#irrevocably intertwined these two

[celaenaeiln]

(brain electrodes start reacting) [also this is a kpop song i’m just using the eng trans to make it easier]

I miss you (it’s a quiet night in Bludhaven and Dick Grayson is alone with his thoughts)

Saying this makes me miss you all even more

I miss you

Even though I'm looking at your photo (photographs and memories, both good and bad. that’s all that’s in his mind)

Time's so cruel, I hate us (us? is he looking at Red Hood! Jason? maybe Wally or Roy? perhaps even Bruce himself)

Seeing each other is now more difficult (his blood sweat and tears are all in for the hero gig, he has no time for leisure. not when cities and teams depend on him.)

It's all winter here, even in August

My heart is running on time, alone on the Snowpiercer (“A hollowing emptiness from knowing you’ve sacrificed everything and achieved nothing.” well, it’s not nothing but it’s not enough, not to him at least)

I want to go to the other side of Earth, holding your hand, put an end to winter (all he wants is to love and be loved in returned. but that’s not really possible in this profession now is it?)

How much should my longings fall like snow

Before the days of spring return, friend? (one day. one day he’ll be free and happy.)

———— [there’s an entire chorus but i don’t want to take up too much of your time]

Is it you who changed? (Is it you who changed)

Or is it me? (Or is it me)

I hate this moment, this time flowing by

We've changed, you know?

Just like everyone, you know?

Yes, I hate you, you left me

But I never stopped thinking about you, not even a day

I miss you, honestly, but I'll erase you

'Cause it hurts less than to blame you

(Dick Grayson knows he’s changed, change is what’s necessary in life. but how much has he changed? how badly did Bruce or the Gotham Rouges or Blockbuster or Catalina change him? if his 9 year old self looked at him, would he be able to recognize him? his friends and family, what about them? how irrecognizable is he?)

—————— [there’s more parts i’m skipping but i highly recommend checking out the song for a healthy dose of angst]

You know it all, you're my best friend (they WERE. what about now?)

The morning will come again

No darkness, no season can last forever

(because hope. hope and happiness is what Dick Grayson can bring. hold onto that hope. lose it, and what is Dick Grayson?)

(escapes through the window)

No!! Come back!! *puts a nanoscopic tracking device in the water I gave you*

The first part is definitely Dick Grayson but after the chorus? The second part seems like it would come from Bruce.

Is it you who changed? (Is it you who changed)

It could be Bruce contemplating why Dick is so different. Why he's acting out.

Or is it me? (Or is it me)

Reflecting on himself to see if the fault lies with him. Is it his parenting? His behavior? Where did it all go wrong?

I hate this moment, this time flowing by

A scene of him becoming depressed in the batcave, surrounded by memorabilia and momentos of his and Dick's adventures together. The trophies they collected in glass cases surrounding him, each one reminding him of a different case and a smiling face.

We've changed, you know?

An image of Bruce looking over the Robin costumes that grow in size and moving upstairs to stare at the pictures of Dick splashing in the sprinklers to his first day of school to his graduation and reminscing.

Just like everyone, you know?

Conversations he's had with Clark come to his mind where he's talking about Dick and Clark's just quietly laughing and assuring him it's normal. (liar. what does he know about normal.)

Yes, I hate you, you left me

The rage Bruce felt when Dick had the audacity to leave him when he told him to leave comes rushing back, boiling his blood. After everything they've been through, how could he just leave like that?

But I never stopped thinking about you, not even a day

He's consumed by thoughts of Dick. How he's doing, where he's going, what he's facing, who he's with. He constantly surveilling and monitoring and sending people to spy on Dick for any news about him.

I miss you, honestly, but I'll erase you

Dick'll see how it's like to be left behind. How it's like to be replaced by the one you thought would never leave. He's found someone new anyway.

'Cause it hurts less than to blame you

The way he lashes out at Dick and pretends to ignore him because it's so much easier to make it Dick's fault than admit he didn't want to let go.

The last part is both of them together

You know it all, you're my best friend (they WERE. what about now?)

Dick and Bruce have always considered each other their best friend. Well, Bruce considers Dick and Clark his best friends while Dick considers the og Titans and Bruce. But they were each other's closest partners.

The morning will come again

Dick and Bruce reconciling slowly but surely.

Teen Titans Spotlight Issue #14

No darkness, no season can last forever

(because hope. hope and happiness is what Dick Grayson can bring. hold onto that hope. lose it, and what is Dick Grayson?)

Bruce can never hold onto his darkness under Dick Grayson's light.

[aforgottenthing]

Tragedy enjoyers when there’s not one, not two, but three combinations of tragic relationships at the center of the narrative AND they’re bisexual

[dreamersparacosm]

jeon jungkook - the boy is mine

warnings ; this is porn. that’s all there is to it. reader is PINING, reader’s bff is a cunt, alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, spit play kinda, jk worshipping you, someone walks in on yall..

prompt ; in which your best friend needs to be taught a lesson on who your crush belongs to.

a/n ; i mean, this is absolute whore behavior on my end and i have no words. beware this is long AS A MOTHERFUCKER. and so much plot. enjoy. also this is college!jk and reader so WOO (also loosely based on the boy is mine - arianaaaa)

Some people were just meant to be in the background.

Or, at least that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for quite some time now.

You were the kind of person who blended into the background, voice barely rising above a whisper when spoken to, presence often slipping unnoticed into corners of rooms. Some days were spent in Yonsei University’s prestigious library, buried in books, worlds that didn’t require attention, where the characters spoke louder than you dare would. It wasn’t that you minded, though—you were content to remain in the quiet… well, as long as your best friend, Seo-yeon, shone like a star in the midst of it all.

Nevertheless, there were times when her shine cast a shadow, and that light felt a little too harsh. You didn’t mind when Seo-yeon needed a shoulder to lean on, but lately it seemed like all she did was lean—never giving anything in return. And you tried to brush it off, scolding your brain it’s just the pressure of her rich father but deep down, you could not shake the feeling that Seo-yeon’s warmth was only reserved for someone else.

And that someone was your best friend since you were 10, Jeon Jungkook.

You get it. Who wouldn’t? Hottest guy at school, richest parents, biggest heart… and from the rumor mill, his heart wasn’t the only thing that’s big.

It’s always just been you and him. Jungkook and [Y/N], [Y/N] and Jungkook. Best friends since grade school, partners in crime on the playground. Really, they were setting you up for failure by having your best friend be someone who had a revolving door of women in his life. Even back in your young age, he somehow garnered more attention than an average adult. It was just who he was. You accepted that.

But then, somewhere along the timeline of convoluted wreckage your life, you two grew up. Grew closer, somehow. The lines of your life intertwined, never straying too far apart.

So, it was really no surprise to you when you woke up one day and realized you were madly, deeply, irrevocably, disgustingly, head over heels in love with him.

You had convinced yourself, over and over, that Jungkook knew. How could he not?

It was like this: you had seen a kiss in a television show when you were 11. Pondered what it felt like to do such a thing. It had been a fleeting moment, so innocent—just a brush of lips under the old oak tree in the park when you were 12, surrounded by the laughter of friends and the warmth of summer. But in that brief, stolen instant, something shifted inside you, a chemical reaction. The memory of that first kiss, so pure and untainted, lingered in the air, like a secret only you two shared.

You caught the glint in his eyes afterward, the way he looked at you as if seeing you for the first time, and ever since… well, ever since then, you’ve been his.

When Seo-yeon casually mentioned over drinks one night that Jungkook was sooooo cute and she was thinking of going for it, well, you should’ve been shocked, but how could you be?

She knew exactly what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to take it, even if it meant stepping on the quiet spaces you had carved out for yourself. It stung, of course, the idea that she could waltz in and claim something you had quietly held onto for years. But deep down, you knew the truth. You knew you would never go for it, not really—not with the unspoken barrier between you two, that kiss from ages ago still lingering in the air, in your blood.

And yet, Seo-yeon’s confidence in taking what she wanted, without hesitation or doubt, only reminded you of how much you were willing to give up, just to keep the peace. That’s who she was. And you? Well, you were the one who always let her take.

And all this to say, this is why you were standing with your spine pressed into the cold wall, eyes burning holes into Seo-yeon’s back, fingers digging into your red solo cup, heart thumping, as you watched her flirt with Jungkook.

It was supposed to be a fun night. Key word: supposed. Jungkook’s best friend, Jimin, had invited everyone to his house for a ‘get-together.’ You should’ve known when you got the invite it would be a party, another chance for you to be a wallflower.

And there you were, assuming your post, drinking whatever concoction Jimin’s roommate had created.

It was a tragedy.

The music swirled around you, yet you were caught in the gravity of Seo-yeon and Jungkook’s orbit. Every glance, every word that passed between them felt like a blade to your chest. Her laughter rang out, effortless and bright, and you watched as she leaned in closer to Jungkook, her fingers grazing his arm in a way that made the air between them shimmer with something unspoken. It was too much—too intimate, too easy.

You could feel the tension coiling inside you, a painful knot you didn’t know how to undo.

And before you do anything rash (or well, not that you will, but the thought of it) you hear a familiar voice that calms you down in the slightest.

“Boo.”

You instantly know it’s Taehyung, Jungkook’s other close friend who you’ve somehow managed to also become buddy-buddy with. You kinda had to, just to prove to Jungkook you can make other friends beside Seo-yeon. Tsk.

You lightly smile at him, but you refuse to take your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon, as if you turn away for a second, they may leave you in the dust.

“You know… You’ve been staring at them like you’re waiting for them to start a new Netflix series or something.” He whispers near your ear, as if it’s some massive secret that no one could possibly guess.

You blinked, startled, “I’m not staring,” you mumbled, but Taehyung only raised an eyebrow.

“Sure you’re not. You're practically giving them a live commentary in your head, huh?

You scoff. “I don’t care if they talk. Honestly, I want them to get together. I mean, why not? It’s what she wants.”

His elbow lightly digs into your side, making you slap him away with ease, “Oh, really? Is that what you want? You’re not fooling anyone. You’re practically trying to will them together while simultaneously wanting to rip your hair out.”

“Why would you think I don’t want them to get together?” You roll your eyes.

You know exactly why. And.. may also have to do with the fact that besides your diary, Seo-yeon and yourself, Taehyung also knows about your little infatuation (which, and you remind yourself, only happened because you got quite drunk with him at the bar and admitted it two months ago.)

You don’t see it, but he rolls his eyes his again. “You are the worst liar I know.”

“I’m not lying,” you insisted.

He raises his arms up in defeat, “Fine, if lying is the route we’re taking, at least just tell Seo-Yeon to go home. Seriously, who even invited her?"

You finally remove your eyes off Jungkook and Seo-yeon to face Taehyung, who definitely looks drunker than you thought he sounded. “I’m not doing that. And plus, she’s my best friend.”

He snorts, “Really? The same best friend who’s currently talking to the boy she knows you’re in love with?”

Taehyung continues, probably, and you can only assume, because he got you to tear your eyes away from them and their incessant giggles. Really, what is so damn funny? “You’re practically turning into an accessory to the decor. Please go take him away from her. He already adores you.”

Jungkook did adore you—there was no doubt about that. When you both got accepted into the same university, he immediately integrated you into every friend group, every hangout.

But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

The temptation to rip Seo-yeon away, to somehow be the one he turned to, was enough as it is—but the fear of being seen, of finally stepping off the wall and making yourself known, kept you frozen.

Taehyung threw his hands up in mock defeat, still grinning. "Alright, alright, I give up. Do whatever you want, missy. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You looked up at him, frowning, swirling your drink that’s been boiled down to just ice. “Warn me about what?”

“Don’t let this be one of those things you look back on and regret, thinking you should've acted before it was too late.”

You knew Taehyung was right, though admitting it felt like admitting defeat. You thought back to those moments with Jungkook—the way his high fives always lasted a beat longer than they should, or how his fingers would brush against your shoulder in the most casual way, as if it wasn’t just a touch, but something that had meaning beneath it. There were those quiet moments, too, when his gaze would linger, his eyes soft and unreadable, as though he was on the edge of something he couldn't quite grasp.

Deep down, there was that small, quiet part of you that wondered if he ever felt the same—if he ever wondered, like you did, whether you two could be more than just friends.

"Wow, when did you get so deep? You sound like one of those motivational speakers who talks about following your dreams and embracing the moment,” It’s your turn to roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder.

He shot you a knowing look. "Hey, I’m just trying to save you from becoming the wise old lady at the bar telling stories about how you ‘almost’ told Jungkook you liked him when you were young and full of hope."

“Well, thank you for the life lesson.” You looked down at your cup, a heinous purple color now that the ice has completely melted. “I’ll stick to my alcohol for now.”

And he saunters off, weaseling his way through the hoard of people to bully his next victim, you suppose. You were a little tipsy, you won’t lie. With a sigh, you turned your head back to Seo-yeon and Jungkook.

…Where the fuck are they?

Now, it’s time to panic.

You pushed through a few random guys and girls, silently saying excuse me basically to no one but yourself. Vision gets hazy, but you can’t tell if it’s tears or the punch.

Heart flutters, skips a beat. There he is, pouring himself a cup at the drink table that’s been set up in the dining room. No Seo-yeon in sight. You assume you have 5 seconds before she comes back from wherever she is to trap him once more.

You waltzed up to the drink table, trying to act casual, but your heart skipped when you saw Jungkook standing there, grinning like he knew exactly what was going on in your head. He waved you over with that signature carefree smile, his bunny teeth poking out. “Well, well, look who finally decided to show up. Were you hiding from me or just avoiding everyone?”

You blinked, hands suddenly unsure of where to go as you fiddled with your cup. “I wasn’t hiding! Just… you know, blending in with the background. Like I do.”

Jungkook raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into something a little more teasing. “Blending in? You? You’re like, the least subtle person here. You stand out more than the punch bowl.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You joked as you lean over him to pour yourself another cup of punch.

He laughed, leaning closer like he was about to share a secret. “Okay, but seriously, where have you been? Where’s your head at? I know, I know I said get-together… but it’s definitely a party.”

“Tsk, tsk. You little player,” You sipped your drink, looking up into his doe eyes. God, he’s just so…

Your curiosity got the better of you. “So, uh... what’s the deal with Seo-yeon? You two talking about something important, or is she just... I don’t know, using you for your impeccable taste in drinks?” The jealousy tugging at your chest made it harder than you expected to sound casual.

A small chuckle escaped him. “Seo-yeon? Nah, she’s just, uh, talking my ear off about some random stuff. Nothing exciting.” He shrugged like it was nothing, his tone so nonchalant it almost made you second-guess why it bothered you. “Honestly, I don’t even know half of what she’s saying. I’m just nodding and pretending to be interested.”

You blinked, surprised that anyone could be bored at anything she had to say. “Wait, really? You’re just... pretending?”

“Yep,” Jungkook grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. “It’s a skill I’ve perfected over the years. Maybe you should teach me how to do it with more people, though. I’m still not great at pretending to listen to people who don’t bring snacks.”

You laughed, a bit of the tension in your chest easing. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously, you’re not fooling anyone. You’re way too nice to actually ignore people."

He shrugged his broad shoulders, something you’ve come to notice as he’s grown older. “Possibly, but-“

Your breath hitched when Seo-yeon reappeared, her presence as loud and effortless as a storm breaking the quiet. With a smile that was all too practiced, she glided over, her eyes immediately locking with Jungkook’s, as if the space between them had always been empty, waiting for her to fill it. “Hey, Jungkook,” she purred, her fingers brushing against his arm as she leaned in a little too close, a familiar, flirtatious glint dancing in her eyes. “Still owe me that drink, remember?”

Jungkook’s smile widened, completely unfazed by her proximity. His fingers wrapped around the cup and handed it to her, their hands brushing lightly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Of course,” he said, his voice soft, full of that gentle affection that made you want to stick a fork in your eye.

You felt the familiar nerves rise in your chest, the uncertainty pressing down on you like a weight you couldn’t shake. The scene before you felt too much, too close, and you found yourself backing away instinctively, your eyes flickering toward the exit. You just needed to escape, even for a second. But before you could take another step, Jungkook’s voice cut through the hum of the room, warm and easy. “Hey, do you wanna go play darts? Jimin has not shut up about it and I want to test out my skills.”

And he does it again. Digs you deeper and deeper into that dream of yours.

You took another sip out of your cup, locking eyes with Seo-yeon, who, for once in her life, looked nervous. See, if you weren’t 3 drinks deep, and you weren’t so desperate to remove her away from him, you would’ve went back to your post on the wall.

But Taehyung’s words linger in your brain like a broken record.

“You know, actually, I need to steal Seo-yeon away for a quick minute,” You reach out, grip onto her arm like it’s your lifeline. You’re almost certain you draw your fingernails in a little too deep to her skin.

“Huh?” Her eyes widened, blinking a few times.

You dragged her through the crowd, pulling her to the opposite side of the room with a swiftness that leaves Jungkook utterly baffled. He has stopped questioning yours and Seo-yeon’s friendship.

Your nerves buzzed with the alcohol in your system, and before you could stop yourself, the words tumbled out. "Why are you flirting with Jungkook?"

There it was, out in the open. Lingering in the air like a cloud of smoke.

Seo-yeon blinked in surprise, her eyebrows rising as if you had just grown another head. “What are you talking about?” she replied with that same airy sweetness, but the underlying edge was unmistakable. “I’m just being friendly.”

“Friendly?” You scoffed, feeling the alcohol’s warmth pushing your boldness forward. “It’s like you’re auditioning for a role in Jungkook’s life or something. You're so obvious.”

Seo-yeon laughed, a soft, dismissive sound. “I didn’t realize you cared so much, [Y/N]. Wow, look at you. Finally standing up for yourself. Guess it only took a little bit of liquid courage, huh?”

She tilted her head, her voice teasing. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

All you see is red, and you’re kinda imagining what her head would look like ripped out of its socket.

She keeps pushing, keeps pressure testing, keeps dragging the knife through you. “Whatever. If you want to make this a thing, go ahead. But don’t act like I’ve been the one playing games.”

“You know what?” It’s a rhetorical question, turning back to you with a slight tilt of her head. “If you’re not going to make a move, I’m all in on Jungkook. You’ve had your chance. It’s not my fault you can’t get out of your own head.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and something in you snaps. The rage bubbled up from deep inside you—something you’d never shown Seo-yeon before. She wasn’t allowed to take this from you too.

"Is that it, then?" You shot back, your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disbelief. "You think you can just take everything from me because I'm not bold enough for you? You think you can just waltz in and claim him like he's some kind of prize because you know I won’t fight you for him? That’s not how this works, Seo-yeon."

Seo-yeon opened her mouth to respond, but you weren’t finished. “No. I’m done letting you walk all over me. I care, Seo-Yeon. I care about him."

And now you can’t stop it, this word vomit that has plagued you, it keeps tumbling out, slurred but filled with an undeniable intensity. You didn’t care anymore; the alcohol had loosened every restraint, every last thread of caution. "You’ve known. You’ve known I loved him this whole damn time. You’ve always known, and you’ve always taken from me—always—like you could just have whatever you wanted. I’m done pretending I’m okay with it.”

The silence between you two felt like a storm was brewing, the air thick with tension, and you, a tad too drunk to fully grasp what you were saying, but not so drunk that you didn’t know it was the truth.

Seo-yeon’s lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes flicking to the side before meeting yours again. "Well, you know what they say…the best girl always wins, right?"

You’ve already ruined the friendship, put the nail in the coffin and sent her floating down the river. You gripped your red solo cup so roughly you think it might break, “You think you're the best girl? Maybe it's time someone showed you that I’m done being second place. I’m done being the girl who just watches. I’m going to fight for him. You’ve had your turn, Seo-yeon.”

Seo-yeon’s eyes widened just a fraction, but she quickly regained her composure, laughing lightly. “Oh, really? You’re going to fight for him now? How cute.”

Your jaw tightened, but she didn’t back down. “Yeah. I am.”

And, you are certain if only Taehyung could hear you now, he would throw another party just for you having this conversation. You storm away, leave her in the dust to settle on its own. A part of your resolve breaks a little realizing that your own college best friend since day one of freshman year, was not the person you thought she was. But, that’s not what really matters to you.

The night dragged on, clusters of people fading in and out of the party. You don’t necessarily pay attention, you’re too busy feeling like a World War III hero after your triumph. You laughed with Taehyung in the corner, even flirted with a few people. Anything to take your mind off Seo-yeon desperately throwing herself at Jungkook, but you knew better than to look.

The lights felt dimmer, the music quieter. Jimin, ever the instigator, stood up with a grin that spread across his face like a mischievous secret. "Alright," he said, his voice warm but teasing as he looked around at the gathered circle of about 20 leftover wranglers. "Truth or dare, anyone?"

You broke your conversation with Taehyung, hesitated for a brief moment, heart thudding louder than the music. Normally, you would’ve stayed out of it—content to sit on the edge and observe. But tonight, something inside you whispered that this was the moment to stop being the quiet one.

A laugh rang out from someone in the group. “Really, Jimin? Truth or dare? We’re in our twenties, not twelve.”

Jimin just shrugged, unfazed, the playful gleam in his eyes still dancing. “Don’t care. It’s fun.” As if daring was the only thing that could make the night memorable.

As the silly little game began, you couldn’t help but notice the way Seo-yeon scrambled to sit next to Jungkook, her movements almost too eager, too forced. She slid onto the floor beside him, laughing a little too loudly, her hand brushing his casually, but it didn’t escape your notice.

It didn’t help that Jungkook, who had been laughing and talking with the others, now seemed to catch sight of the silence that stretched between you and your friend. His gaze flickered toward you for a split second, brow furrowed slightly. There was concern in his eyes, like he could sense the shift, the distance between you two, the fact that you hadn’t exchanged a word since the heated conversation. And for a moment, you could’ve sworn he looked... worried. It was only a glance, but it sent a ripple of uncertainty through you.

The game kicked off with such chaotic energy that there was immediate regret of your decision to join, Shirts came off, beers chugged, some over-the-clothes fondling. Laughter and teasing echoed around the room, but you couldn’t seem to join in. Your nerves twisted inside you, coiling tighter with every round. Every time your eyes flicked toward Jungkook, your heart skipped, and you could feel your emotions swirling—confusion, desire, hurt—but the fear of being exposed kept you frozen.

Seo-yeon, on the other hand, was all confidence, sitting smugly in her chair with a knowing smile, like she already knew she’d be the center of attention. Like she knew, deep down, you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Then, Jimin’s voice broke through your fog of thoughts, full of mischief and a glint of amusement. "Alright," he said, eyes dancing as he turned toward Seo-yeon and Jungkook. "I dare you two to kiss for five seconds."

You may as well have just shot yourself right in the face. Your breath caught in your throat. Your pulse thundered in your ears as you watched your (ex) best friend’s eyes light up with the thrill of the challenge. It was as if it was too easy for her—too perfect an opportunity to pass up. Without hesitation, she leaned toward Jungkook, her lips finding his almost effortlessly. The room seemed to quiet for a moment, and then it was the silence that felt louder than anything.

But what made your stomach twist wasn’t just the kiss itself—it was the way Seo-yeon’s gaze flicked toward you just before their lips met. A slow, deliberate look that lingered in the air. The seconds stretched, and you could barely breathe, and your heart was feeling as if it might break right then and there.

The kiss was over before you could even process the feeling of it, but the knot in you chest remained, heavy and tight, long after Seo-yeon pulled away. Jungkook glanced over at you, so briefly you almost didn’t catch it.

Your mind raced, but you struggled to push the images from her head, the lingering feeling of Seo-yeon’s smug gaze before the kiss. You took another sip, the burn of it helping to cloud the pain you didn’t want to face. The weight of it sat like a stone in your chest.

Taehyung’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts. “[Y/N], truth or dare?” he asked, his grin teasing as he leaned towards you.

Jimin shot him a playful glare, almost about to protest, but Taehyung was quick, silencing him with a dramatic “Shh.” The room quieted slightly, all eyes on you as you hesitated for a fraction of a second. You were still reeling, but the alcohol buzz had emboldened you—made you feel more confident than you had all night.

"Dare.” You didn’t know where this sudden boldness was coming from, but you couldn’t back down now.

Taehyung’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Alright then,” he said, tapping his fingers against his drink. “I dare you to go into the closet with Jungkook for five minutes.”

The room went quiet for a moment. You felt the weight of the dare pressing in on your chest, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Jungkook’s pointed gaze. Was this a joke? Was it real? Seo-yeon was first to break the ice, who snorted in disbelief. “Are we in fifth grade or something?”

Jungkook, who had been sitting quietly, his drink in hand, suddenly took a casual sip. To your surprise, he looked completely unfazed, almost... eager? “Who cares?” he said with a shrug, as if the whole situation was nothing more than a harmless, impulsive decision.

You froze for a moment. You didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or throw up. But there was not much protesting to be done because before you had a chance to speak, Taehyung is up on his feet pushing the two of you in the direction of the musty little closet.

The door clicked shut behind you, and the world outside the closet faded into nothing. Inside, the air was thick with unspoken words, the kind of tension that clung to the walls like the silence between them. You stood frozen, the room suddenly too small, too close. You could feel the heat of his presence even without touching him, the rhythm of his breath matching your own, as if your hearts beat in sync, caught in the same web of uncertainty. The dim light from the party barely reached, leaving you in a space of shadows and soft, anxious breaths.

For what felt like an eternity, neither of you spoke. The awkwardness hummed between you like a steady pulse, the weight of it heavy. You’ve known him forever but… you could feel your nerves twisting tighter and tighter, but the alcohol buzz made it hard to think clearly, each thought slipping away just as quickly as it came.

Jungkook finally broke the silence, a nervous chuckle escaping him, his top teeth playing with his lip ring. "This is… um, definitely not how I expected this to go.”

You tried to force a laugh, but it came out shaky, and you immediately regretted it. “Yeah, not exactly the closet of my dreams,” you said, though your voice trembled in a way you hoped he wouldn’t notice.

And then, just like that, Jungkook’s gaze met yours again, but this time, there was something different in his eyes—something softer, more vulnerable. It was like someone ripped your best friend away from you and replaced with someone who might actually.. never mind. He was pressed into you, your height difference showing as his head tilted down to look at you. His lips parted, like he was debating saying something.

Then, with a surprising gentleness, he spoke. “This is going to be so random but… do you remember our kiss?” he asked, his voice low and almost reverent, as if the question itself carried a weight he wasn’t sure how to handle.

You froze. The memories came rushing back, unbidden—a flash of two twelve-year-olds, awkward and innocent, caught in a moment that now seemed so impossibly far away. The brush of lips, quick and uncertain, a first kiss that neither of you truly understood.

But the way he looked at you now, like the past and present were colliding in that quiet, intimate space, made everything feel much more real. You could feel the heat rise in your cheeks, pulse quickening. He remembers.

“O-Of course I remember,” you whispered, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, your heart fluttering in your chest as the memory of that kiss resurfaced in vivid detail.

Jungkook held your gaze, his eyes dark, searching, as if he, too, was standing on the precipice of something he wasn’t sure he could face. There was a pause, a beat of silence that stretched between, thick with everything unsaid. And then, almost in a breath, he spoke again, his voice softer, but his words filled with an unexpected weight. “My mom brought it up the other day. Didn’t know she watched my kissing virginity get swept away.”

“Oh,” you laugh.

“I’ve thought about it a lot,” he confessed, his gaze never leaving yours. The words hung in the air like a fragile thread.

The confession hit you like a sudden gust of wind, unexpected and sharp. He’s thought about it? Like the way you have, maybe, possibly? Like writing in your diary about him everyday since then? Like dreaming about kissing him again every time you are even remotely close to him?

“So…” he started, breaking the silence, his voice light but with an underlying curiosity. “The last time you kissed someone... was it anything like that?"

There’s those stupid two bunny teeth that poke out in a cheeky smile as he teased you about something that should be so trivial, yet so was not.

Your eyes widened at the sudden question. You didn’t know whether to laugh or squirm. You could feel the warmth creep into your cheeks, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the clutter in the corner of the closet to avoid meeting his gaze.

“I… What?” You stammered, a little too flustered. "What kind of question is that?"

Jungkook chuckled softly, leaning casually against the wall, his eyes never leaving your face. "Well, I’m just curious. You know, if it was anything like the kiss we shared all those years ago," he teased, his voice deliberately casual.

You rolled her eyes, trying to deflect the attention. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I haven’t kissed anyone in forever. In fact…” You trailed off, not knowing how to finish the sentence without sounding ridiculous. “You know that. Last time was that random dude at that party last month.”

Jungkook’s smile returned, but it was gentler now, as if he was trying to make you feel better. “So.. What was the last kiss that actually meant something?” he asked, leaning in just slightly, the playful glint back in his eyes.

You knew damn well you couldn’t answer that without revealing too much. The truth was, there hadn’t been a kiss that meant anything—not since you were 12. But you couldn’t say that to him. Not yet.

“Long, long time,” You teased.

For a moment, you swear there’s a glimmer of hope behind his welcoming eyes.

“Maybe I just haven’t found the right guy,” you said, keeping your voice steady as you try to joke your way out of it.

Jungkook chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Must be hard to find someone who’s good enough to even compare to the 'best kiss ever' from when you were twelve.”

You froze, heart thudding in your chest as you realized what the weight of what he'd said. "Damn, you really remember that kiss, huh?"

Jungkook just smirked, his eyes glimmering. "Of course I do. How could I forget?"

And, there’s something that switches in the air, something that makes you realize you’re not as delusional as you think. You’re thinking back to every single time he’s given you that hope to hold onto, every time he has kept the dream alive. You met his eyes, looked into them, felt like you were peering into his soul.

He stepped a little closer, lowering his voice, a sudden seriousness in his tone. “And now… I kind of wish I could kiss you again. See if it feels the same.”

Either you are incredibly drunk, or he has lost his mind. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of alcohol and overwhelming emotions. You blinked, breath caught in your throat, trying to process the weight of his words. He wanted to kiss you again? You could feel the tension between them now, thick and suffocating, like the very air around them was holding its breath. But what was this? What was happening?

Your voice came out shaky, betraying the fear that had lodged itself in your chest. “Where is this coming from, Jungkook?”

Jungkook’s expression faltered for a brief moment, as if he hadn’t expected you to be so open, so raw. He took a step closer, his gaze softening, searching yours with an intensity that made your knees feel like jell-o. His voice was quieter now, more sincere, as if trying to reassure you, or maybe even himself. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it.. I mean we’ve been best friends for years.”

“I-I, maybe, who cares?” You repeated his words from earlier. “You’re drunk, Kook. We’ve been drinking for hours.”

“I’m not joking,” he said softly, his voice low and full of something you couldn’t quite name. "I wouldn’t joke about something like that."

Your breath hitched as he reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours, as if waiting for you to decide. You could feel the pulse of his touch, and with it, all the years of longing, all the secret emotions you’d kept hidden, pressing down on your chest.

It was almost too much. Too much to process, too much to understand. But the truth was clear now, sitting heavy in the silence between you. You were in love with him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt it too.

Just as the words hung in the air, just as you could’ve sworn that he was about to lean in and finally press his lips against yours, thick with longing and uncertainty, the quiet, intimate space you’d created shattered in an instant. The closet door suddenly flung open with a loud crash, and for a heartbeat, your world spun.

The sudden burst of light flooded the small room, blinding you for a second before you recognized the faces of your friends, all grinning mischievously. Taehyung, ever the troublemaker, leaned against the doorframe with a smug smirk on his face. Jimin, with his usual playful grin, stood next to him, his eyes glinting with amusement. And then there was Seo-yeon, leaning casually against the wall, her lips curled in a knowing smile.

You quickly stepped back, face burning as your eyes flicked between them all, still trying to process what had just happened. Jungkook stood frozen beside you, face flushed as he ran a hand through his hair, clearly embarrassed.

“Well, well,” Taehyung said with a mock pout, raising an eyebrow. “Look at that. The closet was really the place to be, huh?”

“Didn’t take you two long,” Jimin added with a chuckle, crossing his arms over his chest. “I knew this was going to be good.”

You felt the blood rush to your face, and you could barely look at Jungkook. Your heart was still hammering, a mixture of humiliation and confusion swirling in your chest. You opened her mouth to say something—anything—but words caught in your throat.

Jungkook cleared his throat, taking a small step forward. “It’s not like that. We were just talking.”

“Oh, talking, huh?” Taehyung grinned wider, obviously not buying it.

Your head was spinning. The echoes of the teasing, the laughter, and the flirtation were still reverberating in your mind. You could feel the alcohol mixing with the tension that had built up all night, and it was almost too much to handle. Your thoughts were a jumble—your best friend, Jungkook, the kiss that almost happened, everything was falling apart in a whirlwind of emotions.

The game seemed to fizzle out after a few more rounds, yet you were still sat there, hoping to make sense of it all. The clock slowly ticked by, bodies still trickling in and out of the house despite how late it was. And you probably should’ve made an effort to take to Jungkook, to fight for him, to stand up on your words to Seo-yeon.

And so there you stood, attached to the wall yet again.

Except this time, Jungkook was peeling you off of it. He had enough juice at this point to know better, to care less if he made a fool of himself.

He made his way toward you, his expression tight with something unreadable. “Can we talk?” he asked urgently. You opened her mouth to protest, but before you could say anything, he was already guiding you through the crowd, clutching your hand in his.

As you walked up the stairs, you looked down at the people left over from the night, and you caught a second of a glance from Seo-yeon. Maybe, just maybe, you were going to win this once and for all.

The loud music and chatter from downstairs faded as you made your way up to the quiet of the second floor. When you reached an empty bedroom, he closed the door behind you softly. You both stood there for a moment, a beat of silence hanging between you, thick with anticipation. You twiddled with your thumbs, setting your cup down.

Jungkook turned to face you, his expression full of something you couldn’t quite place—nervousness, uncertainty, and longing. He took a step forward, his breath shaky. "[Y/N].. Am I crazy?”

“What do you mean?” You gulped, pressing your back into the nearby bedside table.

“Is there something here I’m missing with us, are we good? Like, I haven’t spoken to you all night, Seo-yeon is shoving herself down my throat, and you know I hate her. And then… that stupid fucking closet has my head spinning. So, talk to me.”

You couldn’t believe this was happening—couldn’t believe he was saying this out loud.

Without thinking, you whispered, almost inaudibly, "You don’t know?"

Jungkook’s brow furrowed, and he took another small step closer, “What?”

Your heart pounded harder now, hands trembling slightly at your sides. You took a breath, then let it out slowly. Your voice was barely a whisper, but the words felt like they had been stuck in your throat for years. “You had to have known I’ve been in love with you.”

There it was. Out in the open, hanging, lingering. The words dissipated into the air. You started to wonder what magic potion was in this drink that had you ending many friendship tonight.

Jungkook froze, his eyes widening. He stared at you for a long moment, disbelief flooding his features. “I didn’t… I didn’t know. If I had known...”

“If I knew…” he began again, his voice strained, almost as if he were fighting to keep his composure. His gaze never wavered from yours, a storm of emotions swirling behind his eyes.

“I would have...” He swallowed hard, stepping closer to you until he was only inches away, his breath warm against your skin. “... I would have kissed you. A long time ago.”

You felt your chest tighten, the intensity of his gaze locking you in place. You could feel the electric pull between you, every inch of your body screaming to close the distance. But you didn’t move. Neither of you did. The air was thick, heavy with everything you hadn’t said, with everything that had been building between you, allegedly, for years.

Jungkook’s hand twitched at his side, as if he were fighting himself, unsure of whether to make the move or not. His gaze flickered between your lips and your eyes, a tortured look on his face. “Was it not obvious when I let you kiss me when we were 12?” he whispered, almost as if the words had slipped out before he could stop them.

Everything inside you screamed for him to close the distance, for him to finally kiss you when you were older. But the fear, the uncertainty, still lingered. “Jungkook...” you whispered, voice trembling.

Somehow, he always knew just what you wanted to say.

“I know,” he said softly, his face just inches from yours now. "I know."

“It wasn’t obvious, you know,” You began. The fire from earlier that raged when you snapped on Seo-yeon began to reignite, to push itself to the forefront and grow as bright and red as could be. How could he expect you to know? He had dated so many girls, so many people that weren’t you, that you had just started to normalize the fade you did into the background. It was insulting for him to think otherwise. “You dated like 10 girls after that kiss when we were younger.”

“You dated someone too,” He pointed out. True, but.. you only did it because he did. Which is surprising to no one.

“Yeah, but I was always there. I was always by your side, every breakup, every tear shed, hoping and praying you’d finally pick me. But there’s not a good way to say, hey I know we’ve been best friends for years but I’m in love with you. I didn’t, I don’t want to lose you,” You wanted to break his eye contact, look away and start crying into your shirt. But you didn’t. You held your ground.

His face softened, another cautious step taken towards you. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He’s so close now you can feel the nerves, the heat radiating off his body. You can smell that stupid cologne he got last Christmas from his parents. You can see his silver chain glisten under the light bedroom lamp. “Well, if you don’t feel the exact same, then yeah, I will lose you. And for the record, Seo-yeon knows I’ve been in love with you. God, she is such a little bitch. You know I finally ended it with her tonight. She’s insane. But whatever, my point is that if you’re not also in love with me, I’m done, I’m going to move to the US and become a monk. This is humiliating-“

You nor him got to hear the ending of that sentence, because before you know it, his warm hands are cupping your cheeks and pulling you into him, and he’s kissing you. It feels like this: you’re 12 again, under that white oak tree on the playground, your mothers watching a few feet away with a knowing smile on their face. Your heart quickens up its pace, tries to catch up to what is happening. But there’s no use. You’re a goner.

The moment Jungkook’s lips met yours, the world seemed to fall away. There was no party inside, no city stretching beyond the university—just him. Just this.

His kiss was slow at first, testing, as if savoring the feeling of finally closing the space that had been pulling you together for so long. His fingers, warm against your cool skin, tilted your face up to him, deepening the kiss in a way that made your breath catch.

You responded instinctively, pressing closer, your hands gripping the fabric of his shirt like an anchor. The tension, the longing that had built between you for months—maybe even years—unraveled all at once, spilling into the way he kissed you, like he had been holding back for too long.

You had always wondered what it would be like to kiss him when you were older (especially after he got that stupid little lip ring that had you using your vibrator more often than you liked to admit.)

Jungkook exhaled against your lips, his hand sliding from your jaw to the nape of your neck, fingers threading into your hair. His other hand found your waist, pulling you flush against him. The heat of his body, the steady rhythm of his breathing, the way his thumb brushed circles against your skin—it all left you dizzy.

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears, each passing second making it harder to think, to focus on anything but the way his lips moved against yours. He tasted faintly of liquor, of something intoxicating yet familiar, something that made you want to drown in him completely.

“I shouldn’t have waited this long," he murmured, his voice rough, almost regretful. “It’s better than it was when we were 12.”

You let out a breathy laugh, your hands still fisting his shirt. "Then don’t wait anymore."

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he leaned in again, this time softer, slower, as if committing every second to memory. His lips brushed yours once, twice—just enough to make your knees weak—before he kissed you fully again. His tongue poked through, and a soft whimper left your mouth at the contact.

Jungkook’s second kiss was different—deeper, more certain. The hesitation that had lingered before was gone, replaced by something more urgent, more consuming. His fingers tightened at your waist as he pulled you closer, his lips parting against yours, letting the kiss deepen in a way that sent a shiver down your spine.

You met him eagerly, your hands sliding up his chest, fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt. He groaned softly against your mouth, a sound that sent warmth pooling in your stomach. His tongue brushed against yours, slow at first, coaxing, teasing, before he pressed in more insistently, his hand cradling your jaw as if he couldn’t bear to let go, moving down to wrap a gentle hand around your neck.

Your breath hitched as his grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he held you firm to the bedside table.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands never left your body, his fingers skimming the curve of your waist, the warmth of his palms making your skin tingle.

You shook your head, breathless. "I don’t want you to."

That was all he needed.

In one swift motion, his hands slid to your thighs, lifting you with ease. A surprised gasp left your lips, but you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, clinging to him as he carried you across the room. His lips never left yours, each kiss deeper, more desperate, as if making up for lost time.

He reached the edge of the bed, lowering you onto the plush mattress without breaking contact. His body hovered over yours, propped up on his forearms, his dark eyes searching yours as he caught his breath.

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he admitted, his voice husky, edged with impatience.

You let out a soft laugh, running your fingers through his hair, your own breath coming just as fast. "Then why did we wait?"

Jungkook exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Because I knew, once I had you like this… I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it."

His words sent a thrill through you, but before you could respond, he kissed you again—slower this time, savoring every second. His hands traced gentle patterns against your skin, grounding you, making you feel every ounce of emotion behind his touch.

His fingers moved deftly, swiftly, but there’s a bit of anxiety behind his touch. He kissed down your neck, slowly, agonizingly, to your collarbone… pushing aside your shirt to your shoulder. His knee dug into your thigh, and felt fuzzy from how much he was touching you, everywhere. You let out small whimpers, eager for him to continue, to know what it feels like to be one of his girls.

He looked up at you, eyes dark with something you don’t recognize from him. If he wasn’t your best friend, you would’ve been scared. His fingers ghosted down your chest, to your stomach, playing with the hem of your shirt, almost asking for permission. He doesn’t have to, because you’re propping yourself up and taking it off for him, just leaving your bra out on display. He pauses, takes a moment for himself, realizes he isn’t in a dream when he reaches out and touches one of your tits. It’s like he’s a prepubescent little boy again who has never seen these before.

“God, you’re perfect,” He mumbled, voice shaky, feeling you through your bra. He moved the bra aside a little, sees the hard nipple poking through and removes your entire bra, one hand. He peeled off his shirt, revealing his toned abdomen underneath and that tattoo sleeve he started working on two years ago.

You don’t know when you became such a withering mess underneath his touch but you’re glued down to the bed, imprinted on the mattress. Jimin will have to come peel you off tomorrow morning. “Touch me again,” you whispered out, low enough for him to hear and for his cock to twitch in his pants.

He looked back up at you, taking his attention away from your chest. There was a shift, a change of massive proportions in the air. You know he’s experienced. Everyone knows it. He’s had countless girlfriends, hookups with other friends… you’ve heard the rumors spread like wildfire.

When he speaks, his voice sounds almost pensive. “Has anybody ever made you come?”

The sound you make is much too close to a whimper for your own comfort. Involuntarily, you feel a flutter down there, and you realize faintly just how wet you really are, all of some stupid kisses.

You don’t need to look at him to know that he’s noticed your reaction.

“I- uh,” You’re utterly and totally speechless. The answer is no. None of your boyfriends ever figured it out truly. It’s not like they were studs in the bedroom. So, you would fake it, kiss them goodnight, and go finger yourself in the bathroom to get off. You somehow have a very strong intuition you won’t need to do that with Jungkook. “No, not really.”

His gaze becomes darker, pauses and thinks of his next move. He pushed you back onto the mattress, making room for himself to painstakingly slow move in between your legs. Jungkook lifts your skirt up, revealing your lacy pink panties that have a wet spot engrained right in the middle. “Fucking hell, you’re soaked,” he whispers, mostly to himself.

He looked back up at you. “Do you want me to make you come?”

He can’t be serious. The blood rushed from your face down to your toes.

“P-please,” You whimpered, tugging your bottom lip underneath your top lip. “Please, Kook.”

“I can’t believe no one’s ever appreciated this pussy,” You can’t tell if he’s speaking mostly to himself as he took off your skirt fully, letting it fall on the floor with a soft thump. “You are so beautiful, [Y/N]. I’ve been dreaming about this for months, years.”

You just nod in response, since that’s all you can muster as he drags the pink underwear off your thighs, down your ankles, off your being. You want him to make you come, want him to be the reason you feel immense pleasure.

He’s still babbling to himself, something about how he’s going to wreck you tonight and all that, and then you feel his tongue flatten out on you, making a circular motion on your clit. Your pornographic moan could probably be heard across the entire campus. Your whole body jolts alive, eyes squeezed so, so tight as he worked his tongue repeatedly over your clit, lapping up every ounce of your wetness he can.

Your hand reaches out to grasp at something, anything, clutching his hair and holding his head as his tongue rolls around in between your clit and your entrance. His nose bumped against your clit as your hips began to rock up and down, your body aching for more, anything he could provide you would take it.

“Jungkook,” You breathed out, followed by a string of profanities and moans. He seemed to be pleased by your reaction, his arms wrapping around your thighs and pulling your legs around his head, practically suffocating himself with you.

“F-fuck, how are y-you so good at this?” Your back arched off the mattresss, vision blurry as he continued his assault on your clit. He was so lost in it, so deep in it, he could barely respond.

He pulled away for a second, looking up at you with his big eyes, lips glossy and covered in your slick. You watched as he gathered some saliva in his mouth, spitting it onto your clit and letting his fingers rub your bundle of nerves. “Oh my god,” That elicited another expressive string of words, your chest heaving as you teetered closer and closer to that edge.

You still couldn’t believe this was happening; your best friend of over a decade, eating you out like you were a five-course meal.

He enveloped his lips around your delicate bud and pulled, and you can hardly contain yourself, fingers darting to his locks, the sheets, your abdomen. You can't sit still, can't halt the convulsions, losing all sense of self over your own body. Every which way, on him and off him, thoughts in turmoil and emotions in chaos and sensations askew, and you can't fathom how nobody's ever subjected you to this before, and how have you managed to live without the sensation of Jungkook's lips on your pussy.

His fingers replaced his mouth again, this time, splitting you open with two fingers that glide right in with how overly soaked you are. “Gonna make you cum so good, princess,” He said. “Gonna make you forget any of those lames before me.”

He has to realize that won’t take much convincing. You’ve already forgotten what any other man looks like.

As his lips reconnected with your burning core, all inhibitions vanish. He darted his tongue in and out, in and out, in and… your eyes rolling back in ecstasy, your legs straining to offer him greater access, even to the point of discomfort when your muscles protest, but you crave him closer, deeper, harder, and you're drowning in longing, aching with it. The only anchors keeping you grounded are his hands, the one hand that has wandered from your clit to fondle your tit, the other that is now relentlessly pumping in and out of you.

He's cautious, nearly tender, but it's futile, you're soaked, allowing him continuous entry of his fingers without any struggle, devoid of any tension in your muscles. You're incapable of tightening up even if you wanted to.

“I-I, fuck, Kook, I’m gonna cum,” You whined out in a tone that was half begging, half delirium. You weren’t even sure your body was in control of itself anymore, you just wriggled and thrashed around as he worked you to finish.

“Yeah?” He said against your clit, his breath fanning against you. His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his other hand rubbing incessantly circles on your clit. It was all too much, far, far, too much. “Fuck, I want you to cum for me. Want to taste you, taste what I’ve been missing all these years.”

It engulfed you completely, resonating within your core, your toes, and your fingertips. It propels you off the bed, leaning forward, fingers clutching his hair, legs quivering uncontrollably, screaming his name over and over like a prayer.

It seemed to go on for hours, his fingers penetrating you through it, his tongue caressing you through it, and all thoughts dissipate under the onslaught of that blinding, electrifying pleasure.

Jungkook persisted, relentless, until you thrusted his head away with vigor, overwhelmed by the sensation to the point of pain erupting like tiny needles. You have absolutely no idea how any girl ever let him get away, but you make a mental note that he will never leave your sight. He leaned over you, hovering over your shaking body.

His head bowed down, pressing a kiss on your lips, and you taste yourself for the first time. It’s a mix of him and you, salty and sweet and warm and dirty. You want it, again and again and again..

But you want him to feel good too. Want to do right by him, make him yours officially, have him scream out your name. You pulled away from his kiss, wiggling yourself out from under him. With a surprising amount of strength you mustered, you flipped the two of you; you’re straddling him, thighs locked on either side of his toned abs. His eyebrows raised, lips still slick and swollen with your juices and saliva and you’re pretty certain you’ll have a stroke if you keep looking at him.

You’re still dripping onto his bare chest, abs now covered in you as well. Probably the second hottest thing you’ve seen so far. You leaned down, kissing him, fighting for some sort of reprieve. You kissed down his jaw, his neck, and his little whimpers send you to a different planet.

He’s just so vocal, and now you can’t get enough.

“Let me ride you,” You said.

He blinked. Was he hearing that right?

“Please,” You pleaded. “I just… I want to make you feel good, Kookie. Like you did for me. Wanna make you happy.”

He smirked, rubbing his warm hands against your thighs, “I’m already happy just like this.” And he’s right, his cock is rock-hard and honestly, he hasn’t ever been like this before with any of his past girls. It’s because it’s you, the girl he called his best friend who used to be the quiet, shy one, is asking him to let her ride his cock.

“Pleaseeee..” You moaned, shuffling your body downwards so your clit was directly above his Calvin Klein boxers, grinding on him slowly like this was a middle school party. You didn’t even know when he had taken off his jeans from earlier, you assumed it was during the time his face was buried in your cunt.

He played around with his lip ring, his nervous tic. “Fuck, yeah, baby just go for it. Show me how you ride your best friend.”

You pulled back to finally get rid of his boxers, to finally see what’s underneath, if the rumors rang rang true. You looked down at his cock, splayed across his lower abdomen, open your mouth to speak and… pause.

“Jungkook,” you began, eyes widened, half horror and half excitement, “I-you’re so… big.”

And the moment you’ve said the words, you regret them. His ego was about to inflate to the size of Jimin’s entire house. He looked up at you through hooded eyes, licking his lips, “Yeah? You gonna take it, baby?”

The pet name made you shudder. “I-I can try,” You stuttered. “I’ve never been with someone this big before.”

He chuckled, his hands coming around to rest on your hips, rubbing circles with the pads of his thumb. You knew damn well he knew how many guys you’ve been with, how many people you’ve fucked, but never their dick size. Didn’t really come up. But, this… well, this was going to be a challenge.

“It’s okay, baby,” He coaxed, “How about you be a good girl for me and start off slow?”

You wanted to be his good girl more than anything in the entire world in that moment.

You can’t even answer, can’t do anything, because he began to align his cock to your sopping entrance, pushing inside of you. It’s excruciating, it’s slow it’s almost impossible to understand how he’s splitting you in half. Jungkook’s head fell back on the mattress, face scrunched up in pleasure, jaw hanging open.

The slide felt almost endless, like you would never reach the hilt of his cock. There’s an endless cycle of Jungkook’s voice spilling endless praise for you taking him so well, that he’s almost all inside, that you already look so full, that he’s never letting you go.

And then finally, when you’re about to tap out and let him get on top, you feel your clit pressed his pubic bone and your body has never felt so entirely filled.

You both let out a simultaneous moan that you’re certain everyone downstairs heard and is getting ready to come upstairs and bang pots and pans at the door.

“I…” Your body gave out a little, and you lean backwards on your palms, giving him a better view of how irresistible you look with his cock so deep inside of you.

“Fuck, baby.” His hand traveled to your clit, rubbing circles, “So damn tight, huh? No one’s fucked you like this in a while.”

All you can do is nod.

The sounds are obscene. His cock plunging into your wetness with each bounce of your knees, the headboard slamming against the walls, your own whimpers, Jungkook’s groans. You know they can hear you. And you don’t care. Not one bit. In fact, you want it.

You fell forward a little, gripped onto his chest and dug your fingernails into him. You can’t even think, breathe, can’t remember the last time something has ever felt this ethereal. Your head lulled backwards, fingernails so deep in his skin you’re leaving bruises. Jungkook gripped onto your hips, pads of his thumbs imprinting themselves on your skin. You’re certain he must be pussy drunk or something, because the only things leaving his mouth are blabbers, “… fuck, you are so tight and wet.. fucking beautiful, my best girl so good, need you so bad, always..”

Your hips continued to undulate wildly, and you don’t even know where the confidence is coming from but you felt like some fucking goddess riding this man into oblivion. And you recognized it, he’s so close, his face is contorted, chest heaving, eyes squeezed so tight, committing the feeling of you riding him to memory..

And you never get to see that orgasm (yet) because you hear the door swing open. Jungkook sat up, eyes widened, looking between you and your intruder. But you’re too in deep, too into it to stop, too close, too needy… who gives a fuck if Taehyung or even Jimin sees?

He looked back at you, face flushed with an expression you can’t recognize. You tossed your head back, and you understand why he looks like that. You caught a sight of Seo-yeon’s black hair, and when you turned your body, you saw her figure standing there in the doorway, watching, observing, a tiny (and you have to look hard) smirk on her face.

“Are you going t-to get the fuck out or what?” Jungkook tried to sound tough, but he’s coming undone closer and closer by the second.

And you don’t know what it is, maybe it’s the fact you’re fucking your best friend, maybe it’s the fact you’re still a little drunk off the punch, maybe you’re just a different person than 3 hours ago, but you turned back to Jungkook and go, “Let her stay and watch. Let her see how good I fuck you. Let her know you’re fucking mine.”

You can’t see it, but she blinks at the doorway, jaw unhinged and a gulp of saliva slithering like molasses down her throat. “Fuck, baby, you’re going to make me cum,” Jungkook whined out.

“Yeah, you want to cum?” You leaned back, giving him full access to your pussy and the way his cock is coated with your juices, dripping onto his abdomen, making a mess everywhere. “Tell her you’re mine. Now.”

You don’t even know if she’s still there, you just want him to say it. Even if it’s just for you.

But, he looked back at her, looks back at her petite frame in the doorway, then back at you. “I’m yours. I’m fucking yours, baby. Forever.”

“Good boy,” You leaned your body back into him, press a kiss into his sweaty cheek. You then turn back around to handle her, and it almost makes you want to laugh how she’s now frozen to the wall like you once were. “Now, close the fucking door behind you while I finish him off.”

The door slammed behind her, but you barely noticed or cared. He’s an absolute wreck, singing praises to you and you’re all yeah yeah yeah please please please I’m so close, and he came undone so fiercely he’s struggling to keep it together, to not collapse. He coated your walls, and you clenched around him as you barreled through what might be the most insane orgasm of your life.

There’s a moment where black washed over your vision, jaw ripping open trying to scream his name, or anything remotely in the dictionary, and you’re just putty on top of him as your body shakes and convulses trying to come down.

You fell into him, on top of him rather, hearts struggling to get back to its normal rhythm. He doesn’t want to move, can’t imagine going anywhere in that moment. You finally moved over to his side, nestling into him and you’re certain there’ll be a mold of your body on him tomorrow. He wrapped his arm around you, tugging in as close as he possibly could.

For a while, you just lay there like that. You welcomed the silence, no longer letting it scare you.

“You know, your mom and my mom were plotting on us.”

He’s the first to break through your thoughts. You giggled, tracing circles on his chest, listening to his heart thump thump thump against his ribcage. “I’ve always loved you. I know that. Well, ever since you gave me that Spider Man plushie when we were 11.”

You can’t deny the shit-eating grin that appeared in your face. You weren’t about to tell him you fell into love with him before that, probably when he gave you a Hello Kitty bandaid for one of your ouchies. “Is that so?” You teased.

Into your hair, Jungkook whispered, “Always been mine.”

There’s a wave of something that crashes over you, something you feel deep within you. He’s mine, you thought to yourself. And it makes you blink tears away because of it.

You laid there, peacefully, silently, in absolutely bliss…

“Ugh, Jungkook! Right there! So fucking good!”

“[Y/N], keep going! Your pussy feels so good! Ahhhh!”

“Jimin! Taehyung!” Jungkook roared, reaching up one arm for the pillow on the bed and flinging it at the wooden door, other arm still wrapped loosely around your shoulders.

“Hey, man! You can’t get mad at me! You just had sex in my fucking bed. You’re doing my laundry for six months!” Jimin’s voice cracked at the realization of you two… in his bed… with god knows what juices splattered. He shuddered even imagining it.

“He’s got a point,” Jungkook sighed, running his hand over his face.

You laughed a little, then he did too, and you felt the vibration against your body. There was only him, only now. And as Jungkook pulled you closer, tucking you into the warmth of his arms, you realized— it was supposed to be this easy. And for the first time, it didn’t feel like a risk. It didn’t feel scary. It felt like home.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

masterlist + request

[okkotsuus]

"YOU'RE AS BEAUTIFUL AS THE DAY I LOST YOU" (katsuki b.) !

features: katsuki bakugo

contents: fantasy au. angst. hurt/comfort/more hurt. mutual pining. barabrian!katsuki. fem!reader. childhood friends to lovers to strangers to lovers again. kidnapping. grief. crying. implied panic attack. major character death. no beta we die like men. 3.9k

notes: i've been yearning desperately to make bakugo say stoick's famous line from httyd2 (my second favorite movie)... if there's interest i'm considering continuing this into the canon verse with it being these two 'reincarnated'.

tagging: @saexy (for enabling and encouraging me in killing off characters) & @meristryker (for enabling me in the gc like a real one)

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die. watching the loving smiles of his parents, the gentle caress of his father's hand to soothe his mother's unbridled anger: it made his stomach churn.

yet, at the tender age of seven, while on a trip to a nearby village to discuss the war shifting on the horizon, he finds himself absolutely smitten by their chieftain's daughter. wide e/c eyes peeking out from behind her mother's leg, hands clutching onto the hem of the long skirt.

katsuki finds himself enamoured in that instance, seeing sweet you, looking at the boy with such curious eyes. he stomps over to you: temper even fiery in his youth. his hand grabs onto yours as he hauls you out from behind the safety of your mother.

under the dim candlelight of the meeting room, flickering flames cast dancing rays across your skin. his chubby little face is scrunched into a scowl, tugging you out of the room and into the courtyard with a tenderness that betrayed his expression.

"i'm katsuki and you better not forget it!" his pitchy voice calls, still dragging you behind him. he looks over his shoulder, soft red eyes narrowed in what was an attempt to be intimidating.

but when he sees the relaxing of your eyelids, falling slightly in contentment, with a warm smile that rivals any feeling of victory: the mask of indifference slips in a blink of an eye. red dusts over the slops of his face, baby-fat painted the same carnelian as his eyes. his small hand grips tighter onto yours, as if he never would let you go.

your chubby little face stretches as your smile widens into a toothy grin, eyes crinkling at the corners. "got it, katsuki, i'm y/n!" he swears your voice is just like the lullaby his mother would hum while rocking him to sleep, bringing a rush of warmth through his chest.

that day, katsuki bakugou falls terribly in love with y/n l/n.

the two of you are deemed inseparable, hands always connecting like opposing poles of a magnet. pinkies intertwined stronger than any woven cloth. it's as pure and innocent as it can be.

if one were to see y/n, then it was irrevocably certain that katsuki was a few steps away. it sends rumors spiralling through the lands that there will be a union between the bakugo barbaricum and l/n dynasty. you're only eight when there's an attempt made for your hand.

the thought of two families as powerful as you and katsuki's joining was a fearful thing to many. it spelled doom for many weaker civilizations, those who had dug their own graves with their actions.

your family, blessed be you to have been born to loving parents in a world such as this, easily rejects the many proposals. the l/n dynasty is in a state of power where they are not forced to fend for their village: allowing you this freedom.

running through the streets of his stronghold, chasing each other for the sake of some game that was the farthest thing from either of your minds. katsuki feels whole when you are at his side. the world doesn't seem so ugly, he doesn't feel so angry, everything sings the hymns of the heavens.

he can't pull his ruby eyes off of your form by the age of fifteen. the katsuki you had known, baby-faced with a slight stutter, has began to fill out into a man. his shoulders broaden and begin to carry thick cords of muscle. the chubbiness of his cheeks begins to give rise to sharper angles. his whiny voice is pushed aside by a more gravelly tone. he shoots up like a sprout, hunching over slightly in faces that used to fit him so easily.

but he isn't the only one who is growing into his frame. your shoulders soften at the corners, collarbones visible with every slight movement. your baby fat begins to settle and collect on your hips, rounding them. those toothy grins of yours become framed by pretty lips, always looking soft as a pillow. clothes that used to drape over your like a sheet now feel tighter in certain places, stretching over curves that popped up overnight.

the two of you don't know what to do with yourselves, stolen looks when the other isn't looking. you still hook pinkies, but the touch sends flares of heat running up the back of your neck. it's like you were just meeting each other for the first time all over again.

katsuki feels like a damn sap with the way his heart thunders under his skin: threatening to burst out. he's too taken to notice the heat that was rising to your face whenever he was around, the way your hands nervously would grip onto the swaying fabric of your skirt. too blind to see that you were just as infatuated with him as he was with you.

hurried words, lingering touches, sneaking glances, the two of you had every hint of love right in front of your faces. yet, there's a hesitance that lingers in the back of young minds: afraid that falling in love would end up with no one catching them.

unsurprisingly, katsuki is the one who jumps first. it's a quiet night, the moon is high in the sky. his breath puffs out in front of him like smoke, winter beginning to show herself once more.

you looked too beautiful under the soft azure glow that the celestial sky casts upon you, he simply couldn't bear another moment without you known how much his very soul ached for you.

on the eve of his sixteenth birthday he whispers the words like a prayer, voice softened and gentle for once in his life. "y/n... you plague my every waking thought, i cannot let my heart beat any longer without it being yours."

e/c eyes widen as your head snaps to him, lips parting in shock. katsuki beats you to it, rough palms (once baby-soft) cupping your cheek with a tenderness he was unaware he possessed.

the stars illuminate the sunkissed slopes of his cheekbones, showing the fine lashes that fan out over his eyes. katsuki was ethereal, in every sense of the word, it catches your breath in a hitch. your mind stumbles through everything you could say right now, desperately trying to find the perfect response.

but when the pads of his thumbs drag over the apples of your cheeks, leaving a buzz in the wake of his touch, all rational thought leaves as you allow words to flow like a stream. "i have loved you longer than i have known you, katsuki." your voice is hushed, only filling the small space between the two of you: like a secret that only he and you would ever know.

it sends a trill up your spine when his eyes visibly soften, his face had been growing more and more sharp by the day but only when he was with you did the curve of his cheeks soften. he turns back into a boy around you, as you turn back into a girl when held so gently between his hands.

katsuki surges forwards, nose clumsily knocking against yours, teeth colliding with your own. he's inexperienced, never having kissed a girl, much less even though of kissing anyone but you. you both are a mess, giggling softly through messy pecks smearing over each other's faces. it feels like you're both those giddy kids once more, chasing the other through the cobbled streets of your village. he makes your heart sing.

it was even harder to be apart from him now, hands fully clasped together as you walk through the streets of either of your hometowns. yet, no one is surprised. neither of your parents nor his even bat an eye when you announce the courtship at a family dinner.

love is as natural as breathing for you and katsuki. inherently you have always known exactly what the other needs. he knows just how much you like the wildflowers that grow en-route between your homes. you know just how much he likes when you rise on your tiptoes and press a kiss against the corner of his lips.

it's young and dumb, a rush of big emotions and smiles that stretch your cheeks so far they ache. once you both are eighteen, katsuki turns the courtship into a betrothal. an elegant gold ring, with a garnet slotted right in the center, it sits pretty on your ring finger. his band is thicker, small e/c gemstones scattered along the surface. when in battle he loops it through a chain around his neck: pressing a kiss to the ring before charging forwards.

the world has known y/n l/n and katsuki bakugo have been in love for nearly twelve years, official for three, and betrothed for one. the bakugo barbaricum and the l/n dynasty have began making their plans to unify upon the wedding. it sparks a wave of unease in the badlands.

all it takes is an emissary sent from the dark forest for your world to crumble into shambles. a demon who seems to be the land's scourge reincarnated, hand that turn all to ash, pillages your beloved village. he comes in tow with a mimic and a fire mage. destruction rains as you are brought to the center as their singular demand is you.

your eyes lock with the demon's red eyes, a color that had made you feel so safe until now. the hair on the nape of your neck stands pin-straight as his hand extended towards you: palm up.

a flurry of emotions rush through you like a burst dam, memories of katsuki at the forefront. you want to be selfish, to damn him and his band of criminals to hell, to fight back despite the gravity of the situation. but he is bringing terror upon the people you swore to protect with your life.

so, you step forwards, soft hand sliding into his own. never had a rough palm felt like daggers against your skin, never had you so violently despised the way carmine shines in the light of blue flames.

to save your people, your family, the home you have known your entire life: you go. swept away in black mist. the last thing you see of that place is the bakugo horde rushing towards the gates, your eyes lock with katsuki's before the void claims you.

katsuki lets out a guttural scream as her charges head first into the miasma, falling onto the ground as the last wisp flows just through his fingers. his fist slams against the ground, hands gasping at the dirt you had just been on. he allows himself to cry in front of someone other than you, a wail echoing through the ruins of your village.

that day, you disappear off the face of the realm. no matter how many search parties are sent into the dark forests in the badlands, they all return empty-handed (if they return at all). katsuki keep his ring around his neck, so it beats against his bare chest with every movement: like a reminder of how it felt when his heart actually beat .

scars wind around his arms, around his biceps, over his forearms, across his shoulders. his face is hardened, permanent frown on the lips you used to kiss so tenderly. he's angrier than ever, fuse short as his attention span.

he is a shell of the man he had been, going through the motions of survival but never truly being alive.

this persists for a grueling two years. for seven-hundred and thirty days. for seventeen-thousand five-hundred twenty hours. he is separated from the only person that has ever felt like home, the woman he has loved longer than he knew how to read.

he masks it behind his ego, boisterous laugh to hide the ringing in is ears that hadn't been able to stop. he's more violent the field, less forgiving when in training with kirishima. the explosions that thunder from his palms produce a blackened smoke that lingers and settles in his lungs like a fog.

yearning hits him late at night when he lays alone in bed, a bed that you had once shared with him. silent tears pour, running down the sides of katsuki's face as he stares blankly up at the ceiling. his breath feels short as his chest heaves to get air in. the man's mind is clouded with the look on your face as those bastards took you. he can still remember every single little twitch of your expression when you finally saw him. he remembers the way your breath hitched. he remembers the tears that began to pool at the corners of your eyes.

but, most of all, he remembers not seeing you: for what feels like the first time in his life.

katsuki cannot recall when he finally fell asleep, or if he ever even truly did. his dreams are plagued with you anyways, so the line between memory and dream is thin as a tightrope.

he has a dream that he makes it in time to save you and wakes up alone. that one sticks with him for months, hanging over him like a shadow. if he was only a minute sooner, a stride faster, reacted quicker. maybe you would be in his arms right now instead of gods know where.

relief comes in a rumor that circles in a tavern that a woman with h/c hair and e/c eyes was spotted wondering through the dark forest. katsuki doesn't hesitate, he makes no effort to send out a scout party. he rides at dawn, horse hooves beating against the grass in a frenzied gallop as he makes his way into the badlands.

none of the rouges or thieves hope to stand a chance with him, the smart ones don't even try. he vanquishes the less fortunate with a single swing of his cutlass. the man doesn't stop to rest, only to water his horse and allow it to graze while he catches a brief nap.

his horse comes to a stop right outside the dark forests, whinnying in rejection to enter. katsuki doesn't blame the poor thing, this was the kind of place people went with no intention to come back from. he dismounts, not tying his horse off: it would return with a whistle.

the forest is eerie, yawning opening that is reminiscent of a gaping mouth. but he didn't fear. because at this point, he'd rather not come back if it meant he wasn't coming back with you.

footfalls crunching against leaves and sticks echo through the dim lit treeline. the canopy is so thick that it completely obscures the bright sunlight katsuki has just been under: the perfect place for criminals to hide. the trees creak and groan, as if the land itself was breathing and living.

only when he hears the snap of a twig does he stop, his head snaps around, a flash of h/c darting just out of the corner of his visions. the man's heart stops as he stumbles to pursue, not minding the whipping of low handing branches against his face. not when he could see you darting through the underbrush.

he finally sees you in the full when you run into a path dead-ended by brambles. it's really you. y/n, his y/n.

but you look over your shoulder with such a forlorn look it makes his heart ache in his chest. you don't believe that it's really him. "toga, this isn't funny, it's cruel to keep making me see him." your voice is rougher than he remembered, as if your throat had been worn. it makes his fists clench at his sides.

the mimic had been wearing his face, just to torment you?

just the thought of it sends a rage burning deep in his chest. he has no way of knowing what you have been through. katsuki couldn't protect you: like he always feared he would fail to do.

his steps toward you are hesitant, ruby red eyes softening the second he sees your face. his heart is pounding out of his ribs, it makes him wonder if you can hear it.

a rough hand reaches up to roughly tug the chain that held his engagement band around his neck, the links snapping and clattering to the ground. he doesn't even look at it. with a gentleness, he holds out the ring to you.

your eyes dart back between the metal and him, hands tentatively reaching for it. the thundering race of your heartbeat is all you can hear. your hands, once soft, now rough as his bush against his own as you roll the ring between your fingers.

katsuki's heart breaks when he feels the callouses on your fingertips. he lowers slowly to his knees in front of you, tears fighting their way to prick at the corners of his eyes. he looks up at you like you are the light in the world, a goddess before him. in a way, you are, because he had prayed to every deity to hold you again, even if it was only once more.

"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you." his words come out in a rasp. thick emotion coursing through his chest; nearly choking him.

he watched your eyes widen, tears pooling as you too crash onto the ground. your arms wrap tight around his neck, face pressed side-by-side with his own. strong arms encircle your waist in an instant, pressing you closer with an urgency.

"katsuki... oh gods, katsuki..." you don't even know what to say, just repeating his name like a desperate prayer. your cheeks are wet and your chest aches but you don't care, because he's finally here.

lips clash desperately, just as messy as the kiss the two of you first shared five years ago. it's a mess of teeth and tongue as your fingers tangle into ash-blonde hair, his hands finding the back of your head and your hip. he sucks the breath out of you, as if wanting to absorb you into his being.

and you'd let him if he asked.

carmine eyes search for e/c, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pulls back to study your face. it's like you never left. your eyes are tired, there's some grime on your cheeks, a soft scar above your eyebrow that you've had since you were thirteen.

the softest smile spreads on his face, forehead pressing against yours as his lashes flutter shut. katsuki lets out a deep sigh, one he had been holding for nearly two years now.

warmth blooms in your chest as everything finally settles back into place like puzzle pieces. your hearts beat in sync, you draw breath when he exhales, everything is right in the world once more.

but your heart skips a beat as your eyes open to see that cursed white hair with horns peeking out from below it. tomura shigaraki. a wicked smirk on his lips as he's leaned back against a tree, simply watching.

your hands grip tighter onto the back of the shawl draping over katsuki's shoulders, breathing turning shaky and ragged.

no. no. no. they couldn't take this from you. not again. not after how hard you fought to escape the league just at the fleeting chance of being able to see the man you love. this had to be some cruel joke, right? a trick of the light, maybe...

even you aren't naive enough to believe that, your eyes close as you lean against katsuki, head burying into the crook of his neck. your fiddle with his hands to slip the ring back onto it's rightful place on his third finger. a part of you had already resigned to being ripped away again.

after two years with the demon, you learned firsthand what shigaraki was capable of. and you were not going to allow katsuki to find it out as well.

your legs shook as you stood, a weak smile given at your lover's confused look. "i'll always love you, 'suki, you know that." his eyes widen as his head nods, brows furrowing.

"then let me keep you safe."

carnelian irises widen in realization as his head turns to look back, growl ripping from his chest at the sight of the scourge of the realm's protege. his hands immediately reach for the hilt of his sword, explosions popping in his palms.

but you're already beginning to approach. katsuki seizes you in one arm, hauling you away like the day you first met. he runs through the forest with you: knowing that shigaraki would not allow the both of you to leave.

he bounds over winding tree roots, holding you steady and tight against his chest. the impending sense of doom begins to crawl up the back of his neck, but he needs you to be safe.

with you in his arm, he stumbles out of the forest, shrill whistle leaving his lips as the sound of hooves grows closer. with ease he sets you up on the saddle, but he does not join. you realize immediately what is about to happen. "katsuki-"

"no. it's my turn to keep you safe, y/n. i've always loved you, and i always will. in every life i will find you, and in every life, i will protect you." his words bring tears to your eyes as you desperately stake your head, sobs bubbling past your lips.

shigaraki creeps out of the forest and he delivers a harsh smack to the horse's haunches, sending it galloping away. within a second later a hand is reaching through katsuki's chest, mocking laugh against his ear.

"how heroic. i'll make sure you die slow, barbarian."

never in all his life did the great katsuki bakugo think that he would ever love someone enough that he could die.

that was until he lay on the edge of the forest floor, lifeblood leaking from the gaping hole in the center of the chest. but he wasn't anguished: because he died for you, the only person who he would ever love.

okkotsuus 24

[thef1diary]

Baby Jr | Four

— Meticulous Avoidance

© thef1diary 2024. all rights reserved. Do not copy, steal, translate, or repost any of my work.

Series Masterlist

pairing: carlos x fem!reader

wc: 2.8k

The sun slants through the blinds, casting elongated shadows across the room. You sit on the edge of the bed, your hands trembling slightly as you stare at the tenth pregnancy test you've taken, still in disbelief.

"No," you murmur as two pink lines stare back at you, confirming what you've been fearing for the past couple days.

You're pregnant.

Carlos's face flashes through your mind, his smile, his touch, the intensity of those nights spent together. It was supposed to be casual, fun, a temporary escape from the reality of the world around you.

While trying to escape reality, you've been hit in the face by it.

You and Carlos were reckless, that was a given, but now you also had to face the consequences of those moments shared.

You attempt to push back the wave of panic threatening to engulf you. Your vision blurs as your eyes fill with tears and your hands tremble, still holding on to the test.

How could this happen? How could you let it happen? What are people going to say? What is he going to say?

Your mind races, trying to grasp onto some semblance of control amidst the chaos of your thoughts. But deep down, you know there's no escaping the truth.

You're carrying Carlos Sainz's child, and everything is about to change.

Rising from the bed, your movements are mechanical, as if you're navigating through a foggy haze.

The room feels suffocating, the walls closing in on you with each passing second. You need air, space, a moment to breathe and collect your thoughts. With trembling steps, you make your way to the window, dropping the pregnancy test on the floor. You push the window open to let in a rush of cool morning air but even the fresh breeze fails to dispel the suffocating sense of unease that grips you.

Outside, the world carries on, oblivious to the turmoil raging within you. Birds chirp in the distance, cars hum along the street below, and somewhere in the distance, the low murmur of voices drifts through the air.

But in this moment, none of it matters. All you can focus on is the life growing inside you, a tiny, fragile being whose existence is now irrevocably intertwined with yours.

You lean against the windowsill, your gaze fixed on the horizon, lost in a maze of swirling thoughts and emotions. Despite how much you try, you cannot stop thinking about the new situation you've found yourself in.

How will you face Carlos? How will you tell him the news? And more importantly, what will his reaction be? The questions echo in your mind, unanswered and unsettling.

But for now, there's only one thing you can do: keep it to yourself. You remind yourself that the next race is two weeks later, offering a temporary reprieve, a brief respite from the inevitable confrontation that looms on the horizon.

As you draw in a steadying breath, you steel yourself for the challenges that lie ahead. Tears still continue to flow from your eyes, but as you peer down at your stomach, you can't help but feel a tinge of hope in between the fear of your future.

—

As the days pass, the weight of your secret presses down on you like a lead blanket. Every time you meet someone whether it's a stranger or a close friend, you feel the guilt internally shaming you just for keeping the secret to yourself.

You try to bury yourself in work, throwing yourself into your duties as a media personnel with a newfound fervor. You weren't needed at the track since there weren't any races, but you did need to step up the team's media presence and engage with the fans during the brief break.

Although you weren't required to see Carlos in person, your work required you to view the images and videos in which he participated in along with his teammate. You wanted to bury your face in your hands as you watched the videos again because you could hear his laugh and voice.

From considering Carlos as a distraction, now you needed a distraction from him and unfortunately your job did not allow that.

It didn't help that he would still text you, because after all you were still friends before it became physical. He sent you photos of the sunset from whichever country he decided to fly to because you once told him that you loved sunsets.

He was unaware of the turmoil of stress you experienced every time a notification popped up on your phone with his name. Your first thought was that he found out, even though no one else knew the secret but you.

You couldn't ignore his messages or else he would know that something was up, and that was the last thing you wanted him to know especially during the break.

No matter how hard you try to distract yourself, thoughts of Carlos and the impending conversation linger at the edges of your mind, a constant, nagging presence.

Finally, the week of the next race arrives, and with it, the inevitable reunion with Carlos. You stand in the bustling paddock, surrounded by the frenetic energy of the Formula One world. The air is thick with the smell of rubber and gasoline, the sound of engines roaring in the distance while the fans cheered every time they spotted a driver.

As you continue walking through the paddock, you notice a crowd of reporters and fans circling a couple drivers. You couldn't see their faces until you craned your neck, and as soon as you did, you wish you hadn't.

You caught a sight of Carlos in the distance standing alongside Lando which in itself causes an uproar as their friendship is infamous. However, in that moment, you couldn't care less about Lando, instead your eyes were drawn towards Carlos, as always.

He looks every inch the confident, charismatic driver you've come to know, his easy smile and charm putting those around him in a trance.

For a moment, you consider approaching him, but then you wonder what you'd say. It's not like you could tell him the truth in front of the crowd and there was no other topic you could think of.

Instinctively, your palm rests over your womb, and once you realize your actions, you quickly avert your gaze from him, turning away before he can spot you.

You slip into the shadows, dodging behind equipment crates and team trailers as you make your way through the paddock. Every instinct screams at you to run, to hide, to avoid the inevitable confrontation that awaits. And so you do, weaving through the crowds with a practiced ease, your heart pounding in your chest.

But no matter how hard you try to escape, you can't shake the feeling that Carlos is watching you, his eyes boring into your back with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. You quicken your pace, ducking around a corner and into the relative safety of the media center, where you hope to find refuge from the storm brewing outside.

The noise from outside disperses away which you were thankful for but it only magnified your own thoughts. Fortunately, you spotted Ava but as you walked towards her, you noticed that she was speaking to Charles.

You gave her a nod in acknowledgement when she spotted you and turned to sit at one of the further tables, taking a moment to sigh. She notices the tension in your demeanor, the way your eyes dart nervously around the room, and she can't help but raise her eyebrows in concern.

You offer a tight-lipped smile, attempting to brush off her concern, but Ava isn't one to be easily dissuaded.

She pats Charles' arm and smiles at him before wrapping up the conversation she was having with him. You watched from afar, noticing the easy camaraderie between them, a hint of something more lingering in the air. Perhaps you were just seeing things and overthinking it because you were involved with Carlos.

You discarded that thought as you saw Ava approached you, her gaze filled with genuine concern.

"Hey, everything alright?" she asked, her palm resting on top of your hand.

You nod, "yeah, just a bit stressed with work." You hoped that she wouldn't press further on the matter since she also knew about those stressful days at work, having worked in the same field as you.

But, she furrowed her eyebrows, "is it just work, or is something else bothering you?"

Her gaze fixed on you with a mix of concern and curiosity. The weight of your secret pressed heavily on your chest, each breath feeling more constricted than the last. You toyed with the idea of confiding in her, of sharing the truth that had been gnawing at you for weeks. But the fear of her reaction, of the potential consequences, held you back.

Ava reached out and squeezed your hand, her touch a silent gesture of support. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said softly, her voice filled with warmth and understanding.

You nodded, your throat tight with unspoken words. How could you burden her with such a heavy secret? What if she reacted poorly, or worse, felt betrayed by your silence?

But as you looked into Ava's eyes, seeing the genuine concern and compassion reflected there, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope. Maybe she would understand. Maybe she would offer the support and guidance you so desperately needed.

The silence stretched between you, each moment filled with the weight of unspoken truths. Finally, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. "There's something I need to tell you," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's... it's not easy, but I trust you, Ava. And I need you to know."

You had to tell her the whole story, start from the beginning from the night Carlos stopped by your hotel. You reassured your thoughts with a nod, racking your mind for the best way to explain it all.

As you gathered the courage to confide in Ava, Carlos' voice cut through the air, interrupting your moment of vulnerability by calling your name. You turn to see him approaching you, stopping once he reaches the table.

"Hey, can I borrow you for a moment?" he asked, eyes flickering between you and Ava.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at Ava who gave you a reassuring smile. "I'll catch up with you later, yeah?"

You nod at her before looking at Carlos and standing up. He motioned for you to follow him, down the halls and away from prying eyes. As you walked with him, your mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions — frustration at the interruption, anxiety over why Carlos wanted to see you, and a lingering sense of guilt for keeping secrets from both him and Ava.

When you reached the secluded corner, Carlos turned to face you, his gaze ever so watchful. He had a smirk playing on his lips and for a brief moment it reminded you of the time you spent together before finding out life changing news.

You rolled your eyes once you saw how quickly his expression changed, now only a hint of mischief glinting in his eyes. Yet, you still asked, "why did you need to 'borrow' me?"

Carlos leaned closer, resting his palm against the wall like he's done before, his smirk widening into a playful grin. "Well, I just wanted to see you," he said, his tone laced with amusement.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise at his unexpected admission. "Just to see me?" you repeated, a hint of skepticism in your tone.

He shrugged and stated, "it's been two weeks since I saw you last."

A rush of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words — relief that he didn't suspect anything, guilt from earlier, and a flicker of something else, something you couldn't put a finger to.

His fingers trailed down the length of your arm, settling on your waist. With his proximity, a sudden wave of nausea washed over you. The scent of his cologne, once familiar and comforting, now felt overwhelming, almost suffocating.

"Carlos, what cologne are you wearing?" you blurted out, unable to mask the discomfort in your voice.

Carlos pulled back slightly, his brows furrowing in concern. "It's the same one I always use," he replied, his tone tinged with confusion. "The one you always liked."

You blinked, trying to push past the nausea and focus on his words. "But it smells...different," you managed to say, your stomach churning with unease.

Carlos' expression softened, his concern deepening as he stepped back but still reached out to steady you. "Are you okay?"

You took a deep breath, trying to quell the rising tide of nausea threatening to overwhelm you. "I think I just need some fresh air," you murmur, your voice shaky.

Without waiting for a response, you hurried away from Carlos, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air of the hallway like a heavy cloud. You found it odd, as it was never this overpowered to the point where you could smell it from afar, instead it was fairly faint, only smelling it when you were snuggled up next to him in bed.

As you step outside into the cool breeze, you take a moment to collect yourself, the nausea gradually subsiding with each intake of breath.

The fresh air also gave you a sense of clarity, able to think about the situation without it becoming too much to bear.

The realization hit you like a tidal wave — you almost went right back into his arms as if the pregnancy never existed. You would've willingly gone back to your old ways, spending time with him simply because he smiled at you and wanted to see you.

The temptation to bury the truth was strong, to pretend as if nothing changed between you two. But it was wrong, you can't possibly deceive him like that. He would find out one way or another, especially as the months go by and your pregnancy can no longer be hidden.

You softly press your hand against your stomach, a sad smile growing on your face. You wouldn't have to tell him if you didn't plan on keeping the child, but having to live normally again, as if nothing happened, would eat you alive.

Plus, you didn't even think about that option thoroughly, already feeling a blossoming connection to the little life growing in your womb.

You shake your head, discarding such vile thoughts. With a heavy heart, you made a decision to avoid Carlos until you built up the courage to tell him the truth. It wouldn't be easy to tell him right away, because this news could shatter the state of your relationship with him, whether it's friendship or more.

As you returned inside the paddock, you spotted Ava who was rushing around, holding a large stack of items you couldn't see from afar. Watching her hurried movements, you found yourself lost in deep thought again, this time, strategizing how to share the news with her, how to confide in her. The weight of the secret you carried felt unbearable now that you were back at work, and the thought of continuing to hide it from Ava was driving you to the brink of madness.

You consciously straighten your posture, a silent reminder to yourself that you were in a professional setting. The familiar sights and sounds of the workplace surrounded you, pulling you back to reality. Here, amidst the hustle and bustle of the paddock, there was no room for distractions from your personal life. Each moment was precious, each task demanding your full attention and focus. So, with a determined resolve, you pushed aside the turmoil of your personal struggles, channeling your energy into the demands of your professional responsibilities.

As the day wore on, you found yourself avoiding any encounters with Carlos as decided, darting down different corridors and finding excuses to linger in secluded corners whenever you caught a glimpse of him in the distance. It wasn't necessarily hard to avoid him, which made you realize that your job didn't entail being around him as much as he made it out to be. However, it did send a pang of hurt through you every time you heard his laughter or his name uttered by other people.

With each passing hour, you grew more resolved in your decision to keep your distance until you found courage to tell him the truth, after telling Ava.

Speaking of, your phone pinged with a text from her. 'I'm coming over after work, be ready to tell me everything'

Fortunately, the first race after the break was in your home city, which meant that you could show Ava the pregnancy tests you've taken.

The warmth of her friendship offered a glimmer of solace amidst the chaos of the day, and even the past couple weeks, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at the prospect of confiding in her about everything that had been weighing down on you.

Taglist OPEN: @xoscar03 @pierregazly @rowena-ravenclaws-diadem @lilymurphy03 @the-ghost-lovwr @ilovethefruits @lewlew44 @luvvtrent @hc-dutch @khaylin27 @lillyssh-tposts @thatgirlmj @ladyoflynx @tcfanmania @customsbyjcg-blog @sltwins @nonstopbookworm @glitterquadricorn @charizznorizz @mrs-bunny @moonliightbabes @likedbygaslyy @booksandflowrs @teamnovalak @formula1mount @gaviymarcsbride @gotthemilk-69 @bwormie @llando4norris @ellesssssxzxz @arian-directioner @lou-bean28 @depressedgiftedburnout @halleest @amberpanda99 @borapsycho @cosmoscoffeee @mycenterfold @67-angelofthelordme-67 @sugarvibez @mehrmonga @aadu2173 @bokutos-babyowl @teenwolf01 @presidentdangdang @mrswolffs-blog @amyfelix14 @seasonswinter @amalialeclerc @amandadesantasworld @ystrolllll @xisab @doofenshmirtzevil-inc @pedrohoe04 @yagirlhayes @jadaaasworld @mmack23 @shimmermotorsport @darleneslane @mderby03 @jinimon-tr @landoslutmeout

[1111jenx]

𖤓Synastry series: Sun in the Houses𖤓

MASTERLIST — for more quality posts✨

💘Sun in the 1st House: Beneath the celestial canvas of this synastry placement, a tale as enchanting as a dream unfurls. The house person, akin to a night sky, emanates a radiant glow, echoing the Sun person's presence. To them, the Sun is their guiding star, the source of their joy, their radiant beacon in a universe otherwise cloaked in darkness. A profound contentment envelops them when bathed in the Sun's light, an authentic happiness as splendid as dawn's first light. The Sun, in return, basks in the house person's deep-rooted admiration, mirroring it back like a tranquil lake reflecting the midday sun. This tandem, like a pair of celestial bodies, graces the universe with laughter, an exquisite sonnet of shared joy. Together, they shimmer, illuminating the surrounding cosmos with their radiant togetherness, a spectacle of love that outshines the stars. Yet, within this symphony of love, a certain possessiveness persists, a gravitational pull that binds them irrevocably. They perceive the other as their celestial twin, their sole companion in the vast expanse of the universe. An echo of 'mine' resonates between them, an assertion of mutual ownership that is as potent as the heart's deepest longing. But as is the nature of celestial bodies, clashes may occur, ego battles akin to cosmic storms, threatening to disrupt their harmonious orbit. However, even these conflicts are silver-lined, offering pearls of wisdom and shaping their cosmic journey in profound ways. In the radiant presence of one another, they shimmer with unspoken brilliance. They ignite the best within each other, like distant galaxies awakening to their own magnificence. The house person swells with pride in the comforting glow of the Sun, who, in their unerring wisdom, whispers words that elicit pure, unadulterated joy. They orbit in their celestial dance, two bodies radiating love, learning, and laughter, a testament to the poetic resonance of their shared existence.

💘Sun in the 2nd House: In this bond, we find two souls who naturally stir each other's desires and comforts. Together, they revel in life's luxurious offerings, savoring the finest fruits of existence. The Sun person, like a guiding star, helps the House person grasp their true worth, understand their needs, and appreciate their resources. If the stars align favourably, their partnership blooms into something extraordinary, blessed by the gracious hand of Venus. They see worth in each other, a priceless treasure that enriches their shared journey. The Sun person recognizes the unique gifts the House person brings to the table. Yet, there's a shadow to the Sun's warm glow; a tendency to possess, to control, often without realizing. The House person, drawn in by the Sun's radiance, finds themselves doing more to please the Sun, adjusting to their needs, no matter what those might be. In this dance of connection, they move in harmony, a duet of love, desire, and mutual respect.

💘 Sun in the 3rd House: In their shared space, words intertwine like star-crossed lovers, ceaseless, captivating. Little disagreements dance on the edge of their tongues, only to be silenced by the tender symphony of make-up kisses. This placement weaves a sense of familiarity, a strange déjà vu, as if their souls have crossed paths in another life, another time. An unspoken comfort lingers between them, a tranquility that whispers of home. Conversations flow like rivers to the sea, their intellectual discourse as effortless as the wind caressing the leaves. The House person finds a certain charm in the Sun's words, hanging onto them like a melody that never grows old. The Sun, on the other hand, sees the House person as a precious gem, something to shield from the world's harsh edges. Their interaction is a feast for the mind, a stimulation that sings to those who crave deep, intellectual bonds. In this union, comfort abounds. Each word spoken, each secret shared, peels away another layer, revealing the essence of who they truly are. Their openness is as natural as a flower blooming under the spring sun, a testament to their profound connection. Intimate moments are shared in the small details - the clasp of their hands, a language written in the lines of their palms, a silent promise of enduring togetherness. Inside jokes punctuate their interactions, shared laughter blooming in their personal garden of camaraderie. A timeless dance of love and intellectual stimulation, their union weaves a tapestry of memories, each thread gleaming with their shared joy and affection.

💘 Sun in the 4th House: In the embrace of the House person, the Sun finds a home, an abode that whispers of permanence, a space it never yearns to desert. The sanctuary of their presence is a magnet to the Sun, a refuge radiant with solace. This cosmic alignment is intriguing, for it oscillates between providing profound comfort and eliciting the chill of fear, particularly if the Sun's chart is parched of the life-giving water element. There's an undeniable allure in the vulnerability this placement offers. The House person peers into the Sun, seeing its authentic self, acknowledging its limitless potential, and loving it unabashedly. They are the unwavering shield to the Sun, sometimes blindly so, standing in steadfast support irrespective of the circumstances. In response, the Sun flourishes. It blossoms with an ethereal beauty, basking in the adoration it receives, thriving on the nourishment of support. The presence of the House person is a soothing balm, a calming melody that seems to know the right notes to bring tranquility. The House person, in their turn, reveals a clear soft spot for the Sun, perhaps even forgiving their occasional bursts of tempestuous heat. It's a placement that prompts both introspection and reflection, a cosmic dance that sees them turning inward, mirroring each other's steps. Together, they discover a respite from their armor, a space where they can shed their toughness. They become a testament to the beauty of vulnerability, an echo of support and affection that resonates in the celestial symphony of their unity.

💘 Sun in the 5fth House: A placement I hold dear, is a dance of two cosmic entities feeling as though they've discovered their mirrored soul. It's not just a joyous union but one filled with exhilarating thrills and daring adventures. They revel in their shared laughter, their exchanges brimming with the innocence of child-like banter. Yet, beneath this playful veneer, there lies an infatuation, clear and profound, humming in the spaces between their words. The House person transforms into an eternal flame, a radiant beacon matching the Sun's relentless luminescence. The Sun, in turn, gazes upon the House with a sense of awe, often entranced by their seeming perfection. The House, in the Sun's eyes, feels like an equal partner, a reflection of their inner self. The fifth house is synonymous with romance. It's a fixed house, firmly rooted in its position, a steadfast testament to the House person's feelings towards the Sun. Regardless of their playful mind games, their seemingly flighty demeanor, their feelings towards the Sun person persist, burning with unwavering intensity. To the Sun, the House becomes an escape from the mundane, their daily dose of joy, their most ardent cheerleader. It's an alignment at times witnessed in tales of enemies turned lovers to bestfriends, an exciting dynamic where they continually challenge and dare each other to delve deeper into life's mysteries. It's a placement pulsating with positive energy, echoing with shared giggles, and resonating with playful touches. It's a cosmic dance of two entities, navigating the universe hand in hand, their hearts beating in a rhythm that speaks of love, laughter, and endless adventure.

💘 Sun in the 6th House: In this celestial arrangement, the Sun finds itself nestled in a house of pragmatism and routine, shedding its brilliant light upon the practicalities of daily life. These constellations spin tales not of grand careers or cosmic pursuits, but of everyday work, the quiet rhythm of health and wellness, the structure of routines and the serene act of service. In this dance of the stars, the Sun's light illuminates pathways to healthier eating, disciplined exercise, and even companionship with beloved pets. The Sun, in its radiant role, serves as a guiding beacon for the 6th house dweller, leading them towards the sanctity of a balanced lifestyle. It may inspire a shared commitment to physical exertion, perhaps in the form of joining a gym, or ignite conversations about nutritious diets and wellbeing. The Sun person may even act as a catalyst, helping the 6th house dweller establish routines that reinforce physical and mental health. Yet, the orbits of these celestial bodies might lead them down professional paths that intertwine, potentially finding one in the service of the other. However, with the Sun's position in the practical 6th house, a word of caution is warranted. The equilibrium of give and take must be carefully maintained to prevent the transformation of helpfulness into servitude. It's crucial that neither the Sun nor the 6th house dweller feels overburdened, their efforts unreciprocated.. It inspires a mutual journey towards better physical and mental health, encouraging each to uplift the other, illuminating their shared path with the light of practical wisdom and mutual care.

💘 Sun in the 7th House: In the grand tapestry of the cosmos, this placement is akin to a celestial masterpiece, an ideal constellation in the realm of astrology. The Sun, in its radiant glory, casts its golden light upon the 7th house, a house rich with the resonance of companionship, the solemnity of marriage, the intimacy of one-on-one relationships, the practicalities of business partnerships, the binding power of contracts, and the hidden faces of our alter-egos or shadow selves. In this dance of the stars, the Sun person stirs a longing within the 7th house dweller, a yearning for partnership, perhaps even a hankering for the sacred bond of marriage. The 7th house person may perceive the Sun person as the embodiment of their perfect mate, a mirror reflecting all the qualities they admire yet feel they lack. This celestial alignment weaves a balancing harmony in their relationship, as the Sun person displays characteristics and idiosyncrasies that the 7th house person cherishes but doesn't possess. As the 7th house is the celestial realm of marriage and contracts, the potential for wedded bliss, or perhaps a formal business partnership, is a tangible possibility should their relationship endure the test of time. However, as with any celestial arrangement, there are potential pitfalls to navigate. The two may become so entwined that they lose their individualities, their identities blurring until they cannot discern where one ends and the other begins. It is vital to remember that they are unique souls united, not a singular entity. Additionally, the mirage of the ideal mate may only be visible to the eyes of the 7th house person, with the Sun person potentially oblivious to this perception. The entirety of the synastry chart must be considered to gauge the mutual feelings of compatibility and the potential for enduring companionship. Thus, in this symphony of stars and planets, the dance of destiny unfolds, charting a course of love, partnership, and shared dreams.

💘 Sun in the 8th House: The placement of the Sun in the 8th house is a pas de deux that is not meant for those with faint hearts. It is a dance where the dancers—the Sun and the 8th house person—are likely to be pulled in one of two extreme directions. They may find themselves entwined in an intoxicating whirl of magnetic attraction, an intense passion that seizes them, or they may feel an unsettling disturbance, a disquiet that rattles their core, often swaying between these polar opposites. The Sun, in its radiant role, casts an unflinching light on the profound themes of the 8th house, illuminating the shadowy corners of sexuality, the cyclical dance of death and rebirth, the tumult of transformation and crisis, the journey of personal growth and evolution, the undercurrents of psychology and addiction, the intricacies of finance, and the hushed whispers of societal taboos. These subjects, often shrouded in mystery, may either captivate or unsettle the house person. They might either welcome the Sun person into their hidden depths or push them away. The house person might perceive the Sun as an enigmatic entity, while the Sun person uncovers the secrets that the 8th house person keeps hidden from the world. Should both individuals bear the mark of Pluto's dominance, or have a strong 8th house presence in their natal chart, this union may flourish in mutual fascination. However, if one or both harbor hidden trauma or suppressed shame, this intense connection could serve as a deterrent, overwhelming their senses. This celestial arrangement signifies the potential to unravel each other's hidden layers, maintaining a profound bond that might lead to mutual transformation. Yet, caution must be exercised to prevent power dynamics or manipulative tactics from seeping into their relationship. Ultimately, this celestial alignment can flourish if both are open to exploring the depths of each other's souls, embracing growth and transformation, and traversing the labyrinth of shared secrets.

💘 Sun in the 9th house: The Sun weaves golden threads into the 9th house tapestry, infusing wisdom's domain with the vibrancy of its radiance. This divine dance resonates with the seekers, the dreamers, those who chart the star-studded expanse of their fate, guided by an insatiable thirst for depth and meaning. The Sun, a luminary beacon, casts an ethereal glow on the winding paths of philosophy, spirituality, and the rich tapestry of global culture, sparking a flame in the 9th house soul, igniting the tinder of curiosity and wanderlust. In the sacred dance of their divergent or converging beliefs, they find a melody, a rhythm that binds them in an intricate ballet of understanding. Their shared intrigue transcends the constraints of culture, religion, and philosophy, knitting them closer in the vast expanse of human thought. Together, they traverse oceans, cross continents, and journey through the labyrinth of the mind and the world, venturing into territories unseen and unexplored. Yet caution must be heeded, for clashing perspectives may strike discordant notes, marring the celestial harmony. But through the crucible of understanding and growth, they shall rise, bound by a shared quest for enlightenment and truth. Soaring high, they ascend to the sublime realm of knowledge, guided by the radiant beacon of the Sun.

💘 Sun in the 10th house: The Sun, in its radiant glory, casts a shimmering glow upon the 10th house, bathing the lofty pinnacles of ambition, authority, and societal prestige in golden light. The 10th house individual beholds the Sun, seeing within its fiery aura the embodiment of a mentor, a guiding star, perhaps even a paternal figure. In this celestial dance, the Sun nurtures the dormant seeds of promise within the 10th house soul, kindling a fire that empowers them to scale the towering heights of professional achievement and public recognition. Unseen currents may churn, as the tides of power and authority ebb and flow, wrestling for harmonious balance. Should the rhythm of their hearts align, with the melody of guidance and humility ringing louder than the discordant notes of dominance, their shared journey shall carve a path to victory in the grand stage of career and societal prominence. Together, they'll ascend the mountain of success, guided by the Sun's resplendent glow.

💘 Sun in the 11th house: As the Sun anoints the 11th house with its golden kiss, souls intertwined in this celestial ballet discover a fellowship deeper than mere companionship. They merge as confidants, their dreams and aspirations entwining like tendrils of starlight, fueled by a shared devotion to the grand tapestry of humanity. Hand in hand, they champion noble crusades, threading their bond of friendship through a loom of diversity and acceptance. The Sun, a celestial minstrel, serenades the 11th house soul, inspiring them to dance in the unique rhythm of their being. In turn, the 11th house individual perceives the Sun as a lighthouse of acceptance, its unwavering beam illuminating their path in times of tumult. For hearts fluttering to the cadence of romance, seek reinforcement from other heavenly harmonies, for a profound friendship forms the bedrock of enduring love.This cosmic duet, a symphony of souls, signals unity, mutual respect, and a shared pledge to a future as radiant as the Sun. Their shared bond, an ethereal waltz, tells a tale of harmony, shared dreams, and a commitment to a collective dawn where every dream finds its home.

💘 Sun in the 12th house: As the Sun slips into the enigmatic embrace of the 12th house, its bright sovereignty is shrouded in gauzy veils of mystique, spirituality, and the unseen. To the house person, the Sun appears as an ethereal apparition, a spectral force oscillating between healing and bewildering, like a siren's call echoing through the vast and shadowy cosmos. Shrouded in the silken shadows of the subconscious, their connection pulses like a hidden heartbeat, a secret rhythm known only to them. This clandestine bond invites introspection and self-discovery, a voyage into the deep waters of their shared consciousness. For the Sun person, the depths of the 12th house may feel like a labyrinth of twilight, where their radiant essence is held in a silent waltz, yearning for the symphony of expression. When suspicion or paranoia creep into this celestial bond, trust must be kindled like a beacon in the deep, for their connection thrives on the revelation of buried truths and the unearthing of the divine spark within. With hearts aglow and an attuned awareness of their spiritual dance, they navigate the labyrinthine realms of the soul, transcending the mortal shackles, and ascending into an otherworldly romance. This sacred journey, a testament to their courage, becomes an intimate dance between two souls weaving their way through the cosmic tapestry, seeking the divine in each other.

Thank you for staying til the very end loves, I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, let me know your thoughts in the comment🤍

love,

saint jenx🪐

© 2023 Saintz Jenx All Rights Reserved

[miamc]

why wait so long to resolve wills unrequited love for mike? why wait until the final season, the emotional culmination of the show? why do this before resolving two seasons of unexplainable and erratic behaviour from mike? why make wills character arc irrevocably intertwined with his love for mike? why wasn’t wills unrequited love for mike resolved in a logical place in the show like season 3? why not give will a love interest in season 4 so there’s time to develop their relationship like robin and vickie? why even make will like mike at all when it was already implied that he was gay? why is he IN LOVE with mike? why can mike only say i love you to eleven after will does everything in his power to encourage him? why introduce the painting in the first place unless the goal was to drag mike, will, and eleven into an extremely messy situation? why is the painting presented as something that will bring mike and will closer together but push mike and eleven farther apart? why will all of this be addressed in the season where will is the main focus and is confirmed to get a happy ending?

why do any of this in the first place unless the goal was to make the audience wonder why?

[grimst4rs]

Some say humans are destined to be held. The way the crevice of one's neck and shoulder allows to hold someone else's head, the way fingers and palms press together, filling the missing pieces, the way curves and hollows allow another to fold into them, creating something new.

Soulmates don't exist. The idea that souls are intertwined, bound to find each other in a flurry of many other souls in a search for their one, is from a realm far away from that of humanity. That was what the androgyne myth said, too, that perfection is realised by the communion of two, making an entity of everything capable and that, when split, their destiny was to find each other all over again. A search that happened to be completed, and sometimes the very soul was the one that was lost in the search of their missing half, for that you have to leave what you once knew and search for something you might know.

Therefore, Sirius called it, quite straightforwardly, ‘bullshit’. He had not known love, in a house where his mother and father barely saw each other (soul searching? Their souls had been 'destined' to meet, but the implications of that were disastrous'), in which the way of life was to settle, not strive, which was so unlike how their family acted. In a house where marriages were an affair and not a declaration of love, in a house in which children were heirs, and not a proof of its irrevocability and irreplaceability love.

And, besides, it was not like Sirius was particularly loveable. He had been told he was hard to love. Too vocal, too cold, too difficult, too much for someone who wanted to live a quiet, peaceful life.

He had grown accustomed to lust, though - for that lust did not imply feelings. He drew attention, he knew that, and he had made peace with that; yet, something in his chest shrivelled every time he saw hunger in people's eyes, rather than devotion, and although he would never dare admit it, he hoped that, one day, he could love and be loved, he could break away from the cycle, he could strive for something he did not know, not settle for something that was already well-known, yet made him so terribly unhappy.

Being a Black meant darkness, and people searched for the light at the end of the tunnel, not for the darkness that would encapsulate them either way, sooner or later.

So no, love had never been meant for Sirius. Until he met eyes warm as autumn, a boy who loved fiercely and stood unwavering, even when shadows gathered. With hair forever tousled by the fingers' fate of the skies he defied and a heart as wild as the wind, James Potter was a storm wrapped in sunlight, the kind whose light lingers, even after the night takes him.

[cipheramnesia]

Genuine question from a newbie just dipping her toes into horror film: If Candyman isn't actually a slasher (which is all I've seen it called), what is it? And how come it keeps being misidentified as a slasher flick?

Candyman is probably misidentified as a slasher both because of its original marketing, landing in the tail end of the 80s video cassette slasher boom, and having two mediocre sequels.

Generally a slasher has a limited region and a victim pool mainly consisting of teens. For example the big three - Jason, Freddy, Michael - are all somewhat geographically fixed and almost exclusively kill kids. Usually the slasher is specifically intertwined with fears pertaining to the transition between childhood and adulthood such as increasing independence and of course burgeoning sexuality. The victims typically are killed for transgressions of the child-adult boundaries such as rebelliousness, drinking, sex and so on. By and large the slashers have a character which is malevolent in a way that's divergent from mere human emotions because they are often larger than life figures of mortality and social moral codes.

On the cinematic side, most slasher movies have a very consistent plot formula and even similar shots. Usually there is an early on warning, the harbinger. This is followed by stage setting the particular vices of the victims, and some minor fake out scares, before the actual killing starts in earnest. There's inevitably some kind of POV / voyeur shot, several similar victim chase safe / fake out death sequences. A slasher subgenre is not necessary predictable but by nature it is a little bit formulaic - it's a type of character and a plot structure.

Candyman is a different kind of movie. I'm not sure it falls into a specific subgenre. It could be called horror noire, urban legend horror, and in some ways it's almost a ghost story. However there are some crucial differences.

Victim type is obvious. Candyman is not teen exclusive - nearly all of the victims in the film are full adults. Not only that, but his purpose for existing is different. He is not a governor of the transition to adulthood or a symbol of sex and mortality. Candyman exists as an urban legend and is more symbolic of the hidden secrets of ourselves and our cultural history which we try to cover over and forget.

As a personality, Candyman is not malicious, but rather tragic and romantic. His history is as a wronged man, a brilliant man horrifically killed in an act of racist violence. People who call him are summoning this combination of a deeply intellectual and passionate artist, and the history of racial oppression in the USA. And his acts of murder are not brutal enforcement of social norms, but rather keeping his story and the horrific truth of our own past alive - being remembered.

There is nothing either metaphorically or structurally in Candyman that conforms to the slasher subgenre. The slasher killers irrevocably tie sex and death together because of how they are fundamentally linked in our lives. Candyman ties the past to the present, carrying a promise that even his victims are immortalized in legend. The slasher killers are tied to teenagers and related transitional spaces where morality and control are in flux. Candyman is tied to his own legend and the reflection of ugly truths.

Both Candyman and the slasher subgenre have deep and fascinating ideas under the surface, but they are not the same ideas, and structurally Candyman is only as passingly similar to a slasher as to any other movie. Incidentally the recent Candyman also gets this, and I highly recommend both movies. They tell horror stories that are very different from most others, and I think both are vital films to see.

[seventeenlovesthree]

Character/Relationship Analysis: How Taichi's and Sora's arcs in the late Etemon/early Vamdemon arc are intertwined, how they (in)directly activate each other's Crests and how they're the most important plot drivers/leading figures at this point in the series.

One of my early theories regarding the character line-up in Adventure was how Sora could have potentially been the secondary main character besides Taichi (instead of Yamato). And I still believe that nothing makes that theory more apparent than taking a close look at how the "Crest activation period" frames these two as main plot drivers that are the reason why the group sticks together - and also why they all found their way back together after Taichi's disappearance. So let's break this down, shall we.

As pointed out in the analysis post above, when you just watch the opening of the series without any context, you might assume that Sora is the secondary/female main character anyway, because she (and Piyomon) are basically always coming after Taichi (and Agumon). And if you look at Sora's impact in the series, that isn't even too farfetched - especially when you consider that she is LITERALLY stepping up to be leader in the Etemon arc in the novels while Taichi is in a dark spot, whereas Yamato is later on declared to be "too emotional to be a leader".

That aside, let's dig into the set-up here: In the Etemon arc, Sora's Crest is the last to be found. We do not know a lot about the characters' singular arcs at this point, so watching her worrying about the situation doesn't strike the viewer as too weird yet. While it astonishes her that Taichi is so keen on finding her Crest for her sake (despite knowing how selfless he can be too), Taichi himself doesn't see any reason to falter and reassures her instead. This is important, because these two have known each other for quite a while already; they have been in the same class together since elementary school, are also partners in their football club - thus, Taichi's view on Sora is pretty settled. He is very vocal when it comes to "words of reassurance" towards people he cares about and so he repeatedly mentions how caring and selfless Sora is to him, how she always worries about others first and how she shouldn't doubt herself and her qualities - neither because of her own perception of herself nor because of the lies PicoDevimon had been feeding her. Because Sora's perception of herself is indeed slightly skewed, but we will get to that.

Taichi's road to (re)discovering his personal sense of courage is irrevocably linked to his wish to save Sora; initially, his recklessness had repeatedly caused trouble, not only by letting his own Digimon partner go through a dark evolution, but also because he let one of his longest and best friends get captured by the enemy. He initially promised that they would find her Crest for her - and now he is being humbled once more, threatened by an electrical fence right in front of him that could potentially kill him, punishing for losing his way once again. He is aware that something important was lost, referring to both his "brave heart" - and Sora.

Why is that so important?

Not only is Taichi fulfilling both of his promises in the end - saving Sora himself and personally giving her the Crest they've been looking for -, but this is (in)directly mirrored in Sora's arc as well.

Once Taichi disappears after defeating Etemon, the group starts to search for him - for two whole months, while some of them already start to lose hope and drift apart. Sora realizes that the group is torn on how to proceed, but can't stop herself from wishing to find Taichi. Because, once again, something important was lost, indirectly referring to both Taichi - and the sense of togetherness in the group. One might argue that her leaving the others behind may not look very sensible at first glance - but just like she was the one who enabled Taichi's Crest to glow, her disappearance indirectly has an impact on (almost) everybody else's arcs as well. (Additionally, they would not have learned the meanings of the Crests, if Sora hadn't overheard PicoDevimon talking about them to Vamdemon...)

As a complementary force to Sora, Taichi's return reunites the group bit by bit. It almost feels like they're acting as fairy godparents to everyone else, each in their own way - while Sora is hiding in the shadows, giving everyone advice (Agumon, Mimi) or physical aid (Jyou, Yamato) to protect and guide them in the right direction, Taichi directly tries to pull them out of their corrupted viewpoints (Takeru, Yamato, Mimi, Koushirou rather indirectly), whether through words or actions. It's absolutely no surprise that the scene where Yamato tells Taichi that he was the one who brought them all back together (episode 28) is basically a direct mirror of them all coming together to agree to save Sora (episode 20). Because these two are the glue that keeps it all together.

And so, of course it puzzles Taichi that Sora doesn't want to reveal herself to the group again. Of course it surprises him that the girl, whom they all came together for to rescue, who secretly protected all of them behind the scenes due to her kind heart and selflessness and who never gave up looking for him - once again, doubts herself like that. Not only that, she screams at him, tells him that he has no idea who she really is. That her "love" is a facade, that she has no idea what love even means - that she had lost (or never even possessed) her personal sense of love.

(To go on a small tangent here, their framing is just endlessly interesting to me, because the misunderstanding and miscommunication between them is a red thread that spins throughout the entirety of the series. And it is rather tragic, because throughout it all - they actually never really seem to be drifting apart, but due to their lack of means of communication, they cannot be close for some reason. Whether you think of them as platonic or romantic doesn't even matter, the general idea remains the same: They are on each other's minds, they are incredibly important to one another and never stop feeling that way, consciously or subconsciously. It's why Taichi encourages Sora to be with Yamato, but still goes observing the black spore kids together with her in 02, it's why Sora still feels comfortable being physically close to Taichi in DSB and Tri, it's why she gets upset that he ALWAYS gets her - somewhat - right despite not finding the CORRECT words in OWG and Tri, it's why the connections never vanishes in Kizuna... But they're also both awfully insecure about certain parts of themselves, especially when it comes down to decision-making towards their futures and selves. Since neither of them can be fully open up to each other about that, things kinda feel like they are on hold.)

In the end, Taichi (mirrored by Pyocomon's words below) had been correct to tell Sora not to believe in PicoDevimon's lies, not to give in to her own self-doubts - and eventually, she realizes that, just like her mother, she simply did not want anyone else to get hurt even more.

The way Taichi is framed here, smiling at her with absolute glee and satisfaction marks the end of this arc - while he wasn't directly triggering her Crest to be activated, he still believed in her best qualities just like her Digimon partner did, refusing to let her get corrupted more. And even if the infamous sentence "I want Sora's love too" is more of a light-hearted little throw-away line, it's intriguing to look at the potential implications overall here: Since Taichi's arc of Courage was fueled by his wish to save Sora, since Taichi was the one who eventually gave Sora the Crest of Love, since both their arcs were initially sparked by their wishes to find each other again as they took the others under their wings like proud parents... Let's say, after all this time since Taichi had successfully saved Sora, after all the searching leading up to finally being reunited (after several months in Sora's case), they both must have been incredibly relieved that it had all turned out nicely. To see each other again alive and well.

It started with his Crest - and ended with hers.

Long story short, the Adventure would have stopped rather early if it hadn't been for these two, their bond and loyalty toward each other - and also their sense of leadership.

Last note: Shout-out to the third most important character in this arc - if it hadn't been for Koushirou, Taichi would not have found Sora, may not even have found a way back to the Digital World and they also would not have been able to solve the card riddle to get back home.

[impossiblesuitcase]

Levana has two core tenets that drive her entire personal philosophy, both actively damaging and sustaining her: her need to be beautiful and her need to be loved. They are irrevocably intertwined and are ultimately her undoing.

Two people in her life dictate these notions--Channary and Evret. Channary implanted the desire to be loved and the necessity to be beautiful once Levana is disfigured. Without any willing participation from Evret, Levana carries over these insecurities, needing to be loved by him when Channary fails her and needing to keep up her glamour to feel beautiful. If Solstice is the only woman he can see as beautiful, that's what Levana must become. She sabotages her relationship with him after she shows him her true appearance; she refuses to be loved for her true self, and once he sees it, he must be disposed of. Evret lives on in Winter, who reinforces that Levana cannot ever control them as she wears her three uniform scars with pride.

With the death of these two motivators, she feels free of the burden of needing them. But the demand to be beautiful and loved is indefatigable, so she replaces them with an unearthly, ethereal glamour in her quest for vanity, and the contrived love from her citizens to feel wanted. These are both fundamentally artificial and never satisfy her, so she must always strive for more. Her body, face, voice 'improve' countless times over decades, as she is never sure that they are perfect enough. Her armies become fiercer, her inventory larger, and she sets her sights on the largest territory to conquer--Earth--all in the name of supplying her people to buy their love. Levana could have at any point abandoned her course of tyranny and used her circumstances to reform herself and her country's systemic disparity. She chooses every day to reject these opportunities and each action deepens her need to maintain the façade of love and looks. She is to be pitied, but not to be pardoned.

In order for Levana to be defeated as a villain, she must not only die, but must have her philosophy completely overturned. Kai takes the place of Evret and she replays her manipulation in the same way on their wedding day. But when she marries Kai, glamouring as his lover as she did to Evret, he dismantles her beauty, stating that she will never be as beautiful as the glamourless Linh Cinder. This directly mirrors Evret's loyalty to Solstice and it hurts Levana--not because she loves Kai in any way like she loved Evret--but because the message lives on in him. She is always inadequate.

Her glamour and her loyalties fall in one fell swoop. Her people come to her door to kill her, and her true face is blown up in the sky, permanently tainting her image. With her vanity blighted, all that's left is the fundamental nucleus of her problems: her relationship with Channary. It is the chief relationship in her life, even posthumously, and is the very cause of her perverted worldview. Levana never killed Channary and that is her greatest regret.

When Cinder arrives--Channary's near reincarnation in appearance--Levana has her second chance. It is particularly imperative to her to eliminate Selene because Levana was never loved by Channary, while Selene was. Her existence is a mockery of Levana's pain because it clarifies that Channary was capable of love and actively withheld it from Levana. However when Levana burnt Cinder alive, she levelled the playing field. She assigned Cinder a life of enduring the same prejudice and inadequacy that she faced. Therefore in their final battle, Levana likens Cinder to herself and her need to be desired. By killing Selene, she will finally prove that she has killed her need to be loved by Channary.

To do this, she sets up the perfect replica for this prophetic revenge. Cinder's friend will betray her as Channary did Levana, and Cinder will retaliate as Levana herself wished to do. It is particularly powerful that it is not Kai in the room at this final battle. Romantic love is irrelevant now. Instead it is Thorne, whom Cinder loves as family. Their almost sibling-like dynamic is now reflective of Channary and Levana. Levana asserts that this kind of love is false. But Cinder and Thorne demonstrate their loyalty to one another--even when Thorne is manipulated to hurt her, Cinder attacks Levana, not him. He proves his love in his sobs and apologies as his body rebels. Levana's final desire, to prove that love is merely a conquest and a war, is dashed.

In the end, Levana stabs Cinder, but it doesn't matter. Her worldview is shattered, her tenuous beliefs severed. That is where Levana is defeated. The final shot that kills her is simply to finalise the matter. Her tenets die with her and can be replaced with the true forms of beauty and love. Cinder and Winter, disfigured and scarred and unashamed. Kai, who loves Cinder and loves her appearance because she gave him good reason to, and never through manipulation. Cinder, who attains loyalty from the citizens of Luna and Earth alike through her action and compassion.

Love is not conquered, love is not a war; it is earned.

[palfriendpatine66]

@asharadaine submitted this ask that I accidentally hit delete instead of answer - my bad:

NSFW headcanon Anakin is a literal supernova in the force and Obi-Wan is INTO it

Encouraged by the stuttered gasp and the thick fingers suddenly scrambling for purchase amongst messy curls, Anakin steadily slid into Obi-Wan until he could go no further. Anakin let out a groan of pleasure from above as Obi-Wan’s walls clenched around him in a warm embrace and after a last wavering moment of effort lost his hold on his shields, overwhelmed.

Like a river that had been restrained for far too long bursting through a dam to reclaim its rightful place, Anakin’s Force presence slammed into Obi-Wan completely unbridled and unchecked. Warmth and light and a feeling that was utterly and distinctly Anakin crashed down upon him until, just like their bodies, it was impossible to discern where one ended and the other began. Every part of them was intertwined; Anakin’s pleasure was his pleasure, his joy was his joy, and even the Force itself flowed between them freely. Obi-Wan reached his orgasm suddenly and violently as Anakin and all that he was flooded his body and his every sensation and his very being. He registered the physical sensations with one fraction of his awareness; the rest was wrapped around the blinding light that was Anakin at his core, the two nestled in the protective cocoon of the Force as it moved through them and around them in a way neither had felt before and knew would change them irrevocably.

Ask and you shall receive: send me a nsfw headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet

shhhh pretend that was 5 sentences. I’ve done 14 of these at this point and this is the only one that I’ve gone over!

[marauders-brain-rot]

How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You)

Wrote a really heavy and quite depressing chapter today and needed to fix my brain by writing something cute and fluffy. So, here is 1,468 words of pure Wolfstar fluff. (No Voldy/war, honestly could be with or without actual magic, I don’t make it clear either way so if you want it to be a muggle au then it can be or if you just want it to be a no Voldy au that works too)

Sirius was almost certain he’d wear a hole in the carpet long before Remus got home. He’d been pacing for hours now, his stomach tied in knots thinking about that night and what would come of it. 

It was their anniversary, eight years together as an official couple and tonight would change everything for them. They’d had nights like these before, the kind that would imprint themselves on their memories and brand themselves across their skin, tying them irrevocably together in a way that no one else would ever understand. 

The first was when they’d confessed their love for one another, never ones to do things by halves, that had been the night they’d first gotten together. They’d danced around their feelings for a while before that, their friendship always coming first, until one night where they couldn’t take the tension between them any longer. There’d been a screaming match that ended in a passionate kiss and finally a confession of their undying love for one another. They ended that night wrapped together in Remus’s bed in the boys dormitory, foreheads pressed together and bodies intertwined to the point where it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. 

The next one had been when they decided to get a place of their own, another night full of tears and kisses. They’d gotten a place with James and Peter as soon as they’d left school, wanting to be out on their own but still with their closest friends, who had really become more like brothers. The years spent in that flat had been some of the best of their lives, the nights spent drunk on the floor and sprawled across the furniture would live in their minds forever, as spotty as those memories were. But, they needed their own space. It had been Remus who had said something first, though Sirius had thought it for a while. He loved their little flat with their two best mates, but sometimes he wanted to be alone with the man he loved, wanted to spend nights and days wrapped in one another’s arms without feeling like it was an intrusion on their friends' lives. And so, after a very long and very tear filled discussion, they agreed to start looking. 

Then, they bought their house together. A sanctuary for the two of them that they made entirely their own. Their first night there together was one that he hoped would never leave him, even on his last days on this planet. They’d spent the day unpacking, James and Peter had finally left and the house was quiet at last, something they hadn’t experienced possibly ever. They’d gotten their favourite mugs down from their new home in the cabinet to the left of the sink, poured cups of their favourite tea, put on their favourite James Taylor record and danced in the living room to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) together with the biggest smiles plastered on their faces.

Then came the night they’d gotten engaged, something that had been magical all on its own. Remus had asked him, because of course he had. Sirius had been planning on asking Remus, but of course he’d beaten him to it. It was private and intimate and unequivocally theirs. If Sirius closed his eyes he could see the rose petals strewn about, the lanterns that lit their home, could smell the undeniable scents of his favourite meal that Remus had spent all day cooking for him. Remus had said some beautiful, wonderful, magical words about how Sirius was his guiding light in the sea of darkness, how he’d have lost himself entirely without him and how he never wanted to bear the pain of living life without the man he’d loved since they were only boys. Sirius kissed him then, couldn’t stand to wait another moment where rings didn’t adorn their fingers claiming them for one another and as soon as Remus placed the one he’d gotten Sirius on his finger, Sirius had sprinted up the steps and practically flown into their room to get the ring he’d gotten for Remus. That night they’d fallen asleep together, their fingers interlocked and rings pressed against one another’s. 

Then, they’d gotten married. It was small, intimate and beautiful, another day with magic thick in the air. Their closest friends were there, and even Regulus came as he and Sirius had mended their relationship years prior, it was everything Sirius had ever wanted. To be able to look into the eyes of the man he loved and tell him how he was the physical embodiment of magic, how he’d loved him for over a decade and still found new reasons to love him every single day, how he had never really known what any kind of love looked like until he’d looked into his eyes. They danced to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You) as their first dance and kissed under the stars in the company of those that loved them most, soaking in every moment of the night together and relishing in the complete togetherness they finally got to experience. 

All of that brought him to now, tonight, a night that would change the rest of their lives just like all the others had. He’d cooked Remus’s favourite meal, gotten his favourite cake from the bakery 45 minutes away and set the house perfectly for the mood. Everything was perfect, everything would be perfect. So why did he feel like something might go wrong? 

He heard the key turning in the lock and felt his breath leave him, there would be no turning back now. As soon as Remus opened the door and saw Sirius standing there a broad smile spread across his face, the confusion coming next as he saw the setting around him. 

“Sirius?” He hadn’t expected them to do anything tonight, Sirius had been planning this surprise for a week now and though their wedding anniversary wasn’t for another month, he felt tonight was the right night. 

“Welcome home, love,” he kissed Remus’s cheek before leading him to the table laden with candles. 

“What’s all this?” His smile was the brightest thing in the room and how Sirius longed for it to last a lifetime. 

“Eat first, we’ll talk after cake.” Was it a slightly cowardly move to put off this conversation? Possibly, but he didn’t want dinner or cake to go to waste if the conversation went how he thought it would. When they’d finally finished eating and the record had stopped for the second time, Remus finally turned expectantly to Sirius. 

“Want to tell me what this is about, love?”

“I want to start off by saying that I love our life here, I love you and I love our home and I love the life we’ve built for ourselves.” He paused, needing his words to sink in before he continued. “And I want you to know that this is because of how much I love you and how much I know you love me, I want us to share our love.”

“Okay?” 

“Do you remember my cousin, Tonks?”

“Of course I do.”

“Right, well, she’s pregnant and she can’t take care of a baby right now. She’s just getting started on her career and she has her whole life ahead of her, she’s in no place to be having a child. But, well, we are.” He paused, waiting for his words to sink in and once they did he watched as Remus’s face transformed entirely. 

“You want to adopt her baby?” The smile on his face rivalled all others Sirius had seen, it practically lit up the world with how brilliant it was. All Sirius could do was nod and swallow nervously. “I would be honoured to have a baby with you.”

That night they laughed and cried, they held onto one another tighter than they ever had before. They got their favourite mugs down from the cabinet to the left of the sink, poured cups of their favourite tea, and put on their favourite James Taylor record and danced around the living room to How Sweet It Is (To Be Loved By You). 

And how sweet it was, really, to love and be loved in return. To have a lifetime of memories together already and a lifetime of them more to look forward to. To know that their love would live beyond them and would change the lives of not only themselves but also of this new little baby they would be adding into their perfect little world and any others they might end up with along the line. They’d chosen one another, chosen love, and chosen life, and how sweet a life it was turning out to be. 

[vashtijoy]

Just in case you, like me, missed this, here's a quick Akechi callback in the third semester, where the sea-urchin spikes are fully on, er, point.

This is when they strike their deal on 1/2, just after Akechi has arrived at Leblanc to explain it all some of it. Just before they leave, his voice pitches up mockingly, he strikes a variant of his little side-on I-will-murder-you pose, and he says this:

Akechi 今さら断ったりしないよね? ima sara kotowattari shinai yo ne? Now that we've made ourselves a new deal, you wouldn't turn me down, would you? After everything that's happened, you won't say no, will you?

... and for some reason Joker doesn't punch him in the face.

So what is that supreme bit of asshattery a callback to, exactly? Yeah:

Akechi 代わりに、取引だ⋯まさか、断ったり⋯しない、よな⋯? kawari ni, torihiki da... masaka, kotowattari... shinai, yo na...? Let's make a deal, okay? You won't say no, will you?

I'm not giving a translation for this one because the official translation is the point, but look at that kawari ni at the start—"in exchange, instead, as a substitute"—"because I did this for you". Akechi's "deal", his torihiki, is an exchange—Joker is to change Shido's heart in exchange for Akechi's sacrifice.

Speculation: this is interesting because Joker is on his way to change Shido's heart anyway—there's no need to bargain for it. So it's almost like Akechi is offering him a way out of his guilt for what's happening—or, as Akechi would see it, a way to cancel the debt.

Obviously, as eny fule kno, this is not super effective.

in which akechi is a dick

Here are the two transliterated lines side-by-side, so you can see that they're essentially the same:

ima sara kotowattari shinai yo ne? kawari ni, torihiki da... masaka, kotowattari... shinai, yo na...?

There are a couple of points on 1/2 when Akechi gets shamelessly in Joker's face with his lack of repentance and his emotional denial about the engine room. "Oh, did you think you changed my heart? Cute. Let me show you that you didn't, and haven't, and can't. Let me show you, before you can think about bringing it up, that I'm still just who I was, that none of that shit that happened meant anything to me."

This is the first: "we did not have a moment just before I definitely didn't die. in fact, so little did we have a moment that I'm going to rub it in your face and use it to manipulate you." It's convincing, except that we all saw the scene, we know what was said, we know Akechi's motives and what he always wanted, and we all know what Akechi at least tried to do.

It's a funny moment, and it's an immense dick move, taking their relationship from the one they had at the end, where they were irrevocably intertwined and where Akechi was exposed, back to a place Akechi is more comfortable in. And that place is at an emotional orbit of ten thousand kilometres, of course.

[chubbybunny25]

Happy Birthday Nico!!

(idc idc it's already past midnight in my place.. so here's an excerpt from my first percy/nico fic When You Think About It, chapter 3... Enjoy!!)

The night is buzzing with upbeat music inside Frank and Hazel’s apartment in New Rome. There’s a lot of food, courtesy of Leo, Piper, and Percy. It’s Nico’s birthday and his friends decided to throw a party for him, no matter how Nico insisted otherwise.

They presented a very strong argument that It’s not just a birthday party, but also some kind of farewell party for him.

Farewell party.

It’s a rather weird concept for Nico to celebrate one’s departure. He had always felt bitter whenever he would have to run away and disappear with the shadows. But this time, he’s going away for a completely different reason. For once, he’s not leaving terrified, disappointed faces, but caring, hopeful ones. They're not worried, but only happy for him. That's a whole new level of trust and acceptance for the son of Hades.

Nico sips his mocktail. It’s a pale green drink, the refreshing taste of cucumber complimenting the tangy flavor of lime, with a hint of sweetness in it. Earlier, he requested Jason and Reyna to only have mocktails for the celebration. While his Italian heritage would welcome alcohol anytime, he wouldn’t want to risk triggering Percy’s bad memories of his first stepfather.

A bizarre feeling settles in Nico’s chest at that thought. He never thought he’d be close to Percy like that—to the point that the son of Poseidon would share stories of his life even before he knew he was a demigod. Nico could only wish he had as much to share.

“Hey. Happy Birthday, Nico.”

Nico spins around to face a smiling Percy. Nico wonders why it’s so easy to smile back. “Thanks,” he responds.

Percy puts down his electric blue drink and gets something from his pocket. He takes Nico’s hand and places something on it. When Nico’s recovered from the sparks that Percy’s touch left his skin, he finds in his hand a small key chain, the most adorable mini skeleton in a dark blue cloak, its back decorated with angel wings.

Nico feels like his heartbeat has just sped up a thousand times. He just gapes, stunned and unable to speak. Fortunately, Percy doesn’t pay attention to how weird Nico’s reaction must be as when Nico looks up, Percy is touching the back of his neck, eyes lowered to the ground.

“I, uh, saw that and it reminded me of you,” Percy tells him.

It takes a really great effort for Nico to bite back his seemingly default response in situations like this: You didn’t have to.

He goes for a simple but sincere “Thank you, Percy.”

Percy stares at him, obviously surprised that Nico easily accepted the gift, and maybe resolutely prepared with all the Percy-reasons why Nico deserves the gift. To be fair, Nico is equally surprised by himself, too.

“Are you sure you’re leaving tomorrow already?” Percy asks curiously.

They had this conversation before, but somehow, Nico feels a tinge of sadness, especially because it’s Percy, so he naturally doesn’t show he’s sad. Classic.

“Didn’t expect you to miss me already.” Again, it surprises him that it has become natural for them to engage in a playful banter like this. 

Percy catches on and grins, “Nah… You wish, di Angelo. You can come and go as you want, you know. I’ve always thought you’re a free spirit, pun intended.”

Nico stifles a laugh at that. “Su—re. Says the guy who asked for Cabin 13.” Another surprise: Percy blushes a little.

“Hades Cabin is supposed to be a home for you, Nico, not a prison.”

And doesn’t Nico’s heart feel like exploding at that?

More than a year ago, when he decided to stay by Percy’s side, he was sure that whatever he’d felt for the son of Poseidon, it had reached its highest form, like it couldn’t get any more beautiful (or more stupid).

He’s gotten so used to staying by Percy’s side that it feels like loving and hurting are two inseparable things. Two enchanted strings irrevocably intertwined with each other that bind the son of Hades’ existence. It had been that way for so many years, it almost feels as natural as breathing.

When Percy and Annabeth broke up and after Percy’s confession about Luke, the most logical step for Nico was to claim what he’s always wanted. That was so so obvious.

But when he looked into the deepest recesses of his heart, he was surprised to find that he was… scared. Accepting that he was in love with Percy and getting into a relationship with Percy, are two very different things. Like parallel lines that never meet.

Just when he thought he couldn’t be any more selfish, Nico seemed to reach another degree of selfishness. He wanted to keep things as they have been—to bask in the comforting friendship that he’s been cherishing with Percy. He didn't want to risk getting hurt and rejected.

He was scared.

If Annabeth Chase, Percy’s Wise Girl, his best friend, had lost it all, what were the chances that Nico won’t be going to meet the same fate? Who was he in Percy’s book anyways? 

No, wait, scratch that. Who was he? Period.

Who is Nico di Angelo besides a brave son of Hades that has always helped and saved Percy? Who is he but a worthy sparring partner for Percy? Who is he but a faithful friend that comforts Percy and even accompanies him to therapy?

When Percy tells stories about his past, the pleasant and horrific parts alike, Nico sees Percy as not the hero, but the loving son, the doting brother, the threatened little kid, the troubled student. He sees… Percy. Even before all his demigod responsibilities, Percy had a life. Percy had… memories.

What does Nico have? What did he have?

And if he ever wants to be more with Percy, can he offer him something more?

Because he wants that. He wants to give more. Percy deserves more.

So yes, just as he thought he can’t fall in love with Percy more deeply, oh he fucking does. So deep that he might consider recommending his heart as an alternative route to the Underworld one of these days.

“Hey man, could you not hog the birthday boy?”

Turns out his musings lasted only seconds when it feels like it lasted for months. Maybe it did.

He sees Leo walking up to them with Hazel.

“Yeah, cake’s waiting.” Hazel chimes, taking Nico's hand.

Percy just smiles brightly, “Can’t keep the cake waiting then.”

While his friends sing “Happy Birthday” in a variety of low and high notes, Nico blows his candles. 

“What did you wish for?” Reyna gazes at him quizzically.

He wishes he could offer more. He wishes he could become his own person. He wishes he could be someone Percy Jackson deserves.

He wishes for a safe trip back to where it all began. Back to the place he first called—and will always call—home.

He wishes that he’ll find answers in Venice.

(Nico di Angelo.. you aren't real, but the happiness and enjoyment your character has given.. that was real. Happy Birthday, Ghost King 💀)

[lynnthefrenchtoast]

https://www.tumblr.com/lynnthefrenchtoast/750277882890403840/what-is-your-otps-theme-song?source=share

Can I ask, what do you think BingQiu and MoShang's songs are?

AAAAAAAAAAA

WAIT. I MIGHT CHANGE THESE LATER. THANK YOU FOR THIS QUESTION WHY DID I NEVER THINK TO DO THIS. ANYWAY, I INITIAL THOUGHTS:

Bingqiu - Hot & Heavy by Lucy Dacus

the song title being a sex joke. very fitting.

the song is about returning to a place with lots of memories of someone you loved. dare i say, QING JING PEAK??

"you used to be so sweet now you're a firecracker on a crowded street" - lbh on how shen yuan used to coddle him like a precious disciple and now theyre just strangers, hes meant to be a stranger in a crowd, but shen yuan is still like the sun to him - a bright firecracker that steals all his attention

"couldnt look away even if i wanted" - canon for BOTH OF THEM

"how could i deny a diamond in the rough?" - having exceptional qualities but lacking refinement... that's LITERALLY luo binghe. exceptionally strong and naturally talented but unable to read. and also very canon, shen yuan cannot deny him.

"you let me in your world until you had enough" - you let me onto your peak, you taught me, treasured me, and then one day you decided you had enough and threw me into the depths of hell and never told me why

"you were always stronger than people suspected / underestimated and overprotected" - THIS. shen yuan is guarded by the war god, the sect leader, zhuzhi lang, mu qingfang. but luo binghe KNOWS his strength. luo binghe has never protected him because he undermined his own capability; shen qingqiu is the one who taught him his own strength

"it happens over and over and over and over again" - their constant cycle of hurting and healing. of being each others' killer and cure. you take me in, you abuse me, then you love me, then you throw me down the abyss, then you fear me, run from me, then you die for me, come back for me, fight with me, fight for me, kiss my forehead, you get hurt by me and then you marry me. i love you but i cannot stop hurting you. (these two really love running in circles aiya)

"it's bittersweet to see you again" - i feel like this song perfectly captures that bittersweetness at the crux of bingqiu. they dont always love each other. there's fear and hurt and fury and revenge all irrevocably intertwined. but behind all of it? it's a love song. all this hurt wouldnt hurt so much if it wasn't love to begin with

ILL DO MOSHANG LATER BUT FOR NOW UHHH ICE ICE BABY