices expanded by one when you saw the well-worn pair of slip-on Vans your mother had set out for you.

Yoongi sat on the edge of his bed with his elbows on his knees and his face buried in his hands.

Only two meters away, a garment bag hung from the hook on the back of his bedroom door. That bag — and the crisp, black suit it concealed — lingered there for weeks in the shadows, untouched since the day he bought it. Even though it hadn’t left its hanger, he felt it smothering him throughout the night. It choked him while one thought ran circles in his sleep-deprived brain:

The reason he bought it was the same reason he’d never be able to wear it.

Sick of the way he’d trapped himself with his thoughts, Yoongi pushed himself to his feet and crossed over to the door. With the way he flung it open, knob slamming against the wall, he’d likely never recover his security deposit. It felt good, though, taking his grief out on that godforsaken suit.

On his way to his front door, Yoongi stopped short. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a cabinet he hadn’t opened in weeks. As he stared at it, the devil and angel on his shoulders warred over the action he wanted so desperately to take.

Sure, he’d recently — finally — quit at your insistence, but what did that matter now?

He gritted his teeth and shook his conscience off his shoulders with a shrug. Within seconds, Yoongi was on the other side of his kitchen, grabbing an unopened pack of cigarettes and the lighter that lay in wait next to it. He closed his hand tight around it so he couldn’t see the Hello Kitty stickers you’d placed all over the plastic; your attempt to dissuade him from using it in public.

Joke’s on you, he thought as he placed a cigarette between his lips, your plan backfired. Leaving your mark on it the way you had was the only thing that’d kept him from throwing it away — and the only reason he still had a lighter to use at all.

Yoongi opened his front door with one hand as he tried to ignite the lighter with the other. No matter how many time he flicked the pad of his thumb over those little metal ridges, nothing sparked. Defeated yet again, he slumped down onto the porch swing, closed his eyes, and willed himself not to break down over something so stupid.

He had no way of knowing how much time passed as he sat like that. He had no way to tell who those urgent footfalls belonged to, either. That is, not until panted breaths hit his ears and prompted him to open his eyes.

Admittedly, Yoongi had pictured you in your bridal hanbok more than once throughout the years. Half the time, it hadn’t even been purposeful. From first to third grade, you’d rambled to him about your dream wedding on your daily walks home from school. You spoke about it so often, in fact, that even he started thinking about what embroidery a mouse might add to the hem of your chima.

As the pair of you got older, you brought it up less, so Yoongi didn’t think about it often. The image crept up on him, though, once in a while. Every time you brought him as a plus one to your friends’ weddings because you didn’t want to dance alone; and he nearly told you that he’d always want to be your partner.

Or that time you cried through your worst ever heartbreak on his couch, lamented that you’d die an old maid, and never get to wear one.

Even as recently as last night, when he drank half a fifth of whiskey and grieved over the fact that he’d never get to see you wear one.

He couldn’t make heads or tails of the real thing, not with the way you’d doubled over to catch your breath; and bunched the ends up in your fists, presumably to prevent yourself from tripping as you — ran here?

“What did I tell you about the cigarettes?” You puffed, still with your hands on your knees and your face angled at the sidewalk.

Somehow, despite running five kilometers to Yoongi’s doorstep, you hadn’t displaced a single hair from your artfully crafted up-do. Your makeup hadn’t budged, either, which meant that the only sign of your expended effort was the tint of pink on your cheeks and the tip of your nose.

You’d outrun his train of thought in your scuffed, old Vans. Yoongi had to buffer for a moment in order to catch up, but the involuntary smile fighting its way over his mouth didn’t bother to wait. Eventually, he recited your long-suffering appeal, smirking all the while, “They’ll fuck me up, and I’ll have to be wheeled out onto the basketball court in an iron lung.”

“Exactly.”

With one last, deep breath, you returned to your upright position. The second you did, Yoongi was the one choking up.

Rapid blinking did nothing to stop the tears pricking at the inner corners of his eyes. He swallowed the lump in his throat to the best of his ability, but he couldn’t shake the inexplicable flutter in his chest at the sight of you. You’d always been perfect, but this was —

“Oh, my god,” he croaked, thoroughly melted from the inside out.

Yoongi stood before his brain could signal his legs to do so; or remind his hands not to drop the phone, lighter, and cigarettes he’d been holding. His eyes, on the other hand, knew exactly what to do. He drank in your appearance like he’d spent the last twenty-two years wandering, dehydrated in the desert — and in a way, he had.

You blinked back at him with swimming eyes as if you’d found sanctuary, too. Suddenly aware of what you were gripping, you opened your fists and let the fabric flutter down to the ground. While smoothing out wrinkles that didn’t exist, you asked softly, “Not bad for a bunch of mice, right?”

“Look just like a dream,” he replied just as gently.

Yoongi’s hands, which were thankfully now free, reached out and grabbed yours. You followed his lead as he spun you, twirled under his raised arm until you ended up with your face mere centimeters from his.

“Yoongi,” you breathed. Your eyes danced from his, to his lips, and back again. “If you wait another twenty-two years to tell me how you feel, please pick a time and place that is mutually convenient. I swear to God, I’ll —”

It came out much more easily the second time than the first; and when it did, it felt more like a beginning than a bomb:

“I love you.”

[cricketwrangler]

Also got a letter for jury duty addressed to my former first and middle name, but current last name. I changed all three at the same time. Like 6 or 7 years ago. I've only lived at this place like 2 years.

And it's county and doesn't have an online thing you gotta mail it back. First time this happened addressed to my full prev name at my parents address way back, there was an automatic option in an online form. For this idek cause there's no comment space to say it. Under name and stuff how am I supposed to say it's me just you have the name wrong. If they have my address they obviously have it connected to my social or something that woukd affect me if I just ignore it.

Mostly bugs me that things attached to me and current information about me are still connected to my old name so shallowly that it can happen on accident. So if the government ever wants to do it on purpose it wouldn't be hard. I.e. like the one guy who tried to get the bmv to give him a list of everyone who changed their name or gender.

[wonwoosthetic]

🌱 IS BACK FROM THE DEAD (part 2) skdjskks

HOW HAVE YOU BEEN???

I literally dipped from the last time I was here 🥲 but you know life's been all over the place then suddenly it's 4 months since reading chap 15 and now I'll be bingeing the new ones akjsksks I MISSED CEO WONWOO SO MUCH (ngl I got reminded to get back to tumblr ever since I started watching king the land 😎)

I'll continue where I left off from the last time I was here... I'm pretty good but I did change jobs around April so I didn't have time to read or even be here but since I have finally adjusted to work I can finally be back!! I'm also hoping I get the energy to write again bec I miss it too

I kinda get you with dating tbh. I feel like people today tend to rush relationships and I don't do well with that bec I want a connection first before jumping into labels and whatnot. we all have different ideas about love and dating so I hope you don't see it anymore as being "broken" all these love shenanigans are just complicated as it is

I personally don't date women but I do agree dating men are a pain in the ass AKDJSKKS so go ahead and do what you feel is better for you! a partner should be someone you can feel calm and safe with.

this went longer than expected 😅 congrats on your work/hustles (I wanna see the press-ons you make though bec I love love wearing them) and I hope you have/had a great day!! I'll be reading ah&co for now

— 🌱

HELLOOOO

hey, don’t worry, if there’s anyone that’s dipping and boom suddenly coming back, it’s me😅😭 and I don’t even do it on purpose😭😭

Oooooh I saw a few clips of King the Land, I guess now I have to watch it too👀

Omg congrats on landing a new job!👏🏼👏🏼 Do you like it so far?? Is everyone treating you well?? I‘m currently looking to switch jobs as well😭 bc my working times do NOT correspond with my uni times AT ALL, and all the drama that’s going on at work… too much🫥

Love is so freaking complicated and tbh rn, I’ve “given up”. I let one man get kinda close to me, only to be let down once again a few weeks ago, so I’m really just at a low with that rn. I’ve obviously not completely given up, but I’m so tired of looking for it and shit like that, so idek… ANYWAYS, I have all of you here and my little imagination that’s keeping me occupied and happy, so I’m gonna stick to that for now🥰🥰

I’ve tried going on dates with women, but I feel like I’m so not obvious bisexual😭 like I truly think those women thought I just wanted them as friends… I don’t know how to change that 🥲 and YES I agree, a partner is someone you should be able to feel comfortable and safe with… kinda like with watching gose😂😭

I have an Instagram account for my press-ons! For anyone that’s interested: love.millinails 🤗

Thank you for dropping by and thank you for you love and wonderful words, I’m always happy to hear from you babes🥹🩷🩵

[thanksfortheflaglove]

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